41 Hrs of Hell for a lifetime of Memories with my child
I have so much I want to write about today... but I don't wanna put it all in one entry because then it seems unorganized and hard to navigate if yer looking for a specific topic.
In my last entry I brought up my ex (who was my BF at the time I was delivering my first child). It made me think of a funny story. Well, it's part of my birthing story, so I figured I would just share the whole story.
Don't let anyone tell you that Childbirth is a beautiful thing, because it's NOT. The only people who say that shit are people who are doped up and passed out when they deliver their babies... oh and I am sure other people on the OTHER end of squirting a watermelon out yer hoohaw would say it's a wonderful experience... but who are they to judge if they haven't experienced the WHOLE carnival ride? The only thing that's beautiful out of Child birth is the very very end. The part when you see your baby for the first time, it's all over and you get to take your wonderful baby, with his or her smooshed face, and cuddle with them. The part where you feel like you have just completed your family. The part where you wanna hold your baby so tight that his or her head could pop off. That's the part that's beautiful (minus the head popping part)... but that actual birthing process isn't beautiful. Just like the last 3 mins of it when you can see that YOU just created and brought another human being into this world.
When I went into labor with my first child I felt a menagerie of mixed emotions. First I was like, "Whoa, this isn't bad at all.. I can handle this... I am a woman, and women do this every day." Then I was so excited that I wanted to put makeup on cuz I wanted to look pretty in all of the pics that would be later snapped of me with said newborn. (yeah, I know... that was the lamest thing I had thought so far LOL). I didn't know if I should wake my boyfriend up or not... I decided I was gonna let him rest because there was no use in waking him up... I could do this for awhile by myself... it didn't hurt at all... Just breathe.
I waddled into the bathroom and started a shower, and I was getting ready to have a baby. Breathe, this isn't bad, just breathe. Toweled off, and began getting dressed, and applying makeup. Breathe, Breathe, Breathe. It's not bad at all. I might even labor this whole thing at home... I can handle it, it's really not that bad at all.
After I put on my makeup I started packing the bag to go to the hospital. Totally clear minded and excited to meet my new baby. I couldn't wait to hold him or her in my arms. Pack, breathe, pack... I was becoming a pro at this breathing stuff.
I thought it was about time to wake my boyfriend up to tell him the good news. I didn't want him to miss anything. I woke him up and told him he couldn't go to work that day because WE WERE HAVING A BABY!!! I was still perky and excited. Little did I know the hell I was in for.
He was so excited he jumped outta bed, and I think the adrenaline had kinda wore off for me, because I was starting to want a nap, so I laid down on the couch, and my Boyfriend timed contractions. Now they were getting a bit worse, but not so bad that I didn't think I would be able to handle it. I was after all doing this for a few hours, and I had become a pro. Breathe.
Finally they were 5 mins apart, and I was kinda feeling tired, as I was breathing all day and to my surprise the contractions weren't lessening with each breath... they were getting worse. I tell my BF it's time to go to the hospital. We have been at five mins apart for over an hour.... and that was when the doctor said to go to the hospital.
We get to the hospital, and what happens? Any laboring woman's nightmare. The freaking things stopped. How freaking wonderful. I had them all of the way into the room, and the minute I am hooked up to a monitor the baby decides it's not time after all. I begged the nurse to believe me. They had just been there for an hour... steadily for an hour I was breathing. How and why would they go away? They told me to go back home. I was really disappointed.
By now it's like after lunchtime and I am starving because I haven't eaten anything since dinner time the night before. So we go to Blimpies (a sub place here) and I decide against my better judgment that I was gonna get a foot long ham and turkey and some chips. I figured I had a long road ahead of me, and I knew they wouldn't let me eat after I got to the hospital. I didn't wanna deliver a baby and be hungry at the same time... so I scarfed down the food
My contractions had came back the minute I left the hospital, and they continued into the night until my cool and composed self had melted away and now I was tired, in major pain, and I just wanted this baby out of me. Finally we go back to the hospital, begging for help. My contractions were erratic, I thought I was dying... the hospital had to take mercy on me and help. They admitted me.
