Labor & Delivery

So, after puzzling over where to start this thing, I figured my labor story would be as good as any.

*On a side note, please bear with me, as I have no blogging experience under my belt as of yet, and don't know how this whole thing works just yet... Plus, this story is a loooong one.*

The date was Saturday, November 8, 2008. The nursery was all ready to go, the crib was set up, the clothes and toys and bath stuff was all put away in her little cabinets; and October didn't show up. I knew she was still in there, I could feel her kicking me sharply in the ribs (as if saying, "let's go, Mommy..."), but I was feeling nothing. No contractions, no pressure, no nothing. Everyone kept telling me this is not unusual, especially for a first baby (and both Brian's and my mother were forever telling me that all their children were overdue), so I was feeling a little better about it, but not much. I still wanted her out. After 41 weeks, it was time for eviction.

After a meeting with Dr. Stricker (my OB, Dr. DeJesus was on vacation that week, of course, such is my luck), we decided that the best plan of action was for me to come in on Friday (the 14th) and do a non-stress test to make sure Toby was still doing well, and then to do an ultrasound (u/s) just to be sure, also at the hospital, because the OB's office was booked solid. As usual.

*As another quick aside: the Attleboro OBGYN is awesome, but their u/s department is like trying to get in line on Christmas to buy the Wii. That is to say, you have a better chance of seeing God and the Devil playing poker at the same table in Foxwoods than you do of getting in there for anything.*

So anyways, after several hours wasted of a perfectly good Friday afternoon waiting for the Imaging dept. to find the time in their busy lives to see me for the u/s, we determined that October was indeed doing well enough that we could wait another couple of days for my doctor to return from her vacation to be the one to do the honors of inducing me.

The plan was to cancel every plan I had for that weekend. I was then to go into the hospital on Sunday afternoon, where Dr. Stricker would inflate a balloon catheter in my cervix and send me on home to wait. The idea is that this will cause the cervix to quit being stubborn and dilate on its own, without needing to be induced. She told me that only if I started having contractions at closer than about five minutes apart to call. If it fell out, to ignore it and come in on Monday morning, when Dr. DeJesus could start me on a pitocin IV and get everything in motion (ha, ha, yes, just ignore the huge plastic thing that just "fell out" of your body... Pay no attention to that thing in the porcelain bowl!). Mm-hmm. Sure.

Anywho, we all agreed and so the plan was set. I decided it would be best to go out for Chinese food that night and enjoy myself, since it didn't seem like anything was going to happen anytime soon, and I had a couple days to prepare myself for becoming a mom. So we did.

Saturday was more of the same (and by the same, I mean nothing at all), so Brian and I decided to go X-mas shopping, to try and calm my nerves about the catheter on Sunday. Plus, I was nesting like crazy and decided that I had to have 99% of my X-mas shopping comepletely finished (bought, wrapped, and stuck with a bow) before the baby arrived. So we went to WalMart.

Funny thing about WalMart, I hate that store. But it's cheap. Not saying that I am, per se (well, maybe a little), but if I can get a bag of dog food for three bucks at WalMart over six at Petco, I'm in!

So yeah. We headed over to the men's dept. to look for something, and around a rack comes Chad, the king of running into us awkwardly in public.

"You still haven't had the baby yet?" He asks (duh). I mean seriously, it's been 41 weeks and I look like I'm about to EXPLODE. So we proceed to tell him about how I'm officially having her on Monday, one way or the other.

After a few more minutes of random chatter, we leave Chad to finish our shopping and then head home for the night. When we got home, my mom and Bob (her boyfriend, for those of you playing along at home) were downstairs on the computer, playing Slingo (my mom's newest obsession). So we hang out, Brian gets in his PJ's and we figure we're going to have a nice, peaceful, quiet night...

About 11:30 PM I got up to pee. As soon as I stood up, my water BROKE. I say BROKE in caps because that's what it did. It didn't just break, like nicely, it BROKE. I swear to you, I had no idea I was holding that much fluid inside me for 41 weeks. It was like the Hoover Dam just busted. Even the nurses at the hospital told me I had more water than most people, but I'm getting ahead of myself. Anyway, I sorta ran into the bathroom, so as not to leak everywhere, as well as not to panic everyone, and sat down on the toilet with my heart beating out of my chest because I knew this was it (yay, no catheter, after all!).

