It all started on Sunday, April 4th, which marked my 37th week of pregnancy. I was tired of being pregnant and wanted this baby out of me so Gene and I decided to (ahem) utilize one of the more popular methods of induction. I won't get into details, since this is a PG blog, but let's just say we were 'doing our taxes' as my friend Sereja calls it. A few hours into the day, I started feeling something similar to menstrual cramps. They started off pretty mild and became stronger and more consistent throughout the day. In the evening they were 5-10 minutes apart, so I decided to call my doctor to see what his thoughts were. He felt that it was false labor and I should drink a glass of red wine to relax and try to get some sleep since it seems that real labor might be around the corner. The wine idea sounded terrific, so that is what I did, before dozing off for the night.
I woke up the next morning feeling back to my usual, heavy pregnant self with no labor in sight. Being a bit paranoid, I told Gene that he should work from home since our baby might be making an appearance. We walked, or rather, Gene walked and I wobbled, to the park and back (over a mile) and that seemed to bring on more contractions. Once again, came night time and contractions were weaker, more sparse and labor seemed far, far away.
This brings us to Tuesday morning. I told Gene that he should go to work since I won't be having this baby anytime soon. Around two o'clock I took a nap, which was rudely interrupted with more contractions. This was really getting ridiculous! They continued and kept getting stronger and stronger. Once Gene was home, the contractions were five minutes apart and pretty darn painful. I called my doctor and he said, "you can go to the hospital but I don't think this is the real thing yet." At this point I was still able to function and talk through my contractions so I decided to wait it out a bit more. Around midnight the pain was really bad and the contractions were 2-4 minutes apart. I was no longer able to talk through them and the pain was absolutely unbearable. This was it! I had no doubt! In my head I was 10 cm dilated and all I had to do was get to the hospital, and 'BAM' the baby would be here in minutes. After a grueling 20 min drive to Lenox Hill, I was finally upstairs in L&D and about to be checked out by the doctor. They wrapped a belt around my enormous belly and hooked me up to a monitor that showed the baby's heart rate as well as the contractions. The scale for the contractions went to 100 but mine seemed to jump off the scale each time and went as high as 220. I told Gene that surely this must be some sort of pain indicator and I am probably the first woman in history to reach numbers that high. He found this amusing and we later learned that those numbers don't really mean anything. The doctor on call finally came in to check me and you couldn't imagine my disappointment in learning that I was only 1.5 cm dilated. In order to be admitted, they typically require you to be 3 cm or having had your water broken. Since I was neither, the doctor recommended I go back home. Once again I was told to have a glass of wine and try to go to sleep and only come back to the hospital once my water has broken or if I experience nausea, vomiting or fever. I couldn't understand how I can be in so much pain yet not be in labor. This was beyond frustrating, but we got back into the car and somehow managed to make it home.
We arrived home around 3 or 4 in the morning and Gene was barely able to keep his eyes open. I was pacing around the apartment in agony while my loving husband was drifting off into sleep. With each contraction, I remembered my moms words, "it will feel like someone is taking each one of your legs and pulling them in opposite directions until your whole body feels like it's being ripped apart." Even that horrid description didn't do the pain justice. It was worse. I would say it felt like a full body seizure and for about 10 seconds it would feel like you died and went to the hottest corner in hell. Somewhere between 4 am and 5 am, I remembered the doctors orders...drink a glass of wine. I can't argue with medical professionals so I poured myself a glass of wine, took 3 sips and puked it all out. This reminded me that vomiting was one of the symptoms which would require me to go back to the hospital so after laboring for another hour or so, I told Gene that we are going back. At this point, he was incredibly cranky from the lack of sleep and kept telling me things like, "you're not breathing properly" and "are you sure you want to go back?" Since we never took Lamaze classes I am not sure where he got this 'breathing properly' idea but all I knew is that I wanted to club him over the head with the half empty bottle of red wine standing on the counter.
It was 6 am on Wednesday, April 7th when we once again made the drive to Lexington and 77th to see how far I have progressed. The traffic was still light so we made it there in under 20 minutes, although the contractions made it feel like a lifetime. The security guard came out as we pulled up to the front asking if I needed a wheelchair, to which I probably replied, "no buddy, I need DRUGS!" We made the walk through the corridors of the hospital where several of the staff recognized me from earlier in the night and called out things like, "you're back!" or "you should have stayed before!" as I huffed and puffed passed them. I was again in bed and hooked up to monitors getting ready to be checked. At this point, I KNEW I was not going anywhere. I didn't care if I regressed and was back to 0 centimeters, I was getting drugged if it was the last thing I did. The doctor checked me and guess what? That's right, I was STILL 1.5 cm.
