Grace was due April 14th, but decided that wasn't on her datebook, so at my 40 week NST (Non-Stress Test) appointment, my Dr decided it was time to schedule an induction. To be honest I was not at all excited about that idea. My ideas of induction have never been pleasant and I was really hoping to avoid the whole situation. However, all the different "tricks" everyone talks about to naturally induce labor had absolutely zero affect on Graces grand entrance. And trust me, I tried them all! Multiple times actually. Walked the dogs for at least an hour on a daily basis, walked in a 5K, ate an entire pineapple, had my friend make up a few batches of chipoltle BBQ chicken & pork dishes, different pressure points...nada. Grace needed to be formally & officially evicted at 41 weeks. So we show up at the hospital to start the pitocin IV at 5am. Pitocin is supposed to get the contractions moving, but honestly didn't do a thing for me. I was already contracting upon arrival to Labor & Delivery, but they just felt like the Braxton Hicks contractions I had been feeling for, oh, probably 12+ weeks. The Dr would pop in every hour or so and have me rate my pain on a scale from 1-10. I always hate that question, rate your pain. I never know what to say. You don't want to accidentally "under-rate" and have them ride it off, but at the same time, you don't want to over-rate and look like a big fat wimp either. However, this time it was easy to rate because there wasn't much pain to notice. By 11am, he was not happy with my constant 0-1 pain rating and decided to kick things up a notch and break my water. By about 11:05 I was finally in active labor. I could definitely tell when things had changed! Suddenly the tv and lights needed to be off and the raging appetite I had just 15 minutes prior was completely gone. In fact, I recall feeling a bit nauseated because I sent Jonny across the room to eat his ham and cheese sandwich. Poor guy, I think he realized things had changed too when I suddenly made a face and quite sharply said "What in the world is that smell..." I remember opening my eyes and seeing him next to me, slowly, as if afraid to make any sudden movements, moving his sandwich downward, and out of my line of vision. So at this point, around 12pm or so, I was a bit freaked out about the whole situation. Realizing what was actually going on, and what would be happening in the near future; so decided to have some of the IV narcotic meds which I've heard help relax you and generally takes the edge off. But before they put you on the narcotics, they like to have anesthesiology come talk to you about the epidural and have you sign a bunch of stuff in case you do decide to go that route. Personally, I was hoping to avoid an epidural. Not to be a super woman or because I am one of those crazies who is absolutely against woman having epidurals, but more so because the idea of a giant needle in my back scared the crap out of me. Furthermore, I liked the idea of a less invasive "experience"...avoiding as many unpleasantries as I could along the way. Thus far I have had the ability of being mobile and didn't like the thought of being stuck in a bed for who knows how long. However, I had never been through childbirth so had no clue what to truly expect, so really had no strong feelings one way or the other.
When my midwife had asked about my birth plan, I merely said my ultimate plan was to have the baby, and go with the flow of things in order to get there. She was pleased enough with that answer, telling me how some woman insist on 6 page birth plans with every little thing noted one way or another. I figure things go the way they're going to go, and when dealing with something like having a baby, where every experience seems to be different...how does one map out something like that?
Anyways...back to...the anesthesiologist came in at some point, to be honest all sense of time was gone to me by now. But I do know by the time she came in my body had figured out how to work through the contractions. You always see on TV and in movies the heavy breathing, woman screaming, breaking her husbands hands...so when the real contractions came, those "methods" of dealing with them seem to come to mind before anything else. So there I was, gripping Jonnys hand and curling up in a bit of a mental panic to begin with. Like I said, these contractions were new and way different than what I had experienced before. Not intensely painful, but very very different. After a very short amount of time, I realized that the hand squeezing and trying to focus on something else just was not cutting it. In fact, was making everything much more intense and actually adding pain. So I simply closed my eyes, gently and deeply breathed, and counted in intervals of 4. Suddenly, contractions were coming and then going! Of course there was some pain, but nothing compared to what I was expecting. You always hear things like "don't focus on the contraction"...personally, I think that's a bit silly. By focusing 100% on the contraction at hand and nothing else, I was able to count and breath my way through every single one. Its like when you go to the doctors for a shot or something...when you tense up, the shot hurts more than it should. Same logic here I guess. Squeezing Jonnys hand and even speaking tensed up my body enough to seriously strengthen the pain. So I just laid there, eyes closed, counting in my head. I think I slept a bit here and there between contractions, and after sending my husband to the little "daddy cot", he took some naps as well. I did speak at one point to wake him up and politely ask him to stop snoring, as he was throwing my counting off ;) The next time the doctor came in to check my progress, he was surprised that it was time to start practice pushing. He goes on to talk about how it's usually a bit of a lengthy process for first time moms, could easily take 1-2 hours. So the nurses were going to coach and assist as I practiced and he would be back shortly. Well, our practice time, ended up not being practice, but rather the real deal. I remember one nurse quietly, but intensely, say to the other "umm we've got a head coming" after about 3 more contractions. The other nurse pushed a button that called for the doctor to come back, and by about the 10th push or so, he came running back in (yes, I do quite literally mean running) to catch her! She was here, crying like a trooper and getting all cleaned up. Jonny was over with the nurses taking pictures as they did all her measurements and testing. I don't really remember much after that for a bit, not until Jonny brought 6lbs and 15oz of Grace Elizabeth Merritt to me. I remember being super excited that she was under 7lbs, don't ask me why, I really have no idea. But she had arrived quickly and healthy by 4:31pm.
You often times hear complaints or moaning in regards to military hospitals and care. I can't imagine anyone saying that about the hospital at RAF Lakenheath. Everyone I came into contact with was fantastic. The facility was great, I had two wonderful nurses, one a Captain the other an AF spouse volunteering, then a Major who delivered and a Major who had been my midwife up til the end. I couldn't have asked for a better team through it all!
Daddy clipping my fingernails...those suckers were sharp!
Some special visitors
FINALLY going home!
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