On the morning of September 23, 2010, I woke up to what I thought was going to be “just another day”. I was finishing up my 1st week of modified bed rest (I’d been given a diagnosis of Pre-E the week before), enjoying the doctor-ordered rest & relaxation and not spending a 45+ minute commute hoping I didn’t pee my pants even though I ‘went’ before I left. I had an 8am appointment for my 38 week check up so I’d gotten up, tossed some yummy ingredients in the crockpot for dinner, and headed to the doctor’s office.
I spent the first few minutes chatting with my favorite nurse while she checked all my vitals. I knew it couldn’t be good when after taking my blood pressure she took off the cuff and then put it back on to check again. After checking a second time, she removed the cuff and said she’d be right back. She returned with another nurse in tow, who proceeded to take my BP one more time. The nurses exchanged a look and left the room saying they’d “be right back” they didn’t come back though, the doctor came instead. My BP was way too high and she wanted to induce, immediately. My deodorant? It failed me. All the deodorant in the world wouldn’t have kept me from being the giant ball of sweat that I was that day. Up until that moment, I must have still not realized that I was actually going to have to expel this small person from my body at some point.
To make matters worse, this was the first appointment in a long time that Mr. Pickles didn’t go along. He was at work trying to tie up loose ends since we new the big day was coming soon and he would be out for a week. As the doctor is giving me instructions to head over to the hospital across the street, a thousand thoughts are running through my brain – the loudest being I can’t do this, I ask if I can go home first so that I can get my bag and meet my husband – no, you need to go right away. Thanks, that makes me feel SO much better. I called my husband and in a panicked babble told him he needed to meet me a the hospital then went to the parking lot sat in my car and cried.
I should probably explain that from the moment I found out I was pregnant, I was terrified of the delivery aspect of having a baby. We went to a child-birth class and I cried for hours afterward convinced that there was no way I would ever be able to do that. So being told out of the blue (in my mind at least) that we’re gonna make you have that baby, well that was a little traumatic for me. Judge all you want.
I managed to get myself across the street to the hospital, up to the labor & delivery floor, and the nurses took care of me from there. Poking me full of holes for an IV for Pitocin and magnesium to help lower my BP. And of course, hooked up to a plethora of machines to monitor every little bodily function that Sassy or I even thought about having.
Mr. Pickles arrived around 10:30 and at this point, I was starving. Did you notice when I described the beginning of this day that I didn’t mention breakfast? Yeah, I hadn’t had any yet. I thought I was going to be in & out of the doctor quickly and was planning an attack on the Dunkin’ Donuts down the street. Obviously, that didn’t happen. So the next time the nurse popped in to put the fetal monitors back in their proper place (Sassy’s super kicking kept knocking them out of place, she wasn’t a fan of being under surveillance) we asked if it was ok for Mr. Pickles to get me food. The nurse had to check with the doctor and came back to say that I could not eat. Whaaaat? I’m pregnant, I gotta eat…right? Guess not!
The rest of the day was pretty uneventful: I was frustrated with being stuck in that super uncomfortable hospital bed, starving, bored (hospitals really should have free wi-fi), and terrified of the child-birthing that was going to happen one way or the other. Around 6pm my doctor came by checked all my machines, arm-raped me, and said that even after 8 hours of Pitocin I was not even the teensiest bit dilated so I would spend the remainder of the night hooked up to those machines filling me full of goo. Her partner would be in the next morning around 8am to see how I was doing and then we’d discuss further options if necessary.
I spent the entire night listening to what seemed like 100 other babies being born, one in particular with a great deal of screaming on the mother’s part – not exactly what my already frazzled nerves needed to hear but that was my problem not hers. But even after all the noise of babies being born all around us (not literally, I had a private room) Sassy must have been just as scared of being birthed as I was of having to birth her, she wasn’t budging, except to kick the monitors off my belly for the eleventy-fifth time.
Obviously, Sassy was eventually born. We’ll visit that event in celebration of Sassy’s first birthday…tomorrow!
