Now, who wants to hear the birth story?
As previously stated, the little oyster made her appearance on September 29. For anyone who was counting, she was due three days prior to that. Protein in my pee and excessive swelling in my feet the week she was due sent me first to the lab and then back to the ob’s office on Friday the 28th. At our 9 am appointment, my ob said the lab results were cause for concern, she had called the hospital and told them to expect us, and we could go over anytime in the late afternoon–they were quite busy that morning–to be induced. Oyster time.
Having been given the gift of time, the husband and I went out to lunch, got the husband a haircut, dropped Dietrich off at his sitter’s house, stopped by Barnes and Noble for some light hospital reading material*, and hit the road to have a baby. Our afternoon of laid-back preparation was the last time we controlled anything in the next 72 hours.
Check in at the hospital was a breeze (note to expectant parents: pre-register at your hospital, if that’s an option) and we got to skip triage and go right to labor and delivery. We signed in at the desk and sat, giddy, in the plastic-upholstered chairs until the merry check-in nurse said, “Come with me, my children,” and led us to a lovely private L&D room. The husband immediately changed into his slippers (“I’m going to tell every new dad to take slippers to the hospital for delivery–this is great!”) while the merry check-in nurse fluffed my pillows and handed me a hospital gown and plastic bag for my own clothes. When I emerged from the bathroom in my standard-issue garb, the merry check-in nurse complimented me on my ability to put the gown on correctly–apparently too many people give free shows by putting the gowns on backwards–and tucked me into bed. I wiggled my feet into some hot pink socks the little sister had given me for post-Martha surgery and settled in.
On-duty ob 1: Hi!
On-duty ob 1: Dr. W (my ob) said you guys would be coming tonight. Ready to have a baby?
Me: Can I have dinner first?
The husband: Your body your choice, baby.
Me: Sorry, we make political jokes when we get nervous.
On-duty ob 1: Nice pink socks.
Me: Thanks. We bring the party with us.
On-duty ob 1: You guys are fun, I wish you had been here earlier.
Me: We heard there was no room in the inn earlier.
On-duty ob 1: That’s true, there wasn’t. Anyway, you can have dinner. Nothing but water or ice or popsicles after we start the Pitocin.
The husband: Anything she should or shouldn’t have for dinner?
On-duty ob 1: No sushi, please. If we see it again, we prefer that we not see reincarnated raw fish.
The husband: Nice. Well, I’ll just dash downstairs in my trusty slippers and get some dinner for us.
On-duty ob 1: Nice.
The husband and I split some pasta dish and a turkey sandwich for dinner. He was impressed with the food. I was distracted by the machine monitoring my contractions and those of the women in the rooms around me, all displayed on an eight-section screen next to my bed.
Somewhere in the middle of Apollo 13 and my first purple popsicle, Room 305 went into what I assume was active labor and began pushing. A smart woman preparing to have her own baby (not me) would have turned up the TV to drown out the horrifying screams of anguish but an idiot would mute the TV and stare at her husband in shock and awe. I don’t think I blinked for 9 minutes. Then the monitor for 305 shut off and we heard a baby crying. Holy cow.
The nurse who was now taking care of me started the Pitocin drip and I was officially induced.
Me: How fast does this stuff work?
Nurse: That depends. We have you on a very slow drip right now.
Me: How slow?
Nurse: It’s on 4 right now.
Me: How high does it go?
Nurse: Up to 30.
Me: Ah, ok. Are those air bubbles going to get in my bloodstream and kill me?
Nurse: No. If there’s too much air in the line, an alarm goes off.
Me: Hmm. They are getting closer to my veins and making me nervous.
Nurse: Do you want me to reset the IV?
Me: Yes, please. Hurry, they’re getting closer!
Nurse: They really won’t kill you. Those are small bubbles.
The nurse detached the Pitocin line, tapped all the tiny air bubbles out of it, and plugged me back in. So far the worst pain I was in came from the IV placed in the back of my left hand. The nurse who placed it had come in, introduced herself, stuck a needle in my hand and taped it down, and I never saw her again. It really did hurt and I wasn’t going to risk dying of air bubbles while my whole left arm throbbed in pain.
And so the evening went on. I wasn’t uncomfortable and it was actually kind of fun to watch my contractions register on the monitor. It was even more fun to watch other women’s. The little oyster was on constant monitoring because I was being induced and she was doing great. The husband and I chatted, watched Apollo 13 again (which, interestingly, I had been wanting to watch for probably four weeks, for no apparent reason), and napped as we could until about 1 am when I decided the cramps-that-were-actually-contractions were only getting worse, I was starting to feel nauseous, and it was time for an epidural.
But we’ll talk about that tomorrow.
* I chose the latest Real Simple and a copy of J.K. Rowling’s new book, The Casual Vacancy, which I returned for a full refund on our first non-medical trip out of the house. To my immense dismay, I found the book crude, rude, and not at all entertaining. I appreciated Rowling making that clear from the start, so that I didn’t have to read half the book to confirm my initial impression that the book was not worth my time. Consider this a review thereof.