Why, hello there. I'm a mommy of two now, in case you hadn't heard. And here I thought the most dramatic event of my week would be to see which contestant got the boot on Top Chef.
Around 12:30 AM on Thursday (I'm a night owl, even at the Beached Whale phase of pregnancy), I loaded the dishwasher, cleaned up the kitchen, waddled into bed. And just as I turned to fluff my 63 pillows, I felt a warm gush of fluid right between the ol' legs.
"Oh. My. God," I said. I looked over at my practically-empty hospital bag, the Munchkin's half-packed overnight bag (y'know, in the unlikely case that we'd have to dump her somewhere in the middle of the night. I mean, sh*t, it wasn't actually supposed to happen that way), and I felt the panic set in. Thanks to my total lack of motivation, we weren't even remotely prepared for this situation.
Still, after a quick call to the doctor and the aforementioned dumping of a dazed and confused Munchkin at a friend's house, I was somehow waddling through the ER with a diaper between my legs (don't knock it til you've tried it) and a fully-stocked hospital bag.
Then came the usual - vitals, IV's, a pitocin drip to kick my contractions into gear. For the first few hours, I barely felt them and like an idiot, I kept saying so to the nurses. So they upped the dosage. And upped it. And again.
Suddenly, around the 5-hour mark, the contractions got ridiculous. One minute I was chatting with my delivery nurse, and the next minute I wanted to break the arms off the sides of the bed. My OB came in at some point, took a look at the monitor and eyed me.
"You did this naturally last time?" she asked.
"Uh....huh," I squeaked, as I hit the peak of another effing contraction. "I have no idea how."
"Huh," she said. "Pain is not always purifying," she bluntly added. Point taken, ma'am.
Then she checked out the scene and told me that while the baby was "riiiiigght there," I was only four centimeters dilated.
"Only four??" I cried. "Forget this, give me the epidural. NOW."
Since I'd never gotten one before, I did not know that you can't just get an epidural say, the way you get money from the tooth fairy. It involves waiting and explanations and signing of consent forms (I still don't know what I signed. I could have confessed to being a serial killer just give me the drugs right now god dammit) and taping and tubing and administering of a "test dose" to make sure you don't have a reaction.
It probably only took about ten minutes. It felt like four years. I sat hunching over the bed, clutching blindly at the BassMaster's hands, trying to resist the urge to scream, "What the f*ck is taking you f**king f**kers so f**king long?!" Or something to that effect.
"Okay," the nurse finally said. "Lie back down and we'll get started with the first dose."
And then, right as I swung my legs back up on the bed, I felt it. That sensation that can only mean one of two things: you're either about to have a baby, or you are about to fill a toilet to the brim.
"I need to push," I squeaked. And then, as I felt a body careening out of me at lightening speed, I screamed, "I NEED TO PUSH RIGHT NOW!!"
I had only one nurse with me in the room. My OB was nowhere to be found. I think a tumbleweed blew by.
"DON'T PUSH!" the nurse yelled back at me. "DO. NOT. PUSH!" The BassMaster later told me that at that moment, he could see the hair on the baby's head.
The nurse shoved one hand up in my, er, business to keep the baby in. With her other hand, she grabbed the phone and started yelling for a second nurse to "assist with delivery."
Delivery? I thought. How can I deliver at four centimeters? That cannot be healthy.
Suddenly, the room filled with about twenty people in green scrubs. There was yelling, lots of banging of trays and equipment, much repeating of, "where's the doctor!?" As I lay there trying desperately not to send a tiny human flying across the room, panting like every stereotypical labor scene in every movie ever made, my mind pretty much snapped.
I don't remember finally getting the green flag. I do know that my OB didn't even have time to get her gloves on before Katie literally shot out of me with one gigantic push.
"I haven't bare-handed a baby in years," the BassMaster heard her say.
I didn't really deliver at four centimeters, of course. Instead, I went from 4 to the requisite 10 during the whole needle-in-the-back thing....but I never even got the actual epidural. I did, however, get to feel the pain of having all the tubing and tape unceremoniously ripped off my back a few minutes after I delivered. Yeeeeoowww.
So that's the story. And now she's here and she is beautiful.
However, if there is a next time, I am having them meet me at the door with that damn epidural.