Henry's birth story, part three: my own room
(For the story so far, click here for part one, and here for part two...)
I think my body somehow was holding off on really kicking it into gear until we were officially admitted to the hospital. I say that because around 10 a.m., when we were finally admitted, my contractions really started getting painful.
I was, once again, hooked up to a blood pressure cuff (thank you, mild pre-eclampsia) and strapped up for an NST. So, there was no getting out of bed at this point. Every contraction, I would squeeze the shit out of Buster's hand. And try to breathe through them, while keeping my jaw relaxed.
Eventually they got painful enough where moaning through them was the better option for me, rather than breathing through them. It was basically a one-note, one-breath "ughhhmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm" until the contraction was over. And the couple on the other side of the curtain got to listen in on all of this. I checked my dignity and self-consciousness at the door.
When my nurse checked back with me, I let her know that contractions had really picked up in pain and frequency. She decided to check me again. It was now 11 a.m. And I was certainly progressing: I was 6-7cm dilated now (does that mean 6.5?? Who knows!). She told me that they were still working on getting me my own room (so much for that birthing tub... I had still been holding out a smidgen of hope for that). She unhooked me from all my wires at this point.
(side note: one of my last correspondences with the outside world happened at this time: "6-7 cm dilated. Henry should be here by late afternoon. Contractions suck dick.")
After she left, I told Buster I wanted to try laboring standing up. That was the main reason I didn't want an epidural, after all! I wanted to be free to roam, free to stand, free to sit on a birthing ball, etc. I had been in bed for an hour at this point, and I wanted to see if the contractions were more tolerable while standing.
Buster helped me to sit up, and I swung my legs around. I dangled my feet over the edge of the bed, and gently tried to step down. The pressure I felt down low was excruciating and completely took me by surprise. Wincing in pain, I felt a gush of warmness: my water had broken.
The pain and pressure I experienced after my water broke took my breath away. I told Buster that I had to get back in bed IMMEDIATELY. Standing was not going to be an option. It was now 11:20 a.m.
Apparently your water breaking is like steroids for contractions... holy shit did they hurt at this point. And they were coming much, much closer together. I lost any awareness of the people in the room with me, and started yelling (not really yelling, but not talking either... somewhere in between) about how I'm in horrible pain, and REALLLLY want an epidural now!!!!! And PLEASE get me my own room (I was certain I would be birthing Henry here in this stupid triage room!)!!
My nurse showed up and I told her my water broke. I begged her for an epidural. She paged someone to come draw my blood (because apparently you must have blood drawn prior to getting an epidural?). She goes ahead and puts an IV in (which she REALLY struggled with. All kinds of fishing around in my wrist area with a needle. And during a contraction. WTF that was awful.).
Things had been moving so quickly since we had been admitted that so far, only my mother-in-law had made it to the hospital. Buster texted my family and let them know that things were progressing very quickly now, so they should head to the hospital.
I continued laboring in the triage room, moaning and grunting through my contractions while squeezing Buster's hand. I continued talking loudly about how much they hurt and how I reallllly wanted that epidural. Every time my nurse came in, I asked about the epidural. And every time, she told me the same shit: they are so busy, they are trying to get someone up here, blah blah.
Someone finally did come to draw my blood, so that gave me some hope that maybe I would get that epidural (that I had said I didn't want this whole pregnancy) after all. My nurse goes ahead and starts a fluid drip. She said something about them having to get some amount of fluids in me before I could even get the epidural. I forget how many bags she said, but by the looks of the drip (it was pushing pretty damn slow), it seemed like I'd be lucky to have that one bag in me.
About ten minutes after the blood draw, my nurse and my former nurse (who was so busy earlier and said that I might just have an irritable uterus) show up with a wheelchair. I was FINALLY getting my own room! No more scaring the couple on the other side of the window with my epidural demands.
But that meant I had to get up from the bed... ugh. I started to make my way out of bed, but a contraction stopped me in my tracks. After it passed, Buster helped me up and into the wheelchair. As they wheeled me down the hall, I had another contraction. I saw pregnant ladies walking the hall, and somewhere in my mind I thought how that was me so many hours ago. I'm sure I scared them shitless with the pained look on my face and my labored breaths as I was pushed to my room.
It was now noon. I finally got my own room, 7.5 hours after arriving at the hospital.
to be continued...
I think my body somehow was holding off on really kicking it into gear until we were officially admitted to the hospital. I say that because around 10 a.m., when we were finally admitted, my contractions really started getting painful.
I was, once again, hooked up to a blood pressure cuff (thank you, mild pre-eclampsia) and strapped up for an NST. So, there was no getting out of bed at this point. Every contraction, I would squeeze the shit out of Buster's hand. And try to breathe through them, while keeping my jaw relaxed.