I was admitted into the hospital at 7 am and given
demerol. This is a drug very similar to morphine and doesn't actually take any pain away but puts you in a state where pain doesn't really matter. I felt VERY warm and fuzzy inside. For the next two hours I was in and out of sleep, waking up at the peak of my contractions and thinking, "F*ck this hurts, but I really don't care...ahhh....demerol I love you". Someone came to check me around 9:30 and I was 3 cm and minutes later my water broke. OK, we are now in business!
It was at this point that I was offered an epidural. Now, let me back up for a minute and remind everyone that while I was very open to the idea of an epidural, I was hoping to go natural. This is laughable and I will warn anyone that if you are open to the idea, you WILL get an epidural. There is just no reason to 'be a hero' or suffer the pain of contractions when you can instead suffer through the side effects of an epidural. I did have terrible chills, fever and itchiness all over my body but that was WAY better than contractions. Once the epidural was even an option, I was ALL over that! The anesthesiologist came in and began to prepare me for some much needed pain relief. Gene was asked to leave the room as I sat there hunched over waiting for a big, long needle to be pushed into my spine. The doctor was about to administer the shot, when she stops and says, "You have scoliosis and a very bad case of it. Not only is your spine crooked but it is also inverted in a way that will make this very difficult and potentially impossible. You should have had this treated with surgery, this is very bad." To this I thought, "Umm, lady enough with the small talk...get this needle in me...NOW". I told her that this is a matter of life and death and she HAS to get this bloody thing to work. She said she will do her best. After using some local anesthesia, she began to stab my spine over and over in multiple failed attempts to administer the epidural. Now I know that sounds painful, and it was, but once again, nothing will even come close to the pain of those freaking contractions. So I welcomed the continuous stabbing in my back as a distraction from labor. At this point the anesthesiologist told the nurse that she is running out of local anesthetic and will need more to keep trying, so the nurse ran out to get more meds while the doctor decided to take just one last stab (no pun intended) at it. By some miracle, it worked! Within minutes the pain was gone and I sat there itching my entire body, shivering, and running a fever while sucking on a Popsicle. Ahhh, this was the life!
Two hours later, I learned that I was 4 cm and another two hours later, I was up to 5.5 cm. Things were going in the right direction and I was excited knowing that I will likely be holding my baby girl in just a few hours. After averaging 1-2 cm in 2 hours, I quickly moved from 5.5 cm to 9 cm in under an hour. The hospital called my doctor who left all his patients and quickly drove up to Lenox. I was holding back the urge to push for about an hour when he came in ready to deliver. At this point my contractions did a 180 and instead of becoming more frequent (every 30 seconds) they decided to spread out to every 5-7 minutes. This was frustrating because that was the amount of time I would have to wait each time I pushed. This 'down' time was filled with conversation between my mom and the doctor discussing current events, politics and the weather. Here I am, pushing my brains out and in between I had to listen (for the 100th time) to our immigration story. Once that story was wrapped up, my mom decided to tell the doctor all about her experience of labor and delivery and how the lovely doctors at Maimonedes hospital are brainless idiots. Luckily when the head was almost out, I was able to get the attention of the doctor who was kind enough to deliver my baby. It was 4:54 PM on April 7th, 2010 when Violet Talia Klayman (6 lbs, 14 ounces and 20 inches long) came into this world. She came out and was placed on my belly and after wrapping my arms around her, I cried tears of joy, unable to believe I held this little person in my womb for nine months and now I finally get to see her and hold her. Our meeting was brief and I didn't even notice that Gene cut the umbilical cord while we were bonding. He later told me that he was freaked out because it took him two attempts. For some odd reason that made me think of Jewish weddings where it takes the groom several attempts to break the glass. While completely harmless, somehow worrisome. She was quickly whisked away to be cleaned and receieved her first test, the
APGAR, which she nailed with a 9/9. Only a few minutes old and already our little genius. The remainder of the day was fuzzy but I remember an hour worth of stitches and the slow disappearance of the epidural and the appearance of a dull, throbbing pain.
I was finally put into a room around 9 PM and Gene and I had some time alone, which we spent cuddling (on the luxurious hospital bed) and watching American Idol. Sadly, visiting hours for significant others were over at midnight so he had to go home and I finally got some much needed rest after a very exciting 48 hours.
I guess this is where the story of my pregnancy comes to an end...and....a new story begins...
Stay tuned and read about our adventures in parenthood and laugh at the mistakes we make as we try our very best to be great parents.
