Death Wishes and Ice Chips

Wait. Wait. Wait and wait some more. I swear, I'm going to have this baby in Triage, if I don't die from the pain first. I must have been delusional. Thinking I could waltz right into Labor and Delivery, be whisked into my private delivery room, welcomed with scented candles, Egyptian cotton sheets and soothing music. I would then endure a short and painless labor then be handed a perfect daughter. Sunshine and butterflies it was NOT. It was literally the opposite. It was dirty. It was gross. It was loud. It was terrifying.

The L&D ward was extremely busy that night which the nurses blamed on the storm. I was later told that over a twelve hour period, I was the ONLY woman who delivered vaginally. Everyone else ended up having an emergency C-Section. Protocol is that before they admit you, they send in an ultrasound tech for one final look at your baby when he/she is on the inside. This tech was terrible. She kept scolding me for moving during each contraction. Seriously lady. Can YOU stay still while you're being ripped apart from the inside out? I don't think so. Clearly, she'd never had a baby before. All the sudden her phone went off and she had to run out of the room, while only half way through my sonogram. She never did return to finish. Probably for the best.. .for her. She left the door open and we saw a herd of doctors and nurses sprinting down the hallway. As if I wasn't already freaked out enough. That only heightened my anxiety. I asked the nurse who came in right after the commotion for a Xanax IV drip. She politely declined and offered me a cup of ice chips instead. I have officially reached the stage in my labor where I hate everyone, and we are only 15 hours in.

The ice chip nurse tells me it will be at least an hour before I am moved into the room where I would be delivering. ONE HOUR. She must have a death wish. I don't have a choice so we wait, contraction after intensifying contraction. We have zero cell service in Triage so Joel steps out to call our respective Mothers and update them on the status of my vagina. He felt it was fitting to actually leave the hospital and go outside to vape while making the phone calls. He must also have a death wish. He and ice chip nurse should have started a club. Approximately nine contractions worth of time later, they finally wheel me into my own room. It is now after 6:30pm and I've been here since 4:45pm and still haven't gotten my damn epidural. These people are straight up ignoring my birth plan and I'm not OK with that.

Other than the great vaping incident of August 3, 2017, Joel was flat out amazing. He advocated for me, he calmed me down and he supported me, emotionally and physically. He hid how scared he was from me like a real life Neal Caffrey. He was my rock. I am so glad that my Mom, Sister and Father followed us to the hospital, not just to support me, but also to be there to support Joel. He needed it almost as much as I did.

I rolled my whale sized self onto the bed, get hooked up to the fetal monitor and contraction monitor which are attached to the rubber band like, uncomfortable belly belts. I'm relieved she still has a heartbeat. And of course, the contraction monitor says I'm still in labor. My nurse who will be with me until morning introduces herself and attempts to reinsert my IV that the crappy ice chip nurse screwed up. She tried my hand and my vein blew. Typical. Nothing medical has ever been easy for me. I've always been a hard stick. Usually it takes 3-4 tries but she gets it in two. I love her. I'd love her more if she could also start my epidural. I beg her to call the anesthesiologist and have Joel reiterate my birth plan to her as I can't talk because I'm having the worst contraction of my life, or so I thought. She obliged without question. She leaves the room for a moment and returns and tells me the anesthesiologist is in the OR, probably helping out with the emergency that happened while I was still in Triage. She tells me it could be a while. My thoughts: why is there only ONE anesthesiologist on this floor? Are women delivering at this particular hospital supposed to go into labor ONE at a time? Did I miss the sign up sheet for that? This is ALL Joel's fault.

Tears pouring down my face, I beg her to help me and offer me some sort of pain relief. I'm terrified I'm going to end up delivering this child without any drugs. I'm terrified something will go wrong just like every other time I've gone through anything medical. She says she can give me narcotics to "take the edge off for a about two hours". SOLD. Give me the juice. If that's my only option I'll take it! After asking if its safe for the baby she proceeds. Ahhh Fentanyl. She injects that magic juice into my IV, I feel the warmth of the drugs flow up my arm and down my body. For the first time in 15 hours I feel relaxed. Shitfaced yes, but more importantly, relaxed. Some of you "Crunchy Moms" are probably ripping your eyes out reading that I opted for narcotic pain relief during labor but, whatever. My body, my baby, my choice. You don't have to read this if its going to make you throw up your lunch of cooked-in-coconut-oil quinoa and kale chips into a cloth diaper. The doctor said it was OK to give narcotics as long as it will wear off before the transition stage of labor. And guess what? He is a doctor so I believe him.

I wouldn't necessarily say they were following my birth plan, but my amazing nurse was sure as shit giving it all she had. I take a nap, or pass out, I'm not sure. It lasts about an hour. I'm woken up by a contraction that takes my breath away.

"Where the F&CK is my epidural!" I yell.

Crickets.....

