(you can read about the first part
here)
At the brief registration process (my Dr had pre-registered me, so I only had to answer some basic stuff), I asked about private room availability. Apparently, part of the third floor was under construction, so the rooms on the LDRP unit were cut in half to share with another ward. That’s not what I wanted to hear then and just kept praying for a private room.
They finally stick me in a triage bed, and start all the pre-delivery stuff. A nurse gets me attached to monitors for the baby & contractions. The doctor comes in, all business-like, introduces herself and asks if my water broke. Yes, I say. So you felt a big gush, she asks. Yes.
(I will interject here that there was another patient in triage moaning and screaming with pain, acting like she was in labour. But when they checked her, she was not having any contractions, nor was she in labour. They didn’t know what her issue was, but it wasn’t labour. Funny enough, her screams stopped too).
The Doctor checks me. I’m now 4 cm dilated. And, with that check came a contraction, followed by the rest of my water. (It can come out in segments, not the big tv/movie gush). She asks about pain management—epidural, I say. In the meantime, I’m also hearing chatter in the general area between staff, about how there are only 2 beds left on LDRP. One for another patient and the last one for….
Me. Thank you, God!!!
A nurse comes in and gets my IV started. I’m still asking Jono if he wanted to get something to eat, before Tim’s closed at 11 pm. He wanted to wait and see me into a room. This nurse also asked about pain management, again, I emphasize epidural. Anyone who asks knew up front I wanted the epidural—I even heard the staff chattering about it too. Contractions were getting worse and more frequent. Finally, it was time to move. I had to walk it over. It’s not a far distance, but far enough when you have to pause in between for a contraction. As soon as I meet my nurse a few minutes later, I ask about the epidural. She claimed she needed to check something first and then made the call to the anesthesiologist.
Her tone on the call didn’t sound right. When she hung up, she told me of a waiting list.
Um, what?!
Clearly the third floor needs more than one anesthesiologist assigned at a time. There was a c-section and then another labour patient ahead of me. So, at least 1.5 hours of waiting. I ask about my other options and whether I could still receive an epidural while on another painkiller. Fentanyl was offered, which would make me sleepy/drowsy, and yes, I could still get the epidural. My nurse also explained that it’s not that strong. Some ladies need a dose every 30 minutes, others it has no effect and other need only one dose.
They started the Fentanyl around midnight, Jan 21. It was bliss—while it lasted. It was like clockwork. I’d get a dose, feel very sleepy and kinda hover in and out of sleep. But around 25 minutes afterwards, it’d wear off, and I’d beg for another shot. During this time, Jono finally went for something to eat. By this point, he was just worried about missing out on the birth. He had a feeling my labour would be quick. He made it back as I was on my third dose, I think. I asked for another—they turned me down. Huh?! I’d had three doses by then, and they were worried about overdoing it. They didn’t want to give me too much because they didn’t want the baby to be too sleepy either. And then the anesthesiologist appeared.
Thank God!!!
It was now 1:30 am; pretty much the hour and a half that my nurse had originally guestimated for his timing. He started off by asking a few questions. I almost asked him to drug me first, then ask questions later. I’d had an epidural for my first labour—surely not that much has changed in 4.5 years, right? So, he’s finished his little interrogation and goes to prep his kit. (I think that these drug doctors should always be prepared, really). The nurse says to sit up and turn to face the window. Jono’s pulling me up to sitting position and…
I’m extremely uncomfortable. There’s a tremendous amount of pressure down below and I felt like I was living in one big everlasting contraction. This was not a good sign. And my other issue—the need to push. I mention my feelings to Jono, who then tells the nurse. She decides to check me…
Aren’t I now 10 cm dilated!!! And the head was right there, hence all the pressure. The only thing I could say was “damn!”, as I hear the nurse tell the drug man that he was no longer needed.
The necessary labour observers are called in. A couple extra nurses, a resident (I don’t know why she was even there–she did nothing). They’re trying to get the room set up. My nurse is watching me with the order to not push. Sorry lady, my uterus was doing its own thang by then! Let’s try pushing, she says. Sure. Two good pushes and now the nurse is practically screaming for help. The Doctor then walks in, and all I hear is “I’ll deliver”. I think she had enough time to pull on some gloves. The next best words—“it’s a girl!”.
Rishayla Jasai arrived at 1:47 am. And she cried right away—yay!
She was a wee bit sleepier than they wanted though and very congested sounding, so they took her to the Neo-natal Intensive Care Unit for a little bit, for observation and intense suctioning. But she was fine.
As we’re awaiting the placenta, Jono decided that this was now the best time to pass out—thud! (separate post to follow) I’d also torn a bit, and the doctor claimed I’d need stitched. I wasn’t looking forward to the painkiller injections (those sting without the epidural) nor the stitching, which I wouldn’t feel anyways. Then, she informs me that because it’s only two stitches, they would do it without painkiller. No need for an extra 6-8 needle pokes for 4 stitch pokes was her reasoning. Could I not catch a pain break at all?!?! Maybe if you were stitching a limb, I’d understand. But these stitches were going probably the most delicate of all areas of my anatomy and I must feel every stitch?? Oy! I also ended up with 3 stitches, after all was said and done.
Anyways, I survived the labour and lived to tell about it. I was disappointed to miss out on the highly effective painkillers, especially when I’d arrived at the hospital with enough time to receive them. Some women are anti-drugs during labour, and that their choice. Me, I prefer the least pain possible. Pain generally makes me very tired and weary. I knew that the best way for me to have some form of energy would mean eliminating or at least dulling the pain.
I’m very happy to have a third little girl and am relieved that she was only in the observatory side of the NICU, as opposed to a proper bed with all the invasive monitoring.
Next up, my hospital observations and how Rishayla was doing.
