I found myself pregnant, dressed in a hospital gown, robe and slippers and locked outside the hospital. My husband and I unsuccessfully tried to get back in through the door that we came out. We have no choice but to leave the parking garage by walking down the stairs and walk around the outside of the hospital.
It was late January in Arizona so luckily, it wasn’t unbearably cold but it was lightly raining. My husband held my hand as we walked in the dark around the hospital to find a door to get back in. My slippers become soaked with water as I walk through the puddles in our path. It was probably a very strange sight to the people driving past us. Finally, there is a door.
As we get closer, it appears to be an employee entrance and we, of course, do not have an access card to get in. As we start to walk away, suddenly, we hear the door open. We spin around to see MY NURSE, leaving for the night. As we turn, she sees us. “What are you DOING out here?” We explain about wanting the fresh air and accidentally walking out the parking entrance. She uses her card to let us back in and we are back to focusing on my labor.
It was almost midnight. Still nothing. The gel didn’t work and they were giving me pictocin. My husband slept on the recliner as I watched the same TNT movie that had been on all day and called my Mom. I was ready and I was bored. Shortly after midnight, my new nurse told me that the doctor decided that she would break my water. Having my water broke did not hurt at all but soon after, the contractions became intense.
Since I had an epidural with my first pregnancy, I was certain that I wanted one with my second. Luckily, I asked the nurse for it just after they broke my water. Once the “order” is put for the epidural, it can take a while for the anesthesiologist to get to your room. I started to dilate so quickly once my water broke that with each contraction, all I could do was squeeze the bed rail and cry. During one painful contraction, I heard my husband call the nurse, “Is the anesthesiologist on his way? I don’t think she can take much more of this?” My wonderful, wonderful husband. I am so glad that I married you.
Once the anesthesiologist arrived, the process of the epidural was just as I remembered the first time. The sharp, stinging needle in my back and then…..comfort. And once again, I thanked that dear man for coming to me with pain relief.
After that I slept a restful sleep and was hardly bothered by the nurses that checked on me. It was shortly after 5:00am when my nurse decided to get me in position for a “practice push.” Unsure that I would remember what I needed to do, she gave me the crash course on breathing and pushing. Okay, got it. Piece of cake, so I hoped.
With the next contraction, the nurse reminds me to try pushing and in the middle of my push, suddenly stops me. She calmly asks my husband to push the nurse’s button and she asks them to page the doctor. The baby is on his way out. She turns her attention to me. “We are calling the doctor. I need you to NOT push when you get the urge to.” “What if I have a contraction,” I ask her. “What am I supposed to do?” “You are going to breathe through it with me.” ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? “When will the doctor be here?” “Soon” She tells me.
A few other nurses come into my room and take a look. One says, “Get her legs down out of the stirrups” without even looking at my face. I am in this vulnerable position with my legs spread and raised. I would normally be embarrassed that my naked lower half is on display for all to see but now I am just trying to not let this little boy push his way out of my body until the doctor arrives.
The doctor arrives and it is not my usual doctor. I give her the quick version of my “birthing plan.” “I am very afraid of pain in THAT area. I only had 2 stitches with my first son and really hope to NOT have an episiotomy.” She assures me that she will do all that she can to follow my wishes and make recovery easy for me.
My labor is quick. About 15 minutes and 3 pushes later and our second little angel appears. He is 8 pounds, 2 ounces and beautiful. Tiny and secure, with his daddy holding him. As I hold his warm little body, I touch his small hands, tiny feet and fingers. I could stare into those little eyes for hours. Everything about him is perfect. My world is perfect.
My body, apparently is good at birthing children because for the second time, I will not have to worry about healing stitches. Another positive labor. I know that I am lucky. But do I feel lucky enough to brave another pregnancy and labor?