Mommy Moments :: Labor and Delivery

Well, my grace period for postpartum hibernation has finally lapsed.  I no longer have Tummy Tuesday (aka Tummy Whenever) posts.  I will be moving things to Mommy Mondays, when I can get myself together well enough to post consistently on the correct days.  Ha! 

I am totally in shock that my Little Someone (who shall be renamed at some point, ha!) is already One Month Old!  How did this happen?!  I mean, I feel like I was just in the hospital with her, holding her tiny little body for the first time.

As requested, I will share my labor & delivery story with you all.  I didn't plan on it.  I actually just blogged about my pregnancy because I knew up front that I wouldn't be pregnant again.  Blogging about my daily life and motherhood afterwards never really crossed my mind.  I do love talking about my little family and all the crazy that ensues on a daily basis, but I guess it just never occurred to me that it would be something blog-worthy.  I guess I was wrong.

I will beg your pardon, however.  I am not a pretty girl when it comes to labor & delivery.  I am without hair and makeup.  I am greasy, swollen, exhausted, and typically goofy looking in all pictures.  I also apologize for the quality (or lack thereof), as I was not in charge of the camera for once.  I was in charge of all the action! Kidding... I was just lying about, trying not to die.

My labor and delivery was totally boring.  I imagine it was the same as any other mother's... Wait, everyone has a totally different story to tell each time! I knew that by all of the advice I had gotten regarding whether or not I was going into labor and the tricks people used to induce their own labor. I had every symptom that signaled imminent labor, only no labor followed all of those "sure thing" signals.  At 39 weeks, I scheduled to be induced on a Thursday so that my Little Darling would be out of school by the time I delivered.  The OBGYN on call requested that I come to meet her, as she does not deliver babies without a checkup beforehand.  I was happy to go because she basically told me that my body was the complete opposite of being ready to have a baby! Because of that she had me come in the night before I had originally scheduled my induction.

Everything after that moment up until I was put into my hospital room is a blur!  I was a complete and totally crazy person the day I was induced.  I was barking and yelling at The Hubs.  I was a monster from hell and impatient with my Little Darling.  I wish I could say it was all "hormonal" or pregnancy related, but the truth?  I was scared shitless!  I needed my apartment to be perfectly clean.  I do all the housework and I didn't want to feel stressed or compelled to clean upon my return from the hospital.  I wanted meals prepped, marked, and frozen.  I wanted paper plates, cups, etc and plastic cutlery.  That's just what I do...  I freak out and I try to force a sense of control in my life by hyper focusing on perfecting the few things over which I do have control.

I had no plans of telling anyone I was being induced outside of a few close friends.  We hadn't chosen a name for our daughter and I didn't want to be wrapped up in social media and answering questions/comments/texts during labor. I don't know if you know this, but I am IN LOVE with social media!  LOL.  I am linked into everything and I check it all throughout the day. I know, what a wonderful use of my time.  The only time I am not logged on and scrolling through social media is when I am driving.  I never check it or text.... Everything else is fair game!

When we arrived at the hospital, I found out that people were calling to see if I was there and where I was.  Bizarre, yes.  No, that's not my daily life.  We checked in and they gave me a robe for someone my size who Was Not Pregnant.  So, calculating my belly into the equation, that mess did not fit.  I am not comfortable with waddling about, having my ass all over the place.  I am not comfortable with bending over, and giving everyone some sort of a poon-shot.....  Not unless I am getting paid for it.  I have modesty in the oddest times, and for whatever reason, when I am in a hospital, I become modest.  I made them exchange my robe for a Triple XL.  Yes, I wrapped it around me two and a half times and sat myself down feeling accomplished, cloaked, covered, and safe.

For some reason, I am oddly obsessed (irrationally) with the idea that I might catch crabs or a flesh eating virus from a hospital robe, yet I chose one that was huge enough to fit three of me inside of it. 

I was given Pitocin and I just felt bored.  I knew what to expect, and nothing major was happening.  The only "interesting" thing that happened was listening to The Hubs snore like a wild ancient Greek serpent caught in a ginormous bear trap, only waking to yell at my stepmom and me to get some sleep before shit got real.  I should have listened.

