May 22 2004
Claire's Birth Story
I began experiencing strong contractions at about 9:30 in the evening. They were of a different character from those I had suffered through during the innumerable episodes of false labor which had plagued me during the previous few weeks. They hurt so much I could barely concentrate on anything else. Despite the pain, I was very excited. I was eager to see my baby girl and to be done with the pregnancy at long last.
Since my doctor had instructed me to call in whenever my contractions were strong and regular, I picked up the phone and dialed the number. The answering service informed me that Doctor Burdock was on call. I took this as a good omen. Doctor Burdock was not my regular OB, but she was the doctor who had delivered my son two years ago.
When I spoke to Doctor B., I conceded that it might be a little early for me to call in under normal circumstances, but I was nervous since my first labor was such a rapid one. She agreed that I should go to triage to be checked out.
I got dressed, put on my shoes and helped Robert pack the few remaining things we wished to take with us. Once everything was in order, I deemed it safe to wake up my parents and let them know we were leaving. It was a good thing that we waited to do this until after we had all our things together. My mother exploded out of bed in a paroxysm of excitement. She asked so many questions and looked at me so intently, I couldn’t think straight anymore. My father got out of bed in a more dignified manner, but he was soon pacing around the house nervously. Robert calmly suggested that they go back to bed and assured the that we would call with any news.
The drive to the hospital was markedly different from the one we made for Sam’s birth. I was relatively comfortable and didn’t have to contort myself into impossible positions for a measure of relief. Robert didn’t have to stop the car so I could get out and walk through a contraction. Rush hour was long over. It was a much more pleasant journey. Both of us were excited. We talked and joked all the way there.
We checked into triage at around 10:30 p.m. The intern on duty examined me and determined that I was only 3 cm dilated and 70% effaced. At this news, my heart plummeted. Despite all the contractions, I hadn’t made any progress since my appointment on Monday.
The intern tried to cheer me up and said, “sometimes walking can help start things, so walk around for an hour or two and then come back and we’ll see where you’re at. If there’s progress, we’ll keep you.”
Robert gave me an encouraging look and then leaned over the side of the bed to fetch my shoes. He says he knew at that point that we’d definitely be having a baby since I had gone “half wit” even before we left home. What made him think that? I had been wearing mis-matched shoes:
So, we walked “click clack” down the halls of every floor of the hospital. If you think your back doesn’t hurt enough when walking around 9 months pregnant, try shoes with different sized heels!
We encountered few people during our walk-about. The nurses and hospital staff we did run into were obviously used to seeing couples roaming the halls. They smiled at us encouragingly and made pleasant small talk. We returned to triage at about 1:40 a.m.
The intern examined me again, but I was still at 3 cm only 70% effaced. Robert valiantly tried to tell her how quickly Sam was born once I had gone into labor with him, but she just smiled and instructed us to return home.
We packed up our things and drove back home. I was terribly disappointed, however, I was so exhausted from walking around the hospital that I couldn’t even cry.
We finally got home after 2:00 or so. Eight seconds later, Robert is in bed (he was convinced that this was the last sleep he’d get for the next three months), but I can’t settle down. The contractions had started hurting more on the way home. My pregnancy guides recommended taking a shower once labor commenced to help ease the pain. I thought it worth trying out, unfortunately, some of the contractions were so bad that I couldn’t remain standing up. Once a really strong one was over, I hobbled into the bedroom, woke Robert up and said, “you’re taking me back down there and I’m not leaving until I have this baby!”
Robert wisely declined to argue or offer any comment of any nature whatsoever. He simply got his keys, his book, the hospital bag we packed, and his pants–not necessarily in that order.
We got downtown at about 3:15 a.m. We went back up to triage and as Robert swung the door open he announced, “we’re baaaaack”, following up with an explanation that we had to stop a couple times between the elevator and here for contractions.
The intern examined me yet again. This time, the contractions had been effective. I was dilated to 4 cm, so they began preparing our room. While they were setting things up, they asked me if I wanted an epidural. I hemmed and hawed. And, just as happened before Sam was born, I soon said, “this one hurts! Yes, I want an epidural.”
At that point, the nurse asked me if I could walk to our room. I said I could and gingerly got up off the bed and hobbled down the hall. I had to pause a couple of times due to contractions, but eventually we made it. Our new nurse began to ask me questions about my medical history because they had somehow misplaced my records. I couldn’t always answer her questions right away because I was in pain. I remember apologizing frequently on account of this. She helped me to the rest room and then settled me on the bed.
For some reason, the nurse had me roll over on my side while she was taking my blood pressure. She seemed a bit concerned that it had risen dramatically. Afterwards, I was rolling onto my back, I felt something burst and then warm fluid gushed all over me. Conversationally, I said, “Oh, my water just broke.”
The nurse pressed a button on the intercom and said, “I need the anesthesiologist to come in and do a start.”
The reply came from the other end, “Ok, no problem.”
Without warning, I yelled, “I FEEL LIKE I WANT TO PUSH!!!!”
The nurse started repeatedly pushing (just like last time) — on the big red “need assistance” button on the side of the bed. Robert did not count how many times she pushed it, so it is difficult to give an accurate number, but he said that the expression on her face made him think of the phrase, “Houston, we have a problem.”
No, there would be no time for an epidural. Just like last time.
One other nurse came in and started setting up all the paraphenalia they needed. Then the resident from triage came in to help just as the baby’s head was crowning. As I was pushing the baby out, the nurses were almost trying to push her back in, to slow the process down. At 4:02 — 45 minutes after our second arrival at the hospital, Claire made her appearance.
Doctor B. missed the whole thing. I had torn a little bit, so she supervised the intern as she gave me stitches. Before she left, Robert heard her remark to one of the nurses, “nothing was going to stop that baby.” He swears she said the same thing after Sam was born.
I wasn’t alert enough to keep track of what happened next. Robert will tell the remainder of the story.
When Claire first came out, she was more purple than I remembered Sam being after he was born. The cord was around her neck, too. I waited awhile so I could ask the nurse about that where Amy couldn’t hear us (as it is, she’s such a worrier even when there’s no reason to be). The nurse told me it was pretty loose and that the oxygen levels had all tested fine already. I felt a lot better.
So, they poked her foot for a couple of hours while we tried to sleep (and/or stop hurting). At about 7:00 Amy was trying to feed her and I decided it was time for her to call her parents and let them know. It’s not like they could have slept well anyway…
She got choked up and could barely give her father the raw facts. To every question he asked, she nodded, as if he could hear that kind of answer. You would think I would not tease her about that at a time like this. You would be wrong.
But she did a great job, and I let her know that, more than once.
