My due date was January 22, 2013 and I was sure, throughout my pregnancy, that our baby was going to come early. Finishing up my preceptorship was stressful enough, and I had been having mild contractions every day since about 28 weeks gestation. So when my due date came and went I was frustrated and very anxious to finally have my baby in my arms. The fact that my Canadian Registered Nurse Examination (CRNE) was scheduled for February 6th did not help my patience, either. We kept busy though, and A. and I made a ton of giant cinnamon buns just days before Little N arrived. Can you say nesting?
My mom had planned to come about a week earlier, but because I wasn't showing any signs of going into labor, she decided to stay in Edmonton a little bit longer to help my grandparents. She arrived on the 26th and I am convinced that had she come earlier, Little N would have also made an earlier appearance: My mom wasn't here more than 5 hours before I knew I was in labor.
And that's the way I stayed, contractions coming every 5-7 minutes lasting anywhere between 30-90 seconds for about 18 hours. My sister-in-law had given me a recipe for an at-home induction method, and I had cleared it with my doctor. I went into labor on my own, but after 18 hours of "bule bule" contractions (my mother's Swahili term for meaningless contractions) I decided to take a third of the recommended cocktail. Hoo-boy did that get things going: About 22 hours after early labor had started, the contractions were coming hard and strong at very regular intervals and, at around 2330, we headed to the hospital.
When the nurse initially checked me I was 3 cm dilated - not as far along as I wished I was, but enough that they considered me in active labor. The first two hours were manageable enough, I spent that time in the tub, my mom reading a funny little book called A Book of General Ignorance and A. pressing on my back through contractions and giving me sips of water. Eventually, though, the tub just wasn't soothing anymore and I needed a change. At 0300 the nurse checked me again, and I thought "if I can be at 5 cm, I think I can do this." Sure enough I measured at 5 cm. The worst part of my labor was the following 2 hours. When Amy, my nurse, did her assessment, she also put me on the fetal monitor for a few minutes and noticed the baby's heart rate was high, about 170-180 bpm. But neither she nor the on-call physician could tell if baby's baseline HR was that high with some decelerations (a bad sign) or lower with lots of accelerations (a good sign). Knowing my daughter now, how active and excitable she is, I'm willing to guess it was the latter. To be safe, they kept me on the fetal monitor and gave me a bolus of 1L of fluid. I was stuck lying on the bed in what is, I'm sure, the most uncomfortable place in the world to labor, with cords and lines attached to my body. It was miserable. I did try some nitrous oxide (laughing gas) at one point, but it didn't help the pain at all. It only made my mouth dry and my head spin. At one point I looked at A. and said "I don't think I can do this." He was amazing and so encouraging. Both my mom and A. were wonderful. My mom pretty well stayed at my back pushing on it through all of my contractions - I had terrible back labor- and A. stayed at my head, stroking my face and encouraging me through each contraction. I had been leery of having two support people, but they worked so well together, didn't get in each others way and did exactly what I needed them to do. I went through labor without any drugs and no major melt-downs, I believe solely because of their support. Our physician checked me again at 0350 and again I thought "6 cm, please 6 cm." That's the way it was throughout my labor, I would wish for a number and be spot on.
I have talked to a number of other moms and it seems like there's a moment in every labor when things get so ridiculous that you just want to shout "REALLY? NOW??" I had two such moments. I'll share the second one in Part 2, but the first one happened at about 0500 in the morning: I had gotten up a couple of times to use the washroom, but just before 0500 I felt like I had to empty my bladder again. I got up, the contractions were right on top of each other at this point. "Transition" I thought with both relief and fear. Much to my chagrin I couldn't seem to void. I was half-dragged back to bed, doubled over with the pain of another contraction and I suddenly felt like I had to push. Of course I knew what they would say, "not yet, let us check you first, before you push." I knew it was a bad idea to push against a not yet fully dilated cervix. But the urge was so strong I thought "I'll just push a tiny bit" and as I did my water broke, gushed really, all over the floor. The clear fluid another signal that Baby was likely not in distress. They helped be back into bed, our doctor checked me again, I was just barely shy of 10 cm dilated. She told me that before I pushed she wanted to make sure my bladder was empty, and before I could say or do anything she was inserting a catheter. "REALLY? NOW???" I didn't say it, but I wanted to shout it. I did ask, incredulously "What are you doing?"- not that I didn't already know. But I barely got the words out before she was done, so really, she did a very good job.
And then I was ready to push. For me, pushing was a relief. I felt productive. It helped the contractions feel less intense. Pushing was good. I was finally off the fetal monitor, so I was able to try out a variety of positions, which was also wonderful. I kept hearing the nurses and the doctor saying "Wow, she's strong." "For a first time mom, she's really pushing well." It wasn't just meant to be encouraging. It seemed to me that they were honestly quite surprised and impressed. I don't think anyone in the room thought it was a bad omen, I certainly didn't. As I progressed through the second stage the doctor reminded me "When the head is delivered, you need to stop pushing, I'll let you know when you can start again." The last ultrasound, just the previous week, had shown a nucal cord. So I knew our doctor would want to get it untangled before the body was delivered. "Okay," I nodded. The nurses and the doctor talked easily throughout this stage, encouraging me through each contraction. The doctor remarked that our baby had a lot of dark hair, and I thought "She's lying... has she seen this kid's parents?" We are both fair and were both bald as babies. She also told us that she wouldn't tell us the gender of the child, she would let us discover it for ourselves. That was kind of neat, and a different approach than I'd heard of before. When our baby's head was delivered I heard the caution "Okay, now you need to stop pushing." I looked at Amy and panted along with her. That was supposed to keep me from pushing. Then I heard it again: "Stop pushing, you need to stop pushing." I remember saying "I'm not, I'm not... I'm not pushing." Then suddenly at 0544 our baby was delivered and I remember seeing a look of absolute shock and horror on my doctor's face and I thought briefly, "Oh no, the cord!" But before I could really panic, she was in my arms, crying. She had good lungs, good color, good tone. I checked her over. She looked beautiful. Perfect. And sure enough, a good amount of light, reddish hair. I kissed her, noticing two matching stork-bites on each eyelid, and spoke her name over and over. The look of terror on my doctor's face left my mind. And until she spoke again, I was blissful.
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