The eighth of December started out much better than most weekdays. Chase had the day off, so we were able to sleep in a little. After going to my OB appointment, Chase and I headed to Wilmington to go car shopping. Our poor little Saab didn't offer us enough room for the car seat and our 80 pound pooch.
It was a cold, windy day and getting in and out of several vehicles left me feeling miserable and very pregnant. By the end of the afternoon, I was just ready to be home, so after finding an SUV that we liked, we began the trek home. I had contractions all the way back to Jacksonville...
Chase and I kept track of the contractions and around 1 a.m. the contractions came every two minutes. My mom had very short labor for both my brother and me. I didn't want to take any chances, so I woke Chase up and we headed to the hospital. These contractions were not much fun and they kept getting more intense. The nurse asked me, "On a scale from 1 to 10, ten being you'd rather die than go through another one, what would you rate your contractions?" I told her a five, but after she left the room, I spoke with Chase. "I think I just lied," I said. "I think my contractions are a 9, but I really don't want to die"
Needless to say, the staff at the Naval Hospital said I still had a week or so to go before our little man would make his appearance. I was only 1 cm dilated and my cervix was not ready at all... Great, how was I going to handle the pain of these contractions for another week? The nurse that checked me told us to come back when the contractions were intense enough for me to be hunched or whenever I couldn't handle the pain anymore. We went back home and I was able to get a little sleep.
On the ninth, those dog on contractions kept occurring. Everyone kept telling me, "Once you have that son of yours in your arms, you'll forget the pain that you had during those contractions or labor." Yeah, right - I thought. I'm not the smartest cookie, but I'm not the dullest crayon in the box, either. I had it all figured out. The reason our world has such a large population is due to forgetfulness. You see, having a child causes lots of pain (even before those teenage years). If these people only remembered the pain of labor, then there wouldn't be nearly as many families having multiple children. I don't know how many times I asked Chase, "Would you PUHLEEEEAAASSSEEE just rip my ovaries out?"
Chase's parents, Mom and Dad H., were on their way for a quick visit and to deliver/set-up the crib that Dad H. made for our little guy. They arrived at our place on Friday, the tenth. When they arrived, the contractions were affecting me so much so that I couldn't even pick on my father-in-law, and that's saying something! Mom H. started making her famous Cream Chicken and Biscuit dinner (which I had requested). When the meal had been placed on the table, my contractions were again two minutes or less apart and I couldn't handle the pain any longer. Chase and I headed to the hospital, once again, and poor Chase didn't even have a chance to eat any of that yummy food.
The nurses put us in a room, hooked me up to the NST monitors, then checked me. I was 6-7 cm dilated and they immediately got us set up in a birthing suite. I was shaking so much and ready for some relief from the pain. After what seemed like forever, and signing I don't know how many waivers, the nurse finally loaded up my IV with some sort of drug that helped me calm down and take away my shakes, for awhile... It did nothing for the contractions, so I said bring on the epidural!
A little after 0100 on Saturday, we welcomed our handsome bundle of joy into our lives. He was almost 8 pounds, a little less than 20" long, and absolutely perfect. Best of all, I honestly didn't feel any pain after receiving that epidural. I didn't even feel when Chase dropped my leg onto the bed, but I sure heard it make a loud "THUMP."
No comments:
Post a Comment