April 21st, 2011 9PM
I’m 19 hours into labor enjoying a magical thing called Mr. Epidural when Nurse Buzzkill tells me that it’s almost time to start pushing. She comes over to stick her hand up my crotch and I don’t feel a damn thing. I think:
If I can’t feel her fat forearm go up then I definitely won’t feel a baby come down. I’m golden
. Hubby is in the ready position, holding my right knee. Nurse Buzzkill lets us know that the baby is still Sunny Side Up and I’ll need to push just to flip her before I push to get her out. Trying to ignore the fact that she referred to our baby as a common breakfast dish AND the fact that I’d be pushing for no apparent progress towards getting to meet that breakfast anytime soon; I inquire where the Doctor is. I detect a small snort before she answers “Doc only shows up for the big show.” Mkay. So I start to push, and push, and push and I’m thinking this isn’t so bad. But then enter Buzzkill who tells me it’s not working. I’m crestfallen. I thought I was doing so well. I feel defeated and way too sorry for myself for only having pushed for 15 minutes. Why didn’t I get Nurse Warm & Fuzzy back for this part? I know her shift was over and all, but didn’t she want to stay and help me through this? Surely she couldn’t have something more important to do? And here I had thought we bonded.
Back at the ranch Buzzkill tells me to roll over on my side because apparently pushing in that position will help turn the baby face down. I look at her like her ass went Sunny Side Up. First, there is no way I can move my 200lb body anywhere and Second, that position was not a good look for me. I feel like a whale on a forklift as the two of them work to put me on my side.
Did I just see a bead of sweat on Hubby’s forehead?
After 5 big pushes I get to lie back down taking the embarrassment level from 100 to 50. I guess it worked and Miss P was now over easy.
The contractions are coming quicker than ever and I’m starting to feel them like never before. I have this little thingy in my hand that lets me turn up Mr.Epidural when I feel the pain come on. I never used it once in the 19 hours of “inactive” (PS: Worst Term Ever) labor but now I’m pushing that thing like I’m in an epic battle of Tetris on level 29. It’s not working. I ask why and Buzzkill replies: “it’s probably wearing off.”
I’m sorry, come again?
She repeats more loudly than necessary, “IT’S PROBABLY WEARING OFF.”
But can’t we get that handsome resident fellow with the Boston College scrubs back down here to give me another dose?
No dice. I’m in panic mode. The contractions start low and build high. It feels like I’m biking up a mountain and then hit a part of it so steep that I can’t pedal anymore and my legs are about to give out. Except they can’t give out because I don’t have control over them, they are moving without me and that hill is happening no matter what. I’m entangled in a sheet of white pain so intense I think I might pass out. And then it releases, slowly, and I’m headed back downhill. I look up at my husband and want nothing more than to be standing where he is at this very moment. I ask for water and chapstick and he returns with both before I get the words out. He is so calm. I grab his hand and tell him to never let go. He strokes my head and tells me he never will. I’m climbing the hill again; I can’t take it. I beg for Gatorade for the 5th time. Nurse Buzzkill snaps back “You can keep asking me sweetheart; but the answer won’t change.” I’m on hour 2 of active labor when the Doctor finally comes in. She tells me my delivery has been text book; that my body was made for delivery. 1.
This shit show is TEXTBOOK
? and 2.
I’m not sure that’s a compliment.
She tells me she’ll be back in 30 minutes to start the delivery and I lose it. I cannot do this for another 30 minutes, I can’t even do it for another 5. Mr. E packed up and left me,
, and now I have no line of defense. I’m helpless. I can’t believe this is happening to me. Hubby puts a cold washcloth over my eyes and I love him for it. Nurse Buzzkill inquires for the 3rd time if I’d like a mirror to check my progress down there; to which I snarl back with “You can keep asking me sweetheart but the answer won’t change.”
The Doctor is back and getting suited up with gloves and a mask so I’m guessing this is “show time.” I’m pushing with what I think is all my might feeling sorry for myself the entire time. And then I realize that Buzzkill is starting down at me. We lock eyes and she whispers “Okay Kristin. You can either push like you’ve been pushing for the last couple of hours and we’ll be here for another four or you can push like you mean it and I’ll get you out of here in 20 minutes.” I want to hug her and punch her in the face at the same time. It’s exactly what I needed to hear. So I stopped wallowing in my pity, bore down, and gave her the positive pushing she was asking for. 18 minutes later Miss P’s head popped out. I throw my own head back on the pillow and she is on my belly. I suck in my breath. I feel a lightness I hadn’t felt in 5 months. I look down and see Hubby’s eyes and think it’s the coolest thing in the world.
I asked him to read this and tell me if it’s how he remembers it. His reply?
“Yea. But the resident wasn’t handsome.”