Birth Story Part II: The Next Room

Botany and I had a chat the other day. It went like this:

I said, "Botany, why will you not nap?" 

And she replied, "Nap? What is this "nap" you speak of, Mummy?"

Anyway, she's asleep- for now. So:

Tuesday about 7pm:  The gel has not worked. One summons another doctor. He introduces himself, saying we spoke last night on the phone.  Ah. Yes. You were the one who told me I couldn't come in.  I'm sure you had your reasons at the time. Well, here we are now.  He says that he thinks there is not much point in doing another round of gel- that enough time has elapsed that we should move on to the next stage- that being the Syntocin IV drip (otherwise known as pitocin).  I agree.  I don't really fancy waiting around another six hours for nothing to happen.

Several things occur at once. My mother arrives to take over from E., who heads home for a short rest.  I am also to be moved to the room next door. As usual, this takes awhile. This room is not a whole lot different to the other one, except it has some very peculiar wall decorations which I feel sure will distract me during the labour. 

Then we are just about into the staff shift change, so there is another wait for the next midwife to take over. 

Meanwhile, I have an IV shunt inserted into my right hand. Can I just say here how much I loathe having this done. It completely squicks me out, and I can't bear the sight of the plastic contraption shoved into the slightly bulging vein in my hand.  Too bad I am going to be looking at it for the next thirty six hours or so.

Shift change complete, Midwife Two appears. I am slightly nervous about who I am going to get, as I liked One so much (she pops her head in on the way out to say she'll check up on me tomorrow).  As it happens, Two is a godsend, a veritable angel, a heaven sent shepherd here to guide me through the valley of induction- you get the idea. She has an immensely soothing presence and immediately sets both my mother and myself at ease by bringing us a pot of tea. Ahhhh.

Another doctor arrives to prescribe the induction. She is very blond and young and seemingly more interested in her clipboard than looking at me.  She explains the drip should start the labour pretty much straight away, though it may take a short time. We will then give it 12 hours or so to see how things progress.

Fine by me, I say lightly (and in a mildly joking fashion). Perhaps I can even get a quick catnap before the festivities commence. Dr Blonde looks up from the clipboard and gives me a stern stare.

"I really think we need to get on with this. You don't have time to sleep before we start. You're here to have this baby so that's what you need to do now," she says cuttingly.

I am too gobsmacked to issue the scathing reply that this so clearly deserves. Instead, I mutter something about how, in short:  I was not meaning to delay the induction, what I meant was maybe I would be able to have a quick snooze before the medication kicked in, if in fact there happened to be a delay and given that in any event it was I who was desperate to be admitted 24 hours ago to get things started, your admonition is out of order, Doctor.  P.S. You are a complete bitch.

But I don't get a chance, because she swans out before I can say anything. I hope her hair gets fatally tangled in her stupid clipboard.   

I use the bathroom one more time before the fetal monitor strapped on. The drip commences. Two tells me she will stay with me the whole time, that the induction has to be monitored quite closely to ensure the baby is not in distress, and so she will be scribbling on the chart quite a lot. Also, do I want to schedule the epidural now- it will take about an hour or so to get someone round to do it.

Epidural?  Wait. Am I having an epidural?  Um. I was not planning on having an epidural.  No, no, no, I say, pass on that, thanks, for now. I think I'd like to try things without for awhile. Cheers. [Ed's note: much more on this insane strategy later].

My mother and Two exchange knowing glances. But they leave it for now. 

And lo, five minutes later, the contractions begin. 

Comments

[Pronoia]

So far I just keep getting caught on the fact that they give you things like food. And tea. How, I don't know, civilized!

Around here it seems that the concept of food as energy (and that laboring women might need energy) is kind of foreign.

[Lisa]

Agree w/Pronoia - food? tea? How...civilized.

Am waiting for Part III. Type faster!

[jo]

come on this is too cruel! I think i'm going to have to wait until all the episodes are in place before I return - stopping mid-story is too painful. You should turn all this into a book btw, you write brilliantly.

[susan]

damn...you really know how to work the cliffhanger girl!! i'm riveted!

note to sweet botany: one day when you are in college napping will be your middle name! there is no time like the present to start practicing ;)

[Spartic]

Write FASTER, I have been waiting for days!!!

[Melissa]

Tea?? Food??? How unfair. In the states they won't even let you have water. But wait after about 5 hours of labor they told my husband that I could have a popsicle or ice chips from the lounge. What is the difference? It melts into liquid form.

[Lut C.]

What, there's 36 hours more from the time the IV went in?!

[Anne]

Too true about the food...I "snuck" a banana after I was admitted into the L&D unit--I'm sure the staff would have been horrified. They *have* progressed to the point where I got to have jello along with my ice chips, however. Whoo hoo.

And that doctor was a total a--h---. How much would it take to at least say something like, "I'm sure you're tired, having been in labor and without sleep for days already, but given the situation, I believe it would be better to start right away." Same message, entirely different (and more empathic) tone.

[Toni]

Hahahaha...no epidural...this story gets funnier and funnier (or scarier). :) Seriously though, you are a much braver woman than I to say no to that. Even if later on in the story you do get one.

Nap Botany...please!!!

[Sam]

Yay! Thanks for the part two...eagerly awaiting part three.

[K&M]

Giving me flashbacks...can't wait to read more!

[Veronica]

We're very lucky here (Aus) that we get offered food and drinks while we labour as well.

Thank goodness that Midwife #2 was lovely as well, almost makes up for the stupid doctor.

I am waiting (not quite so) patiently for installment #3.

[Erin]

I'm all for natural childbirth (even up to being a teacher of it these days)...and yet, I still swore that if I needed Pitocin, it would be damn the natural birth--epidural full-speed ahead! It's an evil, evil drug. Necessary sometimes, but still evil.

I ate during labor but it was snuck while medical people were out of the room. They encouraged drinking since I didn't have an IV. But never once did they offer me a pot of tea--what a lovely nurse she was already!

[seepi]

wow - here (aus) we get drinks of water or juice, but they'll do anything to stop you getting an epidural.