Warning to all the Males out there: I will be using the words "dilate," and even "cervix" in this post. I just want you to know. I know the discomfort the Double B feels about even the word "uterus." And I don't want you to be harmed in the reading of this post.
I was in labor on Wednesday. Okay?!??! I was. I am not making it up. I went to the hospital, for the first time ever of my own labor accord. I was miserable. Truly. I am not making that up, either. They hooked me up. They said "Why, yes, it looks like you are in labor. Your contractions are 4-5 minutes apart. You have dilated more since your doctor's appointment this morning. We shall keep you and monitor you for one hour. If your cervix progresses, we believe you shall bring forth a child from your womb."
Or something like that.
I spent the next hour in misery. Consistent contractions, people! Today was the day! A miracle was at work! But I tried not to get my hopes up. The Double B said "Today is the day. I have only seen you look this way two other times." I wanted to call "Get the epidural, people!!! STAT!!!" But I kept it cool. I played it on the down-low. But the contractions were killing me, they were not just in front but about to demolish my back, as well, which I have never had back labor before, so -- new experience. One that I do not recommend.
My ex-best friend, Dr. Lunt, came in to check me. By an impossible act of fate, I had not progressed much, and their machine was not picking up my contractions. SAY WHAT?!??! I told him that was a bold-faced lie (which it was. That machine was l-y-i-n-g.) I asked, fairly unpleasantly, if he was going to send me home. He then said "Well, I'll tell you your options while not looking you in the eye." I told him I wasn't going to look him in the eye, either. And I meant it, too.
We decided to walk the hall for forty minutes, trying to get things going harder, faster, or more impressively. Or something. So I walked in a circle. For forty minutes. I thought about just laying down to croak, but no such luck. And I knew -- I KNEW -- they were going to send me home. I felt very, very discouraged. And even a little embarrassed, because I am mortal, and have not yet gotten over seeking the approval of my peers. It was not a happy feeling. I came back in to get checked. And... the baby BOUNCED BACK UP when they checked me. Okay, say what? That was an entirely new development. THE WALKING CREATED MUTINY WITHIN MY WOMB. And yep, it was confirmed -- the baby was posterior (face first), which is what was causing all the incredible pain in my back, and also what apparently disallowed her from getting snug in the birth canal. I was no longer in labor. This is so lame. I admit, I was not nice to the nurse. I looked at her like she was very possibly responsible for all of my misery. Basically, I shot the messenger. I am not proud of that, because really, I think I am a nice person and I don't ever do things like that... really. For real.
I can't tell you how I felt. Bad. Bad. Bad. Horrible. Wretched. Find me a shovel type of bad. My dear husband, bless his pea-pickin' heart, assured me that all was okay and that he knew I wasn't making it up. Our two marvelous mothers were there, and they assured me I was not making this up, and heck, it had been an adventure.
I don't remember ever feeling so sorry for myself. The discouragement was overwhelming. I. Was. Pathetic.
So anyway, the poor, innocent nurse taught me some exercises I needed to do to try to help the baby shift so she was head-down. Then she and Dr. Lunt (I am working on repairing the damage done to our relationship) forced an Ambien sleeping pill on me and sent me on my way. I didn't want to take the sleeping pill, but Dr. Lunt said I really, really should. And though on my enemy list that night, I still did it. I must have some love left for the man after all. I was yawning by the time we got to the main road. The Double B stopped at In And Out to try to cheer me up with a Double-Double and a chocolate shake (I was even breaking rules at this point. Blood sugar be darned!). It was a noble effort.
Here's what I'm going to say: this was my first sleeping pill ever, and I did NOT enjoy it. I got right into bed at 10:30, but still woke up at midnight until 1:30 with contractions in my back, so I'd get up and do those stretches. Then I was up at 3. Then 5. Then 6:30. It was so lame. And you know how in the Ambien commercial there is Abraham Lincoln and a Beaver? Now I know why. Because ALL NIGHT LONG I had two birthing coaches -- a flamboyantly vegas-style gay man named David (he was just so sweet and kind you would not believe it) and his 6 and a half foot tall friend, who was dressed in a very elaborate pink fairy costume. It was strange, yet soothing. Every time I would start to get pain, David would remind to me to wake up and do those stretches. So thank you, imaginary birthing coaches. You did your job well.
Anyhow, I think I drew out that experience as long as I possibly could. What have we learned? That being a posterior baby myself, I was very unkind to my poor Mother. I was also two weeks late. So I deserve this punishment. Also, that my cervix is mutinous. That I will never take a sleeping pill of my own free will again. Also, that I am still pregnant. Amen.
The sweet side is, the Double B took off work yesterday so I could stay in bed and he could hold down the fort and satisfy my every whim. He was so sweet. And I did stay in bed. All day long.
In conclusion, I will tell you two hilarious Olivia stories, because I think we all need them.
Tuesday night I wasn't feeling well and made this observation: "I feel like crap. Like total crap." Olivia took this comment to heart, and all night was bringing me her blankley and laying it over my tummy to try to help me feel better. She never left the room, and was so watchful. It was very sweet. When I got up off the coach, she jumped up. "Do you feel better, Momma?" I said "Yes, thank you, sweetheart." She looked relieved, then asked "You don't feel crapped anymore?"
Isn't that the sweetest thing you've ever heard? And don't you now know I need to clean up my potty mouth? She is an angel.
Yesterday we clipped and painted her fingernails and toenails. She came in a little later holding up her hands. The conversation went like this:
Liv: Mom, I can't find my fingernails!!!
Me: You can't?
Liv: No, my fingernails are lost!
Me: Where did they go?
Liv: I don't know, I think they must have went Chinese!!!
I don't know where she got it, but it sure made me smile.
Thank you for listening to me today. I feel better. Now go about your business, and consider your good deed for the day done. Amen.