"I want to hurry and type my whole story out before I forget all of the little details. I like details. In fact, expect this to be way too long, full of things that no one really needs to know but that I can't help to include.
So a week ago, I was sitting in my doctor's office and told that it would probably be another week or so, but that I would most likely deliver Nolan before his August 13th due date. I was super excited until I did a little research and found that most women stay dilated 3 to 4 cm for weeks and that I shouldn't get my hopes up to be any different.
I stubbornly stuck to my work-outs, hoping that it'd help further some cervical change. On Sunday, I *ahem* had some alone time with my hubby. Sometime later, I had the strangest sensation as my mucus plug worked it's way out. That did not happen with Boston and even though it was kind of exciting, it was mostly really gross. I noticed some strong pressure and what I thought could be contractions almost immediately afterward. Again, some scouting around on the internet and asking my trusted doula friend told me that it was common to lose your plug and it could mean labor within the next 24 hours or not for another month.
36.3 weeks, the day I went into labor
So to dinner we went, where I told everyone what was going on and got lots of cheers that "a baby was coming tonight!" No pressure. Haha. I still wasn't convinced that it was true labor until the night wore on and when I couldn't stand without fidgeting in pain, it was time to go and pay a visit to labor and delivery.
We went home and got my bag packed, just in case. It was something I put off doing because I was only 36 weeks (and 3 days) along. I still had plenty of time, I thought! We live like a block away from the hospital and thought that since they were going to send us home anyway, we might as well just walk over. In fact, my mother in law joked that we should leave my bag...being unprepared meant they would keep me. Sage advice. :) So we kissed Boston good-night and told everyone we'd see them soon.
Walking up to the nurses, I felt so dumb. I explained that while I was probably just having false labor, I wanted to get checked and be assured so that I could try and get some sleep that night. They were totally obliging and led us back to none other than the room I labored in with Boston. Deja vu! Or bad luck, I can't decide.
One uncomfortable exam later and the nurse declares I'm at 5 cm. So wait, I'm really in labor?? Now what? Then she lays the bad news on me: Dr. W is unreachable until Monday afternoon. The on-call OB, Dr. P, doesn't do VBACS. Ever. Are you bleepin' kidding me?! Since I'm pretty far dilated, I'm not quite allowed to leave yet. She says Dr. P. wants me to hang out for two hours to see if I progress. If no change, I could go home but if I dilated further, then we would be completely at the mercy of Dr. P and what he wanted to do.
While my original plan was to walk and move for as long as I could, now I was determined to make labor stop! I sat in a bath for 40 minutes, willing my baby not to come until Dr. W was back. Then I laid on the bed in an almost comatose state for the rest of the time. Thinking I had succeeded, the nurse comes back and tells me (almost grimly) that I'm now a 7! Wow, doing nothing moved me that far along?! Pretty cool, but then dreadful as I realize this means I'm stuck with Dr P. I beg and plead for her to call Dr. W, pretend I'm a four and let me go, tell her I refuse to sign a c-section waver. She nods at me empathetically and says we just have to wait and see what Dr. P wants to do.
I can't remember how long we waited for the answer, but I divided the time between crying in despair to Shane (I'd worked so hard for this labor!) and contemplating an escape plan. Shane comforted me and gave me such a wonderful blessing. I could feel his faith in Heavenly Father and in me as he blessed things to go well.
Profound relief and even excitement came when the nurse said Dr. P would allow me a trial of labor (I later found out that it was the nurses who championed my cause and talked Dr. P into giving me a shot, bless their souls!!) I can so do this! was the mantra in my head. It was probably close to midnight when I was officially admitted, tethered to an i.v. and roaming up and down the halls. I was amazed at how little my pain was. Part of me was nervous that things were too easy and something bad was approaching, the everlasting cynic in me I guess.
At one a.m. I reached 8 cm and decided that it was probably a good time for the epidural. I was required to have one, but wanted to wait as long as I could before getting it. I wasn't in a whole lot of pain but wanted a restful sleep before all the action began.
