I know I'm not really close to having this baby, but I see the finish line. It's going to go quickly and before I know it, our world is going to be rocked again. So today while reading at the gym, I was thinking about what I remember from Sawyer's birth. There is a ton, obviously, but I was trying to break it down into bite-sized, processable pieces.
The Day of Labor: I was super hormonal, to the point that I really snapped at my Mom, who sensed something going on and got the heck out of the house before I started breathing fire. I just craved being alone and spent the afternoon lying by the pool and planting in the backyard.
Knowing I Was in Labor: I was having contractions that were stronger and thought maybe...but didn't call Cathy until I passed my mucous plug while peeing. I knew exactly what it was and, combined with the stronger contractions, what it meant.
Labor at Home: I can't really break my labor down into early and active, because I went from passing the mucous plug to insane contractions that never let up. I remember being in too much pain to be upright, and going very quickly to that place you go to when you're in pain--it's very primal and kind of trippy. I remember laboring in bed on my side, Cathy trying to get me to labor upright on the toilet or in the bathtub, both of which were excruciating, and finally in the hot tub, where we stayed for hours that passed like days and seconds at the same time. I remember Rob being with me constantly, and knowing that other people were around, but not really being aware.
Moving to the Hospital: By the morning when my water had broken, Cathy checked me and I was only at a three. This is when I really started to despair and lose my concentration on relaxing. Cathy mentioned praying about going in for an epidural because that can often help you relax when you get to the intense place where I was. I remember saying I didn't need to pray, let's go NOW. But they didn't have a bed, so we got back in the hot tub, and then Sawyer's heart rate kind of started fluctuating, so Cathy, very calmly, said that she'd be more comfortable going to the hospital.
The Ride to the Hospital: Somehow the message got lost in translation to my Mom that it wasn't really an emergency. So she drove like it was, hitting speed bumps at 40mph. I remember thinking, while on all fours in the backseat, just like the movies, that one day I'd be amused by this.
The Hospital: I remember the feeling of peace when the epidural hit and I could rest. I was exhausted, and I remember someone taking a picture of me smiling--the first picture with a smile since the first hour of hard labor. I remember feeling Sawyer descend and telling Rob I was done with pain and that we were adopting the rest of our kids. (I guess I temporarily forgot that part??) I couldn't pee for hours and the nurses put in a catheter wrong that I had to beg for them to take out for hours. They had screwed it up and a few days later I got a lovely bladder infection from it. They kept saying I shouldn't feel it with the epidural and I kept insisting that I did and they better take it out. I remember Sawyer being posterior and people praying and Cathy doing a maneuver to turn him. It worked.
Pushing and Delivery: I remember the doctor wanting to do an episiotomy right away and Cathy talking him out of it. The room was full of encouragement and cheerleaders, and Rob was right by my head. (If we want to be gross and honest, he said there were some smells going on at the other end that he would rather not be around. I didn't mind at all since his voice in my ear really got me through.) This part didn't hurt, though I felt pressure and burning. It was the end of the marathon and I could see the end. I wanted the end. I could do it--I knew I could. Everyone kept saying that the next push surely the baby would be out. They kept talking about his hair and how they were going to put it in bows when he was older, of course thinking he was a SHE. I remember getting to a point where I felt like my pushing was getting weaker. I finally asked the doctor if I would deliver if he gave me an episiotomy. He said yes, and I said do it. He did and the next push, Sawyer's head came out. I remember more than his head, feeling his body slide out next. That was SO WEIRD. I could consciously feel it and knew: "There are shoulders and arms and legs and a torso sliding out of my body." I still remember that--it was crazy.
Meeting Sawyer: Someone called out, "It's a boy!" and they immediately put him on my chest. I think I was grasping for him, desperate to hold him. I remember the slippery feeling of him on me, and thinking he looked beautiful and perfect and healthy and HUGE and full of hair. Almost immediately, though, they took him and cleaned him and then told me his oxygen was low and they'd be taking him. I kept insisting I had to see him before they took him, and they did give him to me for a moment, and then he was gone. I was really sad, but there was still all this rushing around until I pushed out the placenta, which was really anticlimactic.
Right After: I remember feeling proud and exhausted and missing Sawyer, but knowing that Rob was with him. I kept begging for them to turn off the pitocin, as I kept having strong contractions. It wasn't until hours later that a nurse took pity on me. (Or I scared her by grabbing her arm and literally BEGGING for her to turn off the IV.) They wheeled me to a room I'd have to share, and I remember feeling so depressed that I couldn't be alone. The nurses probably saw it on my face as they left me in the hall for a moment and then hooked me up with a single room intended for C-Section patients. They also helped me to the bathroom so I could pee, which I hadn't done in 12 hours. (Not even the messed-up catheter emptied my bladder.) I felt so grateful for the act of her kindness cheering me on while I peed. And then--rest.
Okay, that was a little longer than bite-sized, but it's amazing how over time, something that was so traumatic for me then can now be something I look back fondly on. I guess because I'm not in pain and have Sawyer to look at and know that it all turned out after all. I have no idea what this labor will have in store for me, but I do know that I will (God willing) come out on the other side with a healthy baby and a story to tell.
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