After hours of still erratic contractions, and no progress they ask me if I would like some demerol, or was it morphine? I can't remember I was so hopped up at the time... I just remember I got two of the shots, like maybe an hour between them... and the morphine made me feel like I was floating on the ceiling. And it also made me feel something else.
I begged the nurse. Unplug the monitors. PLEASE. I had to go to the bathroom immediately. I was about to ralph up everything I had for lunch and I wanted to do it in private and not all over myself. She denies me the decency of puking in the bathroom and kindly hands me a puke cup thing. Now, I know you know what I am talking about. It's like shaped like a kidney bean, and like the size of your hand. I just looked down at that thing, and pictured my footlong sitting in it. It wasn't even as big as my footlong was. This was a nightmare.
So I proceed to get sick. EVERYWHERE. I filled the cup, all over my gown, all over the bed, and all over the nice nurse that wouldn't give me the decency of puking in the bathroom. and I do mean ALL OVER her. Serves her right. She should listen to people a little more closely.
I was shucked down and standing butt naked in my room with the door wide open while she was cleaning everything up. A guy walked by. I am sure that's exactly what he wanted to see... Shamu, with puke all over her butt naked crying about how sorry she was that she ate the footlong. I will never forget his face. That poor man.
Did I mention that the drugs did NOTHING for me? But because I was administered narcotics, they had to keep me overnight. And that I was still having contractions from hell. My BF decided he was exhausted and he fell asleep on the floor. I was never really sleeping, more like speed catnapping between every horrid contraction. I couldn't handle looking up thru my sweaty hair and seeing him sleeping so peacefully on the floor.
"GET UP!!" I shouted at him. "Get up and help me!!"
I will never in my life forget what he said back to me. Never.
As he laid balled up on the floor, sleeping, he motions with his hands, "I am up. Don't you see? I am making you these jelly things. Don't you see?"
He holds one up so I can nod in approval. He is still sleeping, so he doesn't really care what is happening at the moment... he is just so proud to be making Jelly Things.
WTF. I about came unglued. "WHAT JELLY THINGS!!!!!!!!!!! You are sleeping on the floor. If I have to go thru this awake, you are too!!! GET UP!!!!!!"
So he got back up. Miserable as hell. But not as miserable as me. This goes on thru the night and into the morning. Then, they released me. It was backlabor that was too erratic to admit me as a laboring mother. I still wasn't dilating. I was beyond breathing. I just wanted to die.
Over 24 hours of labor, and nothing had happened yet. Nothing. They had sent me home from the hospital twice already, and told me to take Tylenol at home for any pain I might be experiencing. SCREW THAT!! If this baby could handle Demerol and Morphine, I was at least taking some Motrin.
We go over to my BFs mom's to score a heating pad, because my back hurt so bad. She offers up homemade mac n cheese. Just the thought of the night before made me pass on that right away. We would not be having any repeat performances of that.
I waited for several more hours on the couch at home while my BF played Mario Kart and timed my contractions. Finally it was time to go back to the hospital. Or so I thought.
I have already been in labor for like 30 hours. And lemme tell you putting on makeup was the LAST thing on my mind before we left. I prayed the whole way to the hospital that they please just cut this baby outta me and put me outta my misery. But that didn't happen.
They admit me, because I have already been there twice, and they can see the anguish on my face. Still wasn't dilating or effacing, so they put me on Pitocin. More hours go by and more labor haunted me. I begged for an epidural.
Finally I got one... but to my amazement, that just shifted the pain. Now instead of my bottom half of my body hurting, it left room for me to realize that for a day and a half now all of my neck and back muscles were tensed up and I was aching like crazy up there. I couldn't even lift my arms when it was time to grab the handles to push. I was a wreck.
But somehow she was born. A GIRL! I didn't think I would survive it. 41 hours of back labor and total hell. It wasn't a beautiful experience until I got to see the hair on the top of her head as she was crowning. And then I realized this is why women do this. This is why women endure total hell for hours and hours. The love that exudes from your body in those moments after you see your baby crowning... it's so much stronger than any painful contraction ever could be. Love is what got me thru those last moments when I thought I would just pass out and die. Love and the excitement to meet my baby. It was finally over.