The epidural was a little more painful than I remember. So many strange sensations. My back is still aching from it. But I did start to feel tired and heavy. The annoying thing was every time I'd drift into sleep, my evil angst-ridden side would nag me awake with worries that my contractions weren't strong enough and that I'd get stuck at a 9 again. That I'd end up back in the OR. This went on for hours.
At 4 a.m. I'd reached a 9 but still wasn't all the way effaced and baby was still at 0 station. My contractions were a little bit weak since he wasn't putting much pressure on my cervix. My bag of waters was still in tact and I kept wondering when they would break it since I was so far dilated.
Two, three, seven hours later...no change. I was in a bit of a state of weepiness and despair as I felt the all-too-familiar stall of labor. I cursed that stupid room where the same thing happened two years ago, I cursed the doctor for not being my doctor (he hadn't been in to see me once!), I felt my fantasy of pushing my baby out and holding him on my chest slipping rapidly away.
Well, my second most-amazing nurse of the day refused to let me get discouraged. Coincidentally, she had had a VBAC herself and reassured me that we weren't out of options yet. Finally, at 11 a.m., Dr. P came and ruptured my membranes. Contractions and pressure increased but not quite enough and an hour later I was given a low-dose of Pitocen. OH MAMA those contractions picked right up. When I was given the epidural, I requested it low enough that I could move my legs and feel the contractions while my nether region stayed nice and numb, but when those transition contractions started coming every minute or so, I began pushing my epi button like there was no tomorrow. Eventually the anisthesiologist came in after hearing my animalistic cries of labor down the hall and gave me not one, but two more doses! I remember my mind being divided between trying to focus on the baby moving down the birth canal and doubting myself that I could go through with this as each contraction peaked. I had Shane on one side trying to rub my arm, my leg, my head to calm me and my mom on the other trying to get me to "Ommm" the right way. Haha, bless her heart, she thought that if I got my vibrations just right there'd be no pain. I almost chucked the tennis ball I was clutching at her.
I'll never forget the utter joy and shock I felt when my nurse annouced I was 10 cm and fully effaced! Tears literally ran down my face. The anisthesiologist said my pain shouldn't be making me cry after two doses of medicine, but I just laughed and told him I was so happy! I'd gotten past the dreaded 9! It worked, even though a big part of me doubted I'd ever see this point! And it was time to push.
Can I just say to ladies who are pregnant: exercise, especially yoga, works!!! I know that's what gave me the strength to be able to push effectively after being through such a long labor and being extremely exhausted. Ok, and it doesn't hurt if your baby is tiny. Once I got over my self-consciousness (I was convinced I'd be one of those mothers who poops all over, scarring and eternally turning off my husband), I pushed like an Amazon woman. The doc did end up giving me an episiotomy (ouuuuch!) but little Nolan's head crowned after about 20 minutes of pushing. Dr. P told me to stop and pretty much just lie there, which was SO hard! I didn't know at the time, but the cord was wrapped around his neck twice and he was a scary shade of blue. Luckily, Dr. P was quick to get it cut (sad for Shane that he once again missed out on cutting the cord) and to pull Nolan the rest of the way out. He went straight to the NICU nurses while I strained to look at him through the afterbirth and stitching up of tender areas.
Thankfully, baby was given a clean bill of health and I got to meet my teeny tiny bundle. A priceless moment, to say the least.
It was such an incredible experience that I'll cherish forever. I'm so thankful to have been able to have the delivery I dreamed about and that everything came together to make that possible. Our bodies are truly amazing, especially if we do all we can to help them out. And modern medicine is such a blessing. There is a fine balance between too much intervention and just enough to enable a successful delivery. The first time I believe I was on the wrong side of that balance whereas this time I wouldn't have been able to do a VBAC without it."
Saturday, August 6, 2011
another wonderful VBAC
My sweet friend Chelsea called me a few times throughout her pregnancy to discuss a VBAC. She was excited, terrified, and seriously wanting one. Though she did wait till the end to make her final decision, once her doctor expressed some real support, she was gung-ho. She had a beautiful experience and said I could share her family blog post about it here: