At about 5 a.m., I was struggling. My backup plan to natural childbirth was to have some IV meds --- fentanyl --- if needed. The nurse had checked, and I still wasn’t dilated past a 1, so I decided I needed some relief and got some fentanyl.
“This may make you a little goofy,” she said as she put it in the IV port.
A few minutes later, it apparently kicked in, because the nurse asked if I needed anything --- ice chips, jello, a freeze pop.
“A freeze pop!” I said.
Your dad laughed, realizing that the medicine had definitely kicked in as I thoroughly enjoyed the half of a red popsicle that was brought in to me.
When a contraction hit, I held it out to him, “Take this,” and I breathed through. “Can I have the popsicle back?” I asked when it was over.
The meds lasted for a little while, and I dozed off for a few minutes but then I started to feel more and more pain as the contractions came back and the medicine wore off. I reached out in my sleep to grab your dad’s hand as a contraction gripped me, then dozed off for a minute, then reached out to grab his hand as another one came on.
“I heard you had quite the night,” said nurse Kayla, when her shift came the next morning. “A seven-minute contraction? When they told me they gave you the medicine to start contractions, I knew that was going to happen. You already had such strong contractions yesterday afternoon.”
I was once again on the nursing ball, and she had suggested leaning against the bed for support, but I said that I was just leaning on your dad. I needed him there. It eased the pain.
“You have such a great support system,” the nurse said. “When I was induced, my husband and sister were there and they slept while I cried.”
The contractions were still incredibly strong, still coming in pairs ---- a contraction, one minute, a contraction, five minutes. It went like this again and again.
The nurse said she could have anticipated that my contractions would be crazy strong.
“You might want to think about an epidural. I don’t like to push them, and I love what you’re doing, breathing through them. However, if you haven’t progressed much more, we need you to have strength left to push later. Just think about it.”
It was morning, and the doctor came in to check my progress.
She grimaced a bit as she checked my cervix, “I can put you at a good 1.”
No more dilation. All those contractions and nothing.
“Are you ready for your epidural?” the doctor asked.
“She doesn’t want an epidural,” the nurse said. “I told her that we would need her later to push though.”
After their recommendations, I decided to get through my terror of the epidural needle in my back.
“I can’t do this for 12 more hours,” I said. “Let’s do it.”
“They are already on the floor, getting an epidural to someone else so they should be right in.”
The anesthesiologist came in to prepare, and she set to work. She told me that she would work fast, but there would come a moment when she wouldn’t be able to stop even during a contraction and I would have to breathe through. Nate told them that my contractions came in five-minute doubles, and they tried to work between them.
However, right as the doctor got to the part where she couldn’t stop, I felt a contraction beginning. I grabbed your dad’s hand and squeezed as I told the doctor, “I have a contraction.”
“Breathe through it,” she said, and I hunched forward as she worked, groaning and squeezing your dad’s hand about to death as I fought the pain.
One minute later, it happened again.
“Breathe through it,” she said.
I squeezed Nate’s hand hard enough that I saw him shake it out once I released it as the contraction passed.
It only took a minute or so until my left side was going numb. I felt a contraction, but I only felt it in my right side.
When I was feeling quite good, Nate looked at me.
“Do you mind if I eat something?”
“Of course not! Go for it.”
“It won’t bother you since you can’t eat?”
“Not at all. You could have eaten the whole time,” I said.
“You couldn’t eat. Solidarity,” he said, holding up a fist.
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