A Frankie Story: Part Two

I have horrible veins. Getting blood drawn is one challenge that I never look forward to. I tend to get stabbed several times, in several places all over my arms, before whoever is trying to obtain a sample either forfeits and finds somebody else to give it a go, or defaults to the backs of my hands. I preface each occasion by letting the blood-drawer know that it's not going to be breezy, hoping they'll just use a hand and move on. Which is never the case. The pokes really aren't too terrible, that stupid blue tourniquet is the worst part. Given my track record, the idea of finally getting my first IV failed to excite me.

At 3:00AM we found ourselves in the delivery room. Mountain Man sat on the tiny hospital variety pull-out-couch he would be sleeping on. I sat in the bed with blood work coming out of my left arm, and two nurses attempting to put in an IV in my right arm (after unsuccessful attempts with my left arm.. what does it even mean to blow a vein, anyway?) 4:00AM, I started contracting on my own (good timing, Frank), and my night nurse, who was fantastic by the way, gave me a small dose of nubain to help me sleep after officially starting the induction (with cervidil). Sleep I did not. I don't know if it was the about-to-have-a-baby jitters, the fact that I had an eight pound baby hanging out in my insides, or just that I was laying in a terribly uncomfortable hospital bed hooked up to an IV keeping me awake. I dozed in and out of a pain medication induced haze.

By 7:00 Friday morning, I had given up on any real sleep. Kathy had arrived to break my water anyway (and told me I was at four centimeters). The last few weeks, I worried that my water would break and I wouldn't know it. I read stories about women leaking fluid over a period of time, and even knew someone who this had happened to. The flood that gushed out of me, however, could not possibly have been missed (I half expected to have to use my bed as a raft out of there). My new nurse (not nearly as fantastic the first) started the pitocin, and Kathy went back across the street to finish her appointments for the day. By 10:00AM, the contractions were really rolling, and I was getting uncomfortable. I still wanted to avoid the epidural, so I opted for one more round of nubain which ended up putting me to sleep. The plans I'd had to walk around to hurry my labor along went straight out the window. I woke up as the nubain was wearing off. The contractions were uncomfortable, but I could breath through them easily enough. 

My mom and sister showed up, and we sent Mountain Man away to feed himself. Upon him leaving the room, for the first time, all hell breaks loose. I remember standing up to pee, only to be met with a contraction that felt like it was ripping my spine apart. Happy-fun-time was officially over. The extreme far opposite of happy-fun-time, back-labor-time, had commenced. Epidural. I wanted it. I had to wait two hours for it. Two hours of Frank's (posterior) bowling ball of a head crushing my tail bone. By the time Mountain Man returned, I had become the screaming, hysterical woman I had trashed talked earlier. Just when I thought I was about to die, the anesthesiologist saved the day. I was back in bed feeling awesome (and not feeling my legs) in no time. I took another short nap in my newly acquired peace.
 
Right around 3:00PM, Kathy returned and I was complete. But I felt nothing, rendering my pushing completely useless. My best friend, the epidural, was turned off. One hour later, the medication had worn completely off, and the back labor had returned full force. I felt everything. Poor Mountain Man. I was incredibly loud. The most obnoxious sounds I'd ever made were coming out of me. I was sure the entire hospital could hear, and I could not have cared less. 

Mountain Man: You can do it! Don't stop! We can see his head! You can do it! Keep Pushing!
Me: STOP YELLING AT ME!
And then I threw up on him. I'm grateful, I swear.

I knew it had to have been some time, because Kathy had left and another midwife, Holly, had taken over. Several nurses who were in the middle of shift changes were there too, all assuring me how close I was. Except, Frank was stuck. I rolled side to side, pushed on my hands and knees, sitting up, lying down. A stream of liquid hit my face while rolling around. When I looked down and saw where my IV used to be, I realized it was saline. I remember saying out loud, "I'm bleeding. Just so y'all know." I produced other winners like the following:

1. "I'm too tired to do this right now. I'm done."
2. "Just give me a C-section!"
3. "Can we turn the epidural back on?
4. "I can't see anything. I don't have my glasses on." (when asked if I wanted to see baby come out)
   

Photo courtesy of my bfffffff, Meagan.

The on-call OB came in. The words 'forceps' and 'vacuum extraction' were thrown around. Something clicked, and it hit me that the harder I pushed, the less painful the contractions seemed. I closed my eyes, and went for it. I pretended each push was my last, and everybody kept saying how close we were. 

I thought, "yeah, sure. That's what you've been telling me the past three [expletive]ing hours. Dirty liars." 

At some point I glanced around the room. I had a new IV (must have been easier than the first one, because I didn't even notice). The five or so staff members assisting my delivery had turned into upwards of 20, which could have only meant one thing; it was about to get real serious up in here. On push number two of one particular contraction, out he came. Frank Eli, 19 & 3/4 inches long, born at 7:41PM. 

Next time around, it would be phenomenal if I could push for less than the three hours it took this time. It would also be great if baby #2 chose to not be posterior, so we could all avoid the back labor fiasco (I'll probably try to avoid ripping IVs out of my arm too). It was intense, and at times extremely painful. Nothing I had heard, or read, could have prepared me for that day. All in all, it was an experience I wouldn't trade for anything. 

The next few days were full of family visits, wonderful friend visits, tons of carbs (because I could finally eat them again), nursing, not sleeping, and packing up to go home. Sunday, just after lunch, we left the hospital. I sat in the backseat with the baby, and our little family made the surreal drive back to our little home. 

Mountain Man with baby Frank, our first night home.