In my last entry I brought up my ex (who was my BF at the time I was delivering my first child). It made me think of a funny story. Well, it's part of my birthing story, so I figured I would just share the whole story.
Don't let anyone tell you that Childbirth is a beautiful thing, because it's NOT. The only people who say that shit are people who are doped up and passed out when they deliver their babies... oh and I am sure other people on the OTHER end of squirting a watermelon out yer hoohaw would say it's a wonderful experience... but who are they to judge if they haven't experienced the WHOLE carnival ride? The only thing that's beautiful out of Child birth is the very very end. The part when you see your baby for the first time, it's all over and you get to take your wonderful baby, with his or her smooshed face, and cuddle with them. The part where you feel like you have just completed your family. The part where you wanna hold your baby so tight that his or her head could pop off. That's the part that's beautiful (minus the head popping part)... but that actual birthing process isn't beautiful. Just like the last 3 mins of it when you can see that YOU just created and brought another human being into this world.
When I went into labor with my first child I felt a menagerie of mixed emotions. First I was like, "Whoa, this isn't bad at all.. I can handle this... I am a woman, and women do this every day." Then I was so excited that I wanted to put makeup on cuz I wanted to look pretty in all of the pics that would be later snapped of me with said newborn. (yeah, I know... that was the lamest thing I had thought so far LOL). I didn't know if I should wake my boyfriend up or not... I decided I was gonna let him rest because there was no use in waking him up... I could do this for awhile by myself... it didn't hurt at all... Just breathe.
I waddled into the bathroom and started a shower, and I was getting ready to have a baby. Breathe, this isn't bad, just breathe. Toweled off, and began getting dressed, and applying makeup. Breathe, Breathe, Breathe. It's not bad at all. I might even labor this whole thing at home... I can handle it, it's really not that bad at all.
After I put on my makeup I started packing the bag to go to the hospital. Totally clear minded and excited to meet my new baby. I couldn't wait to hold him or her in my arms. Pack, breathe, pack... I was becoming a pro at this breathing stuff.
I thought it was about time to wake my boyfriend up to tell him the good news. I didn't want him to miss anything. I woke him up and told him he couldn't go to work that day because WE WERE HAVING A BABY!!! I was still perky and excited. Little did I know the hell I was in for.
He was so excited he jumped outta bed, and I think the adrenaline had kinda wore off for me, because I was starting to want a nap, so I laid down on the couch, and my Boyfriend timed contractions. Now they were getting a bit worse, but not so bad that I didn't think I would be able to handle it. I was after all doing this for a few hours, and I had become a pro. Breathe.
Finally they were 5 mins apart, and I was kinda feeling tired, as I was breathing all day and to my surprise the contractions weren't lessening with each breath... they were getting worse. I tell my BF it's time to go to the hospital. We have been at five mins apart for over an hour.... and that was when the doctor said to go to the hospital.
We get to the hospital, and what happens? Any laboring woman's nightmare. The freaking things stopped. How freaking wonderful. I had them all of the way into the room, and the minute I am hooked up to a monitor the baby decides it's not time after all. I begged the nurse to believe me. They had just been there for an hour... steadily for an hour I was breathing. How and why would they go away? They told me to go back home. I was really disappointed.
By now it's like after lunchtime and I am starving because I haven't eaten anything since dinner time the night before. So we go to Blimpies (a sub place here) and I decide against my better judgment that I was gonna get a foot long ham and turkey and some chips. I figured I had a long road ahead of me, and I knew they wouldn't let me eat after I got to the hospital. I didn't wanna deliver a baby and be hungry at the same time... so I scarfed down the food
My contractions had came back the minute I left the hospital, and they continued into the night until my cool and composed self had melted away and now I was tired, in major pain, and I just wanted this baby out of me. Finally we go back to the hospital, begging for help. My contractions were erratic, I thought I was dying... the hospital had to take mercy on me and help. They admitted me.
