Part 3 - Excuse Me, Do You Need a Wheelchair?

Read Part 1 here.
Read Part 2 here.

At about 315p, D pulled into the last "Woman in Labor" designated parking spot (there are about 7 of them!) and helped me out of the car. People stared at us as we made our way through the lobby. The volunteers at the info desk all seemed panicked as one of them asked if I needed a wheelchair. I declined, explaining that I preferred to walk off the pain. A nice nurse from neurology helped us find the elevator and get to the third floor and once we came off the elevator, another nurse smiled and she helped us through to Labor and Delivery admitting.

Another couple was standing at the front desk when we came in. Another contraction was coming on as I managed to sit half my ass down on a chair next to the counter. The couple looked frightened when they saw my knuckles turning white from grabbing the corner of the counter in the midst of a contraction. I could barely speak or breathe as the nurse asked me for my medical record number, my identification, and a bunch of other information I don't remember. She finally gave me my admission bracelet and took me to my delivery room (which I later noticed was room 9, my lucky number).

As we entered into the room, the first thing D said was: "She needs an epidural." Kasandra, the totally awesome and caring nurse who would end up staying with me and taking care of me through the entire ordeal, encouraged me to change because they needed to examine me and get my epidural started. My contractions were so strong at this point that I had trouble changing. I knew that if I wanted to get the epidural, I needed to get myself on the bed, so I slowly pulled off my clothing and rolled into bed. Kasandra tried to get an IV started for pain meds while we waited for the anesthesiologist to come and hook up my epidural. However, she had trouble finding a vein in both of my arms. Another nurse also tried several time and could not get a line started. This was not boding well for me.

The resident on call came into the room, and she did a quick examination of me. 7 centimeters dilated, she said. I was shocked to hear how far along I actually was. Then, two anesthesiologists came into the room and they too had trouble finding a vein. As people were poking painful holes in my arms and hands, my contractions were getting more and more intense. I grabbed the side bed rails and the pain made me feel strong enough that I could rip them off at any moment. Time seemed to stand still as everything got more and more intense. I was coming in and out of lucidness between the contractions and could not keep track of what exactly was happening at certain moments. D stood by me and tried to comfort me with ice and water. He did a great job of trying to make sure I stayed hydrated through the ordeal but what I really wanted was pain medication.

The anesthesiologists ended up being successful at making painful holes in my hands and arms before they gave up. On their last try I began to feel the urge to push but Kasandra told me not to push yet. It didn't hit me yet that I was too far along to get pain meds. Because they couldn't get a line started, I was also not able to get 2 doses of antibiotics that I needed because I tested positive for some bacteria that could potentially be harmful to my baby. There was no time for any of this as another contraction was coming on.

Another nurse who happened to be walking by came into the room and Kasandra expressed frustration about not being able to get a line started in me. I was contracting at that moment and that nurse must have seen a potential vein in my right hand to try. So she poked and somehow got a line started. Then the resident returned and I began to feel the urge to push again. She consulted with Kasandra and D and they decided that I should probably listen to my body and begin pushing.

Once that decision was made, everybody sprang into action. Kasandra and another nurse took away the lower half of my bed and brought what looked like a cushioned table. I turned to D and admitted weakly that I was scared. He reassured me that I was ready for this and that I would be absolutely fine. They took out the stirrups for me to put my feet in, which I immediately did not like. Kasandra instructed me to push "into the contractions," which I didn't really understand. They asked if another position would be more comfortable and I asked to be on my left side. Kasandra set up a prop to help me rest my right leg on. As I pushed on my left side, I didn't feel like I was making much progress, even though Kasandra said I was doing very well.

Let me stop for a moment here to reflect on the complete lack of modesty of the birthing process. There is nothing you can hide from when you are in labor and about to give birth. What was most distressing about the entire process was the fact that people were constantly coming in and out of the room while my privates were just hanging out. Even though I was in the most pain I had ever felt in my life, I was still very aware of my discomfort with this situation...

By 415p, Kasandra offered the "birthing bar" to me. I accepted, knowing that being on my side could only get me so far. What looked like a roll bar that one would put in a race car was attached to the middle of the bed. The bar was lined with foam material in the middle and I could see the bits of missing foam and marks left by previous women who had also used the bar. I was propped up further in bed and quickly learned how to use the birthing bar. As if there was any more modesty to be lost, Kasandra told me to lean forward and squat as I pushed into my contractions. Not only was I exposed to the world, now I'd have to do it squatting on a table. Great.

By now the contractions were so painful that every time I pushed, I would collapse back onto the bed in complete exhaustion. By 430p, I turn to D and confessed that I didn't know if I could do it because I felt so tired. The pain and pushing absolutely drained me of any ability to give more than one good push during each contraction. The resident was trying to get me to give two good pushes in every contraction, but I could not gather enough energy to do it.

By 450p I felt like I was on my last legs. In that moment, I knew that I couldn't manage any more energy or pain so I made a decision to make these last contractions my final efforts at pushing. In my second to last push, one of the nurses excitedly informed me that the head was showing. Kasandra asked if I wanted to feel it head. Another contraction was quickly approaching and I yelled no! This seemed to make her chuckle as she explained to D that most women, when asked the same question, also did not want to touch the baby's head.

Finally, I mustered all of my strength and as my body convulsed in last bits of pain and exhaustion, I let out a sound that seemed to come from someone or something else. At 510p pushed out a screaming little baby boy.