Birth Story Part III: Epidural

Tuesday, 9.30 pm-  The contractions have started!  The contractions have really started!  The contractions are...oh holy bajaysus, that hurts. Breathe, breathe.  OK.  Good.  The contractions have started!  I am in labour!  Whoo hoo!  Finally and...oh fuckadoodle, here's another one after three minutes. Oweeeee. OK. Where was I?

And so it goes on for about an hour or so.  My mother stays by the bed, making coachy-coachy breaaaathe comments and rubbing my back.  I love my mother. 

It is at this point Two talks me into an epidural.

[I should preface all this by saying I didn't know, exactly, that I didn't want an epidual before labour started.  After all, my birth plan consisted of one main theme- "wait and see".  So theoretically, I was open to the idea. However, when faced with the prospect, I found myself balking.  I am not sure why. In hindsight- DUH!  Of course I was going to have an epidural. But at the time all I could think is that I wanted to hold on to some semblence of doing this "normally".  That I could be a hard case when it comes to pain, and could somehow superhumanly handle endless contractions. That I didn't want to be completely tethered to the bed for the next however many hours. That I didn't relish the notion of having a needle stuck in my back. That these things are not absolutely risk free, there could be hideous side effects. That why did it have to be a given that I would have one when I didn't necessarily....

oh wait, another contraction.  Aieeeeeeee.]   

Two convincing me to shut up and have the epidural at the start of the induction is so skilfully done, she makes me think it was my idea. The rationale which she plants in my head in the space of that first hour of pain goes something like this:

1. If I have to have a C-section at the end of this, or at any point during, we'll be all set and it will not mean a frantic emergency procedure and indeed lessen the possibility I might have to be knocked out entirely for the birth.

2. This labour is likely to go on for way over 12 hours. Over the whole night.  And it's going to hurt like fuckaree and I am going to be exhausted as it is.  So I can either have the epidural now, while I am relatively fresh and together; or I can have it later, when I am screaming in agony, gone to pieces and completely unable to hold still. Either way, it is pretty much inevitable.   

3. Why be in pain when I don't have to be?  Because this hurts like billy-o already and it's only been an hour.

As it happens, this will absolutely, unquestionably be the best and sanest decision I make.

So I give Two the go-ahead, and she calls the epidural person. [By the way, I am too lazy to type anesthesiologist over and over- I am almost too lazy to even say it.  Let's just call her the Drug Doc.]  We wait for awhile for her to appear.  My mother, who is somewhat squicked out at the idea of watching the procedure, goes off to lie down for a quick rest in the lounge (on the uncomfy sofas, remember them?). Meanwhile, Two talks me through what will happen- how I will sit hunched over on the bed with my back bared and my feet braced on a chair as the procedure is carried out. I try to turn my mind off the latent fear.-I don't like needles, don't like things being stuck in my back, don't like having to do this, don't know if I will be able to hold still.  Instead I concentrate on the next contraaaaaaaction.

By the time the Drug Doc shows up about 11.30 pm, I am beginning to be really glad that there is some pain relief on the way. The contractions are coming, intensely, every couple of minutes. There is no way I can do this for hours on end and survive. The Drug Doc talks me through some of the potential side effects- I squirm a bit at hearing about how there could be a slight chance of a migraine which can last two weeks, but at this point? I'll roll the dice.

And as for the epidural itself?  No problem.  The Drug Doc is very, very good. I have had flu jabs that hurt more. I feel nothing, just some very slight pressure as the needle goes in.

Tthen...ahhhh...sweet sweet nothing. No more contractions. Ahhhh. 

Well done, says Two. Good decision.  I smile at her. She smiles back and adjusts the monitor.  Beep beep beep says Botany's heartbeat. My legs are a little numb but I can still wriggle my toes. Two dims the lights.  And so the long, long night begins on this peaceful note.

      

Comments

[spartic]

You are killing me! This is better than nighttime dramas.

[Toni]

Okay, I feel better now about making fun of the idea of you not getting an epidural. Not that people can't live without one - but no one gave medals to those that didn't get it. Again, not making fun - just glad that you are now not in pain (of course, I do realize that this is in the past - but I'm reading it like it's happening now...I'm going to stop typing now.)

[Veronica]

I'm glad that you aren't in pain anymore.

You need to write faster however, because I am on the edge of my seat.

[Tonya]

Done it once without an epi, and once with (sweet, sweet drugs!). Keep these installments coming, dear! I sense the calm before the storm.

[sheilah]

Oh, yes, I love love love me a Drug Doc. I am just as much a mother as those martyrs who go without the lovely, lovely epidural.

[julie B]

hurry up hurry up hurry up!

Have just finished the latest Sebastian Faulks novel [boy was that a weird one]. Not sure which is more gripping; the Faulks or your birth story.

hurry up hurry up hurry up

[Menita]

More! More!

[Sam]

MY GOD JUST FINISH THE STORY!!!! (sorry, I got a little excited)

[alchemilla]

Faster faster mare! Giddyup, yoicks, tantivity or whatever the equine encouragement is. Am rivetted (such suspense, and yet with the warm feeling of knowing it all ends well).

[Beth]

This makes for quite riveting story-telling! Can't wait for the next installment.