I had a rather easy & uneventful pregnancy with Emma. Aside from getting diagnosed with gestational diabetes at 28 weeks, and having to watch my diet carefully & take metformin once a day before bedtime, not much else happened. Because of that though, we ended up with weekly ultrasounds for the last 2 months. The day before turning 39 weeks, I went up to Maternal Fetal Medicine, by myself even though I really didn't want to go alone, Wayne had to work or whatever. They do the measurements & all, check my glucose chart & tell me that my numbers are beautiful as usual. Then the tech says, well your amniotic fluid is a little low, I need to talk to the doctor, I'll be back. Wow, ok. So I wait a few minutes, the doctor comes in and tells me, so you're going to have to be induced today. Shock. Utter shock. Ok. I wasn't prepared to be told I'm going to be having a baby today. They tell me to head over to the hospital blah blah blah. I ask, well, can I go home first? Yes, I asked to go home. To get my bags, and Wayne. They said ok, just don't be long.
I leave MFM still completely in shock. By now tears are flowing, I'm completely unable to help that. They just have a mind of their own. I need to call Wayne. I do. He answers, I'm like uhhh we're having a baby today. Through the tears. I'm really just super freaked out. He says what. I say we're having a baby. Low fluid. Induction. Blah blah blah. Let my mom know and meet me at home. Ok. I try to compose myself so I can make the 30-45 minute drive home. I don't. But I'm good enough to drive. The drive is kind of a blur. My mom calls. She was freaking out too. But the situation wasn't explained to her properly. I explain, we make a plan, for hospital & the older two kids, and I continue the trek home.
Get home, Wayne is already there. Ok, we need that bag, that bag, the car seat (thank god the base was already installed), phone chargers, hair straightener, and whatever else hadn't been packed as we were using them on a daily basis. I need to pick up my prescriptions too. Oh crap. The kids have dentist appointments. Jordyn's is today, Abby's is tomorrow. I need to cancel. I'm still freaking out. I call and cancel the appointments, the receptionist wishes me luck, and we head out the door. Walgreen's. We go through the drive thru, and now we're on our way. I'm still freaking out. During the drive I make a post on Facebook to let everyone know we're being induced. I'm not one of those super private nobody can know we're having a baby type people.
We get to the hospital, leave the bags in the car for now, and luckily find parking. The hospital has been working on a new parking garage for a while, and parking has been atrocious. We check in at the front desk and they tell us where to go. I don't even remember what floor they said, but we go to wherever it was, and sit in the little waiting room designated for inductions. It's just us. Wayne asks if I should call my midwife, Elizabeth, and let her know what's going on. I'm sure MFM already did, but my brain works & I remember it's Wednesday and she's at the hospital not in the office anyway. Eventually she pops out of the ward to say hello and let us know that they'll be taking us back soon.
I'm not sure exactly how long we waited. I want to say it was somewhere between 30 minutes and an hour. They took us in around 4:30pm, if I remember correctly. Once they take us back to the room, Wayne comes back with the sandwich he was sent to get as I hadn't even had lunch yet, and I'm forced to strip & put on a hospital gown. They do all the usual questions, get me hooked up to stuff, and I think great, let's get this show on the road. Elizabeth comes back, with some other people, and a student (great...) and says she's going to put in a foley bulb. I have no idea what she's talking about so she explains, it goes in my cervix and helps it dilate (I believe, this all ended up as a blur, for reasons coming in the next bit) I say ok, and she goes to work. It. Was. EXCRUCIATING. They tried like 5 times to get it in, but my cervix was apparently way too soft to hold it (even though it wasn't even dilated yet. I think she said maybe 1cm. Ugh) and the bulb just kept popping out. BUT THEY KEPT TRYING. Meanwhile, I'm dying, feeling like I've already given birth like 10 times by now. Eventually they give up. THANK THE SWEET BABY JESUS. And start me on pitocin a bit later. That wasn't too bad. The contractions weren't especially strong, but for pretty much the whole time, once they got going, they were constant. Like every 2 minutes constant. So obviously, no sleep for me. Grrr.
