I feel like I already wrote this post almost 2 years ago...
second verse, same as the first, or something like that.
I got to a 10, pushed for way too long, had a C-section and ended up with a brand new, perfect human being.
And if you want to know ALL the silly details, read on...
I was dilated to a 5 for a week and a half. A couple of times I thought she was coming and then the contractions would quit for a few days. On Sunday I had some contractions during church and they continued during the afternoon while I tried to nap. And then, once again, they quit. This time they started up again around midnight and were strong enough and regular enough that I thought I should start keeping track. But instead I dozed off and woke up at 1. Li was just about to go to sleep, but I told him I didn't think we were sleeping tonight. He started timing contractions for me. It was hard to time because I had pretty constant back pain, so the pain never really went away. I would just tell Li when it was REALLY bad. After awhile he told me my contractions were 3 minutes apart, we called labor and delivery and I figured they would say to hurry and come over. But they pretty much said it was up to us. I debated through a few more contractions and finally decided we should go. I didn't want to get to the hospital and have them have to intervene if it wasn't really time to deliver, but I did want an epidural as soon as possible if it was time to get the party started.
But I still wasn't sure if this was the real deal, so we pulled up in the parking lot and I said, "I wish my water would've broken on the way over so I knew there was a reason to come here." And just as I said it, my water broke.
We went in and told them we thought my water had broken. In retrospect we should have told them I was in crazy pain and wanted an epidural. They had me change into a gown and came back to check if my water had really broken. They were in no hurry. Once they concluded my water had indeed broken they had me walk across the hall to a room. A little while later a nurse came in to check me. Li asked, "what do you want to be at?" I joked, "Oh a ten." Seconds later the nurse was saying, "I can't find your cervix. You are at a ten, you're complete." And then the most dreadful words of the whole event..."You're not getting an epidural." She said there wasn't time. I asked if she was sure, and told her last time around I was at a 10 for a long time. I was worried because I was having so much back pain, I knew there was a good chance this baby was posterior like Carter. She said she was sure and to try not to push until Dr. Lunt could get there.
After a short eternity Dr. Lunt arrived and we started pushing. I was a little angry, I've always thought that medicine was created for our benefit and I never planned on trying to brave the pain alone. At first I was resisting the whole situation and just kept yelling that it hurt. Eventually I settled into the idea that I was going to experience "natural" childbirth and started focusing my energy on pushing.
As the pushing went on and little progress was made it became increasingly difficult to remain optimistic. I kept flashing back to hours of pushing with Carter and didn't know if I could do that again without some drugs. And I knew for sure I didn't want to. After a long time (no real idea how long 20 minutes? 30? at least 8-10 contractions) Dr. Lunt said, "Part of me wants to get you an epidural and let you take a break and then see what happens." I jumped on that! I knew I could push better if I wasn't afraid I was going to be pushing in such insane pain forever.
My best friend the epidural man came in and I started counting my last contractions (which I had done over an hour before in the car on the way over.) Then we began the familiar process of laying my leg up on a table and switching sides every 1/2 hour or so trying to get the baby to flip. I was still cautiously optimistic that I could deliver vaginally, even though this was all playing out like a nightmarish repeat of last time, only worse because it started out with so much more pain. At one point Dr. Lunt came in and said she was definitely not in the same position and might be starting to turn. So we kept going. Later the nurse said she had turned far enough that we could start pushing and she would turn the rest of the way in the process.
I really enjoy pushing. It is empowering. After months of carrying this child around, waiting, I finally get to DO something to get them here. Dr. Lunt came in and confirmed that she had turned some. I pushed for almost 2 hours, which is not unheard of for first births (which this basically was since my first was a c-section.) The nurses seemed very optimistic that we were making progress. I was watching my mom and Li's faces and they seemed very hopeful. They had seen me push with Carter and seemed to think we were further along then Carter ever made it.
