Our baby girl’s due date was Thursday, May 8, 2008. That date came and went, and we saw our doctor for our regular weekly appointment on Friday, May 9. Everything looked good and healthy. My numbers (e.g., weight, blood pressure, baby’s heartbeat) all looked good. The baby’s head was still down, I was already dilated 2 cm (it had been 1 cm the week prior), and my cervix was soft, forward, and all that good stuff that it should be in preparation for childbirth. But to make sure the baby remained healthy since my due date had passed, the doctor scheduled us for a non-stress test the next Tuesday (May 13). The test would monitor the baby’s heart rate and activity. The doctor guessed, based on statistics, that she would arrive sometime that week, or the following weekend (7-10 days “late”). The test was just to make sure that she remained healthy as we waited for her arrival. Standard procedure.
So, we waited out the weekend. I continued having practice contractions, as I had for the previous two weeks. Some days they came harder and more regular than others. On those days I thought for sure we’d be going to the hospital. The night before our appointment I could barely sleep because of the contractions. They were actually cutting into my sleep, and I am a hard sleeper! I had to use breathing patterns while I slept, or rather, drifted in and out of sleep. I remember looking at the clock at 3am and thinking that these seemed more painful than all the other contractions I had had. Somehow I managed to get some sleep for the rest of the morning. When I got up for my morning pee, there it was—my mucus plug! I was excited—maybe those contractions really meant something! On the other hand, I thought, it had been the middle of the night. Maybe my sensory receptors artificially elevated the pain level so they just seemed like they were more painful, because I was trying to sleep, not cope with contractions!
It was time for me to get some work done before the stress test, which was at noon at the hospital. I grabbed my laptop and worked from my rocking chair. I was still getting contractions, which I monitored with an online calculator, but they weren’t as noticeable as they had been during the night. I was probably distracted by my work, which I was trying hard to finish before the baby arrived. And I figured these contractions would just peter out like all the previous ones had. They were just practice, too.
We arrived at the hospital at noon for our appointment. One of the nurses took us to a labor and delivery room, where the test would be conducted. She hooked me up to two monitors, one for the baby’s heartbeat and one for the contractions. She told me the test would take about 20 to 40 minutes, depending on how long it took them to see the patterns they were hoping for from the baby. I did not realize that I was going to be confined to a bed for nearly an hour. Oh well.
I was having contractions again (they had picked up on the drive over), and the nurse asked me how painful they were (on that 0 to 10 scale hospitals use). I said probably about a 4. She seemed surprised. I was using the breathing patterns we had been taught. She got me settled and then left us alone with the machine. We watched the paper scroll out, charting my contractions like waves.
The nurse continued to check on me and the paper. She analyzed it, looking for sure signs that the baby was still doing fine. After about 40 minutes, she explained that the baby was fine, and received a passing grade, but not an A, so she wanted to continue monitoring me. She was waiting for the baby’s heart rate to speed up substantially when the baby moved, but hadn’t gotten that distinct pattern yet. On the other hand, my contractions were making a very distinct pattern on the scrolling paper. They were coming every few minutes. Some of the peaks couldn’t even be seen. Rob seemed very impressed by this. So did the nurse. Finally, she came in, looked at the paper, and exclaimed, “More contractions!?! That’s it, I’m calling your doctor!”
When she came back, she informed me that I was in labor. I was 2 cm dilated, and my cervix was thin. However, the baby’s head was only at a -2 station, which means she wasn’t far enough down in the pelvis yet. The nurse was waiting to hear back from my doctor to see what he wanted me to do, but she told us I would have the choice of staying at the hospital, or going home for a little while and then coming back. I was dubious. Surely this was just practice again! But if the nurse said it was labor… By this time we had been at the hospital for nearly three hours. Rob got on the phone to our parents to let them know our options. We wanted to go home so we could pack and also do some of the laboring at home.
But that wasn’t going to happen. My doctor wanted me to stay at the hospital so I could be monitored. The baby still hadn’t given a stellar performance, and he didn’t want to risk anything happening if I left the hospital. I made a packing list for Rob and he ran home. The nurse officially admitted me, switched me over to wireless monitors, and I changed into a hospital nightgown.
While Rob was gone I paced the room and breathed and breathed. I tried to stay in upright positions as much as possible, in hopes of getting the baby’s head further down the pelvis. I also ordered a shake and mashed potatoes since I hadn’t eaten lunch. I was starving, but one of the nurses scared me by saying I should only eat things that would be easy to throw up. So there was no way I was ordering a full meal, like I wanted to.
