Our baby had an original due date of August 9 but everyone agreed I'd never make it to August. She had measured large at my 20-week ultrasound. During this and each subsequent ultrasound, little girl was folded up like a taco and couldn't be bothered to move for the technician to get all the readings and measurements she needed. Due to placenta previa and our daughter's head measuring off the charts, a c-section was planned for July 19. But by mid-July, the placenta previa had corrected itself and Dr. Brandt (the best OB and all-around saint the world does not deserve) informed us I could go into labor on my own. But despite the many miles walked around our neighborhood and eating all the spicy foods, baby just didn't want to come out. My induction was scheduled for 9pm on August 11, 2019.
I remember Josh and I walking out the back door of our house one last time as a family of two. The next time we'd come home, it would be with our daughter. It's pretty strange to walk up to the desk at the hospital and say "hello, I'm here to have a baby" with the same tone as I give my coffee order. We were taken to a large, corner delivery room with a view of Crescent Park.
I had tested positive for Group B Streptococcus, which they made sure to tell me over and over again is not an STD. What it did mean was that I would have an IV of antibiotics flowing from check-in until I was sent to our recovery room. Though there are really no pleasant parts of labor, this IV and the pole it was attached to became the items I would grow to hate in active labor.
I was 3 cm when I checked in but had been for a couple of weeks. To begin induction, a pill was tried to get that pesky cervix to "become favorable". They told us to try to get some sleep and see if the pill would jump-start labor overnight. We tried to sleep with little luck. We went on walks around the hallways to try to get things moving but had little progress on dilation. The nurse said we could order a light breakfast. In retrospect, I should have ordered a dozen eggs and pancakes to carb load for my labor. But she used the word "light" so I opted for yogurt and fruit. Like an idiot.
Sometime in the morning, they broke my water. They laid the instrument next to me that they were going to use and I cannot be more accurate when I say it looks like a long popsicle stick with a hook on the end. Getting your water broken feels just like you are peeing yourself in front of a bunch of strangers. So that was an experience.
There was meconium in the amniotic fluid so they called neonatal doctors to be present for the birth in case of Meconium Aspiration Syndrome. In non-medical terms, this means our sweet baby girl had been swimming around in her own poop and it could be in her lungs. Add that to the running tab of anxiety.
They began an IV of Pitocin. When I would ask women how I would know I was in labor, they used to say "you will know." I found this incredibly annoying. But now having experienced it, there is no better way to describe it. Josh can make me laugh always. Except during those contractions. And that is how I knew it was getting real.
During active labor, I tried anything and everything to get comfortable and to brace myself for the next contraction. I went on walks, bounced on a ball, laid down, squatted, kneeled, and had to pee roughly 47 times. The most annoying part was lugging around that stupid IV pole. I could have thrown it out the window. It was late afternoon at this point and I was still not dilated enough. Upon checking this, they also found that baby was not in the correct position. She has head down but facing up. They kept using a technical term for it but I just said she was sunny side up.
When my nurse came back in after another few hours of laboring, I asked "what would you do if you were me?" She squatted down next to me and said "I would have gotten an epidural three hours ago."
All at once, a large group was in the room to administer the epidural. Too many people were talking to me at once telling me to sit but not too straight but not too hunched over and to breathe but also hold my breath. It was not going well so Katie 2.0 had to take over. "Everyone shut up! I need one person to talk to me and tell me what to do here!" The room went silent. They did as the yelling woman commanded and I received an epidural.
They placed me in bed and as the epidural took, they tried to move baby again to a better position. The epidural helped with the contraction pain but made me shake uncontrollably. I began feeling pain in other places. It started in my lower back and shot around my hips and down my legs (which I was not supposed to be able to feel). I wanted to walk but they would not allow me to get up.
A discussion began about taking me in for a c-section due to how long labor was taking and how baby wasn't in a great position. They would continue monitoring me and if progress wasn't made soon, they would take me in for a c-section. I continued to labor from the bed, listening to music, and watching John Mulaney's standup.
Something they don't tell you about getting an epidural is that a nurse has to empty your bladder for you with a catheter. My nurse came in to do this and I told her how weird it was feeling my bladder empty without my control. She told me I should not be feeling that. And that is the story of how we knew the epidural wasn't working correctly. But baby had moved into the correct position so THUNDERCATS ARE GO!
Around 7pm, I was told to start pushing. I think I actually laughed at the nurse. But I tried. The nurse said she believed our baby would be born before 8pm if I kept pushing. (Spoiler- she wasn't.)
I remember Dr. Brandt asking the nurse why she was having me push. I now realize they had me begin pushing too early but were nervous baby would turn again. So I pushed and pushed, not opening my eyes the entire time. The epidural had worn off completely. I had shooting pain down my legs and around my pelvis. This pain was my daughter turning her body over in my pelvis like a restless trucker on the top bunk. But there was no time to give me another epidural before the baby came. They told me they could see her head. Then her precious little head was stuck in there. Baby wasn't coming out and Dr. Brandt said they could use forceps or a vacuum but I felt like I could get her out the next contraction. And I did. My body summoned all the strength of the billions of women to birth their babies into the world before me and I did it. Dr. Brandt told me I could reach down and pull her out. But my brain could not send signals to my arms. Every last brain cell and muscle tissue had been used to bring my daughter into this world.
They placed my baby on my chest. She picked her head up and looked right into my eyes without making a sound. This is the moment they tell you about. The moment you meet your child and soft harps play in the background and your heart grows five times larger and all the puking and no margaritas were all worth it. But, at this point, no one will be surprised when I say this didn't happen to me. I remember thinking "who is this" and "I want a nap for the next year".
My baby laid on my chest while I delivered the placenta and they gathered the cord blood we had decided to donate. Josh cut the cord and Dr. Brandt whispered to the nurse how much damage had been done and how much they would need to mend. I (in horror) pretended I didn't hear.
The took her to get weighed, measured, and get her foot prints. She appeared to not love those things as she let out piercing scream after piercing scream. The nurse gave her back to me and my daughter was so upset that she pooped all over me.
She was born at 10:27pm and the kitchen closed at 11pm. My nurse (that I am still convinced is an angel from heaven) went to the kitchen and brought me chicken tenders, fries, and a brownie. I laid in a hospital bed, getting my lady parts stitched back together, with a baby and her poop on my chest, while my husband fed me chicken tenders with barbecue sauce AND ranch. We baked cookies for everyone a few days before and we had a little cookie party with our doctors and nurses.
The nurse cleaned me up and encouraged me to try to breastfeed. Baby girl wasn't having it. I wasn't either. They put me in a wheelchair and took us to the recovery room. Baby girl was 8 pounds 5 ounces and 21 inches long at birth. She did not have a name and wouldn't for another day. We all just needed to nap instead.