My parents showed up I think around 8 or 9pm. Maybe 7. I have no idea anymore. The fetal monitor kept not working, or losing Emma, so it was constantly being readjusted. Eventually I piped in, well I do have an anterior placenta, not sure if that could be affecting it? Of course it could. They eventually tried a wireless one, but that one kept not working because it wouldn't connect to the thing or whatever. In the end I don't even remember what they ended up doing. I do remember one nurse left the wireless on for the heart rate, but used the not wireless one for contractions.
Now, going into this, I expected to have a baby in my arms that night. Apparently when it comes to inductions, I was a sweet summer child. So, my parents are there, Wayne is there, everyone is getting tired. I have to pee like every 30 minutes, and have to take a giant arsenal of machinery with me every time. So annoying. My step-dad decides to go to the casino (and I don't blame him), Wayne falls asleep, so my mom & I are just chilling, watching horrible yet delightful TV (My 600-Lb Life, among others). Time is dragging, I'm not progressing. My step-dad calls my mom, he won a nice chunk of money at the casino. Wow, that's great! He stops for coffee & comes back to the hospital. He takes a nap. Me & mom again. Bad TV again. Not progressing again. Eventually it's morning. I'm only dilated to like a 3 or 4? I don't know, maybe 6. But probably not. My parents decide to go home to get some naps in, and they'll be back later. I will call if anything changes.
I'm STARVING. But I'm not allowed to eat. I steal a few of Wayne's Cheez-Its. The nurse offers me broth. BROTH!? Ugh, ok. I agree. She brings it, it's the best broth I've ever had in my life. I'm not quite as starving anymore. I am exhausted. I've been awake for over 24 hours. I start dozing off between contractions. But of course they're coming every 2 minutes (or less) so i get about 30 seconds of sleep at a time. Eventually my parents come back. I have no idea what time that was, at all. We're starting to make some better progress. Good thing too, cause these checks are not a walk in the park. Not as bad as the foley, but still not cool. Contractions are getting stronger. I think my water broke, I'm not sure if the doctors/nurses did it or it broke on its own. By like 4pm contractions are terrible, and making me cry. I finally ask for an epidural. Once the epidural is in, I'm in heaven. My mom comes back, and sees me SMILING. I was in a much better mood. My step-dad was about to come back to the room, and suddenly, pressure. This is like 15 minutes after the epidural. Seriously. I yell to the nurse, "I think she's coming!" (even though there is no "think". I know for certain she is wiggling her way out, this is not my first baby). They come to check (of course), and I'm trying my hardest not to push as she's making her way out - it was hard, but I managed.
They check, and are like, yep, baby time. Everyone springs into action, and 3 minutes and 1 push later, Emma delivers herself. THREE MINUTES. I know this for a fact. It is one of the few minute details of her delivery I remember. Three minutes. She was born at 17:17. I was in labor for about 24 hours. She's laying there at the end of the delivery table in those first moments of after birth. Wayne refuses to cut the cord, my mom does it. Wayne says, "What's on her face". I chime in, "It's poop", because I had heard the word meconium thrown out while "pushing". They wipe our precious new babe off and put her on my chest, and no, that's not poop. More shock. But whatever, she's beautiful. But why's there hair on it? I don't remember if she cried or not. She probably did. We never got her apgar score either. I assume it was good.
At some point they're like uhhh your placenta isn't coming out. I don't recall if it was before or after they gave Emma to me, but I assume it was after. So they're pulling on the cord & stuff, trying to coerce it out. It won't come out. SO. The one doctor, or midwife, I don't remember exactly what she was, goes in. Literally. She's up to her elbows in my uterus, fishing the placenta out. Luckily, I had my epidural, so it wasn't too painful, but it wasn't exactly pleasant either. In the process, some blood & ick squirts out across the room. It was like a scene from a horror movie, only funny. Ish. Nobody even batted an eye.
