Labor of love

While it is still somewhat fresh and painful in my mind, I decided I'd sit down to write out the story of Silas's labor and delivery. Once I got home from work on Friday, I had decided that I wasn't going to go back to work on Monday. I had a mission, although I kept telling Josh that I was convinced I was going to be pregnant up until my due date. Regardless of my doubt, I sat on the exercise ball and bounced and Josh ordered up some Dominoes pizza with Buffalo Kickers (this is exactly what I had for dinner the night before my water broke with Tristan.) I ate the chicken the same as I had with Tristan making sure to dip it in the extra hot sauce. Still being skeptical, Josh put Tristan to bed at about 9:00. I went to the kitchen to do some cleaning, and while I was doing the dishes my water broke. Still being skeptical I decided that the baby had just bounced on my bladder so I went about my business and decided that if it happened again then I would tell Josh. With Tristan, it was an obvious gush, but this time it wasn't as obscene, although it still wasn't the trickle people talk about. Regardless, the more I walked around the more apparent it became that it was my water so I told Josh we needed to go, he called Grandpa to come sleep at our house, and we packed our bags back into the van and headed to the hospital.

When we got to the hospital around 10 I was only dilated to 3cm and 80% effaced. Not much progress from Thursday night. They hooked me up to the IV and took half of my blood supply for testing and I made sure to let them know that I wanted the epidural as soon as the anesthesiologist could make it there. I was totally convinced that my platelets were on their way up and all would be well. Little did I know. At 11:20 (yes, I wrote down all the times) a timid little man came into my room and introduced himself as the anesthesiologist. In his meek and broken English he apologized to me and said that my platelets had come back at 96 and he couldn't do the epidural if they were under 100, then he quite literally slinked out of my room. I'm pretty sure the look I gave him burned a little bit. At least I hope it did.

The nurse came in and she too felt the need to apologize to me. At this point I really didn't want to talk about it, so I'm pretty sure I gave her the "fuck off" look too. I found my voice for a brief second and told her that Dr. OB had told me that some anesthesiologists will still do the epidural down to a platelet count of 75, so being the most awesome nurse that I now know her to be she called the anesthesiologist on call. Well, this guy was a weasel too because he said that he wouldn't do it either. The nurse came back once again to apologize (because apologies helped so much at that point) and to let me know that all of our hospital's anesthesiologists are male sadists.

Things, painwise, weren't too bad until about 2:30am so it wasn't until then that I asked for some IV pain killers. I was told that these meds would "take the edge off" the pain. I soon learned that this roughly translates into bringing the pain level down from a 10 to a 9.9. Every hour on the hour I made sure to get my next dose of pain meds in the insane hope that one of these times they would work. The nurse was at least kind enough to delay the pitocin until Saturday morning when she, out of pure, unadulterated compassion and kindness, was going to make the lab test my platelets again. At 4:40 I was still only dilated to 4cm. At 5:30 I made it to 5cm, the nurse started the pitocin, and somewhere in there the lab came to draw more blood.

At about 6-ish we found out that my platelets had come back at 104, so now I could have my epidural. Thank God for the nurse that made them test my blood again. This same nurse decided at 6:45 that the Nubain and Stadol weren't working well enough (I could've told you that!) and she tried some Fentanyl (remember this from Tristan's post op - the morphine-like stuff). Well, if the Fentanyl worked for Tristan as well as it worked for me, I feel so sorry for him. It did nothing so now I was worse off and couldn't have anything for another hour.

This is about the time that the nurse's shift change happened and I got a far less compassionate nurse. Still no anesthesiologist, because I guess he was in surgery and then there was some other lady that was dilated to 7cm who thought she deserved her epidural first. I vaguely remember telling Josh that I didn't care who was in surgery or who this other lady was, but I deserved needed him more. I know I said a few colorful things to Josh, I even sobbed for a bit, and yes, I swore, but I never screamed or made any noise that went outside the confines of my room. Regardless, I know Josh saw a side of me that night that even I didn't know was in there. I can honestly tell you that I have never felt any pain like that in my life, and I never wish to feel it ever again. I don't know how people did things before epidurals became common, but they should all get a trophy.

Finally, at 8:20am the anesthesiologist made it to my room and made a smart ass comment about me being the lady with the low platelets the night before. I guarantee you that I was in no mood for any comments of any kind and only wanted his drugs at this point. I got the epidural and was finally back down to an 8 out of 10 on the pain scale. For some reason this guy doesn't do the epidural that leaves your legs as lifeless attachments and felt that it was his right to decide that I needed to feel more than not, so I got some pain relief but certainly not all. I didn't care at this point, something was better than nothing.

The time from 8:20 until about 10:15 felt like heaven to me. At 9:45 I was still only dilated to 5cm so I figured we had some time to go, but suddenly at 10:10 the pain intensified again. They had the anesthesiologist come back in and add some more meds to the epidural but that still didn't help. They checked me at 10:15 and I was at 10cm. That's 5cm to 10cm from 9:45 to 10:15. Pretty impressive if you ask me, but no less painful either. I spent the next minute or two waiting for the doctor to come in and doing my best not to push. A few pushes later and Silas made it out at 10:20am. I may not labor quickly, but I certainly can push the kids out quickly (Tristan took about 11 minutes). I'm pretty proud of this and may even put it on my resume.

Just like Tristan, Silas was born and peed immediately. Must be a boy thing. The delivery went much better than Tristan's did and I was allowed to hold Silas for awhile before they even took him to the nursery to be weighed. The doctor was in and out of the delivery room in 15 minutes! They took Silas to the nursery and then brought him right back after giving him a clean bill of health. I still don't quite understand that since we all know what came next. Regardless, Josh and I got to spend a few hours in the delivery room with Silas before they moved me to my room and took Silas for some vitals. Well the vitals ended with the doctor coming back to tell us about Silas's breathing problems, and that's about where everyone knows the rest of the story.

Although I will never deny that Silas's labor was anything less than my own personal hell, everything turned out beautifully and Josh and I couldn't be happier. Silas is now 6 days old and he is a wonderful baby, just like Tristan was. He sleeps very well, he is a great eater, and he is incredibly content. We had our first doctor's appointment today and he weighs 7lb 4oz (down 1 more ounce from his discharge weight) but the doctor said that everything looks great.

So, that's my story, presented for my memory and your enjoyment.