I had been having a week of prodromal labour. It was very aggravating, but a necessary part of the birth process. On Saturday, August 10th, I had come down with a head cold. True to history, no one else in my house got the cold, just me. Yet somehow, when I saw my OB on that Monday, I managed to convince him to strip my membranes. We discussed induction some more, and he told me that since he was going on vacation for two weeks starting the next week, I should schedule it for either Friday or the following Monday. I know that there are many schools of thoughts as to why induction can be viewed as a negative thing, but in this case, I very much wanted my OB to deliver Preston. Considering the potential list of problems previously mentioned in my blog, I thought it would be prudent to be delivered by my own OB who is very familiar with the history of my IUD and the problems that could be associated with a vaginal birth. I set up an appointment to see him first thing on Friday morning, hoping that the membrane sweep would start early labour.
The next day, I started having cramping, timeable contractions, and diarrhea. Over the next two days, my diarrhea and contractions were intense and coming hand-in-hand. I even ended up going to L&D since I was convinced that I was in early labour. When I was there, I was told that I was progressing, but not enough to be admitted. But they assumed they would see me by the next morning. The next morning came and went, still no labour. I felt horrible. No fever, but my head cold caused me to leave a trail of tissues around the house, and I felt like I was spending half my days on the toilet. I'll save you the gory details, but suffice to say, many people, including a doctor, told me that I was in early labour and that sometimes early labour makes you feel like crap.
On Friday morning, I had all of my support systems on standby. My mom was already at my house watching my two kids, my birth coach was waiting to get in the car to meet me at the hospital, and my husband was nervously putting my bags in the car. But as soon as my OB looked at me, he told me I was too sick to be induced. I tried to tell him I wasn't sick, it was labour making me feel horribly, but he stuck firm and told me that I was far too sick to be induced, that it would be a danger to the baby, and I should take the weekend to recover. Then he booked me in to the hospital for 8 am Monday morning. I got in the car and cried because I thought having him would magically make me feel well. Then I spent the rest of the weekend recovering from the double whammy cold/tummy bug I didn't want to admit that I had.
Monday morning finally came around, and I was feeling much better. Despite my illnesses, I still progressed to 2 cms and quite effaced. He never told me a number, but he told me my cervix was soft and ready for induction. At 9:30 am, the nurse started me on an IV drip of Oxytocin and my OB broke my waters. My husband and I joked around and waited as the contractions slowly got stronger and the Oxy got slowly turned up. My birth coach arrived around noon, just as the contractions stopped being easy and started to become more serious. I have to say that I am very happy that not one single hospital staff offered me an epidural. They all knew my wishes to do it without pain medication, despite the induction medicine.
I'm not sure of the timing from here on until he was born. At one point, sitting in the rocking chair wasn't helping anymore, sitting on the birth ball was out of the question, but walking to the bathroom/standing felt good. Unfortunately, Preston's heart rate was dropping with each contraction, and the monitors were reading my contractions backwards. I was asked to find a less mobile position. I chose to lay down on my left side on the bed. It helped progress my other two medicated births, so I assumed it would help again. Boy, was I right! As predicted by my OB, once I got to 6 cms dilated, I was on what felt like a runaway train. The Oxy was turned down and my body took over. I remember a few things, but not all. I remember:
- thinking I was going to throw up
- telling my birth coach to stop touching me, then yelling at her to massage me again
- the nurse telling me to let her know if it felt like I had to poop
- screaming at the nurse that I had to poop nonsensically
- screaming about poop some more
- being told to roll onto my back and grab behind my knees
- telling them there's no fucking way I can do that
- moaning and yelling like I was being torn apart by zombies
- being told to calm down and focus
- then pushing him out in three pushes during one contraction that felt like it lasted until Christmas
Warning: GRAPHIC PHOTOS AHEAD
When I was first pregnant with an IUD, I googled the hell out of IUD and placenta, and only found one photo. That photo was accused of being fake since the strings on the IUD were as long as they are before they are clipped after insertion. I would like to post my amazing photos of my IUD embedded in the placenta. The first photo was what it looked like at first, the second photo is what it looked like as my OB was cutting it out. The third photo is how my IUD looked after it was removed from the placenta.
They let me take my IUD home as a souvenir. It's in a sealed medical cup on my dresser right now. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with it yet, but it's there, and not still in me or hurting him in anyway. And for that I am thankful. I am so thankful that I don't know how to even express it in words right now without feeling like I'm going to turn into a blubbering mess of postpartum hormones. So instead, I am going to photo-bomb you with pictures of him.