After hours of still erratic contractions, and no progress they ask me if I would like some demerol, or was it morphine? I can't remember I was so hopped up at the time... I just remember I got two of the shots, like maybe an hour between them... and the morphine made me feel like I was floating on the ceiling. And it also made me feel something else.
I begged the nurse. Unplug the monitors. PLEASE. I had to go to the bathroom immediately. I was about to ralph up everything I had for lunch and I wanted to do it in private and not all over myself. She denies me the decency of puking in the bathroom and kindly hands me a puke cup thing. Now, I know you know what I am talking about. It's like shaped like a kidney bean, and like the size of your hand. I just looked down at that thing, and pictured my footlong sitting in it. It wasn't even as big as my footlong was. This was a nightmare.
So I proceed to get sick. EVERYWHERE. I filled the cup, all over my gown, all over the bed, and all over the nice nurse that wouldn't give me the decency of puking in the bathroom. and I do mean ALL OVER her. Serves her right. She should listen to people a little more closely.
I was shucked down and standing butt naked in my room with the door wide open while she was cleaning everything up. A guy walked by. I am sure that's exactly what he wanted to see... Shamu, with puke all over her butt naked crying about how sorry she was that she ate the footlong. I will never forget his face. That poor man.
Did I mention that the drugs did NOTHING for me? But because I was administered narcotics, they had to keep me overnight. And that I was still having contractions from hell. My BF decided he was exhausted and he fell asleep on the floor. I was never really sleeping, more like speed catnapping between every horrid contraction. I couldn't handle looking up thru my sweaty hair and seeing him sleeping so peacefully on the floor.
"GET UP!!" I shouted at him. "Get up and help me!!"
I will never in my life forget what he said back to me. Never.
As he laid balled up on the floor, sleeping, he motions with his hands, "I am up. Don't you see? I am making you these jelly things. Don't you see?"
He holds one up so I can nod in approval. He is still sleeping, so he doesn't really care what is happening at the moment... he is just so proud to be making Jelly Things.
WTF. I about came unglued. "WHAT JELLY THINGS!!!!!!!!!!! You are sleeping on the floor. If I have to go thru this awake, you are too!!! GET UP!!!!!!"
So he got back up. Miserable as hell. But not as miserable as me. This goes on thru the night and into the morning. Then, they released me. It was backlabor that was too erratic to admit me as a laboring mother. I still wasn't dilating. I was beyond breathing. I just wanted to die.
Over 24 hours of labor, and nothing had happened yet. Nothing. They had sent me home from the hospital twice already, and told me to take Tylenol at home for any pain I might be experiencing. SCREW THAT!! If this baby could handle Demerol and Morphine, I was at least taking some Motrin.
We go over to my BFs mom's to score a heating pad, because my back hurt so bad. She offers up homemade mac n cheese. Just the thought of the night before made me pass on that right away. We would not be having any repeat performances of that.
I waited for several more hours on the couch at home while my BF played Mario Kart and timed my contractions. Finally it was time to go back to the hospital. Or so I thought.
I have already been in labor for like 30 hours. And lemme tell you putting on makeup was the LAST thing on my mind before we left. I prayed the whole way to the hospital that they please just cut this baby outta me and put me outta my misery. But that didn't happen.
They admit me, because I have already been there twice, and they can see the anguish on my face. Still wasn't dilating or effacing, so they put me on Pitocin. More hours go by and more labor haunted me. I begged for an epidural.
Finally I got one... but to my amazement, that just shifted the pain. Now instead of my bottom half of my body hurting, it left room for me to realize that for a day and a half now all of my neck and back muscles were tensed up and I was aching like crazy up there. I couldn't even lift my arms when it was time to grab the handles to push. I was a wreck.
But somehow she was born. A GIRL! I didn't think I would survive it. 41 hours of back labor and total hell. It wasn't a beautiful experience until I got to see the hair on the top of her head as she was crowning. And then I realized this is why women do this. This is why women endure total hell for hours and hours. The love that exudes from your body in those moments after you see your baby crowning... it's so much stronger than any painful contraction ever could be. Love is what got me thru those last moments when I thought I would just pass out and die. Love and the excitement to meet my baby. It was finally over.
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