So as I was saying, by the time we pulled up to the front doors of the hospital we were wearing life jackets and snorkel gear. As I hobbled inside I looked back and saw Nick covering the car in gasoline and yelling “UNCLEAN!”
Nick grabbed a wheel chair and as he raced toward me an old man sitting on a bench in the lobby pointed at me and said “uh-oh… looks like SOMEONE is going into labor!”
We were in a hurry to get up to the maternity ward but not in such a hurry that I couldn’t flip a handful of whatever was falling out of me in his general direction as we ran for the elevator.
Apparently Nick is the Richard Petty of wheelchair drivers and aside from running me into a wall we arrived safely in our room just in time to see that it was student nursing day at St. Luke’s.
My issue with student nurses isn’t so much that I mind a whole bunch of random strangers staring at me splayed naked on a table while someone points to my various body parts and explains to the group why you never want to see one of those on yourself, but it’s that when you get to the point you would kick your grandma in the teeth if it means a mili-second of relief from mind bending pain is not the time to have someone learning how to read a thermometer.
The student asked if I minded if she tried to put in my IV and I did not hesitate to tell her that I needed someone who knew what the hell they were doing and to get her fat ass out of my room. Of course I apologized after the contraction was over about the fat ass part but I really wasn’t kidding about getting someone who knew what they were doing.
I should have also told the epidural woman that as well. There are several things you want to hear after you’ve had an epidural. I was hoping for something along the lines of “Ok honey. Those pesky contractions are gone. Can I get you something to eat, or rub your shoulders?” Instead I heard: “Well, it looks like a mess but I THINK it should work ok.”
Let me tell you, it didn’t work ok. The shooting pain down my neck when I moved my head was my first clue something was wrong. Then the fact that my leg started kicking out uncontrollably like a mule at the state fair when she tried to fix it was also less than reassuring. Oh yeah, and then there was the whole contraction thing and I could still feel every single horrific second. Even though that bitch liar told me with every contraction that one would be the last one.
She shifted something around and I was just about to breathe a sigh of relief as I peeled myself off the ceiling when my legs slowly regained feeling and within seconds the pain was back and I climbed back up the wall to my favorite ceiling tile and resumed spinning my head around in circles and spewing profanities.
They remedicated the epidural just enough to slow my labor down and thus we started pitocin. AKA Elixir Au Satan. With the pitocin I quickly got to an 8 (for those who haven’t had a kid once you get to a 10 it’s baby time) and meanwhile the epidural ran out three more times. THREE TIMES. The third time the only thing I remember is weighing my options, one of which included jumping out the window.
The solution was to start from scratch with a new epidural and fill it full of enough medicine to numb a T-Rex. The anesteologist apologized several times about me having two holes in my back and I wanted to turn around and gouge her eyes out.
Two holes? Are you fucking kidding me??? I would saw off the lower half of my body right now to get rid of this pain!
Well, the moral of the story is that it was all for naught. All of the work spent doing home inductions, all of the witchcraft herbs I took, all of the pep talks I had with my vagina. Her heart rate took several nose dives and J.T. My Trusty OB thought it might be a sign of some sort of uterine rupture from the previous c-section and at 2:00 we made the decision to do another c-section.
I had a flash of disappointment and feelings of failure but as always Nick was my voice of reason and reminded me to suck it up and focus on the bigger picture. All I knew is there was an end in sight to the pain.
Lillian Florence Mayer (Lila) was born at 2:31am on September 11, which at first I was a little bummed about (the September 11 part) but what better way to turn a black day into a joyous occasion. Joyous because my pain was finally gone, of course.
Meanwhile, in a crib across town, Ellie is deep in a peaceful slumber, blissfully unaware that her Mom – the person she loves and trusts most in the entire world – has gone and done something unforgivable. In a few hours her perfect world will come crashing down.