Seven years ago today, at about 10 a.m., my labor with Spenser started. I didn't know it at the time however. I had a huge what I thought was, a spasm. Now of course looking back, I know it was the contraction of all contractions. The nausea that I had, also makes sense looking back.
Almost a half hour after the major contraction, my Dad called to check in on me. I had not actually gone to work for the past week, because I felt lousy. The week prior, I had one case of false labor. I was also as big as a freakin house, and worried, because one of the doctor had said that they estimated the baby's size at 34 weeks to be somewhere around 6 pounds already. So of course jumping from the conclusion that babies in utero, for the last couple weeks, gain anywhere from 1/2 pound to a whole pound a week, until birth. I was completely freakin that me at 5'1" inches, would have some serious issues squeezing out a huge freakin baby.
I told my Dad jokingly that maybe that spasm I had was the start of labor. Then I joked that with my luck, I wouldn't go into labor for weeks. I would just be miserable for the next 3-4 weeks. That in my mind wasn't so far from the truth. My original due date was March 8. A good day, as I have a niece and nephew with that birthdate, and a couple cousins as well. I was just 37 weeks pregnant. Technically a little early.
My pregnancy had been for the most part, great. We had had one scare, and it was a pretty big one. I had the odd luck of having my right nipple ooze blood. They were not cracked and bleeding. They were not cut, or scratched. Out of the blue, it would just starting bleeding. This freaked me the hell out. To be honest, it freaked everyone out. So much so, that my ob/gyn sent me to a specialist. They never really could figure out why it happened. But it stopped. I lived. All was well!
So seven years ago today, at about 10 in the morning, Spenser started his journey into this world. It took from that fateful spasm, until the next afternoon at 1:31 p.m. for the little squirt to make his grand entrance!
27 or so hours of back labor.
When I got to the hospital at about 4 in the afternoon Feb 24, 1999, I thought I would have a baby before too terribly long.
Unfortunately, I was only 3 centimeters dilated when they admitted me. The doctor however was great. I was in a shit load of pain, contracting regularly. She assured me that I was in fact in a great deal of pain, because even though I was dilating, my cervix was not thinning the way it normally should have. She made sure to tell me, that I wasn't being overly sensitive, that this type of contraction, really, really hurt.
They admitted me, got me a room with a jacuzzi tub, and I got settled in. I tried using the birthing ball, the birthing bar, sitting, walking, anything I could. I finally broke down, and got in the jacuzzi. It helped a little. I got checked and I was still only a 3.
My first question was:
"When can I get an epidural? I can't take it anymore."
Their answer:
"When you are at least 4 centimeter, closer to five actually dilated."
I wanted to cry, and in fact I did.
My parents came and sat with me. Rob was there. My friend Rose was there. They finally decided to give me some sort of narcotic, to take the edge off the contractions. Hopefully this would let me rest. It worked for all of an hour, and then I was back to the torture.
My parents left, and Rob and Rose stayed. I tried to move around again. Nothing worked. No matter where I moved, no matter how I stood, or sat, I was in such great pain. Tried the jacuzzi again at about midnight. Made things worse.
During the night, at about 3 or 4 in the morning, I had finally made it to the magic epidural number.
Rob said when they gave it to me, he looked up just in time to see a huge spray of blood from my spine, go flying across the room.
I was so happy to have the epi. That is until I realized, I could still feel all of the contractions. So they had me roll from side to side to get the meds distributed evenly. I rolled to my right side, and his heart beat dropped like a rock. At this point, I freak. The nurses freak. The nurses then decide the only way to help is to stick their arm up the birth canal, until they can find his skull, and massage his little skull, until his heart beat regulated again. Took what seemed like forever. In reality it was 2-3 minutes. This of course happened about 3 more times. By the last time I was ready to let the janitor come in and help, because I no longer cared who saw my hooha.
At 5 in the morning, the doctor decided to break my water to see if that would help things along. She broke it. I went from 5-7 really quickly. Got very excited. Thought it would keep up, and I'd have me a baby soon. Wrongo. I actually went back to 6 centimeters shortly after cresting at 7.
