The Arrival of the Dark Lord

Stormageddon, Dark Lord of All, has arrived.

Since everybody else writes their birth stories, I figured I'd put my sleep deprivation to some good use and write mine.

I don't know when to start this story.  Thursday?  Let's say Thursday.

Thursday:

I had a dream Wednesday night where The Man's cousin told me my baby would be born on the 17th (Friday).  Since at this point I was tired of being pregnant, I decided that this dream would come true.  I cleaned the entire house, did all the laundry, and even mowed the lawn.  Semi-painful contractions started happening every ten minutes or so, but then subsided.  I went to bed positive I'd have the baby in 24 hours.

Friday:

Woke up at midnight: painful contractions, 8 minutes apart.  They went away after an hour or so.

Woke up at 4 am: painful contractions, 6 minutes apart.  I called my mum, packed my hospital bag, and walked around the block with The Man.  Contractions went away after two hours.

Woke up at 8 am: painful contractions, 6 minutes apart.  Went away after two hours.

Decided to walk around and induce labor.  Walked for a couple of hours, went to little sister's class (she's a student professor), and started having semi-painful contractions every 3 minutes.  They went away after two hours.

Saturday:

Nothing.  Not a peep.  Felt awesome.

Sunday:

See note on Saturday.

Monday:

Went to doctor's appointment, got checked, no progression of the cervix since the week before (contractions are supposed to help your cervix prepare for labor).  Around 2pm I started having semi-painful contractions.  They didn't go away.  They didn't get any worse.  They were just painful enough that I could still be quiet through them, but I kind of wanted to moan a bit.  And they were about 6 minutes apart.  The Man told me he had a meeting at 8 he needed to be at, but I was free to have the baby after that time.

Around 6:40 my contractions were painful enough that I was crying out a bit, and they ranged from 4 minutes apart to 1.5 minutes apart, but they weren’t lasting super long.  It hurt quite a bit though, so I called The Man, apologized about making him miss his meeting, and made him drive me to the hospital.  When I got there they watched my contractions for an hour, noticed no change in the cervix, gave me a shot of morphine to slow down my contractions, and sent me home.  Apparently the contractions were too close together and too short to actually change my cervix.  The morphine shot would end false labor – if that’s what I was having – and regulate the contractions a bit more if I was in real labor.  I remember The Man driving me home from the hospital, me asking for a root beer float (the treat I wanted after I delivered), The Man not knowing where to go for a root beer float, me being sad, and then…I was home.  And asleep.

Ten minutes later I was crying out in pain.  And again ten minutes after that.  And so it went all night long.

Tuesday:

I eventually got out of bed because I didn’t want to keep waking up The Man anymore with my cries of pain.  I curled up on the couch and called my parents.  I don’t remember exactly what was said, but I remember whining to them about the pain and explaining what had happened the night before and going through several painful contractions while on the phone with them.

The Man started getting ready for school, and I got a text from his sister saying she was coming to pick me up so I could take a bath (our apartment only has a shower).  Apparently my mother had called around and let people know that I was hurting, and The Man has some awesome sisters.

So The Man went off to school, and I went off to his sister’s house – crying out in pain every few minutes.  I took the bath, passed a mucous plug (oh yeah, you didn’t see that piece of nastiness coming, did ya?), and sat on her couch while she timed my contractions on her phone.  Eventually it got to the point where I called The Man and told him he needed to come take me to the hospital.  Right before his afternoon class.

We get to the hospital, and I make it all the way to the reception desk before I have to lean against the wall crying out in pain because of a contraction (those poor people in the waiting room…).  They got me a wheelchair, and I made it all the way to the room and got in the hospital gown in record time before climbing onto the bed, resting on my hands and knees, and letting out an animal scream of pain.  Seriously guys, I have never screamed with so much emotion in my life.  I was holding nothing back.  My nurse turned out to be the lady who taught the “coping with labor” class The Man and I had taken a few weeks back, and she had me work on my breathing during the contractions.  I was at 8cm (you start pushing at 10).  I had been having contractions for 24 hours.  I asked for drugs.  Once they came, it was awesome.

Okay, it wasn’t ALL awesome.  My legs were completely numb, so they were flopping around everywhere.  I farted on a nurse because I had no control of my anal sphincter.  If I hadn’t have had drugs I probably could have had him in a couple hours, instead it took five.  He pooped in the amniotic sac (a sign of stress), and we had to have NICU staff and a respiratory doctor in the room for the delivery.  I tore in four places; one of which was actually inside what we’ll call “the passageway.”  It took the midwife literally an hour to stitch me all the way up.  But you know what?  At the end of the night I had a baby.  And he was healthy and adorable and cuddly.

It’s funny and unfair, but after all the work that I did to get him here, the little punk came out looking exactly like his dad.  He even makes a lot of the same faces.  I guess his dad is pretty handsome though, so that’s good for little Stormageddon.