The Whole Gory Story...Part 2

Ok, so where we left off, I had been having prostin pains for 19 hours and the doctor had just said I was allowed to be induced.

It's now Monday evening at 7pm and I'm taken to a very nice private birthing suit. I waddle and roll my way up onto the birthday bed (which I have to point out was MUCH more comfortable than their regular beds). Dr. O and his minions poke and prod me a bit more before breaking my water...which really hurts! Out gushes a huge amount of embryonic fluid, which actually felt like a relief, but which made a huge mess. I was then asked to get out of the bed so they could change the sheets and clean the bed. When asked if I could clean off, I was told that I'd be getting much messier so there wasn't really a point. I think I was given a towel to at least dry off on.

So I lumber back onto the bed and they start the oxytocin. I ask when I can have an epidural (after 19 hours of prostin pains I realize that I'm going to need one) and am told I have to be 3 centimeters dilated before they can drug me that way. So I ask about the petadin, which I had previously said no to. I was told that they usually only let you have one or the other. Drat! I should have taken it when I had the chance!

Well, the labour pains come in strong and fast. I am given the nitrous-oxide gas to breath, which makes me a bit nauseated and dizzy, but luckily I am lying down! I remember trying very hard to do the correct breathing. After a few horrible contractions, I decide to try out my friend Valerie's advice and to sing/yell through the pain. So, I take a huge breath and yell for as long as I can. Rob said the gas mask really dampened the sound. 3 or 4 good contractions later and I'm SO ready for an epidural, and am barely coherent. I think I told Rob he's crazy if he thinks we're doing this again! It was about this time that I was told that they were short staffed so I'd have to be brought to the public ward.

I'm wheeled out of my lovely room to a public ward, and behind a curtain. To be honest, I don't remember much of the ward because my eyes were closed for most of it, and when they were open, all I saw was my side of the curtain. I do remember hearing other women whimpering in pain and felt a little guilty for the amount of sound I was producing. At least I breathed from my diaphragm and yelled with my abs! No vocal abuse here!

After about an hour (I think), I'm told I'm 1 centimeter dilated. So I calculate that I'll have to have 10 more contractions before I'm dilated enough for an epidural. I yell through them with Rob by my side, though again, I can't remember much. The nitrous-oxide gas really makes you a zombie.

Ten contractions later and I start asking for the epidural. I believe I was nice about it, unlike my next door neighbor ('gimmie the f-in epidural!'). The lovely midwives go and get the anesthesiologist on call. When he comes, I'm in the middle of a contraction. As he's preparing me for the epidural, he tells me I have to stop yelling so he can focus. That was probably the hardest thing I had to do. So I sit up to the side of the bed, wrap my arms around a pillow and whimper along through a few contractions as he sticks me full of lovely, pain numbing drugs. To be honest, I think maybe that way of dealing with the contractions was probably better than the yelling. They hurt just as much, but maybe the physiotherapist was right when teaching us how to breath properly in our antenatal class. Regardless, as much of a jackass I have in mind that anesthesiologist to be, he drugged me, so he's my hero. :)