PLUGGED UP
I had been looking for a tongue in the toilet for weeks. Not a real tongue, the mucus plug that a friend told me resembled a tongue. No dice. I was beginning to panic. There was no way I could birth a child into this world on April 1st, my official due date. That date screams “bad omen”. I informed Josh that if it was 11:59 PM on April 1st to please, please, please tell the doctor to leave the baby in until the clock struck midnight. Of course, had I known what labor would have been like, I would not have given a shit what day it was.
So on Tuesday, March 29th, I headed over to my weekly doctor’s appointment with the news that I was still one centimeter dilated (booo) and that my mucus plug was now residing in the garbage can post the so much fun internal exam. “If the plug falls out, doesn’t that mean labor is hours or just a few days away”, said I. “Nope. It means nothing” said my doctor. So, I left there with an appointment scheduled on my anniversary. Perhaps I had a feeling, but after I purchased the bag of artificially flavored Bachman’s popcorn I had been craving, I decided to head home and chill out rather than go to the gym. I had been to spin the night before and quite honestly, at 39.5 weeks preg, my uterus just could not take it anymore. Right before I finally settled down for the night, I mentioned to Josh that maybe I should bust out the shower curtain. Shower curtain, you ask? Another friend of mine told me that in the weeks leading up to her due date, she spread a shower curtain under her sheet and draped one over her cloth car seat. The OCD in me loved this idea, so I promptly purchased three from the dollar store. Josh and I had been listening to a crunching sound every time we changed positions from the onset of week 36. I had a curtain in the packaging in my car (cloth, camel color seats) and one for the couch (very expensive, a while it is scotch guarded, I really didn’t want to play with fire). Call it women’s intuition, but talk about a good call. I dozed off while watching Million Dollar Listing. Around 10:30, I awoke with a start. Josh looked over from his spot on the couch and asked what was wrong. Half asleep with a very warm sensation downtown, I looked at him and said that I was not sure. I stood up and was greeted with a leaky substance crawling down my leg. I was wondering if I peed myself, but pee was not clear. In the midst of this detective work, I get a text from my work husband/knight in shining armor and inform her to hold on a sec—I think my water broke. I then text Rita, who had been on high alert and of course, there is no response, as she chose that day to have her Blackberry die. Josh began looking up water breakage on the internet with the query “how do I know if my water broke” and I then decided to call the good doctor. “Yes, it has broken, go to the hospital.” Of course, I had to wash the floor and shower (thank god) before I could go. At this point, Gus was hiding and Sheba was meowing her distress meow---I suppose they knew it was time too. But was it?
LET’S BACK UP
The previous Friday, I fully hit bottom and wore a velour sweat-suit and sneakers to work. At 9 months pregnant, things shift and while my weight was relatively stable at this point, my clothes were not fitting quite right. There was not a chance in hell I was spending any more money on maternity clothes and I just did not feel like rotating the black and brown pants again. That morning, I felt dizzy. I don’t get dizzy. Dizzy is a sign of preeclampsia. OCD/neurotic walked her ass to the nurse to get her blood pressure checked. Well, it was elevated for me but by no means a red flag. Suddenly, the nurse has me seated drinking water, the door is closed, kids are kicked out and arrangements for me to go home are being made. Long story short, despite rumors that I gave birth in the backseat of my chairperson’s car, I was given a clean bill of health from the hospital which is where I was sent for observation, etc. I had never been in a hospital before, so the bright side to this was I now knew where to go when I was in labor and I also knew where to park.
THE SAGA BEGINS
After a 20 minute car ride sitting on a shower curtain, we arrive at the hospital. This marks the start of a party without pants on that lasted through about 2:30 PM Thursday. After I was admitted and examined, I was hooked up to an IV that would remain attached until Friday (April Fools!) I was hooked up to fetal monitors that checked on Emily’s heart rate and my contractions. FYI—I had been having contractions, real and fake, inconsistently for a few weeks. This should come as no shock, but that is how they remained until modern medicine interfered. So, into the wee hours of the night, my father showed up and was present for an internal. I had no sleep, and by 4AM, had not dilated at all. I was supplied with medication that would supposedly “help” the situation. After a sleepless night, my doctor paid me a visit and told me to eat and shower. This was great news. I was starving and had greasy hair which was not the norm for me; I had blown it out a few days prior and clearly could not work another day of the look. On top of that, I had zits like a 13 year old compliments of my pregnancy hormones. Lets flash forward to hour 24: STILL NO BABY. STILL ONE CENTIMETER DILATED. WTF??? I am beginning to see a C section in my future. I am sick of wheeling around my IV. I am sick of wearing wires from monitors. I am sick of having to check and measure my pee. I am sick of having to pee. I am sick of having to explain to Josh that while I just peed, I have to pee again. Every time I fall asleep, my blood pressure gets checked. I want to wear underwear. I feel that my body is failing me and I am desperate to meet my daughter. At this point, I have no dignity, as three rotations of nurses, nursing students and residents have seen my junk and I am laying on “chuck pads” (wee wee pads). By the middle of night/early morning of March 31st, I am in pain. The nurses kept asking me what the pain is on a scale of one to ten. Not knowing, I say a three. Bullshit a three. They want to give me some narcotic that will make me sleep, but my baby girl is too sleepy so Plan B is set into motion as per my doctor’s partner’s orders. Momma gets Pitocin and an epidural. Momma also gets an actual bed, not a glorified cot.
