The Dawning of a New Day

“Can you walk to your room?” the nurse asked me. “It’s just right across the hall.”

Umm, sure. Between contractions.

I don’t like to think of myself as wimpy. But during labor, I can’t do anything. I feel wimpy.

With the help of Daniel and a nurse, I began the walk. I made it to the room–right across the hall. But the room wasn’t “quite” ready yet.

We stood outside the door. “Just give us a few minutes,” the housekeeping staff was saying.

Yeah, I can’t do that, I was thinking. Then: Why is there suddenly a guy on housekeeping staff when I’m standing in front of him having contractions? I’ve always had women housekeeping staff until now, I thought.

Thankfully, the housekeeper then offered a room a few doors down. Somehow I knew I’d be walking farther than “just right across the hall.”

I had to stop right there. I leaned against the wall, gripping the railing and moaning through the next contraction.

During contractions, I can’t talk, think, sign paperwork, lift my head to look at the medical personnel talking to me as they lead me down the hall . . . and of course, I always get drugs before I ever approach the “pushing” stage. . . who knows what I would be like if I had to experience the whole thing “naturally”!!

So feel free–if you’ve done it naturally, call me a wimp. I know it’s true. I just find myself so very thankful for epidurals by 6 centimeters or so. So very willing to be drugged, despite the many valiant thoughts I might have had, prior to the onset of labor.

We made it to “my” room. All I knew is that the contractions were getting stronger, longer, harder.

Where is that anesthesiologist?? The epidural could not come soon enough!

I got up on the bed and suddenly there was paperwork to sign. And the anesthesiologist came in and started preparing the epidural. “This shouldn’t be too bad,” he said. “You’re skinny.”

I was amused. Skinny? I’m nine months pregnant! That’s a great line! I thought.

“I’m sure women always love to hear that one when they’re nine months pregnant,” I said.

He was definitely more proficient than the anesthesiologist I had for Micah’s c-section. I’m not really sure what the differences are between an epidural and the c-section numbing drugs, but this time went a lot more smoothly. Although I had to lie on my back with Micah, rather than sitting up, because they were worried about the baby’s position. So maybe that makes it harder.

The epidural took effect on the right side first. And it took quite awhile to take effect on the left. Throughout the rest of my labor, I could hardly feel any pain at all on the right side. It was so weird to feel the contractions so strongly on one side and not the other–but to know that it was just as strong on both sides–I just couldn’t feel the pain.

When they finally got it figured out . . . Wow! What a relief!

It is an amazing, miraculous drug! To me, the best part about the epidural is feeling much more coherent, cognizant, able to listen to others and communicate intelligently. My contractions were so close together, so long and so intense that the “breaks” were very small. It was almost impossible to converse with the ob or nurses or anyone else because the contractions just kept coming. I can hardly remember any conversations with Daniel or the medical personnel that occurred prior to the epidural. After the epidural my memory is fairly good.

I needed two doses of antibiotics before the baby was delivered to counteract my Group B strep virus (which was positive). These antibiotics were administered at a certain interval through IV. I was receiving the first dose, and the second was due at 10 AM. So the nurse told us that the goal would be to hold off delivery until 10 AM.

My calculations of “1 cm an hour” during active labor had me delivering before 10 AM–but as slowly as I have dilated throughout this pregnancy, who’s to say what might happen?

So the idea was to get some rest now that I had the epidural. I hadn’t slept at all during the night, so I really was exhausted. Daniel had been by my side all night–he was ready to rest too.

I turned my head toward the window. It’s hard to capture in words the beauty that I saw. At home, we look out our windows to see roofs of rowhomes and tiny patios and “front-yard-less,” car-lined streets. But when I looked out the window from my vantagepoint (lying in a delivery room bed) I saw a gorgeous blue sky tinted with the rainbow colors of a sunrise. I couldn’t see the ground, but from my perspective, the treetops made it seem like a forest was right outside my window. It was beautiful. Breathtakingly beautiful.

The day Micah was born was stormy. As they wheeled my bed across the “bridge” between two buildings and into the operating room, I saw lightning and heard thunder outside.

This experience was completely opposite. Somehow, after several intensely painful hours of contractions, the sunrise was incredibly calming and even symbolic: It’s the dawning of a new day!

Off bedrest.

Finished with pregnancy (at last).

Welcoming our precious little girl into our family.

A new “normal” for our family of five!

The nurses said it was warm and beautiful outside today.

And I was thrilled that I would remember the sunrise on the warm, beautiful day our little girl entered this world!