After a grueling pregnancy with Hyperemesis gravidarum -- severe morning sickness for 9 months -- I was so ready for my baby to come! I worked until the baby arrived (tough when you don't want to eat, and might puke if someone brings food near your desk). I remember leaving work on Friday, January 12th thinking "I sooo do not want to come back to work pregnant! Please let this baby come over the weekend!"
Over the weekend, I suddenly had a surge of energy I had not felt in months. I cleaned and mopped and dusted. Nesting had set in. But, as Monday (a paid day off for MLK day) rolled in -- no contractions. I went to bed on Monday night dreading going back to work on Tuesday. Not one more day with this baby in my belly!
At 5 in the morning, I wake to contractions. At first, I think it is just wishful thinking. But after an hour or so, I decide this is the real thing! I wake my husband, and we decide to get my daughter off to preschool before heading to the hospital.
Yahoo! I'm really going to have this baby today!
We arrive at the hospital, and the triage folks "check" me. I am disappointed to hear that I am barely dilated or effaced. The nurse recommends I walk around the hospital a bit. We do that for maybe an hour, and I'm checked again. No luck. The hospital sends us home.
So, I labor at home. All day. On my bed. Hours of labor. No drugs. Just me and my hubby rubbing my back. Our friends pick up our daughter from preschool, so we do not have to worry about her.
By evening, I am tired. Not just tired. Dead tired. I mean really dead. It wasn't the pain at this point -- it's pure exhaustion.
We head back to the hospital at about 8pm at night. 15 hours of labor so far. They check me.
NOPE. Still not dilated enough for admittance. I look at the nurse in pure desperation.
You are kidding, right?
The nurse and doctor tell me that I can be admitted for labor exhaustion, and they can give me some drugs so that I can sleep.
They give me drugs. I sleep -- off and on. The contractions continue.
In the morning, a different doctor checks me. I'm STILL not far enough along to be admitted for labor and delivery. In fact, he doesn't think I'm really in labor because the contractions' severity have lessened during the night -- maybe these are Braxton Hicks contractions.
As I breathe through the next contraction, I think (since I can't talk) "Braxton Hicks my a**. You are full of sh*t. The contractions slowed down because you gave me narcotics!"
They send me home... again.
As I attempt to walk out of the hospital, the security guard (a woman) saw me and said "You are leaving again? You shouldn't be leaving! You are having a baby!"
Unfortunately, I was unable to talk, so I couldn't even agree with her.
We were home less than an hour before my husband decided that heading home was a bad idea. Back to the hospital.
This time they were not going to send us home. Braxton Hicks my a**. They give us a labor and delivery room. I requested an epidural ASAP. After 30 (or so) hours of labor, I was done with this sh*t. I finally got my epidural in the afternoon. Yay! But, baby boy was still not ready to arrive.
The latest doctor to arrive (I think I had seen three different ones at this point) recommended a little Pitocin to "kick it up a notch" and get this baby here. Well, I did that with baby #1, and really did not want to repeat the experience. If the baby is doing OK, we'll just wait until he's ready to get here! No Pitocin for me.
I finally arrived at the third stage of labor around 9:30pm at night. I was so ready for my little boy to arrive that the nurses had to tell me to *stop pushing* between contractions. After 41 hours of labor, I had 30 minutes of pushing.
My little guy arrived happy and healthy. On his own good time.