by Lisa
Woah. That's pretty much all I have to say. Woah. New respect for all you moms out there. These first two weeks of having a newborn threw me for a loop. But I'm finally getting around to posting the labor and delivery story while I still remember it. Standard disclaimer: I really appreciated reading others' stories while preparing for labor, but if you hate super long-winded posts or the use of the words like "placenta," go ahead and skip this one. This post is mostly for me anyway.
For several reasons, as soon as I found out my due date, I started hoping for a St. Patrick's Day baby. It's been my favorite pretend holiday for a while now, mostly because I love the color green and I like when people wear matching clothes. I visited Ireland while studying abroad and I couldn't get over all the green everywhere. So when I started having what felt like menstrual cramps about 6:30am on the morning of March 17th, I thought maybe I'd tricked my body into false labor. After hearing so many stories about first time moms having contractions that soon stopped, I didn't get my hopes up. By 8:30, Bryan woke up and went on a walk with me. I had him time contractions on his iphone Ap. I had to walk really slowly because I was hurting and had to stop walking entirely about every 6 minutes. I wasn't feeling too hot so we headed back home. I read my friend Rivka's story about how she had her husband make up bed in the back of their car and thought that wasn't a bad idea since I wanted to labor at home for as long as possible. I told Bryan I probably wouldn't need it, but to go ahead and make one anyway.
I took a shower and laid in bed, all the while timing contractions. I called the hospital when they were averaging 4.5 minutes apart, but they told me that first time moms can take a while to get those first few centimeters, so I could come in if I was really uncomfortable, but I should probably wait until my contractions were 3 minutes apart. After all, they said, if I came in and was 3cm or less, they'd monitor me for a while, but send me home if I wasn't progressing. Fair enough, I thought. So I kept going, but started to get more uncomfortable. In labor class, they called early labor the "smiley" phase. I'd stopped smiling and was just trying various things (labor ball, bath, another shower, hip squeezes, etc.) to try to get me through this "early labor" so I could go to the hospital. I'd read the Bradley Method book and tried to prepare to possibly do a natural birth, but I soon realized that if "early labor" was this painful, I was definitely going to want an epidural for the later stages. My contractions were averaging every 4 minutes, but I was uncomfortable enough between contractions that I couldn't always tell when they started and stopped, so sometimes I missed timing entire contractions, which threw off the average. So when I called the hospital and told them I was 4 min apart, they again told me to hold off. I was discouraged, but knew that if I went to the hospital only to be sent home, I'd be so disappointed, so I kept going. Long story short, my sister Amanda called while I was having a contraction, who could tell I was certainly not in early labor any more. She called my mom, who called Bryan to say, "Now, I know you're not going to believe this. But Hortin women have been known to be stubborn. So Lisa may not want to go to the hospital, but you need to get her there." My sister Hayley is there, meanwhile, and I think she was starting to worry about having to deliver the baby in the car because I'd started to moan through my contractions.
So at this point, Bryan's called the hospital and convinced them I need to come in now (it's about 1:30pm). I get dressed, have Bryan help me through a couple more contractions before I make it to laying down in the back of the 4-Runner, thinking Chase and Rivka are brilliant because my contractions really started to get worse. I was moaning and starting to freak out because I was feeling pressure with the contractions, thinking, "I *really* hope this isn't the urge to push people were talking about!" but also thinking, "I just know I'm only 3cm and they're going to send me home--please be at least 4 cm!!" Luckily, we made killer time to the hospital. We walk through the ER entrance and Bryan's ready to have me walk all the way down the hall, wait in the elevator, and down another hall to L&D. Meanwhile, I'm grabbing at wheelchairs, finding one that works, pretty much having lost all inhibitions, not caring who's staring at me. He wheels me into L&D and nobody's at the front desk. Luckily, a nurse walks by, sees me in the wheelchair and asks me, "What are you doing here?" "Well, I'm *hoping* I'm having a baby." "Are you really that uncomfy?" (Apparently they're not used to women coming in wheelchairs?) Anyway, they get me in a room so someone can check me. I'm just praying I'm a 4 and hoping they can get me an epidural soon because these first few centimeters were bad enough. Everyone's moving pretty slowly until the doctor finally comes to check me and nonchalantly says, "Yeah, you're an eight." I literally sat up on the exam table and say to the doctor, "EIGHT?!?!" Psh. Early labor my eye! Anyway, luckily when you're an 8, people pick up the pace a little more.
The rest of the story is less eventful. Within a half hour, they had given my an epidural. It only worked on the right side, so I had them try to fix it. Still didn't work, but by then I had been a ten for a while and was starting to feel like I wanted to push, so the nurse and I decide the pushing will go faster if I can feel it anyway, so let's just move forward. I start pushing about 6:00pm and eventually my water breaks (and hits my nurse Juliett even thought she was ducking to the side). She tells me it's okay, it's supposed to be good luck. Anyway, even though I can feel everything on my left side, it feels okay as long as I start pushing when the contractions come. For the first 2 hours. By then, the contractions are lasting longer than they're letting me push for, so I'm hurting. After hour 3, with the baby's head still stuck, we start to talk assisted delivery (forceps, vacuums, etc). At 3.5 hours of pushing and no progress since hour 2, I know without a doubt that this kid isn't going to come without some help, so I sadly but easily agree to use a vacuum. I was so discouraged, I was starting to doubt if they could even get him out with the vacuum. It still took 3 sets of contractions with the vacuum to get his head out, then the doctor had to grab the baby's head with both hands and yank with all her strength to get the rest of him out. Then they put him in my arms at 9:31pm and the rest is history.
Born on Thursday (my fav day of the week) St. Patrick's Day (my fav holiday), in Lucky Delivery Room #7. Introducing: My Lucky Charm -- Blake Henry Schader
(We were in Disneyland on the day of the Ole' Miss game, so this was our way of representin')