It took Rob about an hour to get back. Then the nurse checked me again. I was about 3 cm dilated. My mom arrived about this time, too. She and Rob helped me cope with the contractions and kept me company. I could not believe I had been at the hospital for 6 or 7 hours by now. The nurse told me my doctor had his last appointment at the clinic at 7pm, then he’d come to the hospital.
The nurses’ shift changed at 7pm, but my first nurse hung around long enough to check me again at 7:30pm. I was up to about 4.5 cm dilated (she said I was at 4 cm, but 5 during contractions). My cervix was also completely thinned out (as thin as it could get). My doctor arrived at the hospital around 8:30pm. He checked me, but there was no additional progress after the nurse left. Still, the pain was increasing regularly and the contractions were close together. In fact, almost every other contraction was a “coupling”—where the uterus doesn’t completely relax before going straight into another contraction. Actually, many of my contractions were 2 to 4 in a row with no break, then a one minute break, another regular contraction, a one minute break, and back into a coupling (or “tripling” or “quadrupling,” as I call them). Those were the worst. No rest for the weary, as the nurses said! Tell me about it!
Besides all the walking, swaying, tilting, breathing, and birth-ball-using, I also tried a hot shower to cope with the pain. I was surprised that I was able to use the shower with the monitors on, since they’re waterproof. The shower was lovely! I stayed in there for about an hour, which was as long as I could stand being pruney. Plus, my doctor had come back to check on me. I was sure there was going to be good news. All of this hard work had to be getting me somewhere! But I was wrong. Still no progress; I was still at 4 or 5 cm. And the baby’s head wasn’t any further down.
And so my labor went for the next few hours: intense contractions with barely any rest, going off of no food and no sleep. The duration, frequency, and intensity of the contractions seemed to reflect late active labor or transition, from what I had read and learned, and yet my cervix was not dilating. I did not understand it.
Finally, around one o’clock Wednesday morning (5/14), my doctor came in and told me that I should consider getting an epidural. He wanted to see if my body could rest and relax while my uterus did all the work to dilate and progress. I wasn’t ready to get the epidural, though. I asked him if I could try the Jacuzzi tub to see if it would relax my body enough for my uterus to do all the work like he wanted. He said sure. So, Rob and I went down to the Jacuzzi, stopping to deal with contractions in the hallway. I stayed in the tub for about an hour; it took a slight edge off the pain, but not much. The hot water and bubbles felt good, but I could definitely still feel the contractions. By the end of my stay in the tub I was feeling ready to give in. I was telling Rob that I could not handle it anymore.
I returned to my room and was checked yet again. Still nothing. It had been about 7 hours since my last progress, which was during the nurses’ shift change Tuesday night. That was the last straw. I was frustrated, exhausted, and couldn’t handle it anymore. One or two more contractions back in my room, outside of the tub, and I was sure that I wanted the epidural. Rob objected—I hadn’t even said the code word! I said screw the code word. I was serious that I wanted the drugs, and he knew it. No code word was necessary.
But, just my luck, the anesthesiologist was just getting into an emergency c-section and wouldn’t be available for at least an hour to do the epidural. They hooked me up to an IV and gave me a shot of drugs to take the edge off the pain, around 3am. It helped enough to keep me from shaking and helped me to focus through the contractions. I was very thankful for that drug, whatever it was. I could definitely still feel the pain, but it helped! I had been concerned that I wouldn’t be able to stay still to get the epidural in my spine, but when the IV drug kicked in and relaxed my body, I knew I would be able to do it.
The anesthesiologist wasn’t available until nearly two hours after I asked for the epidural. By that time I was only slightly concerned about a needle going into my spine. Rob, my mom, and the nurse helped to keep me steady and cope with the contractions while the anesthesiologist did his work. My mom had to sit down halfway through, though—she was turning green! She hadn’t had any real food or sleep, either.
Anyways, I finally had the epidural. I couldn’t feel the contractions anymore. The whole point of the epidural was so I (and Rob) could sleep for two or three hours to see if my uterus would dilate my cervix anymore. However, my doctor came in and woke me up about 45 minutes later. His blurry face seemed concerned (I had my glasses off so I could sleep). He checked my cervix (which was the best check of all, since I couldn’t feel it!) and there had been no progress. I was still at 4 or 5 cm. And the baby’s head was still at a -2 station. Her heartbeat was also dropping with the contractions. He explained that she wasn’t in dire distress yet, but he didn’t think that waiting a few hours would benefit us any, since I hadn’t dilated since 7:30 the night before (and it was now about 5:45 am). Furthermore, if we waited a few hours, the baby could be in distress at that point and need to be taken out quickly.