HOME STRETCH
As predicted, as soon as I get the epidural, I begin to itch all over. Yeah, right…don’t scratch!!! The pain of the contractions (NOT A THREE) has been alleviated and I doze. I am sure I am having a baby today, Thursday, March 31st. By 11 AM, I have finally dilated to an eight. Soon, I am a nine. Soon, I am in agony. The change in Josh’s pockets keeps falling on the floor and the sound is like nails on a chalkboard. I demand he empties his pockets. In the meantime, I am being given oxygen because they baby doesn’t have as erratic of a heartbeat as the nurses would like to see. Then Jersey Shore comes on. While listening to that ridiculousness, a resident comes in to examine me again and is claiming that the baby’s head is not as low as stated earlier. I growl at her that it is in fact that low, while writhing on the bed and asking (begging) for more drugs. Suddenly, I need to push. It is just something you know. I am dying. The pressure is out of hand and that is with the meandering presence of an epidural. Now, the doctor on call from practice is not my own. BOOOOO. The doctor was performing a C section and I simply could not wait for him to be done with that business. The nurse who was with me was given the go ahead for her and Josh to assist me in pushing. Wait----this was it? No scrubs for Josh? No stirrups? And the Jersey Shore is on?? I demanded that the television be shut off. There was no way I was chancing bringing a life into this world with Ronnie and Sammy brawling in the background. After what seemed to take forever and a slight attack on Josh for instructing me on how to breathe, the doctor arrived. (Side-note: OBGYNs are like celebs with a cameo appearance. They make a guest appearance, do what they have to do and are gone). My cheering section had gone from 2-3, and suddenly I noticed a few other nurses milling around in the background. While I was pushing, I kept my eyes closed. I don’t know why. The doctor said “Lisa, open your eyes” and there was her head. I was psyched---she was almost out and this show was almost over. Of course, I did scream “Get her out!!! AAAAHHHH!” Apparently, screaming is a waste of energy and frowned upon. FINALLY, at 13:25, hospital speak for 1:25 PM, Emily Dylan Shapiro was born. It only took 36 hours, start to finish!
I must say, that I have never felt so weak and so strong at the same time. Preparing for a marathon would not have prepared me for labor, and I do not regret not taking a single class to become more informed for this event. My anxiety would have gotten the best of me if I knew too much. In this case, ignorance was bliss. Did it hurt? HELL YEAH!!! I am not even a little ready for spin class. But it is true what they say about how the memory of the actual pain fades. It dissipates as soon as you hold that baby in your arms and she looks up at you, not knowing what she sees, but knowing you are her mother. I have never felt so full of love before. I did not know I was capable of feeling that much love. My heart explodes and I well up just looking at this tiny person. I feel so blessed.
THAT WAS NOT THE END
Right before I started to push, I had a slight fever. It was slight enough to render Emily a stay in the NICU for two days. When she was born, she had my fever, and my own fever was gone. Another long story short, Emily had to stay in the hospital for seven days. She had a spinal at one day old. Both of us were on antibiotics. Leaving the hospital and coming home without my daughter was the worst pain I have ever felt in my life. I felt empty and so sad and afraid for my two day old in the hospital. Fortunately, Emily was and is okay. For the most part, her stay in the most expensive babysitting service’s graces was a precaution. Now, she is home and I am sleep deprived but I could not be happier. I had no idea that being a mother was a huge missing piece of my life. Nothing prepares you for it at all, and I am not sure that I could ever say with confidence that I would have been ready for how much my life has changed. In a heartbeat, nothing but this baby mattered. Everything else is crap.
