When we arrived at the hospital the fear and confusion of being in unfamiliar territory, everyone around me speaking in Spanish, gripped me. Tears started pouring down my face and I couldn't hold them back. I wanted so badly at that moment to be home in France in our local hospital surrounded by midwives, Dr. Stonehenge a phone call away and familiar friends and neighbors waiting nearby to visit. I dashed into the toilet and splashed my face over and over with cold water. The feeling eventually passed, thankfully and I just threw myself into what was about to happen. There really wasn't any other choice.I was taken to a prelabor room and prepped by a nice nurse who did her best to animate what she was telling me. It was funny considering she was explaining the shaving of my perineal and an enema. I was initially horrified by both but neither was much of a big deal in the end. The enema did send me running to the toilet three times. It was difficult considering by the third time I was wearing several monitors and getting ready to have an epidural.
The nurse inserted a catheter and the drip of Pitocin was started at about 8am. The contractions started immediately but didn't become painful until an hour later. When they started it was with a vengence. Apparently as I discovered later, Pitocin brings on labour hard and fast like this with no letting up. My doctor dropped in around 9am and ordered my epidural to be started. We'd briefly discussed natural labor and he said he'd only ever assisted in two natural labours in his whole career. He scoffed and declared natural labour as "ridiculous" I guess it wasn't really an issue for me. I had no intention of experiencing natural labour because I was afraid of it but I have always been intrigued by it. I have always admired women who have done it. And, I thought of the pediatric heart surgeon I'd sat next to on the plane to Tampa who had discussed natural labor with me. She'd had three kids all naturally. We'd discussed pain management and women's instinct to control it. "It's just safer for the baby" she said without trying to sell me on it. I trusted her advice more than his.
The doctor did impress me in one respect. He was always close by checking on me. The epidural kept losing strength and he'd be right there looking for the nurse and anaesthesiologist, snapping orders at them. He seemed genuinely concerned with my comfort and well being. The nicest part was that he was my personal doctor and knew my case well and could relay this to anyone involved with me that day. That doesn't happen in France at all anymore, your personal ob by your side during labor and delivery. Seb and I were really impressed.
At eleven my water broke with a popping noise and by noon I was ready, dilated to 10 cm. However the Sushi was still too high and refused to drop. We waited another hour and another and still she sat high atop my stomach refusing to move an inch. Finally around 2:30 the doctor seemed frustrated. He'd had me on my right side in an effort to get her to move down but this just kept the right side of me contracting hard without the relief of the epidural. I tried to bear it but the contractions were making me want to vomit, they were so strong and rapid. Finally he gently pushed on my right side and down she went. "It's time to push. She's in her place now!" he said as he scrambled about collecting his little team of nurses and paging his wife, the pediatrician. They pulled the side of the bed up and wheeled me into a very clinical operating room.
The operating room was windowless and this kind of freaked me out. I'd had Little S in France in a room with a panoramic view-- a pink room with yellow trim. The lights were dimmed and Enya was piped through the sound system. I was told to bring candles, incense and perfumed oils. Here though was simply a cavern lit by a large operating room light. Here were clamps and surgical knives laid out in plain view. Here I had to beg the doctor in advance to let me hold my baby right after she was born. I would have never chosen this if there had been a choice.
Sushi only took three or for pushes to come out. I only had a teeny snip of an episiotomy and there she was, the biggest baby they'd seen in a long while in this hospital. I got to hold her for about thirty seconds but at least I had that. They whisked her away and did all the suctioning and snipping and washing they do which I hated but couldn't get them not to do. If she were at home I would have left her covered in vernex for at least the first few hours.
I felt incredibly good after the birth, just tired. I think I understood then what an awful time I'd had with Little S and his birth. I'd pushed for over two hours. He was born face up, ouch. I'd lost a lot of blood. I was severely anemic for weeks and I had a hard time breastfeeding and caring for him. But yet here I was just a few minutes after giving birth to a ten pound baby and feeling pretty good.
The pediatrician declared the sushi not diabetic--she tested fine for that, but she labelled her hypertrophic which meant that they had to keep her monitored and incubated for 24 hours. She was taken to the nursery and I was taken to a recovery room where they gave me some laxatives, pain pills and strapped my stomach with a giant sport bandage. The doctor told me this bandage would help my uterus get back to it's place but all it did was kill me for the next 10 hours. Finally I ripped it off and breathed a sigh of relief.
*next and last installment I'm going to talk about the hospital stay which was the most interesting part.