The delivery team gives their congratulations, and moves on. We do our skin to skin, practice breastfeeding (she was a champ), and everything is good. Eventually they take her to the little room to weigh & measure her & all that (6lb 7oz, 19in - so tiny!), and had pediatrics come down to look at her face. They told us some stuff, which most of I don't remember, but they said they believe it to be either a strawberry or (as I could remember it at the time) a "hairy neville". Yes. Like Neville Longbottom. From Harry Potter.
I didn't know what to do. I wanted to share my new babe with the world. But I was afraid of people saying nasty things about her. Wayne was too. We opted for a side view picture for the first one, where her birthmark wasn't really visible. The people I personally texted and sent pictures to got the full face though. I knew they would love her regardless, and have nothing mean to say. But later, I realized, why should I hide this beautiful baby. So, I shared her. And there was not a single mean word. I don't think anyone even asked about her birthmark. Not that I recall anyway.
Recovery was a breeze, even with my geriatric maternal status, being about to turn 37. The nurses were all fantastic, and one was even able to shed some more light on Emma's birthmark, as she had worked for a dermatologist for a long time. I ate so much food in those first days, especially when they finally fed me after delivery. I was ravenous. I still barely slept in the hospital though. It's like I forgot I was tired. I had to fill out a breastfeeding log, which was weird, I'd never had to do that with the other two. I don't know how much she weighed when we left the hospital, they never told us that either.
So, that's the story of Emma's birth. Not a particularly pleasant experience, but it was definitely worth it. I have decided though, that I will never have another induction ever again.
Emma's first picture:
At some point they're like uhhh your placenta isn't coming out. I don't recall if it was before or after they gave Emma to me, but I assume it was after. So they're pulling on the cord & stuff, trying to coerce it out. It won't come out. SO. The one doctor, or midwife, I don't remember exactly what she was, goes in. Literally. She's up to her elbows in my uterus, fishing the placenta out. Luckily, I had my epidural, so it wasn't too painful, but it wasn't exactly pleasant either. In the process, some blood & ick squirts out across the room. It was like a scene from a horror movie, only funny. Ish. Nobody even batted an eye.
The delivery team gives their congratulations, and moves on. We do our skin to skin, practice breastfeeding (she was a champ), and everything is good. Eventually they take her to the little room to weigh & measure her & all that (6lb 7oz, 19in - so tiny!), and had pediatrics come down to look at her face. They told us some stuff, which most of I don't remember, but they said they believe it to be either a strawberry or (as I could remember it at the time) a "hairy neville". Yes. Like Neville Longbottom. From Harry Potter.
I didn't know what to do. I wanted to share my new babe with the world. But I was afraid of people saying nasty things about her. Wayne was too. We opted for a side view picture for the first one, where her birthmark wasn't really visible. The people I personally texted and sent pictures to got the full face though. I knew they would love her regardless, and have nothing mean to say. But later, I realized, why should I hide this beautiful baby. So, I shared her. And there was not a single mean word. I don't think anyone even asked about her birthmark. Not that I recall anyway.
Recovery was a breeze, even with my geriatric maternal status, being about to turn 37. The nurses were all fantastic, and one was even able to shed some more light on Emma's birthmark, as she had worked for a dermatologist for a long time. I ate so much food in those first days, especially when they finally fed me after delivery. I was ravenous. I still barely slept in the hospital though. It's like I forgot I was tired. I had to fill out a breastfeeding log, which was weird, I'd never had to do that with the other two. I don't know how much she weighed when we left the hospital, they never told us that either.
So, that's the story of Emma's birth. Not a particularly pleasant experience, but it was definitely worth it. I have decided though, that I will never have another induction ever again.
Emma's first picture:
