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I was in labor with my first child. My water had broken a few hours before and I was just beginning to have contractions. I was admitted to the hospital and was all set. I was in my gown and my new robe.
My husband had just finished carrying my things to the room from our car. This took him about 6 trips because it was our first baby and we had EVERYTHING. The baby bag, my bag, his bag, his snacks, CD player, CDs, my pillow, pictures to look at, a birthing ball, books and magazines to read, games. You name it, we brought it. How long did we think we were staying? I bet the nurses laughed every time they saw him pass with another armful of luggage. “First time parents,” they probably said to one another as they chuckled.
And I had my birth plan. In the birthing classes, they suggest you write a birth plan. I now believe this is for the parents, to make them think they know what will happen during birth. When it is time for the baby to be born, you may not get your doctor. This is the person that knows your concerns and has seen you naked every month, then once a week for the past 10 months. The last thing that you are going to do is pull out your multi-page birth plan and give it to a new doctor and ask them to read it over before they deliver your baby. I was just happy that someone was going to help me get the baby out. As it turns out, I was lucky. It was my doctor that delivered my baby and I forgot to even show him the birth plan I carefully wrote.
So I was in my gown, feeling excited and nervous. My contractions were not consistent and the nurses wanted me to walk. So we walked all around the hospital for hours. The contractions started getting so painful that I would just stop and huddle over my husband’s shoulder and whimper until it was over. Finally, I was sick of walking and I was getting crabby. We went back to my room and the nurse checked me and announced that I had not progressed at all. Hours of painful contractions and tiring walking and it was for nothing. This did not improve my mood.
“Would you like to continue walking or take a shower?” she cheerfully asked. I glared at her and said, “I am NOT interested in walking anymore.” “Let me get a shower ready for you.” She said nicely. Okay. That was better. A nice warm shower sounded pretty good. I had some new scented shower gel I could use.
I even smiled as she told me it was ready and I should face the water for as long as I could. I undressed and took a deep breath as I stepped into my nice, relaxing OH MY! HOT, HOT WATER!!! You have GOT to be kidding me! I would rather be walking! “It’s WAY TOO HOT!” I yelled to my nurse. She tries to assure me that the hot water on my breasts will help with the labor progression. As she left, I turned the heat down, stayed in for about 4 minutes and asked my husband to bring me some Gatorade. Finished with my shower.
It would be a while before I would see my hero, the anesthesiologist.
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