At about 7 in the morning, I got sick. I had not had anything to eat since the day before at about 6 in the morning. That was only toast I think. I was hungry, and the drugs were playing hell with my system. I had to beg them to let me rinse my mouth with scope.
"Only if you don't swallow any!" Fine, whatever, just let me muck out the inside of my mouth.
By 10:30 in the morning, I had managed to get to a large 8. My doctor had me start pushing then. Gave me the oxygen mask, and told me to push. At least 1 hour of in-effective pushing. When I say in-effective, what I mean is the child would come down enough with each push that the doctor could see his fuzzy little head. Then when I stopped pushing to take a breath, he would suck right back up, to where you could not see him.
During this pushing marathon, some how or another, my tailbone cracked. Ouch.
Did I mention I could still feel the contractions? That the epidural was only working on the left side?
By 11:30 ish, the doctor had pretty much made up her mind that this child was not going to come out the normal delivery route. So off to the O.R. for me.
She had made sure to tell my parents, and Rob's parents, and Rose, that this would only take half an hour tops! She told them, go get lunch, and when you get back, there will be a new baby in the family! Woo Hoo.
Well this is me we are talking about here, so you know by now nothing ever goes as planned in my life. It took almost 2 hours! The parental units were freaking out.
They get me strapped down, and start to cut. I can feel it. So on top of feeling like I am suffocating, I feel them cut me. So I cry. Then I say, in what was most likely the most pathetic voice ever:
"I can feel you cutting me."
To which I get asked:
"NO, you can't, it is pressure. Is it a dull tuggin pain?"
"No it is sharp. I can feel you slicing me...." Pass out.
At this point in time, Rob said they increased my iv drip of drugs.
I wake up for a few.
"Can you still feel it?"
"Owwww, you are cutting me, I can feel it. It is sharp. It hurts, stop."
A different drug goes into the IV. Then they start opening ampules of various numbing agents. Dip the scalpel in it, pour it into the open cuts, and add even more to the IV. I pass out again.
I wake up only to hear:
"Have you had major abdominal surgery before? Or been in a serious accident that caused major abdominal trauma?"
"What? No why?"
And then I hear them call for another doctor. I pass out.
I wake up.
"Yeah, she had a tumor. Yeah weirdest thing I have ever seen. Look at all of this scaring....."
I start to freak. My blood pressure drops, and the alarms go off telling them that I have a dead person's blood pressure. I pass out. They get the baby out. I hear:
"Wow, he is a big boy. Not crying. Mr. Perry, come get your son. Would you like to cut the cord?"
Rob stands up, in time to see my uterus out on top of my belly, gets pale.
"Are you ok sir?"
"Yes, I am fine" paleness continues.
"Did you want to cut the cord?"
"No, no, I am ok, you do it."
They hand him the cleanest, cutest, most content baby there ever was.
"He came out clean, the only blood on him is from your wife. He was sunny side up, no wonder he couldn't come down. Had to make a grand entrance this one did!" The doctor is prattling on.
Rob sits down next to me. My eyes are literally rolling around in my skull, because I am so drugged out. I smile and start crying, and pass out.
I wake up to hear:
"Get the x ray machine down here. We are off on the sponge count."
Pass out.
Wake up to being put on the gurny, and being handed the baby. I can't hold my head up, but they hand me the child to hold on the way back to my room. I frantically ask Rob to walk right next to me because I am afraid I will drop him.
The last thing I remember from that day, was drinking a real Coke. When it was evening, I remember being in so much pain, that a friend had to go yell at the nurses to get something for my pain. They had given me duramorph--synthetic, 24 hour dose of morphine. Didn't work.
Spenser weighed in at a hefty 8 pounds 4 ounces, and was 20.5 inches long.
So that my friends is the story of my boy's birth. Long. Hard. Not simple. But in the end, so worth it, that I would go through ten times over, just to have my boy!
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