We woke up Rob so the doctor could explain our options. There was really only one, a c-section, and sooner rather than later. My body and I had done all we could to get the baby out. I had tried all sorts of positions and techniques, used the shower and Jacuzzi, and had the epidural, with no progress. I asked if I was still having contractions like I had been before the epidural. He said oh, yes. My body was still working hard. It was not for a lack of contractions that I wasn’t dilating. The baby’s head was not fitting into my pelvis, either because it was too big or because it was the wrong fit or position, he said. Like a square peg in a round hole. Normally to move labor along, a doctor might break the water (mine still had not broken). However, this wasn’t even an option for us, the doctor said, because there was still at least a finger of space between the baby’s head and me. If he broke my water, the umbilical cord could come rushing out (called “prolapsed cord”), and then I would need an emergency c-section anyways, to get her out within 2 minutes. The surgeon on duty came in and introduced herself. She agreed with my doctor’s analysis. They left us alone for a few teary, emotional minutes. And then we were ready to go into surgery.
Rob changed into scrubs then went down the hall to fill my family in on the situation. The nurses were rolling me down the hall when he joined me again. We went down to the O.R., but he had to wait outside as they got me ready.
It’s amazing how small an operating table is! They rolled me onto it and I tried to make sure I wouldn’t fall off. My arms were splayed out like I was on a cross. As a result, my entire left arm was numb. (I wouldn’t regain feeling in that arm until a few hours after the surgery.)
The doctors and nurses were joking around lightheartedly. I think they were trying to make me feel more comfortable. They began taking bets on the size of the baby. The lowest guess was 8 pounds and the highest guess was 9.5 pounds (that was the surgeon’s guess). They all thought the baby was going to be on the larger size, given how I had come to arrive in the O.R.
The anesthesiologist was behind my head and he put an oxygen mask on me. I did not expect that! It made me feel claustrophobic, but I tried to stay calm and eventually I felt like I could breathe normally. He tested spots on my body to make sure he had increased the epidural enough for surgery. That’s one part I had been worried about—how did they know I was numb enough? But a few minutes after one of his last questions (e.g., “Does this feel scratchy?”), he informed me that the doctors had already started! Oh, well, then. I guess I was numb enough!!
One other strange thing was how violently I shook. I had been shaking before I received the epidural, but now that my entire lower half was completely numb, all of the adrenaline and shakes were focused in my arms, head, and jaw. I could not stop them from shaking.
Rob came in and stayed by my head. He wasn’t allowed to watch anything until they started pulling the baby out. As she cut into me, the surgeon was more and more confident that her guess of the weight was going to be close. She said that my belly was all baby.
At 6:43am, I heard the baby cry, and my doctor said, “It’s a girl!” I immediately started crying, as soon as I heard her cry. I knew Rob was crying too. Ruby June Griffin had finally arrived, after over 18 hours of labor (not counting the previous night’s contractions during my sleep), 12 of which had brought no dilation progress. I was exhausted, emotional, relieved, and shaking uncontrollably. Our doctor showed her to us before bringing her over to the heat lamp in the corner. She was wailing and obviously had good lungs! She scored an 8-9 on her Apgar. Makes a mom proud. They measured her—it was the moment of truth for the doctors’ bets. And they were all wrong. She weighed 7 pounds, 7 ounces and was 19.5 inches long.
Rob went over to keep Ruby company while I was being sown up. I told him to take as many pictures as possible. He told me how beautiful she was, but also that he was sorry he couldn’t tell me much more—he was speechless. He wasn’t allowed to touch her for a while, and then he finally could. I saw him holding her out of the corner of my eye, and he brought her over so I could see her. I was shaking so hard I could hardly turn my head to get a good look.
They finally rolled me out of the O.R. and back to my room. Rob carried Ruby. He kept trying to get me to hold her on our way back, but my arm was so numb and I was shaking so hard I was afraid I would drop her. After we got to the room he kept wanting to give her to me. But every time I lifted my arm it collapsed back onto my body. Eventually he just held her on top of me, so she wouldn’t fall off. He asked me if I still wanted the hour to ourselves that we had asked for in our birth plan. Ha! That was funny, as if anything had gone like we had hoped for in our birth plan! I was so dead tired that I told him to go ahead and get our parents so they could meet her. The few minutes would be good for me to catch my breath.
And that’s how Ruby June got here. We never would have guessed that that’s how her arrival story would play out, but we are so thankful for a healthy, happy baby. We are thankful that my mom was able to help us during the labor, and also at home when we asked for help during the first week back. We are also thankful that so much family was able to be at the hospital to meet Ruby right when she was born, and also at our home afterwards. She is a very loved little one and we are so blessed.
