38.4 weeks — Reluctant Mother

Apr 3

Apr 3 38.4 weeks

I had a melt down. I was bawling to my husband that I was always going to be pregnant and that this was just my life now, and it sucked and I hated it. It was 11 days till my due date, and it was never going to end. He was wonderful and talked me down, and then he agreed to go see Crazy Rich Asians with me. I was expecting to wake up the next morning with a crying hangover.

I think the baby must have heard my (literal) cries, because instead of a hangover I woke up at 1:30am with contractions. It took me a while to figure out what they were, because they were mild. Not so mild that I was able sleep through them, however. I found myself laying in bed thinking “What is happening? Like this kid needs to stop kicking me so hard, and so consistently…” After a while I realized that they weren’t slow methodical kicks from a child who was determined to make my life miserable. That they were, in fact, contractions. I got up and went downstairs to time them. By 5am they were fairly consistent so I called the on-call doctor, and woke the Viking up. He was understandably confused about what was happening, it being 5am and all, and tried to wake up and spring in to action. He mostly just said “okay” a lot, until I told him that generally babies don’t come very quickly, and I’d been contracting for hours, so there was probably no rush and he could go take a shower to wake up.

We had finished packing the go bag two days before, and were strangely ready for this. I mean, as ready as anyone can be. We showed up at the hospital, and got all checked in and I was like 1.5cm dilated. Coolcoolcool. The nurses, who probably knew I wasn’t actually in labor yet from the get go, were nice enough and told me that I was welcome to walk around the hospital for awhile to see if the contractions picked up. Living 15 mins from the hospital had its perks, and so I went home. Why would I hang around there if I could go home and watch Parks & Rec?

The Viking went to work. He was being so nice and trying to be so helpful but in my labor induced independence he was HOVERING, so I told him to go to work. It’s was prodromal labor, it could have gone on for days. After he left, I took a bath and managed to get the contractions to slow down enough so that I could take a nap. I slept for a couple hours and then woke up writhing around 10am.

I tried to play it cool when I text the Viking. I’d already been sent home from the hospital once today, so I wasn’t going to be THAT woman in labor. I asked him if he was going to come home for lunch (not that he ever comes home for lunch, so I’m not sure why this seemed like a reasonable thing to ask him) and he said “I wasn’t planning on it.” and I said “I think I’d like you to come home.” And he said “Is it okay if I finish what Im working on right now?” and I said “Sure!” By the time he got home, about an hour and a half later I was leaning over the kitchen table moaning. Yes, I was definitely moaning. Contractions are the worst, don’t judge me. I tried all the things, Sitting on an exercise ball — terrible. On my hands and knees — terrible. Leaning on the Viking — terrible. Squatting — terrible. Laying down, sitting up, right side, left side — all terrible. The only thing that even remotely helped was leaning over the kitchen table. Why? I have no idea.

After he got home, and looked concerned and surprised at how much pain I was in, It helped me feel like I wasn’t crazy for thinking these contractions were worse than the ones I had overnight, and I called the Midwife. She didn’t think I was crazy either, and asked me if I wanted to meet her at the hospital or come in to the office for a check. I told her I’d come to the office, because I did not want to get sent home from the hospital again after all that intake paperwork, and the office was only a block away from the hospital so I figured it would be fine.

The Viking dropped me off at the office and went to find parking, and I waddled into the office and had just sat down, when another contraction hit. It was all I could do to not moan through a contraction in the middle of the doctors office, I was SO that woman.

I was only 2cm dilated.

2cm.

Screw that.

The midwife, told me the (bad?) news, but quickly followed it up with something to the effect of “But its real labor! Thats good! I bet you want that epidural, huh?”

PRAISE THE LORD SWEET BABY JESUS.

YES, Yes I want that epidural. Ive got nothing to prove.

She said, “Okay cool, walk over to labor and delivery, and they’ll get you checked in.” and I was like “WALK?!?!”

It took us 15 minutes to walk a single block to labor and delivery. Once again, The Viking was trying to be so helpful and let me lean on him during the contractions, but independent me DID NOT WANT TO BE TOUCHED. Poor, guy. He felt so helpless.

I remember at one point after getting to the hospital and getting to the room, a nurse came in and introduced herself just as a contraction started. I had to wait a full minute for the contraction to be over before answering her question and telling her my name. Thats what they mean when they say you cant talk through a contraction. You cant talk through a contraction.

The anesthesiologist, that blessed man, came in and administered the epidural. It was wonderful. It was the perfect amount of pain relief, while still being able to move my legs and feel the contractions, and theres that lovely little button that allows you to control the amount of drugs you are getting… Ahhh…. 10/10 would recommend.

By the time the epidural was in place, it had been about 14 sleepless hours since the start of the contractions so I promptly went to sleep. The Viking, who had been guzzling coffee and hopped up on adrenaline since the second trip to the hospital, was thinking that the baby was coming and he needed to be caffeinated and ready for this. He didn’t sleep at all that night. He said he kept thinking that this wasn’t real and that they were going to send us home again until I said “Babe, I have a catheter in my back. They aren’t sending us home.”

Baby Foth took his time. The contractions continued all night, and I was slowly but surely dilating at about a cm, every two hours. The night nurse was all gung-ho to break my water and get things moving faster, but I told her that if Im still progressing and there are no worries on the baby’s monitors, than he can just come when he wants. I’m in no hurry. In fact, I think I’ll take a nap. By 4am though, the midwife was ready to get the party started.

I was dilated to 8cm, but they could tell that the fluids were helping hold my cervix open, and they were pretty sure that once the sac was broken, I would digress back to 7cm. YAY. Around 5am, right after the shift change, the nurse did a check and felt the baby’s head. It was party time.

The Viking said that he felt like the whole room transformed. Nurses were pulling things out of drawers, and pulling out tables and instruments and lights were being turned on, all out of nowhere. They had me push every other contraction for the first bit, because there was some concern about the baby’s heart rate. They suspected that the umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck but they watched the monitors closely during the first 20 mins of pushing, and everything seemed okay. It takes awhile to learn to push properly so only pushing every other contraction was actually helpful for me. After the first few pushes, the midwife brought a mirror out so I could see what was going on down there.

Im not gonna lie, I NEVER thought I’d want to see what was happening but it was incredibly motivating. Being able to see the progress, push after push was exactly what I needed in order to push hard. Especially when the baby slips back in a little after a push and you are like “NO NO NO! GET OUT OF ME!” Very motivating. Let me tell you.

The Viking, who started out holding one of my legs for me, was eventually relegated to doing the counting for me when they put up a bar over the bed and I was able to put my legs up on it and push all by myself. Did I mention that I’m very independent? He also helped hold my back up, and at one point I looked over at him and said, “Im not sure if I’m just at that point in labor, but I feel like you are purposely counting slowly when I push.” He shrugged me off but he definitely was, and he admitted it to me later.

After about an hour and a half of pushing, our little one was finally born. The Viking, who’s plan it had been to “stay north of the action” forgot he was counting for me in the middle of number four, and his jaw dropped as our baby was born. The baby was scooped up and plopped directly on my chest, and the first thing I thought was that he had Foth hands. Teeny tiny Foth hands.

Ransom David was born shortly after 7am on September 13th, at a manageable 6lbs 12.5oz and was thankfully 9 days early.