Before I begin, let me preface this by warning you that there will be foul language...as that was all that seemed could come out of my mouth that day.
Everybody has a different labor and delivery story. With my first child it played out much like a book. Induced, in labor for 30 hours, epidural so I didn't feel a thing, three to five pushes and he was out. The second time around was not so predictable.
In the style of an ultimate cliche, I of course went into labor on labor day. I had a feeling that day was it when my contractions just never wained. I started to notice their persistence around mid day, but figured I had some time before it could be anything serious...around 11pm that all changed. My contractions started to build, and being the wimp that I am I of course started to cry.
I called my doctor only to find that both he and his associate that was my backup were off...so I left a message for Dr. Random letting her know I thought I was in labor. She called back and told me to hold off until my contractions were 5 minutes apart. At that point they were 5, then 10, then 5, then 15...so I laid back down and continued counting. Around 1 am they were still inconsistent, but the pain had become to much to bear.
I told my husband that we needed to get our asses in gear and get to the hospital. Thanks to an incredibly long delivery the first time around we still dragged our feet, my husband finishing a glass of wine and a football game before we even headed down the stairs. On the way out the door he also noticed that one of our house guests had a flat tire, so thinking he had all the time in the world, he decided to fix that first too.
At this point I was couldn't take it anymore...
Me: We need to go to the fucking hospital NOW!...LET'S GO!
My husband, who at that point realized he probably shouldn't mess with me, loaded our gear into the car and started towards the hospital. In the car the contractions were more than I could bear. I kept screaming and crying for him to hurry the fuck up, and he kept telling me I was acting it up and just to breathe. (easy for him to say!)
All I kept thinking was: Oh my god, what if I have this baby in the car.
I mean, it was PAINFUL...so I knew this was farther along than we had thought.
By the time we got to the hospital it was a little before 2 am. Of course I was sitting in my wheelchair, waiting to get pushed in, crying my eyes out and wincing in pain while about 3 other ladies going in because they were in labor sat there silently breathing in through their nose and out through their mouth, while looking at me like it must have been my first time (show offs...little did they know).
When I was finally wheeled back to the room for a nurse to check me because I was so in pain she said I was only dilated to a 4 and that "they usually sent people home if they weren't a 5", but because they knew my mom (who is also a delivery nurse in the hospital) they would let me stay.
Within 10 minutes the pain increased. I started asking for an epidural, but was told they had to take my blood first to ensure I could receive one. A nurse who I believe had shit for brains started poking around my arm to insert the IV. At that point the contractions were so bad, and she was then poking around on my second arm that I started to boil. Her inability to find a vein caused me to yell at her to "just put it in my damn hand already!"
They barely got an IV in when a contraction came along, I screamed, and my water broke.
Me: My water just broke! My fucking water just broke!
Nurse: Are you sure?
Me: I am sitting in a puddle of fucking water! Yes it broke!
The nurse checks me and sees I am now at a 6....and I this point the pain had become so unbearable that I started begging for my epidural, Demerol, anything that would take the pain away. (It is only about 2:30am)
Me: Please, please, please can I get my epidural!
Nurse: We can't give it to you until your blood work comes back.
Me: (Contraction) PLEASE! (screaming) Just give me some fucking drugs!
Tim made a joke for me to stop cursing at my mom's friends while they began turning me on my side to help with the contractions. My husband then tried to get in my face to try to tell me how to breathe. While I am sure his intentions were good, we had not taken one childbirth class, even though my mother teaches them, since our "birth plan" for both kids was that I was going to get an epidural, so why would I need to know how to breath? I just curse at him to shut the hell up.
While I was laying on my side the pain was so insanely incredible that I was seeing white light.
Me: (Screaming) PLEASE! PLEASE! JUST GIVE ME SOME FUCKING DRUGS! PLEEEEEEEEASE!! SOMETHING!!!!!! ANYTHING!!!!!
The nurse warned me to calm down, and told me that they couldn't do anything because the baby's heartbeat was irregular. While that scared the crap out of me, I kept screaming anyway because I was an uncontrollable psycho banshee by then and there was no stopping it.
My mother started putting a cold cloth on my neck and it calmed me down a bit, so she ordered Tim out of the room to get me some ice. (Tim later told me he was down the hall and around the corner and it sounded like I was screaming right next to him).
While Tim was out and I was laying on my side with nurses frantically monitoring the baby's heart beat, I had the contractions of all contractions. I let out a blood curling scream and POP! the baby's head starts to come out!
All I could think was: Holy fucking shit, holy fucking shit, this baby is coming and I am going to feel every last bit of it.
Me: I can't do this! I can't do this! I can't do this!
Tim, who was about to walk back into the room, got told by a nurse that he "better get back in there." Thinking he was funny he replies, "I'm not going back in there, she is mean!" but headed through the door anyway. Of course, when he walked in he was welcomed by our little baby's head crowning. (He also later told me that at that moment I had the complete ghostly look of fear and realization that the baby was coming right then).
I was so paniked that I just kept screaming and thinking: There is no doctor here, I have no drugs, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.
Every time I screamed the baby pushed out a little more. One of the nurses turned to me and said "You're going to scream this baby right out of you!" then she grabbed my shoulders like a mother would when scolding her teenager and yelled "Now get on your back and open your legs or you're going to tear!!"
I quickly shut my mouth and just nodded while whimpering out an "ok!"
Not knowing whether I should wait for the next contraction to push or just go for it I hesitated. All the nurses surrounding me yelled "Just PUSH!"
And with about one push Dylan was born at 2:59 am. He literally popped right out...and of course all the pain subsided. I cried, Tim cried, my mom cried, I think a couple nurses cried...it was intense.
Dr. Random didn't show up for another 25-30 minutes after Dylan was born, so I got to examine my placenta that was sitting on a tray table for a good while...which I of course thought was fascinating.
At the end of it all I made sure that they put the nurse's name who yelled at me as the delivering doctor on the hospital certificate...and if I would have dragged ass any more than I did at home I probably would have had Dylan in the car. To reiterate, I was checked into the hospital at 2:05 and had Dylan at 2:59.
My actual doctor later told me that when labor goes that quickly it is much more painful...maybe he was saying that to make me feel better for being such a nut, but it made me feel a bit better nonetheless. I was also told that I scared the living hell out of a lady having her first child...to the point that she asked immediately for an epidural.
I do have to say that the recovery of a non-epidural delivery was much better than one with it. When asked by a friend the day after I had Dylan if I would do "natural" labor again (I hate that term as it is all natural) I was like, HELL NO!...but now, if we go for number 3, I may just stick it out.
Happy birthday little man...you were were every last minute of all that pain.