Eventually they got painful enough where moaning through them was the better option for me, rather than breathing through them. It was basically a one-note, one-breath "ughhhmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm" until the contraction was over. And the couple on the other side of the curtain got to listen in on all of this. I checked my dignity and self-consciousness at the door.
When my nurse checked back with me, I let her know that contractions had really picked up in pain and frequency. She decided to check me again. It was now 11 a.m. And I was certainly progressing: I was 6-7cm dilated now (does that mean 6.5?? Who knows!). She told me that they were still working on getting me my own room (so much for that birthing tub... I had still been holding out a smidgen of hope for that). She unhooked me from all my wires at this point.
(side note: one of my last correspondences with the outside world happened at this time: "6-7 cm dilated. Henry should be here by late afternoon. Contractions suck dick.")
After she left, I told Buster I wanted to try laboring standing up. That was the main reason I didn't want an epidural, after all! I wanted to be free to roam, free to stand, free to sit on a birthing ball, etc. I had been in bed for an hour at this point, and I wanted to see if the contractions were more tolerable while standing.
Buster helped me to sit up, and I swung my legs around. I dangled my feet over the edge of the bed, and gently tried to step down. The pressure I felt down low was excruciating and completely took me by surprise. Wincing in pain, I felt a gush of warmness: my water had broken.
The pain and pressure I experienced after my water broke took my breath away. I told Buster that I had to get back in bed IMMEDIATELY. Standing was not going to be an option. It was now 11:20 a.m.
Apparently your water breaking is like steroids for contractions... holy shit did they hurt at this point. And they were coming much, much closer together. I lost any awareness of the people in the room with me, and started yelling (not really yelling, but not talking either... somewhere in between) about how I'm in horrible pain, and REALLLLY want an epidural now!!!!! And PLEASE get me my own room (I was certain I would be birthing Henry here in this stupid triage room!)!!
My nurse showed up and I told her my water broke. I begged her for an epidural. She paged someone to come draw my blood (because apparently you must have blood drawn prior to getting an epidural?). She goes ahead and puts an IV in (which she REALLY struggled with. All kinds of fishing around in my wrist area with a needle. And during a contraction. WTF that was awful.).
Things had been moving so quickly since we had been admitted that so far, only my mother-in-law had made it to the hospital. Buster texted my family and let them know that things were progressing very quickly now, so they should head to the hospital.
I continued laboring in the triage room, moaning and grunting through my contractions while squeezing Buster's hand. I continued talking loudly about how much they hurt and how I reallllly wanted that epidural. Every time my nurse came in, I asked about the epidural. And every time, she told me the same shit: they are so busy, they are trying to get someone up here, blah blah.
Someone finally did come to draw my blood, so that gave me some hope that maybe I would get that epidural (that I had said I didn't want this whole pregnancy) after all. My nurse goes ahead and starts a fluid drip. She said something about them having to get some amount of fluids in me before I could even get the epidural. I forget how many bags she said, but by the looks of the drip (it was pushing pretty damn slow), it seemed like I'd be lucky to have that one bag in me.
About ten minutes after the blood draw, my nurse and my former nurse (who was so busy earlier and said that I might just have an irritable uterus) show up with a wheelchair. I was FINALLY getting my own room! No more scaring the couple on the other side of the window with my epidural demands.
But that meant I had to get up from the bed... ugh. I started to make my way out of bed, but a contraction stopped me in my tracks. After it passed, Buster helped me up and into the wheelchair. As they wheeled me down the hall, I had another contraction. I saw pregnant ladies walking the hall, and somewhere in my mind I thought how that was me so many hours ago. I'm sure I scared them shitless with the pained look on my face and my labored breaths as I was pushed to my room.
 |
| A sight for sore eyes! |
It was now noon. I finally got my own room, 7.5 hours after arriving at the hospital.
to be continued...
Yikes. I haven't commented on the other posts because I was waiting for the finale, but YIKES. That sucks hardcore that you had to wait so long for a room and how long everything was taking (room, meds, etc...) Whew! Waiting for the rest of the story...
ReplyDeletethat is so crazy it took you 7 and a half hours to get into a hospital room. I sure hope that they got you that epidural before you were fully dilated. I had thought that my water has broken but it was just some sort of leaking thing and once they broke it fully the contractions were so so much worse! Can't wait to hear the end1!!
ReplyDeleteWow - that is a LONG wait for your room but thankfully it happened. Can't wait to read how it ends.
ReplyDeleteYeah, they warned me that if I wanted an epidural, I needed to ask for it before I actually needed it b/c I would need to get 2 bags of fluids in me beforehand.
ReplyDeleteAnywho, can't wait for the next part!
Yay for your own room! I remember telling my husband, "I don't know how the fuck women breathe their babies out" ... and then laughing...so that I wouldn't cry. I ended up loving my birth experiences, but shit it is intense! I'm loving reading your story. :)
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