It was early October in 2006. My due date on the 8th passed and an induction was scheduled for the morning of the 11th. At 7am we checked ourselves into the very hospital that Hubby was born in.
Step 1 in my induction was the administration of a cervical gel. It brought on mild contractions and didn't accomplish much so my doctor moved on to step 2 in the afternoon and broke my water. Things started to move then -- I dilated to 3 and my contractions started being a lot less fun. My in-laws stop by to visit and they recognize one of the nurses as the delivery nurse from Hubby's birth. She remembers a special circumstance of his birth and shows us the very room where Hubby was born.
Hours passed, contractions intensified and I was still only at a 3. It was time to move on to the hard stuff - pitocin. My doctor had arranged for me to be given pain meds at the same time as the pitocin but the anesthesiologist was busy so we waited on both. They moved us to a larger room so that the anesthesiologist would have room to work.
When evening comes my mom and sister join us -- I had planned for them to be around for most if not all of the birth. My contractions intensify but I am still at a 3 and waiting for pitocin and pain meds. They have me do painful exercises with a yoga ball, but I remain at a 3. The new episode of Lost is on TV but I'm not paying much attention to anything except pain management.
Then I'm given my pitocin and the anesthesiologist comes to give me my epidural. For this delicate procedure they cleared the room of everyone except Hubby. At the critical moment, right when the doctor had to insert the huge needle just so into my spine, my sister's cell phone goes off in her purse. Everyone in the room jumps, but not my superhuman doctor and everything goes just fine.
After that I feel a LOT better. I mean a LOT better. I send my mom and sister home to get some rest. I watch the spikes of my contractions on the graphed paper output without feeling a thing. Hubby and I even manage to doze here and there in between being checked. I am still a 3. They increased the pitocin. Still a 3. They maxed me out on pitocin. My graphed contractions were Rocky Mountain high for hours. Still a 3. Which is about the time it was in the AM when the doctor broke the news that since labor just wasn't progressing I would need a c-section. I was disappointed but by then we'd been listening to a women scream in labor down the hall for several hours so there was a little bit of relief, too.
Hubby and the anesthesiologist sat on either side of me for the surgery. Little Guy is pried out and they wrap him up for Hubby to hold, who in turn brings him over and near my shoulder so I can finally get a good look at him. He was amazing. All too quickly Hubby leaves with him and heads to the Nursery. I still had more surgery ahead of me. I became fully conscious again on the way to recovery. The on call recovery nurse doesn't get their page and so doesn't show up for quite some time. I end up spending an extra long time in recovery -- it seemed like an eternity to me. I wanted so badly to be reunited with my baby!
2 hours have passed since the birth before I am taken to my regular room. As I wait for Hubby and Little Guy to join me family visitors stop by to tell me how absolutely beautiful Little Guy is and congratulate me. I am, quite frankly, annoyed. I carried Little Guy in me for months, anxious to meet him and hold him. Now everyone else has gotten to see him, really take him in, and I have only gotten to see him for about 10 seconds over 2 hours ago. Then Hubby comes in with our precious Little Guy. Finally...at long last...my baby is placed in my arms. The happiest of endings! Or as in this case the happiest of beginnings for our family of 3!