The Labor and Delivery, or, My First Time Being Stoned

Okay. So. I had a gynie appointment on Monday, Aug. 9. He said I was dilated to a two - I was stoked, but honestly, I knew I could be dilated to a two for ages. So I tucked that info nicely into a folder inside my head, opening it every now and then and smiling at the knowledge that my body was making progress.

That day also, my poor dad was admitted to the hospital. He was having very severe stomach pain. My sisters and I were all freaking out and calling each other all day.

Also that day, I took Dylan to his cousin, Jakob's, birthday party. And then I picked him up. It was a "water party," but it rained most of the time. Poor Nat. All those plans. The kids didn't seem to mind, though. They played out there in the rain like there was nothing amiss. I had lent Nat my slip-n-slide and went outside to retrieve it, slipped on Nat's porch in my crappy flip-flops (the only shoes that fit my feet), and fell, HARD. The only thing that hurt was my bumb. The baby continued to happily move inside of me the rest of the night, so I figured it was kind of like a fun roller-coaster ride for him.

Another thing that happened that day - Ben finally, finally, FINALLY got us a car that holds four children. It's a white Durango. It's gorgeous. It has a DVD player. The kids are in love. I am in love. I'm so happy to be rid of the crappy Explorer. A post on the new car later.

The next morning was Braxton-Hicks Mania. Tons of them. I would get them like every fifteen minutes. But I knew they were Braxton-Hicks - not painful. Tight like a bowling ball. Making blood rush to my head, making me feel like I was blushing all the time. I had been through them during my whole pregnancy. I figured they would probably go away in a few hours. I ran some errands with the kids - I think I even took Ben something at work. I was wearing my least favorite pregnancy outfit, one that I have named Pepto-Bismal. It's a bright, bubblegum pink. It was a gift. It always needs to be ironed, but I was not in an ironing mood. So I wore it wrinkly all day.

I came home from running errands with the munchkins and fed us all lunch. And then I took a shower. I noticed during the shower that the contractions were turning painful. But they were still fifteen minutes apart. I was not about to go to the hospital in an excited dither and then get turned back around by the nurses. I still really thought they'd go away. Then they started to get ten minutes apart. I called Ben to put him on the alert, but neither of us took it seriously. I put Micah down for a nap. Then I got the weirdest nesting thing. I decided I needed to organize our family game shelf. Of all the things to do right then. Pack a hospital bag? Nah. Organize your game shelf, Kar. It was so weird.

Suddenly, my contractions started to be five minutes apart. I was going to wait until I had them five minutes apart for an hour before I called Ben, like a good little girl, but man, they were really, really starting to kill. I called Ben again, telling him to get home - if this wasn't labor, it was something really major, and we needed to get into the hospital. I kept thinking, "This can't be right. I still have three and a half more weeks..." Ben had taken the new Durango to a place to have something about the compression checked - like a final step in buying a new car, according to his dad.

Ben said, "Do you think you can wait ten more minutes? They're just wrapping up."

I was like, "Yeah. I can wait ten. Just come home as soon as you're done there." We hung up.

And then BAM. The contractions started coming every THREE minutes. Lasting for a full minute per contraction. So painful I was lying on the kitchen floor, on my side, grunting and shaking. The oldest two kids were playing in the living room, oblivious to what was going on. I called Ben back.

"Honey," I said, "They are coming every three minutes. I'm starting to get scared."

He said, "I'll find a way to get home right now." I changed out of Pepto Bismal and into something more cozy.

I called Mom, who was with Dad at the hospital. I sheepishly asked her if she could come home from the hospital so that I could go to the hospital. I told her I thought I might be in labor. She said she'd run home to be with my kids, and that she'd call my sis, Lex, who lives in Pocatello, to come up and watch them so that she could come and see the birth. Certainly there would be time for Lex to get up here.

Some lady that worked at the car place raced Ben home. I saw him get out and actually SPRINT across the lawn. If you know Ben, you know that he is never, ever in a hurry to get anywhere. He never runs. I call him an Ent (those trees in Lord of the Rings). It was shocking to see him running. And really funny. I started giggling, and then got cut off mid-giggle with another contraction. Mom wasn't at my house yet, and Ben saw what bad shape I was in. He made a decision. He went into the living room and grabbed Dylan by the shoulders.