Must Go Faster

I really wanted my Mom and sister to come with us to the hospital. My Mom had said since the day she found out I was pregnant that she wasn't "that kind of Mom", she wouldn't hold my hand through labor or even be in the waiting room at the hospital while I delivered her granddaughter. She instructed Joel to let her know when I was 10 centimeters dilated and literally in the act of pushing the baby out. Only then would she get in the car and head to the hospital. Or so she thought. Now she says her "mom gene" kicked in and she couldn't sit home knowing what I was going through without being in close proximity. She got to the hospital about 2-3 hours behind us. She tried to be tough. It was cute.

I waddle to the car, still ugly crying. The next time I get into this car and pull into this driveway I will have a child in tow. I take a minute and look around while breathing through another freaking contraction, look up at the sky and see black clouds in the distance. Oh shit, we have got to move now. A storm is coming. Its creeping up on rush hour and I'll be damned if I birth this baby in the car on the side of the highway. I start to panic yet again. Over and over in my mind I kept saying "must go faster, must go faster" imitating Jeff Goldblum in Jurassic Park. I keep looking behind us and the storm seems to be creeping up on us faster than Joel was driving the car. Now is not the time to drive like a grandmother, Joel. Now is the time to drive it like you stole it, but don't kill us.

Somehow, during the entire 30 minutes, while navigating the city in his car which has a manual transmission, Joel manages to hold my hand and talk me through every contraction I suffered through. They are getting closer together, about 8 minutes apart now and the pain is only getting worse. This must be what dying feels like. The pain has now started shooting down the front of my thighs. I'm being split in two. I feel it necessary to make Joel repeat my birth plan over and over again so I'm certain he understands what I want. He puts up with my irrationality and does as I request not two, but three times. "You want all the drugs and both of you not die. The End" he repeats.

The Best Dad from Day 1

Finally, we make it to the hospital. I see the epidural light at the end of this tunnel of labor. Or so I thought. Joel asks where we should park. Park? Hell no. We aren't wasting time driving around to the three different lots on three different city blocks to look for parking! We are going to valet this bitch, throw the keys at the kid in the orange vest and get this mama to the epidural man. STAT.

Step one, security. We have to check in at the security desk because crazy people have a tendency to steal babies. Of course the day I go into labor would be the same day they are training a new guy at the security desk. "I'm in labor, this is my baby daddy, I need an epidural now". Translation: Hurry the hell up new guy before I throat punch you. Joel trades his drivers license for his Labor and Delivery/Maternity ward badge. They ask me if I want a wheelchair. Nope. It felt better for me to stand up through the contractions and I felt like I could walk faster than Joel could push me. Step two, the elevators. I knew it. I predicted it. It took forever for the damn elevators to do their thing. Time for me was no longer counted in minutes, it was in contractions. It took three contractions for us to get from the car to here. Unacceptable. One more contraction in the elevator before we get to the L & D floor. And then I see it. The labor and deliver triage window. I swear there was a beam light shining down on this particular part of the hospital with angels humming in the background.

Step three, convince these people I'm in labor and to keep me. I waddle up to the window. "Hi, I'm in labor and I'd like my epidural now".

"Lets start with your name", the nurse replies. Yeah, she probably needs to know that. I tell her all my statistics and she gets me into a room in OVERFLOW TRIAGE. Apparently the insane storm made every pregnant woman in the city and county go into labor. So, regular old Triage was full. GREAT. Later, I'd find out that just ten minutes after Joel and I arrived at the hospital, the storm had caused a giant tree to fall over the JFX, the same highway that we'd taken to get to the hospital, closing the road for hours and causing numerous power outages. Thank you Mommy for making us leave the house when you did, or else we'd have to have name our baby "Jones Falls" after the road I'd deliver her on.

So far, my birth plan isn't working out. I'm already at the hospital and I haven't gotten the drugs yet. This is not good. The nurse escorts me to my room, I get undressed and put on the ever so flattering gown and wait. Two contractions later, finally a doctor. She asks how I'm doing and I reply "better now that you're here to give me my epidural". She laughs. Apparently, that's not how it works.

"Let's make sure you are really in labor so we can admit you." She replies.

I say something to the effect of "Excuse me. I'm not leaving. I've been contracting for over 12 hours. I'm miserable and I want the damn drugs. Get this baby out of me. I have a very specific birth plan and you are ignoring it".

This is where Joel interrupts me, grabs a hold of my hand, puts his other hand on my forehead, brushes my hair back and replies to the doctor, "Ok that sounds great, thank you". I probably hated him at that point, but looking back, I am in awe of how he took control of the situation while simultaneously calming me down. Proving to me once again that he is "the one".

They hook me up to the contraction monitor and we wait. Foreverrrrrr. Ok more like an hour, or as I like to call it 7.5 contractions. Finally they move us into regular triage. One step closer to my delivery room. Every single nurse/doctor/sonogram tech that comes in to check on us, run a test, start an IV, etc., I ask for an epidural. I even asked an intern who replied "you don't want me doing that, this is my first medschool rotation". I didn't care. At that point I'd of let the damn janitor insert the epidural catheter. The doctor finally comes in to check my cervix. The moment of truth. I swear I'm at like 8cm with the pain I'm feeling. She sticks her hand under my gown and up my lady parts and proudly exclaims, "yes, you are in labor. We are not sending you home. You're three centimeters dilated!"

