I was 41.5 weeks pregnant but felt like it had been years. Like maybe I’d be pregnant for the rest of my life. I had been in labor off and on for two weeks and also Trump was about to be made our fucking President. My doctor and my chiropractor had felt my belly and said she was in position ready to go. So my mom had flown out 1 week before my due date because what if she came early, and we had stressed about waiting that long! Little did either of us know that she would be taking her damn time and we would be staring expectantly at my belly for 2 weeks before my doctor uttered the words induction. I was relieved. “INDUCE ME ALREADY!” I yelled inside my head, because I have fucking manners and don’t yell at my doctors while they are doing their jobs. While I waited I did what any normal millennial mom to be would do, I TWEETED.
You see I’m part of a rather large online community, of liberal smart asses from a website called Jezebel formerly owned by Gawker media. We met in the comment sections and then decided we wanted to be able to talk more directly and joined Twitter en masse when the website was bought out. I tweet like I breathe, all day every day. These relationships have sustained me through the ups and downs of my life the last two years, so of course I was tweeting about my labor, or rather my lack of productive labor. My friends were taking bets on when I’d give birth. Whoever won would donate to Planned Parenthood in our family name. Liberal snowflake that I am, I loved it.
So Monday morning I showed up at the hospital and when they rolled in a second bed for my husband I laughed. “haha what’s that for is he giving birth today too?” I said uneasily. “oh no honey it’s just that sometimes these things take a bit, like even several days” said the nurse. NO wait NO, that can’t be right I thought, I’m getting INDUCED. That means you get HARDER contractions and QUICKER labor, I thought to myself and gave her a tense smile full of anxiety. I hopped on twitter, “GUYS THEY BROUGHT A BED FOR MY HUSBAND TOO WTF”. My friends said “hey it’s okay men are weak and that’s why he needs it, it’ll be a long night he probably needs a nap.”. The day went on and I remember tweeting throughout “Hey labor is boring”. “Why doesn’t anyone tell you this takes forever and you’ll be so bored”. I settled in with some Friends at the recommendation of my online friends (friends say watch friends ha get it).
Because even though the contractions were coming they weren’t really doing that much, I was sweaty and uncomfortable and in pain sure, but mostly I was just tired. I was bouncing on a damn ball and hooked up to an IV full of Pitocin and being turned this way and that in bed and I couldn’t rest but at least I could eat. Because you see I was set on having a “natural” birth and take only the Pit and do this through my breathing and magical woman powers. 15 hours in I decided I’d accept a small amount of IV drugs.
I tweeted things like “DRUGS ARE GREAT EVERYONE TAKE DRUGS I’M GONNA HAVE A SNACK NOW AND WATCH THIS DOCUMENTARY ABOUT LEAH REMINI AND SCIENTOLOGY, SHOULD I NAME MY CHILD LEAH REMINI”. Things seemed like they might be okay for approximately 3 hours. I still hadn’t progressed any further in terms of dilation.
12 hours later I was beat, and I was asking for an epidural. I was only 2 cm dilated, my body didn’t like the Pitocin and they kept having to turn it off and back on. My husband couldn’t stay because we run our own business so after the night he and my mom traded places, he went to work and she came and kept me company. They felt my spine and I cried like a giant baby because I was so scared of the epidural. WHAT IF IT GOES WRONG AND I’M PARALYZED FOR LIFE, my anxiety rang in my ears.
I tweeted my friends in typical twitter lingo a steaming hot taek.
But I couldn’t keep going, the pains were intense and though my husband had gotten some good z’s with that extra bed I didn’t sleep hardly at all, my longest nap was 3 hours in the total of 40 I’d been through. They were having me flip onto my side every hour. At some point through this my mom noticed that I was leaking fluid again, the nurses gave each other uneasy glances and turned the Pit off again. They said it was nothing to worry about, these things take time. Every labor is different BLAH BLAH BLAH LIES. Well not lies, but there was things to worry about. I even knew something was off, I was covered in blankets and freezing, had spiked a fever, and my stomach had a weird shoebox shape like she was curling up and trying to climb upwards. They didn’t realize that my mother was a former labor and delivery and mother baby nurse. My mom was seeing my soak my sheets and them not be changed, I couldn’t feel it because of the Epidural. She was also seeing Muconium. For those of you uninitiated in the absolute disgusting details of birth Muconium is when the baby poops out of distress while she’s still inside and then it comes out in your water. It’s green. I also hadn’t eaten in at least 24 hours because once you have that epidural they don’t let you eat. I played it cool to my online friends and talked about the movie I was watching. I had decided on a name after all. We watched Walk the Line and the name Juniper had been at the top of the list and I thought it was meant to be, a movie about June Carter Cash = baby June/Juniper.
Follow along for my next blog post for part 2!