"Dylan," he said, "Mommy is going to have this baby early. I have to take her to the hospital right this instant. Can you watch the two kids until grandma gets here? She will be here in five minutes." Dylan nodded solemnly. Probably the first time he hasn't argued back about something we've asked him to do. Seriously. So we went out and got into our other car and jetted to the hospital.

Ben told me to close my eyes so I wouldn't see how recklessly he was driving. I complied. I couldn't keep my eyes open, anyways. I had to squeeze them shut when I was having my contractions. They started to be two minutes apart. I was terrified that I would arrive to the hospital too late to get my epidural and have to push this baby out naturally. TERRIFIED. My biggest fear.

Ben took me to the front door of the hospital and said, "I'm going to go park. Do you want to wait inside?"

"No," I said. "I'm going to start walking to the labor and delivery area. I'll meet you there."

"Okay, hon. I'll run."

I walked into the front door, and there, at the front desk, was my Aunt Terri. She works there. I waddled up to her, grabbed the desk, and said, "Terri." And then had a huge contraction. I saw her eyes get as big as saucers, and she raced around the desk with a wheelchair to put me in. She speedwalked me to the women's wing, and Ben caught up to us in the hall. I was again really surprised at his speed.

We got put into a room, and the lady asked me to strip down and pee in a cup. I tried between two contractions to pee, and my body wouldn't let me. I tried again between another two contractions, and again, no pee. I apologized to her. She said it was fine, to just lie down so I could get my IV in. She checked me first, and said I was dilated to a five.

"Holy s**t," I whispered, and then had another contraction. Then she put the IV in me.

"Do you want an epidural, honey?" she asked.

"YESSSSSSS!!!"

So they called for the epidural guy.

Ben was like, "Ahhh! I forgot the camera! Are you okay while I go get it??"

"YESSSSSS!!!!"

He came back like a millisecond later. The nurse saw how hard my contractions were and how much I was shaking, and she said, "We're going to put something in your IV to help with the pain until the anesthesiologist gets here."

"Please do. Please."

The effect was almost immediate. The contractions stopped hurting. I started getting REALLY tired. I would doze off, and then wake myself up, because I knew I needed to be awake when the epidural man came. And then doze off, and then wake up. He finally came. I don't remember much about him being there. I remember that he was showing Ben every little thing he was doing, like he was freaking teaching a class about it. I remember thinking, "Dude, this is taking like ten hours." The nurse held me at the side of the bed, cradled in her arms. I liked it. I felt like my mom was hugging me. I played with her nurse tags. I fell asleep. I woke up and reminded the epidural guy not to give me the shot during a contraction. (I forgot that I was no longer feeling the contractions.) I played with the nurses's tags some more. I fell asleep. I woke up. He was still back there, explaining the intricacies of the ligaments in my back. I again reminded him not to give me the shot during a contraction. At some point, he finally finished. I didn't get the usual, hot-water-pouring-from-my-chest-to-my-toes feeling of the epidural. I was too stoned. I think I got a catheter at some point.

And then I just slept. It felt like I slept an entire night, but it was only for an hour. Ben woke me up to tell me he was getting batteries in the gift shop for the camera, and that he was getting some Subway downstairs. I hmphed my approval and went back to sleep:

I remember the nurses changing shifts. I got a new, perky little gal. I knew I'd miss the lady that hugged me like my mom. But I liked the perky gal, too. She nudged me awake at about eight o'clock and said, "Your contractions have slowed down, so we just put some percocet into your IV to speed them up again."

"Okay." Yawn.

And then....

I felt like I had to poop. I knew that sensation.

"Ben," I said, "It's time to push. Call them back in." They had literally just left my room. Ben yelled, and they came back in.

Perky Girl looked down under and said, "Whoa, you're right! It IS time to push!"

I fell asleep while they were making preparations. They woke me up again. I saw Dr. H for the first time and said hello.

