June came in and checked me while I was still in the tub - at 9 cm dilated with some of the cervix still in the way. Try pushing. On my side. Sitting up. Did I feel the urge to push? No. Only pain. Worn out. June had me push while she felt what was happening, trying to push the cervix back. No progress. Did I feel the urge to push yet? No. I asked June: "What is supposed to happen next?" "You push your baby out." I even put my hand down once to feel your little baby head, but I had to reach pretty far. And I wanted to push you out, but you weren't ready, and I was barely keeping it together.
More pain. More throwing up.
There came a moment when I said to June: "What are my options? We need to try something else." I couldn't do it anymore. She said my options were to go to the hospital, or to try and breathe through the contractions for another couple of hours. She encouraged me to breathe through it, that I could do it, that she believed in me. She'd give me and Nick time to talk it over. I think I started to panic; I said I wanted out of there.
She came back and I asked again - I wanted to go. Should I get out of the tub? Put my clothes on? She wanted to give us a few more minutes to talk it over. I began to get impatient. We had already talked, and I wanted out. Sometime in the middle of all this I was alone in the tub, and she was talking it over with the others (Pat, H, and Nick) elsewhere. I remember thinking that if I could just take the next step, whatever it was, that things would get better. I just couldn't keep doing the same thing.
I somehow got out, dried off, put my clothes on, and walked to the car. Nick drove me to Shands, with my mom, June, and H following. It felt like a defeat of sorts, but I knew that something else would happen besides searing pain and throwing up. I knew that someone would help relieve my pain with drugs, and that I might be able to think straight. I had a contraction as I was walking into the hospital, and a lady behind the desk noticed me with my head down on the counter, trying to breathe (Nick was still outside). She asked me if I was okay, and when I told her I was having a contraction, she grabbed a wheelchair. Nick came in and we went straight to the 3rd floor. June was already there with my medical records. I signed a couple of papers and we were in.
I changed into a hospital gown and got into bed. Someone put an IV in and a blood pressure cuff on. Another person tied that ridiculous fetal monitoring belt on, but it kept slipping off. Dr. Buchanan came in and checked me, and we talked. The anesthesiologist came in with the epidural - a spinal shot first to help relieve pain, then the epidural. H was still there, helping me to breathe through contractions while Dr. Buchanan and Sophia (the best nurse I have ever seen) tried to talk to me and Nick. The epidural kicked in. Dr. Buchanan said that the fetal heart rate wasn't exactly stable, but that he would give me a chance to push if I wanted to. I said yes, definitely. Let's do it. Another shot, a second round: this was my shot.
The only problem was that I could no longer feel anything. Little pain, no contractions. They had slowed to every 8 minutes or so, which is not an effective labor pattern. Then came the cascade of things I had read about -- pain, epidural, no feeling, pitocin, more pain, more medication, etc, etc. She put up the pitocin and we pushed, and waited, and pushed and pushed. For an hour. For more time, past the deadline Dr. Buchanan had given. During this time, I did hold off on the epidural and felt some searing pain near my left hip. Incredible pain, hard to take even when "numb."
The official news: you were occipital posterior (OP) or "face up," and asynclitic, or "tilted to the side." When I pushed, your little baby head just tilted more -- didn't move down the birth canal. You were super-stuck, and we were out of options. Dr. Buchanan came back and gave me the news -- we should do a C-section, with my water ruptured for going on 30 hours and no progress. I was disappointed. I was more exhausted than I have ever been. I was still in pain. I wanted to see you. My attitude was poor, and I said to Nick (possibly in front of medical personnel), "Time to go become a statistic."
I was wheeled in to the surgical suite where they pumped me full of lidocaine through the epidural line and tilted me head down in order to get my abdomen numb (and avoid the use of general anesthesia). The anesthesiologist was a young women with a great manner - always talking to me and being honest. I shivered like mad and asked for Nick, who finally came in to hold my hand.
And you, little Cora, were pulled out at 12:39 am on November 16th; I was so happy to hear your little cry after 8 long months of waiting!
damn. birth is a crazy thing.
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