Side note: Can I please brag that I just woke up from a 3 1/2 hour nap? And that I haven't slept that much at one time since last Tuesday when I was still pregnant? I love sleeping.
My nurse started the Pitocin drip at 4am on Thursday. My Bubba was just rousing from a snooze and we were pretty relieved that we could start with the Pitocin and get started with the actual labor and birth process instead of having to have more Cervidil for another 12 hours.
The Pitocin was in a pump hooked up to my IV and every so often it would say "click-whirr" and I knew things were starting! Bubba and I were joking around the mild contractions, we were really just so happy to have things started. When I'd hear the "click-whirr" of the machine, I'd say "Thank you, Mr. Pitocin." And we sat excitedly as the contractions got strong and close and and longer. I did my relaxation breathing during these contractions and was relatively comfortable despite being place bound by the fetal monitor and uterine activity monitor and IVs and whatnot. Bubba did an awesome job of keeping lip balm on my lips and regulating ice chips and being present and supportive.
The night nurse was a young thing. She didn't seem to be old enough to be candy striping much less nursing. Does that mean I'm getting old? Anyway, I didn't love her. She didn't have a great attitude. Everything was curt and short and almost an order. I even tried to ask her questions like where she went to school because my niece is interested in nursing, and where she was from and if she and her husband had kids.... She just wouldn't warm up. The only time I liked her was at the end of her shift at 7am when I was starting to get more uncomfortable she asked if I'd like to labor in the tub. Hell yes.
And then an angel came in the room. Her name was Claudia. She was wonderful. I wanted to squeeze her and take her home with me. Thank God for amazing nurses, because my experience would have been totally different if night nurse had been assigned to me from start to finish.
All of a sudden, around 10 am, the Pitocin made things VERY UNCOMFORTABLE. And by that, I mean I kind of wanted to die every time a contraction came. There was no relaxing the muscles through them. There was no anything through them. Instead of thanking the pump, I heard the "click-whirr" and said "F*&%! you Mr. Pitocin!" Claudia asked if I was interested in an epidural. I have always been open to the idea of pain management, but I really wanted to wait as long as I could. I guess because I thought that an epidural slowed down labor, and I really wanted to hurry it along if I could.
Then I tried some Fentanyl. My goal was to wait until noon when the doctor was due to check me again to make a decision about the epidural. They say Fentanyl just takes the edge off the pain and helps you relax better between contractions. Wow. Let's just say it *bleep*ed my *bleep* up. I couldn't tell the difference between what was in my head and what was actually going on. Talk about being out of control, it's exactly what I didn't want.
So I waited for that to wear off, and as it did, Claudia asked every so often if I was ready for the epidural. It started with "I can wait 10 more minutes" and evolved in three subsequent butt-kicking contractions to "I'm ready now, how long does it take for the anesthesiologists to get here?" at 11:30. So much for waiting until noon.
to be continued...