Out of nowhere, the contractions started coming faster and stronger.  I wasn't ready.  I thought they would be the way they were the last time, starting in my back and flowing to my uterus.  These demonic waves of fury flowed only across my lower back.  It was the worst pain ever!  I thought I knew what to expect and I thought I might be able to make it through with no epidural, but not my BACK!  Back cramps/contractions are a special creation of Beelzebub himself.  I neeeeeeeded the juice!

 But let's talk about my epidural.  With my Little Darling it wore off in 20 minutes.  I asked the medical staff if my legs should be itching and they said that was normal.  Suddenly, I could move my legs.  I asked if that was normal and they looked at me strangely before scurrying away.  By the time I realized that I wasn't numb it was too late and I felt E.V.E.R.Y.T.H.I.N.G.

This time, I could barely sit still for the epidural because the cramps were in my back and staying in a hunched position for the shot just made my contractions worse.  I knew that it was messed up because I only felt medicine on half my back.  So it wasn't much of a shock when I awoke from a dead sleep with hellish contractions on HALF my back and uterus.  Yes, for real.  Only 50% of my uterus was going through the absolute worst time of my life. I assure you that Satan himself showed up each time to scratch, claw, nibble, and twist everything from my spine to my uterus during the contractions.  And the anesthesiologist strolled himself back in, as though he KNEW he would have to come back, and gave me more medicine, but not without making some sort of arrogant comment.  First, don't be an asshole to a woman while she's in pain, especially if said pain is connected to child birth.  Secondly, if you hate your job, PLEASE do not work with women who are delivering babies in the middle of the night.  Please.  Thank you, asshole.  If I weren't scared that I might burp, fart, poop, pee, sneeze, and vomit all at the same time, I might have gotten up and face-palmed the anesthesiologist after his unnecessary comment. But I promised to behave this time, as I was apparently a cruel bitch to everyone around me when I birthed my Little Darling.  Uhm, sorry I'm not sorry!  Child birth Hurts Really Badly and if my meds wear off, my fangs might come out.

I will say that I am really great at pushing out babies.  LOL.  I was made for that.  Although I was exhausted from 10 full minutes of one sided contractions and hyperventilation, I managed to push out my Little Someone in just a few minutes.  So.... Here's the part where I am honest, and I don't say what you want to hear.  For some reason, in all my insanity, I just listened to my stepmom who told them to place the baby on my chest immediately.  I don't think I understood what that meant.  As soon as they popped my Little Someone out of her sack, they plopped her on my chest.  EEEEW!!!  NOOOOO THANK YOU!  I don't do slime, gruel, icky things, sticky things, or... well, you get the idea.  I just don't.  I can barely pull of my own band-aids.  Seeing the sight of my own blood makes my stomach turn violently.  When they placed my Little Someone, all grey and covered in placenta goop or afterbirth glob or whatever with the umbilical cord dangling from her body, I thought I would die.  I think I said something to the effect of, "What?  Oh No No No NO!  Why?  Uh uh.  I can't.  Ew no! Please, take her. I'm sorry.  Can you wipe her off, hose her down, something?  She's... Uhm, I'm so sorry."  Add some pauses for dry heaving, gagging, and deep breaths so that I didn't vomit on my newly birthed child.  I am sure I lost count of the eye rolls, but honestly?  Who wants a goop-covered baby all over their chest for skin-to-skin contact?  Ok, I am selfish and squeamish.  But they cleaned her and gave her right back and she was perfect!

 Although the recovery immediately thereafter was significantly quicker and easier than with my Little Darling, I do so solemnly swear never to experience child birth again.  Absolutely nothing about it appeals to me whatsoever.  It's painful, scary, unpredictable, messy.  But Oh! My sweet, precious baby girl that I got as my prize for being able to make it through. She was so worth the mess!  This sweet girl we were told by doctors that we couldn't and wouldn't have. Well, my Little Someone is here.  You were wrong, you fertility assholes.  You were wrong!

Happy Hump Day!