THREE CENIMETERS.
That's it?
I want a second opinion.
Where the f?$k is my epidural.



The Best Daughter Since Day 1

Oh Shit, I'm in Labor and it HURTS.

It hurts, y'all. Like it realllllly hurts. I'm instantly mad at Joel for his inability to teleport home. I need him right now. Some part of me thinks that Joel will be able to help me through the contractions that are coming every 15 or so minutes, lasting 30 seconds or so. This is horrible. It feels like I'm being stabbed in my pubic bone with hot pokers by tiny sadistic gnomes who are simultaneously prying my pelvis apart with a crowbar. Word on the street is that this could go on for hours, even days. I'm only three hours in and I'm done. I pick up the phone and call Labor and Delivery. "Hi, this is Jennifer I'm in labor and I'm ready to come in and get my epidural now." The nurse laughed.

At my last OB visit, my doctor told me I would KNOW when I'm in labor. She did not lie. This is definitely labor and I'm f'in over it already. She also told me that I shouldn't come to the hospital until I met the requirements of the 5-1-1 rule, or I'd get sent home. Contractions 5 minutes apart, 1 minute long, and consistent for 1 hour. I describe to the the nurse how far apart my contractions are and how I'm feeling. She tells me to walk around, take a shower, eat a hot meal, because I'm going to have a long couple days ahead of me. A couple days. I immediately know I'm not going to survive this. This is it, this is how I will die.

Where the hell is Joel! I cry. I want to crawl out of my own body. Around 7:00 am Joel finally comes home. He has a weird calming effect on me. He hugs me, holds me and supports me through a series of contractions. We talk about how excited we both are that its finally happening. We are so close to becoming parents I can feel it! Literally, I can feel it. And it feels horrible. I am calm and happy until he crawls into bed and falls asleep. He falls asleep! While I'm in freaking labor! While HIS child is literally splitting me in two, he finds it acceptable to sleep. Aw hell no. Partners take my advice, when your woman is in labor, doing the hardest thing she's ever done in her entire life, you don't sleep. You do the opposite of sleep. You are at her beck and call through the entire process. End of story. I still hate him for this one.

Joel napping with the Pug while I'm in labor, dying

I manage to drum up the last sliver of empathy I can muster and I leave him be while I take a very long hot shower. After all, once the baby comes, long hot showers will be a thing of the past. And so will naps for Dad. I take my time, working through each contractions like a champion, or so I thought. I was tricked into thinking I could do this. The hot shower made the pain almost tolerable. The second I got out of the shower I had a contraction that took my breath away. The hot water was a contraction band-aid and I'm back to feeling like I'm going to die.

I wake up Joel and tell him I need to do things to keep my labor progressing and keep my mind occupied. We head to my work so I can pick up my paycheck and then to Babies R Us so I can walk around and we can get some last minute baby items. I am over the moon that there is an "expectant mothers" parking space available. During my extremely lengthy five week pregnancy, every single time we went to a store that had parking for expectant mothers, all the spaces were full and I was mad. After taking an obligatory "I'm in labor photo" featuring Jenny with the good hair, we walk up and down the aisles of the store pausing every 10-15 minutes so I could work through a contraction. I can only imagine what the other customers were thinking after seeing my giant self grunt and moan like a dying rhinoceros while holding onto the shelf displaying the infant bathtubs or crib sheets. If you know me you'd know I never buy anything at full price. I'm a bargain shopper through and through. The pain must have made me lose my mind because we bought a puppy mobile at full price. Because, puppies, obviously.

Finally. The parking spot of my dreams.

Joel takes me back home to say my farewells to my house, my bed, and my dogs. But first, food. I need food. I know once I get to the hospital they won't let me eat. I need energy to get through the next couple days of trauma and hell I'm putting my body through so, carbs. I need carbs. I send Joel to Noodle and Company for lunch. I eat, then I try and relax and take a nap. Yeah right. Nothing about labor is relaxing and I was a fool to think I could nap. My Mom and sister get home from work at about the same time. They hang out with us for a while, and in true Mom and sister fashion, laugh at me while I work through each contraction. Little did I know a crazy storm was approaching our area and was supposed to hit during rush hour. The hospital I was delivering at was a good 20-30 minute drive downtown without traffic. My Mother then gives me the best advice I've ever had in my life. LIE. Lie to Labor & Delivery and tell them I'm on my way with contractions 5-7 minutes apart as opposed to the 8-10 minutes that they actually are. While Joel loads the car I hug my mom and sister like I've never hugged them before. I am terrified, I'm in the worst pain of my life and I'm sobbing. I have resurrected my Kim Kardashian ugly cry.

It's baby time y'all.