I know they call it labor for a reason. That was BY FAR the hardest thing my mind and body have ever been through.
I had the smoothest pregnancy. I was 34 years young, had zero morning sickness, no food aversions, nothing. I worked out almost every day. I felt amazing! Check ups were smooth, and baby was growing right on target…then I hit 36 weeks.
I went in for my appointment and expected the usual “everything looks perfect. See ya next week!” … but the nurse took my blood pressure, and then again, and again. The doctor explained that it was high and she was concerned.
They sent me straight to the hospital for a blood and urine testing and more monitoring of my blood pressure. I was there for a full 24 hours, but was sent home as my blood pressure dropped back down and my urine tests came back normal.
At my next appointment later that week, my blood pressure was higher than they liked again. The baby looked good, but they were concerned about preeclampsia setting in, so they scheduled me to be induced the following week at 37 weeks. I was scared.
We made our appointment at the hospital for the induction. When the day finally came, we grabbed our packed bag and went. My doctor checked me multiple times throughout the night after giving me 3 doses of Cytotec to start the process.
By the next afternoon, nothing had changed. My body just wasn’t ready. The induction had failed. Zero dilation. They gave us the option to stay or go home and try again at 39 weeks. She didn’t want me to go too long.
We decided to go home. I felt like such a failure. I cried for a couple days, but I had to keep telling myself it wasn’t my fault and that he just didn’t want to face the world yet. So we waited.
At 39 weeks and 5 days, back to the hospital we went! This time I was determined. “I’m not leaving here without my baby in my arms,” I told my doctor. We started the Cytotec again, and this time, it was working! The next afternoon I was dilated, not much, but it was doing its thing. We started the IV for the induction medication.
A couple hours of passed and I was bouncing on the medicine ball, chatting with Adam about who knows what and I heard a POP. “Did you hear that?” I asked. “No?” I figured it was just the ball moving on the tile floor.
But when I stood up a minute later, I felt the rush of fluid. “OHHHHHHH sh*t” I said to Adam, “Go get the doctor, my water broke!”
The contractions started and they came quick. I tried to last as long as I could without the epidural but when they were so uncomfortable, I asked for one. The anesthesiologist was gentle and quick as he placed it.
I felt immediate relief and started to push. I pushed for an hour and a half but very little progress was being made. The pressure was unbearable but he wasn’t moving down. I wasn’t sure why I was still feeling so much pain.
After about 2 hours of pushing, I told my doctor I couldn’t stand it anymore. I was screaming, getting physically sick and begging Adam to stop the pain. They tried to give me another dose
of the epidural medicine. It seemed to work and we started pushing again, then all the pain came rushing back.
After the third hour of pushing, I couldn’t take it anymore. I was exhausted, in extreme pain and the baby wasn’t nearly as low as he needed to be. The anesthesiologist was called back in.
Apparently my epidural had “slipped” out of place and they had to take it out, and redo it. I didn’t care. I just needed relief.
He redid the process but it still wasn’t working. My doctor was becoming concerned with my energy levels and did some more feeling around for the baby. The little stinker had flipped! He was now sunny side up.
We had options: use forceps to turn him over, but with the epidural not working, it would be extremely painful and the chances of a full tear were nearly 100%, and the flip might not work — or I could just go straight for a C-section. I said “LET’S GO.”
It wasn’t in my plan, and it was the last thing I wanted, but at that point, I needed my baby safe in my arms.
They got me prepped and we headed to surgery. The doctor replaced the epidural AGAIN and this time gave me TWO doses of the medicine. It finally hit and I couldn’t move my lower half! So away they went and the next thing I knew, I had a son…..
They say don’t expect anything, or for things to go as planned. They’re right.
Feeling the pain and pressure of contractions come back so quickly, in full force, while pushing for 3+ hours wasn’t what I was expecting. Having an epidural placed four times was not what I was expecting. Baby flipping mid-labor wasn’t what I was expecting. A C-section wasn’t what I was expecting.
Sobbing, begging every person in the room to help me, physically getting sick, praying… It felt like straight torture. When people say they can’t really explain childbirth, I now understand that.
But when people say every single second of it was worth it, I now understand that too.
I wanted to quit, but I’m stronger than that. My doctor commented on how long and hard I pushed and how impressed she was. My body is STRONG.
Recovery wasn’t easy, everything hurt. I am still healing. I am so thankful for it though, and for what it has created and what it has allowed me to do.
My son is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen, and even though I swore I wouldn’t after all of that, I just might do it again!