"Okay, Karlenn," said Perky Girl. "We're going to have you push at this next contraction. Just push like you're having a big bowel movement."

I yawned. "Okay," I said, smiling.

"And... NOW!"

I pushed halfheartedly, trying really hard not to fall asleep, and I felt the baby's head come out, and then the rest of his body slip out after. Everyone was so surprised, me included.

"Wow, Karlenn!" yelled Perky. "Good job! He's out!!!"

I only gave like half a push!!! Dr. H hadn't said much during this process. He is a man of few words.

And then we began re-living the nightmare that happened with Micah - Gage wasn't breathing very well. They put him on my chest for one second while they cut his umbilical cord, and then they rushed him away to the other side of the room to start working on him.

Ben said, "Kar, I'm going over here with Gage, okay?"

"Totally okay, hon," I said. I leaned back and watched them work on him while Dr. H delivered my placenta and made sure everything was out.

When I felt the placenta come out, I tried to make a joke to Dr. H. "Sooo. It feels like I delivered the Ugly Twin, huh?"

"Yep," said Dr. H, and he lifted it up and showed me. Ewwwwww! I didn't want to SEE it! I turned away. How ungrateful of me. My placenta did a good job. I should have looked at it for longer. Oh well. Sorry, placenta. I asked Dr. H if I tore or had to get cut, and he said nope. I told him he was a genius.

I wasn't scared for Gage during this time. The nurses helped Micah in this situation; I knew Gage would be alright. Or maybe I wasn't scared because I was soooo stoned. After the nurses worked on him for a few minutes, they told me that he had some liquid in his lung, and that they had to take him to the NICU. Ben again asked if he could go be with Gage. Definitely. They left. And I fell asleep. Some pics Ben took in the NICU while I was sleeping:

Ben came back into my room after awhile - I don't know how much time passed. And in rushed Mom. She looked around, saw the absence of nurses, and looked at me and saw the absence of a huge belly. "Did I MISS it???" she asked, incredulously.

I nodded sheepishly. "Sorry, Mom. It just went soooo fast."

And YES, Mom had only taken a few more minutes to get to our house after we left it. Dylan did a good job watching his sibs. Micah was asleep in his room, so I don't think it was too hard. Maybe I'm a bad mom to have left him in charge, but he was seven. When I was seven, I was baby-sitting my chicken-pox-ridden little sisters.

Don't turn me in to CPS.

Back to the story. After Mom showed up, the nurses came in and asked if I wanted to go to the NICU to see Gage. They said that he was alright, but would need to be watched carefully for the next few days. I definitely wanted to see him, so they put me in a wheelchair and wheeled me over. Here is me, pre-wheelchair, and still TOTALLY STONED:

They wheeled me in, accompanied by my mom and my sis, Nat, who appeared from out of nowhere. I learned later that she had been visiting Dad upstairs. I was surprised when I saw a young couple from our ward in the NICU. I said hello, I think. I honestly don't know what I said to anyone for the next 24 hours or so. Seriously.

There Gage was, all tubed up.

They said I could touch him, so I stroked his little head. I was so surprised that he was just in a diaper, and that was it, but then when I stuck my hand under those little heated lamps, I realized that he was nice and toasty warm. Our pediatrician happened to be right there - he goes in to the hospital every night to check up on his babies. He said I could hold the baby. I was so, so excited. He was kind of crying, but when I held him to me and started talking to him, he turned his head right toward me and stopped. He totally knew my voice. I love that. And then he started cooing at me. Like he was telling me his story.

"Ohhhhh, ohhhh, ohhhhh..." he said.

I was patting his bumb and grinning, and the pediatrician said, "Um, you're stressing him out."

Jigga what?

I guess Gage wasn't telling me his story. I guess preemies (that's what they kept calling him, even though he was six pounds, 11 ounces, so it was weird to me) make that ohhhhhh, ohhhhhh, ohhhhhhh noise when they're stressed out. The pediatrician told me to stop patting the baby, that they like still, long touches. Oh. I felt really dumb. Too soon, they told me I had to put the baby back under the lamp, and I was wheeled to my new room.