Except, the baby had another small decel, and the midwife on call, in consultation with my OB, who happened to be the doc on call, recommended induction.
I was in my labor room by 5pm, and the baby's heart rate was all over the place, leading to c-section talk. So breakfast on Tuesday? My only meal of the day.
Step 1: COVID test
Step 2: Super scary 6-8pm session spent watching the baby's heart rate stay in the 180s-190s listening to the OB and the midwife talk c-section some more before finally getting an IV and a quick bag of fluids. This slowed the baby's heartbeat, and e could officially start (from total scratch) an induction.
Step 3: 9pm-9am: Cervadil and sleep, light on the sleep. Ben stayed home with the kids, on call if we needed him.
On Wednesday morning, I was 1cm dilated, but my cervix was still pointing off to the side like an "I'm with stupid" T-shirt. I got the ok for some peanut butter toast because the baby's heart looked fine, and we went ahead with a Foley bulb, which, like Cervadil, could be removed if baby's heart couldn't handle it. I also had the genius idea to TAKE A SHOWER since it finally dawned on me that there would be no baby soon.
The Foley was fine-- I napped while it was in there and then woke up to use the bathroom and found that it had fallen out, leaving me with an anterior, mostly effaced, 3cm cervix.
Next up: the dread Pitocin
I passed the time writing in the baby book
I had a little bit of Pitocin, and I walked laps around my room for HOURS reading books, since I couldn't go outside.
In the early evening on Wednesday, the baby was again tachychardic for a long time. Eventually, another midwife called in another OB to consult about a c-section, and they pushed another huge bag of fluids and turned off the Pitocin.
I called Ben, who was in and out and tried to be home with the kids as much as possible especially at night. He drank a shit ton of coffee and jumped in the car, thinking we were going to the OR.
By the time he got to the hospital, the baby had calmed down again, and the OB said she would recommend we keep going with Pitocin. At this point, I was like listen if she can't handle Pitocin, then I'm just going to end up in the OR anyway, so let's do that now as opposed to when I am even more exhausted.
They were both like get it together, lady, so Ben went home, and I went back on Pitocin.
I was up all night hypnobirth breathing my way through increasingly awful contractions as my nurses stepped up the meds every 30 minutes. I paced the room. I ate popsicles and drank Sprite. I did NOT sleep. AT ALL. ALL NIGHT LONG.
At 6 am, I asked the midwife to check me. 4 effing centimeters ARE YOU KIDDING ME?
I told her I thought I wanted an epidural. She suggested I get in the tub..
I spent 2 hours in the tub and waited just a bit too long getting out, distracted by the shift change, meeting my new nurse, etc.
My contractions were scary bad when I got out of the tub. Like, panic bad.
The new midwife was the same person I saw in the clinic two days before, and the minute I saw her, I said "I either need a baby or an epidural RIGHT NOW."
She checked me and was like, oh great you're 5 cm, and I screamed EPIDURAL. Amazingly, the anesthesiologist was there within 10 minutes. This was honestly the worst part-- having contractions-- scary bad ones-- while he did his thing and I held perfectly still.
By 9:15 am, I was numb and pain-free, texting friends, and waiting on Ben.
He arrived in time to help the nurse turn me over, and we all chatted happily for awhile.
Here I am full of fluid but so darn happy.
At 11:05 am, Ben took this picture of my bra on my IV pole (getting out of the tub problems, obvi)
Our lovely nurse went to get some lunch, and shortly after she left the room, I became really uncomfortable on my right side. Ben called another nurse to help me roll over, and this new nurse asked me if I had a special kind of epidural because I was moving my legs. That made me notice that I could all of the sudden FEEL my legs and also a ton of vaginal pressure.
I was so annoyed to have had such a brief respite from discomfort, so I asked the nurse to ask the midwife if my epidural had fallen out or something and to check on my catheter because something was wet.
The midwife came in and told me I probably felt tingles because the baby was moving lower, and she said she'd check my cervix but she thought it was probably almost time to push.
Ben figured we were gearing up for the last leg of the marathon, so he said he was going to run to the bathroom.
"Better use the one in here," the midwife said, glancing between my legs. "Otherwise, you'll miss the baby."
Ben and I exchanged incredulous glances. In our experience, pushing took a hot second.
Turns out, MY WATER BROKE and THE BABY'S HEAD WAS 1/2OUT ALREADY.
I had been really worried about pushing with an epidural and hurting my 42-year-old pelvic floor, so when the midwife told me the news, I laughed.
"Laugh again," she said, "And you are going to have a baby." So I did.
AND WE DID.
6 pounds, 13 ounces
19.5 inches long