It has been four weeks since we welcomed our little one into the world on May 9th, 2008. She burst into the world at 6:36 pm, weighing a healthy (my hubby's word, I say 'chubby') 9lbs 5oz. Life has been a bit of a blur since then. Actually, that is the BIGGEST understatement ever made.
So, inquiring minds want to know...how was my labour? I had thought before giving birth that I would be serious and write an eloquent and beautiful birth story. Well...that just isn't me and in all honesty the birthing process was, um, not all together pleasant. For a very lovely story about my labour, please refer to my doula's blog, re: Colours of Birth: http://www.sauciness.blogspot.com/ She has written about it in such a positive way, that every time I read it I am brought to tears. Tears of joy, honestly.
When I have flashbacks about the ACTUAL process....then I have tears of a different kind. I'll try not to be too graphic, which isn't really my true nature, but I have friends who are pregnant and I don't want to frighten them too much. Oh, who am I kidding? I'm blunt and candid, deal with it!
The birthing process was the EXACT OPPOSITE of everything that I indicated I wanted in my birth plan. It made me think of all of the theory classes that I have taken in Education. IN THEORY, certain things sound good, but in practice it never works like that.
I was adamant that I did not want an epidural. I was a warrior princess and I would laugh in the face of pain. In reality, after seven hours of intense contractions that were one on top of each other, and a damn cervix that was stuck at 5 cm, I finally asked for the stupid epidural. My hubby tried to convince me otherwise, but I was not going to be denied. We tried the gas mask first, which made me feel like I was going to hyperventilate and barf all at the same time. I all but threw it at the nurse the third time it was offered to me. The thought of relief from an epidural was the only thing that would console me. (each contraction at this point felt like someone was taking a sledge hammer and slamming it against my back)
Getting the epidural was a bit scary. I'm not a fan of having large needles stuck into my back. Nor was I a fan of being told not to move while having it done. Easier for the anesthesiologist to say - he wasn't the one being hit with a contraction every two minutes.
The pain relief from the epidural was divine. I loved every minute of it! I could talk! I could laugh! I could crack jokes! (I apparently informed everyone in the room that I could still feel the contractions but they weren't too painful - just felt like I needed to take a big cra* - charming, I know)
And then the doctor came and broke my water (I was stuck at 5cm still, even two hours after having been given the epidural) and all hell broke loose.
Sigh. Once my water was broken the epidural decided it didn't want to play anymore. It took a permanent vacation. I was beyond unimpressed. I hadn't wanted an epidural in the first place, I finally asked for one, and the damn thing only lasted for two hours. I don't know why, but it just stopped working. Pain resumed, on a much more intense level. I believe I asked anyone who would listen to 'just pull her out!' What can I say? I no longer think that pain is a right of passage to be endured during labour. Pain sucks the big one. The pain fairy was kicking my a**.
After my water was broken (it really did feel like I peed myself...a lot...), it only took about an hour to go from 5 to 8 cm. Intense stuff. That may explain why I no longer felt the epidural.
I had also said I wouldn't take any narcotics. The first time it was offered, I said no. Later on I was told it was time to start pushing, would I like to try fentanol? (a narcotic). I said YES.
The funny thing is (I can say funny now, not so funny at the time...), I had no urge or desire to push once I was told to start pushing. Zip, zilch, nothing. A bar was propped over the bed with a towel attached to it. I had to pull myself up on the towel with every contraction, and push. My hubby counted for three sets of ten. Then four sets of ten. My doula kept my head cool, and tried to keep me calm. (which was not a small feat at this point - I REALLY did not want to push). This went on for about an hour. At some point I think the narcotic must have kicked in, because in between contractions I all but fell back on the bed and slept/passed out/went into some weird funky trance like zone....
Then I felt the urge to push, and it must have been one damn good push because she was just about out, and then...the nurse told me to STOP PUSHING. The f-sharps came out on parade at this point, as did my temper. I started yelling that my baby girl was coming and that I did NOT want to stop pushing. They paged my doctor (yes, I actually had my doctor who was on call that day), who came a few minutes later. She had been absent for the entire pushing process and showed up for the last few pushes. She came and got set up and I was permitted to continue pushing. Second push after my doctor arrived and she had the scissors out for the most unkindest and unexpected of cuts. I screamed at the top of my lungs and I believe it was another push and my little one was born.
And then the pain just stopped. Other women had told me that the pain would stop as soon as the baby was born, but I hadn't fully believed them. But it was so true and such a HUGE RELIEF. That was the first emotion I felt upon delivering my daughter.
The second was shock. I had thought that I would cry, but I was a bit too stunned that she was actually out to feel anything beyond bewilderment. I had reached down to pull her onto my chest and the first thing I thought was 'she feels really oily.' And heavy. My doctor said she was a big one...and the second shock of the day was when they told me she was 9lbs 50z. What??? How??? Are you sure??? Then she was whisked away to be attended to by the nurses. She had a lot of mucous in her little lungs and they were trying to suction it out. One my end of things all I heard was her gasping which instantly sent me into worry mode and I kept asking my doula if my 'little' one was okay. I was told not to worry, the mucous was normal, and her daddy was with her holding her hands. (while all this was going on I was getting stitched up, which I was trying not to ignore. I'd had enough at this point of feeling like a science experiment...I found out at this point as well that I had been given the episiotomy because I had started to tear quite badly. GREAT.) She was finally given back to me and she breastfed like a trooper, about 20 minutes after she was born.
There is so much more that I could write. This kind of feels like the 'coles notes' version. My goals for the next week is to write about how my life has changed in the past four weeks, and how my little one is already changing. (I'd honestly like to stop time for awhile...it's too soon for her to be changing already!)
In spite of all of the pain and things not going how I thought they would, I wouldn't trade my life right now for anything. Being a mom is indescribable. The way my daughter looks at me...it catches my breath. She is so precious and I love her more than I ever thought possible.
But I absolutely DO NOT love it when she poops out of her diaper so much that it fills my belly button...that's a story for another day...
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