I tried calling Brian to get me some clothes, but he didn't hear me any of the three times I called his name, so I had to call for my mom, which apparently panicked everyone in the room as soon as I said the words "hey, mom?"

She came running in to see what was up, got all excited and ran back out to tell Brian and Bob that it was time. All three of them flew into a tailspin and started running around to get dressed and make sure everything was in the hospital bag and what-not, and up the stairs they all headed... Leaving me, soaking wet and on the toilet.

"Hello? Am I coming with you guys or what?" I yelled, to which they all came barreling back downstairs again to find me something to wear. Ha, bloody, ha. They forgot the pregnant girl in their quest to get to the hospital!

So we get to the hospital and they wheel me upsatirs (yay pre-admittance paperwork), and off we go. The nurse gives me a johnny to put on and she sets me up on some bed pads (because I am still leaking amniotic fluid EVERYWHERE, and she hooks me up to the fetal montiors and stuff. Now, I am not having any contractions or anything at this point, so like whatever, right? Wrong. Dr. Stricker (who happens to be on call, thank God it wasn't someone else!) sends the message that since I'm not actually dilating on my own or having contractions to start the pitocin IV and get this show on the road...

I knew it wasn't going to be a completely natural birth (I'm a baby when it comes to pain), but I had decided I wanted to go as long as possible before I got the epi. I think I maybe lasted an hour or two after the contractions really started. I remember hearing myself snapping at everyone and I recall wanting to kill anyone who walked by me, but there was nothing I could do about it because I was in so much pain (knowing how I am, I had already apologized to Brian in advance for anything I was going to say to him during labor, which turned out to be a good idea). I remember looking up at him while trying to break his hand with my own death-grip and saying "Call the doctor, it's time for the epi." And he just nodded and went to find my nurse.

A half hour later, Brad Paisley came in to give me the epi. Not really Brad Paisley, of course, but if he'd had a big huge cowboy hat on I would have sworn it was him (granted, at this point, I had already gotten the shot in the butt to knock me for a loop in an attempt to ease the pain, but it just made me feel drunk, so I suppose he really could have looked like anyone and I would have thought Brad Paisley, I guess). He put in the catheter into my back and he and the nurses all had a good laugh because I told them that was nothing compared to what I was feeling with the contractions (ha, ha, I am soooo funny).

After about ten minutes maybe, my legs were completely numb, and the contractions were feeling like nothing but pressure. So I did what anyone else would do at 3AM... I went to sleep.

I woke up at about 5AM to my nurse Julie checking to see if I was dilated anymore at all, and found out I had apparently slept through my active labor and that it was time to push. After they woke up Brian and he and my mom went out to smoke a cigarette to calm themselves for the daunting task of holding my legs up, it was time.

I remember Julie didn't really believe I was having contractions, because for some reason she couldn't get them to show up on the monitor, so she let me push every time I thought I was having one, just for shiggles, I suppose. Turns out though, I was right, and after about six pushes, the baby was crowning and Julie said to me "ok, now stop."

"What do you mean, stop?" I said, thinking to myself that she was freaking nuts, or joking or something.

"We have to wait for the doctor."

Well, Dr. Stricker came running in, putting on her face sheild and gloves and stuff, and handed Brian a big pair of scissors (he did look a little like he was going to pass out at that point, lol). Within like two minutes of her arrival, Toby came flying out into the world.

They cleaned her up a little and placed her on my chest. I remember Dr. Stricker saying "here's your little girl." To which I replied, "holy shit."

Not my classiest moment, I will admit, but hey, I'd just been through an awful lot.

Anyhow, they took her to the other side of the room to clean her and weigh her and do all their tests, and it was then that I let it sink in. I had a baby. A daughter, man. She came from me. I think it was only then that I teared up, just a little bit.

So that's my story. October Marie Rafuse came into my life at 6:52 AM, Sunday, November 16th, 2008. She weighed 8lbs 12oz and measured at 21.5 in long. And she has the most beautiful set of blue eyes I've ever seen on anyone. Ever.