10 April 2014

The Labor Story, Part Three (just found this draft from 3 years ago)

K, so like, a year and a half has passed :p I'm still determined to get this whole story down for posterity though, so here goes a bit more while Cooper pulls on the laptop screen.




So, the doctor comes back in and begins trying to insert the Foley catheter. Oh, my LORD, did it ever hurt. I think I was pretty close to screaming, maybe I did even scream because the charge nurse, Zack, asked if I wanted 'something for the pain'. I said that I most assuredly did but I naively thought that he was talking about a couple of Tylenol or something. Instead about a minute later I was, like, 'whoooooaaa'...they had stuck Stadol into my IV drip. Stadol is the AWEsome. I jokingly said 'can you get this stuff on the street?' and I think Paul and Zack thought I was serious...out of it...but serious. The Stadol took not only my pain away but also all my concern. 'Whatever' was my new motto.




So the doctor tried a couple of times and eventually got the Foley catheter inserted and began the inflation process. So at this point I still had all the old stuff attached to me PLUS two different catheters in...FUN! I don't remember anymore the length of time that this part took but it seems to me that this part of the procedure progressed fairly quickly. I was told to lie back on my left side since my BP was spiking quite often but at some point that wasn't enough and my pressure was getting dangerously high. As I was lying there feeling tremendous I all of a sudden heard Zach speaking loudly into his phone calling for help, he kept saying we have a 'decel' in Room Whatever. I was so out of it and so unconcerned that I distinctly remember thinking 'why are they so bloody concerned about a battery?' In my head I heard them saying 'D Cell'. Our room was immediately flooded with medical personnel who were talking low and moving quickly. In retrospect I can't believe I wasn't panicked but the Stadol was so. damn. good, people.




A few moments later the crisis seemed to have passed and there were a row of doctors and nurses etc. standing at the foot of my bed. A doctor introduced herself to me (even in my state I like to be polite and, well, be liked so when she told her name I told her that it was a beautiful name...I remember that clearly) and started talking very earnestly. She (all of the doctors from the practice that I had been attending for 33 weeks were in the process of delivering babies...it was a full moon...so I got a stranger) she told me that every time I had a contraction the baby's heartbeat was decelerating to a dangerously low level. She talked and talked but I was so drugged up it just seemed like babbling. Finally I said 'are you trying to tell me that I need a C-Section?'

Vaguely Considering Beginning to Write Again