True Story











{July 22, 2010}   I gave birth ONCE

True Story:  Three years ago this month I gave birth to… Well, not really… It was more like I was gutted, and my sweet baby angel took his first breath of oxygen.

I really should probably be a surrogate. And if money gets any tighter I’ll be filling out applications for a 10 month temp job. According to my Doc, I have a cervix of steel, “a knotty pine”, he called it. Ain’t nothing coming out of there too early.

So after a pretty easy pregnancy, I’m staring down the last month, giant belly, peeing every 10 minutes, sleeping with mouth wide open snoring (this is when Pump started sleeping in a different bed), in Alabama, in late June. So you can imagine I was ready to meet my little fella.

I keep going in for my cervix tests and dilation. Nothing. Nada. Every time. I think G Monkey would crawl back in if he could. He never wanted to come out and he is STILL a Momma’s Boy.

So, FINALLY, my Doc says he will schedule an induction. We wanted it to be on July 6, my Dad’s 60 birthday, but the maternity ward was booked up. People book these things in advance now days like the Ritz Carlton. Plus a popular birthdate was coming up: 07/07/07.

So, I’m told that I can check in the evening of July 4th, 2007, around 11:30pm.

The 4th of July rolls around. Still no sign of a child coming out of my Vagina any time soon. My family is in town. We go to a BBQ at a friend’s condo. Just killing time waiting to take me to the hospital, Pump and my Brother in law, thank goodness, were able to slip in a few hours at the Florabama while their pregnant wives were nourishing their unborn babies. Understandable on their part.

We check into the hospital. They ask Pump to leave the room and ask me various questions. Advice: Be careful how you answer these questions ladies. Example:

Nurse:  Are you afraid to take your baby home?

Me:  (Nervously) Yes…

Whool! Whool! Whool! The cops start swarming.

Me:  No, I mean I’m nervous about being a new mom. Not that Pump is going to beat us.

I get settled in to my “gown” . Got hooked up to fluids, monitor on pre-born G Monkey’s head, vitals taken. Then they check my cervix. I wait with bated breath. ..Nothing. Nada. I’m as tight as a… (I’ll let you use your own words here).

So, they give me a little pill to soften my cervix overnight while I “rest” along with an Ambien. Need to rest up for the big day.

Pump, started bitching immediately about how fathers are treated because he only had a lazy boy in this room to sleep in. He asked the nurse if he could have an Ambien too. She said no, and gave him 2 Benadryl instead.

He was not happy. She said, “Good night. Try to rest”, and turned out the light.

True Story:  Within 5 minutes of light’s out, something started shooting out of my birthing area. Little squirts.

Squirt…

Squirt…

Me:  Pump, something is squirting out of me.

Pump:  This recliner is bullshit. Why wouldn’t she give me an Ambien?

Me:  Because you are not an admitted patient. I’m calling the nurse.

Pump:  Tell her to bring me an Ambien.

The nurse comes in and flips on the light and does a little litmus test on the squirted stuff.

Nurse:  You broke your water. You’re having contractions. Try to get some re-est. Goodnight.

WTF???

I have never prayed for a catheter and/or 7am so much in my life. I spent the whole night getting out of bed every 10 minutes to drag my fluid/monitor friend across the cold floor to pee. Only to climb my big ass back in bed to hear Pump rolling over and complaining about his sleeping situation. Maybe he should have had 1 more bushwhacker at the Florabama and he would have slept soundly… Note to new fathers.

7:00am rolls around and people come in and turn on the lights to “wake us up”, yeah, right.

Here begins the day (ultimately, 22 hours of labor that my husband likes to argue me about). Maybe there is a reason he doesn’t live with me anymore).

I’ll give you the short version: I start the morning off about 2 cm dilated and get my epidural early at the advice of my nurse who said once the on-call anesthesiologist goes into a surgery I will be up a creek.

My Doc and nurse predict I will give birth about 3-4pm…. Uh, No.

Most of the day is spent with me nauseated, vomiting, listening to CDs I had made, family members coming in and out to look at my vagina. At one point my nurse decides to turn down my epidural so I could feel more, in order to push. I woke up from a 20 minute nap/pass out session screaming in pain.

Me:  WHAT IS GOING ON?!?! IT HURTS! IT HURTS!

Nurse:  You are having a contraction.

Me:  Make it F*&@King Stop!

Nurse:  Oops, I turned down your epidural too much. Better get you a boost (This would be when the anesthesiologist comes in to shoot more drugs in your spinal cord).

4-5pm rolls around. My Doc and nurses decide to “let” me push for a while, apparently just for fun. My doc goes home for dinner while I push but can’t get anywhere with getting G Monkey out. I basically become a joke. The nurse will tell me to push  the she and some family members stare at my gaping hole with a look of “Uh, Uh, not going to happen. Uh Uhhh. Not today. Ain’t no baby coming out of there”. I’m like, “I’m right here. I can hear and see you”.

Apparently a C-Section was unavoidable. I just couldn’t push that big boy out. But they let me push for another hour or two longer until I could get MY head around it and accept that I needed a C-section. Thanks for that people. Thanks!

The anesthesiologist comes in to give me my C-section epidural. This is a WHOLE nother ball game, people. If I am never that numb again, that will be just fine with me.

I have a history of anxiety and panic disorder, so not being able to feel my chest FREAKED me out. They told me to cross my arms over my chest. I felt like my arms were crossed way up in the air and they were actually resting on my chest. Weird.

An angel, a tall gray-haired man, my nurse anesthetist, saved me. He would rub my face (about the only thing I could feel) and tell me I was just fine.

Me:  How do you know??? How do I know my lungs are working?

NA:  Do you see this thing on your finger?

Me:  Yes…

NA:  It is monitoring your oxygen saturation. Do you know what that is?

Me:  Yes…

NA:  It’s at 100%

Me:  I don’t believe you.

Out the corner of my eye I see my doc walk in.

Me:  Doc! Doc! This isn’t good. I’m having a panic attack and they won’t give me anything. Oh God, I’m nauseous. I told you I have panic disorder right?

Doc:  Ashley, I’m taking your baby out right now.

Me:  What?!?! What?!?!

G Monkey:  WHAAAA!

Pump:  There he is. Look at him.

I turn my head.

Me:  Hey Buddy.

This 22 hour ordeal was rounded out by me in a recovery room shaking violently from coming off of all the fluids and drugs and epidural and no food, while members of my family tried to shove my little bundle of joy on my teet. Seriously. It was very bright, my teeth chattered violently, and my mother and MIL were trying to shove a breast in G Monkey’s mouth. Not my favorite memory.

True Story:  He was all worth it… Even the 1st month of his life when my body felt like I had been hit by a bus. Never my mind though. I had the opposite of baby blues. I couldn’t stop smiling.

I even smiled about the fact that all my friends and family that showed up late morning of the birthdate stayed until 10pm that night to see G Monkey. Even if they had to go out to the car to drink beer while they waited.

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