Part one is here.
Part two is here.
The epidural didn't work.
Let's back up - it worked a little, but not 100%. The right side of my body was happily pain free but the left side of my body was screaming. It was this pinching feeling, like my body from left leg to left shoulder was caught in a vice and someone was twisting. And probably cackling maniacally.
The nurse rolled me over and massaged my back, trying to get the epidural to drain into the other side of my body. Then she would roll me back and I would howl in pain. This went on a few times until it finally took. I think they may have given me more drugs too but honestly I have no idea what was really taking place. They could have inserted magical happy fuzzy bunnies in to my back for all I knew.
I admire women who have natural births but there was no way on God's green earth that I was ever going to be one of them. I believe that no pain is worth dealing with that some smart person didn't create a drug for and my mind will not be changed. End of story. Give me the good stuff and keep it coming. If I could have ordered the epidural in my fifth month I would have happily had a porta-cath inserted into my arm. If you're looking for an earth mama you can just keep moving. Nothing to see here.
Moms will understand when I say there is no dignity in childbirth, especially when you're delivering in a teaching hospital. As we were. Every Tom, Dick and Harry is wandering into your room to take a look at your hoo-ha and comment on, I don't know, the size, shape and texture of it?
Ooh, what a lovely shade of coral!
Well, after the drugs I was inviting people into my room who were just wandering down the hall to come on in and take a look. Share in the majesty of my hoo-ha! Bring your friends. Certainly you've never seen one like this!
While the monitors beeped away happily, measuring every contraction I couldn't feel, we watched the end of a dog show (Can't remember who won, but it was probably a terrier. Just a little dog joke.), traded taking shots at the anesthesiologist, and then watched a good portion of a Red Sox game. The Sox beat Tampa Bay 3-1 which I took to be a good omen, and then the doctor announced it was time to push. Nice of them to let us watch the last inning, though, because if I would have ended up with a Red Sox hater - or worse, a Yankees fan (!) - in my delivery room, on top of the bumbling Cassanova and his needles, I think I may have walked out.
So I tried pushing. And I tried again. And again.
Apparently, the epidural was now working too well.
More than two very unhappy hours and one threat of c-section later I finally pushed my baby out of the very same hoo-ha I was just hours before inviting people to admire.
I wanted to hold that baby girl so badly, it hurt. But there were complications during my little Chicky's birth. The word "terminal" was used, though I didn't hear it. But Mr. C did.
He decided in my delicate state it would be better not to mention what he heard to me. Instead he put on his bravest face while I continued to ask, "Is she okay? Can I see her? Is my baby okay??"
To be continued... Duh...
Monday, February 11, 2008
Part one is here.