Dr. Lunt came in again and basically said he didn't think it was going to work. I was crushed. There was so much hope along the way that I really thought I had a chance at pushing a baby out all on my own. I knew in my heart that he was right. That I needed to have a c-section. But I didn't want to have any regrets, I wanted to know that I had given it my all. I really wanted to say, "Let's try to push one more time." Even though I knew it wouldn't work, I couldn't quit without giving it everything I had. We discussed for a long time and I cried. Finally I decided it was my pride wanting me to keep pushing and that if I were really concerned with the safe arrival of my baby I wouldn't wait another second to get her here. It was still really hard to say,"Let's have a c-section." One of the hardest things I've ever done.
The anesthesiologist came in and I had a good chat with him about how after Carter was delivered they put something in my epidural that made the room spin and my head go fuzzy and how when they brought Carter to me I was afraid I would drop him and didn't want to see him and how I was devastated to meet my son in such a state. We discussed options and I felt confident that this time it would be better. And then he gave me my first dose of medicine and the room started spinning and my head went fuzzy and I threw up. I was so bummed. Of all the things associated with birth: pain and pushing and emotions and decisions and recovery - the one thing I didn't want to repeat was feeling so out of it when I met my child. But there was nothing to do about that now.
My mom convinced them to let her come watch so she and Li got into their scrubs and they wheeled me into the OR. I felt like I was on Scrubs. I don't know why that show, I don't even watch it. A c-section is a bit scary and painful, but this time I knew that ahead of time. Still, I was shaking so much that I thought they wouldn't be able to cut me open right. My mom assured me that I was clamped tight and my shaking wasn't affecting anything. Dr. Lunt started pushing and pulling really hard and the room seemed tense. I was hearing comments about how tight she was in there. And for the first time I was genuinely scared for the welfare of my baby. What if they couldn't get her out? And then my mom smiled and started squealing, "She has a face!" I was insanely jealous that everyone in the room could see her except me. Eventually they brought her around to show me. I was happy to meet her. I endured a good scrub of all my internal organs and they stapled me shut. I threw up again and made it back to my room. The dizziness and confusion was starting to wear off. When they got me back to my room I actually asked to hold and feed the baby. I was full of joy when they put her in my arms. My baby girl was here safely.
Dr. Lunt later said he had never seen a baby wedged in more tightly. He said that all the progress we thought we were making was actually her head getting more and more swollen in the birth canal. He is confident that she never would have been delivered vaginally.
I knew going into this whole trial of labor that because of my bone structure I have a very narrow passageway for my babies to enter this world. But with Carter we were so close. I was fairly confident that if I could deliver early, before she had a chance to weigh 9 pounds and if she wasn't posterior I could do it. She was much smaller than Carter and it still didn't work. And the angle of my bone structure seems to put my babies into a posterior position. Basically, I physically cannot deliver a child. I was really upset about this. I mourned my loss. I'll never push a baby out and have them placed on my chest, Li can never cut the cord, my recovery will always be long and painful, I will always be recovering from major surgery when I have a baby.
And then the next morning I woke up overwhelmed with gratitude. If no one had come up with the c-section idea Carter would have died and most likely I would have too in the process and Megan would never have even been an idea. Dr. Lunt saved my life twice and the lives of my children. I will never deliver vaginally, but because of c-sections I can conceive, carry and give birth to children of my very own. And that makes me incredibly happy.
I am also grateful that I had the chance to labor and get to complete without any medication. I never want to do it again. Ever. Kudos to all those who sign up for that on purpose. But I think I always wondered if I could do it. Never enough to actually try, but I'm glad I had the chance to prove myself.
And I am so grateful that I made the choice to have a c-section when I did, instead of putting my child at risk to gratify my pride.
A few days before I went into labor I wrote this quote on the chalkboard in my room (I told you I'm a little obsessed with chalkboard paint these days.) "I am the gardener here, and I know what I want you to be." (You can read it in context
here.)
I am grateful that the Gardener is kind and loving as He carefully shapes us into who He needs us to be.
