I was being induced.
I was being induced? Here? Now?
No, this can’t be. There’s just too much going on right now. I don’t have time for this! Trey isn’t even in town. He’s FOUR hours away. I have two parties to do for Pampered Chef. I haven’t even finished my Christmas shopping! My baby shower isn’t until Saturday! Wait – this is too soon, right? What about the baby? Will he survive? He’s not due for another 6 weeks! No way you’re inducing me now. It’s just not feasible. Nope, there has to be another solution.
All that went through my head in a matter of seconds. While the doctor was still talking about steroid shots for the baby, my blood pressure, pitocin drips, possible C-Section.
You know that scratching record sound effect people use on TV when they’re “showing” a sudden change of thought? I heard that in my head when the Doc mentioned C-section.
I snapped my attention back to the present and asked him to repeat himself with the c-section part. You see, dear readers, I did NOT under any circumstances want a c-section. My doctor knew this. In fact, he was the MD of a birthing center, where they have mid-wives and such, which is one of the reasons why I chose him. Sure, I wanted to have the baby in a hospital, but under my own power, so to speak. Plus, my father had open-heart surgery several years back, contracted MRSA, and it took him six months, plus another surgery to remove the dirty wire, for him to recover. There was no way I was going under the knife.
But I also wasn’t going to risk the health of the baby, so I agreed after he assured me they would do everything possible to avoid the c-section.
The next several hours crawled by. I never did get to eat dinner because of the induction. I contacted Trey and he thought he would be able to get out of training to come back home, but he had to wait until the next day to talk to the powers that be. I called my doula and told her what was happening. I called my girlfriend who was keeping Monkey, found consultants to do my parties for me, called my parents to give them updates, called Trey’s parents to give them updates. Then I proceeded to “rest.” Not really, but I guess you can call it that.
The blood pressure cuff kept going, every 15 minutes. Oh, how I hated that thing. I still could not move from my left sided position on the bed. Skipping ahead to the next morning, they started the drip. Contractions began and the baby monitor beeped. Nurses came and went. Everything proceeded slowly. Almost too slowly. Trey finally arrived and it was around lunchtime. Somewhere along the way I got an epidural. The doula tried massaging my feet and back but my prone position was just miserable. Think about it. Have you ever laid in the same position for 15 hours?
However, I was not progressing enough in my labor for the doctor’s satisfaction. Our baby’s heart rate started dropping. My blood pressure remained high. Trey had left the hospital for something – I don’t remember what, lunch maybe? But naturally, right after he left, the doctor came in and told me that there had to be an emergency c-section. The baby’s heart rate was just dropping too low.
My freak-out meter pegged. I was terrified, going into surgery without my husband. Would he be back in time? Was he going to miss the birth of our baby?? My doula called him as they whisked me off to the surgery room, then she joined me so I wouldn’t be alone. Trey showed up while they were prepping me and hovered by my head. He wiped tears from my face and talked to me. I have no idea what he was telling me, but it was comforting hearing his voice. I tried really hard not to listen to the doctor and nurses. I’m sure it didn’t take long, less than 30 minutes from start to finish, I think, but it seemed like hours.
Then Little Man was born. 33 1/2 weeks early. 3 pounds 10 ounces and 17 inches long.