Wednesday, April 18, 2007. I woke up around 10:30 am and couldn't fall back asleep. I'd been on maternity leave since March 23. I was huge, my co-workers were getting nervous seeing me work, and I still had fourteen days till I was due. I'd been into the hospital the previous Sunday with false labor. They sent me home and said to come back when my water broke, or when my contractions were five minutes apart. My bag was packed, the car seat was sitting in the back of the car, and I was ready. I was tired of lugging a 45 inch waist around with my five-foot-tall body. Everything we'd gotten at the baby shower was assembled, the clothes were unpacked and sorted into the dresser by size, the Diaper Genie was loaded. All we were missing was baby Matthew.
I followed my normal routine - make something to eat (that day, it was tater tots and a bagel with butter and grape jelly), check my email, watch Scrubs at 11:00 and 11:30, and take a nap. Jeremy had Thursday and Friday off that week. I had an appointment with Dr. Wilder, my obstetrician, on Thursday, and today, Wednesday, was payday. Payday meant Frosties from Wendy's, my latest pregnancy craving. I took a shower and cleaned the house. Having been in full nesting mode since week 31, this included washing the dishes, doing the laundry, sweeping and mopping the kitchen, scrubbing down the stove, straightening up the living room, running the vacuum, and scrubbing the toilet, sink, and bathtub. This wore me out enough to fall asleep for a little while.
When Jeremy got home, we watched Law and Order: SVU. I'd been having sporadic BH contractions, but wasn't really paying any attention to them. I'd also been leaking amniotic fluid since Sunday, but was unaware of that at the time, as it was a tiny leak. Around 6:30, we decided to go get some gas in the car and get Wendy's for dinner. (Surprise.) I started thinking about Frosties and Junior Bacon Cheeseburgers.
The gas gauge on my car reads funny, sometimes. It'll say that there's 1/8 of a tank when the tank is actually empty. It only does this one time out of every ten or fifteen. This happened to be one of those times. We were pulling up to the intersection of Clarion and Sheridan when the car started sputtering. We turned around to head home, and the car was acting normal again. We just shrugged, went home long enough to grab the gas can, then turned around and headed out. We turned right onto Sheridan, and the car died. We coasted to the bottom of the hill, parked it, left a note on the windshield, and got out. We were just standing there with the gas can, getting ready to walk the 1/4 mile to the gas station, when Jeremy's friend Dave happened to drive by. He was kind enough to stop and give us a ride to the gas station, then back to the car. His only condition was (while pointing at me) "Don't let your water break while you're in my car."
We got the gas into the car and headed to the gas station. Jeremy pumped while I went in to use the bathroom. We were on our way to get Frosties!!
Sitting at the stoplight, I could see the red, welcoming glow. All we had to do was cross the highway and drive a block. We were talking about nothing of importance when it happened. I felt a pop and I was instantly soaked.
Me: "Honey, I think my water just broke."
Jeremy:"What?"
Me: (as another gush hit) "Yep, it definitely broke."
Jeremy: "So, hospital?"
Me: (gunning the engine) "Um, yeah."
Since the hospital sits on the corner, rather than play ring-around-the-Chevrolet and have Jeremy get behind the wheel, I turned on my blinker, turned right onto the highway when the light changed to green, and drove the two blocks to the hospital. I pulled up to emergency, parked the car in a visitor's space, and proceeded to extricate myself. (For those of you who don't know, 1995 Cavaliers are small cars. Getting out of them can be a challenge for anyone, much less someone who's 38 weeks pregnant.) I was soaked and squishy, and the first real contraction hit as I was removing the keys from the ignition. Jeremy helped me inside. The lady at the admittance desk looked at my wet clothing, my huge belly, the looks on both of our faces, and said, "Are you here to be treated?" I told her my water had broken.
It was 7:30 pm. They popped me in a wheelchair and got me up to the maternity floor. I was bummed that my OB wasn't on call, but was loving the nurse who got me settled in until -
Me: "Can I have something to eat?"
Nurse: "Crackers, jello, and orange sherbet. And you can have juice or water."
Jeremy: "She's pretty hungry. We were on our way to Wendy's when her water broke."
Nurse: "You should have just gone through the drive-thru before you came here. You're only 2 cm dilated."
Me: "Grrrrr . . . You all told me to come right in if my water broke!"
Nurse: "I'll be right back with your crackers and sherbet . . . . apple juice, orange juice, grapefruit juice, or water?"
While I was hooked up to the monitor, Jeremy called my parents, who had a 45 minute drive, and his mom, who had a 4 hour drive (she made the trip in 2 1/2). When my mom, dad, and brother got there, the nurse had me get up and walk around the halls with them. I asked for some Tylenol, because it was starting to get painful, but they told me to walk instead. Then they told Jeremy to go get something to eat.
I walked and walked, and when I got back to my room, my wonderful boyfriend is sitting there eating the last bite of his double cheeseburger. I was tempted to throw something at him but restrained myself. So until his mom got there, I walked for 20 minutes, then rested for 5.
At 11:30 pm, the nurse came in and tried to give me an Ambien, telling me I needed to sleep. Since I've worked night shifts since I was 17, there was no way I was tired enough to sleep, plus I was too excited. So I refused it. Jeremy's mom got there with his brother, and we had a nice 2-family visit till 1:30 am, when the OB on call came in, checked me out, said it wasn't progressing too quickly, and kicked my dad, brother, and Jeremy's brother out. They then asked me if I wanted to try sitting in the jacuzzi for a while. I took a shower with Mom's help, told Jeremy he should take a nap, and then got in the jacuzzi. The contractions were quite painful by this point, but I managed to sleep for 45 minutes. This went on all night.
At 7:30 am, the OB came in to say he was going off and mine was coming on call, and not to worry, I'd have a baby by noon.
At noon, my OB came in and gave me an IV and Pitocin. And after I asked him for Tylenol or Midol or anything to make it hurt less, he gave me a muscle relaxer and 12.5 mg of morphine. That wore off at 3 pm, but I managed to sleep a little more between contractions. At that point, I was fully effaced, but only dilated 90%. I kept telling them that Matthew was stuck in there, so Dr. Wilder used his fingers to move the rest of my cervix out of the way.
At 3:30 pm, I grabbed Jeremy and begged him to never let me do this again. He swore he wouldn't. My mom looked at me and told me "You know how I feel about only children, Megan." I'm sure I would have popped off with something, but another contraction hit. The bar that they'd put up for me to grab was ineffective, as my hands were too small and sweaty for me to grasp it properly.
At 4 pm, I still was in hard labor, and my baby's head kept coming down, then going back up. I was begging for an epidural, saddle block, c-section, anything. Jeremy tells me I ran down an alphabetical list of every painkiller known to modern science. I was too far along for them to give me anything. Apparently, my dad was out in the hallway, grabbing every nurse he could, and repeating everything I was saying.
At 4:59 pm, April 19, 2007, after 22 hours of labor, 19 of them drug-free, finally, Matthew Elliott Gatica made his way into the world. Jeremy got to cut the cord, and after my 9 stitches, the Apgars, and the bath, I finally got my 18.75 inch long, 5 lb 15.9 oz reward:
this was then
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