Little did I know, there was also a storm brewing outside in the waiting room. Upon hearing the details from my sister, it has become apparent where my irrational personality trait came from. Read: My Mother. Apparently, while she was in the waiting room with my Father, she was watching Netflix listening through her ear buds. My Father was working on his computer as well. My oh-so-rational Mother began accusing my Father of "checking out" and not "being present" while his daughter was in a room down the hall in labor. So, both of them were doing the exact same thing, playing on their respective computers/tablet, but my Father was the one in the wrong. Makes total sense, right? I'm sure my Mom was just stressed and worried about me. My poor sister didn't know where to be, in the waiting room with two arguing parents, or in the delivery room with her sister who was on the verge of a mental breakdown from the epidural that almost was. I wouldn't want to be in either room either, but I didn't have that choice.
All the sudden, in walks the Nazi. He is back. AMEN. I probably looked like a child does on Christmas morning when they see the pile of presents waiting for them under the tree. This is it people. This is my moment. "Do you still want an epidural?" he asks. This is not the time for jokes, guy.
"Are you f&*king serious!?" It is now after 11:00pm. I tell him if he walks out on me again he won't live to see tomorrow. Yes, I threatened the anesthesiologist's life and I don't even feel bad about it. Not even a little bit, not even at all. Joel kisses me on the forehead and everybody clears the room yet again. I assume the position, again. This time he actually numbs the skin. Oh hell yeah, we have made it farther than we did last time! Deep breath in and he inserts the spinal catheter between contractions. I'm not going to lie, it hurt a lot. But nothing compared to the pain I was having every FIVE minutes from my contractions. They squirt in the juice, and oh shit, only half of my body is numb. Of course. Why am I surprised? Nothing medical ever goes right on the first try with me.
Not good enough. Redo. Try again. I am not going to deliver this baby if I can still feel half of what is going on. He pulls the epidural catheter out and reinserts it. Bulls eye. Thank you Baby Jesus. I look at the monitor, another contraction came and went and all I felt was pressure. SWEET, SWEET RELIEF. I am in love. Move over Joel, I've found a new man. I hug him and apologize for cussing at him and calling him a Nazi. He forgives me, promises to check on me soon, then he leaves my room to go save the rest of the floor from the excruciating pain that is labor. Not all heroes wear capes people. This one wears scrubs and jams needles into spines, but he's a hero nonetheless.
Nearly SEVEN hours after arriving at the hospital, I finally got the drugs I longed for. My birth plan is finally being followed. I am relaxed, numb from the waist down and everything is glorious. But its not over yet. I didn't really think it through, but when you can't feel anything from the waist down, you obviously can't walk either. So, I have to pee in a bag. The nurse inserts a catheter and I didn't feel a damn thing. Joel walks back in my room, and points at the bag of piss hanging off the side of the bed and says "is that what I think it is?". Yes honey, that's my pee. If he thinks that a contained bag of pee that he never has to touch is gross, fatherhood is going to be a real smack in the face for him. I can't wait to watch. Still smelling of cinnamon, Joel sets up camp in his recliner chair that he moved from the bathroom and promptly falls asleep. Prior to my epidural, this would have pissed me off beyond belief, but since I was experiencing a moment of rationality I let this slide. After all, he needs his rest too.
Joel wakes up just in time for the doctor to come check my cervix. I'm at 6cm, I have only dilated one centimeter in the past couple hours. She suggests that she breaks my water and starts me on a Pitocin drip to speed things up. I oblige. Yeah crunchy granola Moms. PITOCIN. I have three strikes with you people. Continuous fetal monitoring, an epidural and now, Pitocin. How dare I. OK look, I don't judge you for your choice to eat your placenta and to not shave your armpits, so back off and don't judge me for my choice to have medical interventions. I trust my doctor, I do NOT trust my body, my body needs help.
My nurse pulls out what is literally a crochet hook, sticks it up my lady bits and I hear an audible "pop". Then I see a flood of clear-ish fluid. I am relieved that there is no meconium, aka baby poop, in the fluid. And equally relieved that I didn't feel a damn thing. She swiftly, and I mean ninja-like, cleans me up and tells me to try and sleep and get some rest. The Pitocin is flowing and she tells me that things are going to start moving soon and I'm going to need all the energy I can get to cross the finish line. She dims the lights, Joel and I both fall asleep in no time. Seriously, nurses don't get enough credit. They are on the front lines and are tasked with the nitty-gritty, nasty part of Labor and Delivery. Their jobs are basically dealing with Moms in the most pain of their lives, worried Fathers, worried family members and bodily fluids. People, thank your nurses, they are the real champions.
I wake up a few hours later because I am starting to feel the contractions yet again. Not today Satan. My amazing nurse is already in my room, checking our vitals. She sees my heart rate shoot up during a contraction and intuitively knows that I'm starting to feel pain again. I didn't even have to ask her, she said "I'll page the anesthesiologist." At warp speed he comes in my room and with pushed a few buttons on the epidural machine, I feel nothing. I feel less than nothing. The juice is working stronger than ever. Literally my legs are like concrete. Of course, NOW he shows up damn near immediately.
I finally got my F*&KING epidural.
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| The first of many Daddy-Daughter naps |
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