Sometimes now I get intense pain in upper part of my back and chest. I wonder if it has to do with the epidural, but I can't find anything to support that. I try to breathe through the pain like did with the contractions, but I can't seem to find the zone that gives me control over it. It makes the miracle of labor seem that much more miraculous and my body that much more spectacular. It hurts, though, and I don't know what is causing it. It happens when I am stressed.
I guess we were watching Frasier during the epidural and in the hours afterward. I don't really remember. I believe I slept through part of the afternoon. When my mom and dad arrived, though, I was beginning to feel pain again and I was shivering uncontrollably. The pain was more than I could manage, the epidural was wearing off, and I had not been managing any contractions up to that point. I was at nine centimeters, the epidural had been put in at six or seven. I remember wanting my parents to leave. The happy, calm period of my labor was over. I needed Kale's full attention and I needed a nurse to tell me what was happening. The nurse gave mom some ice chips, which she fed to me, and I had too many on an empty stomach. I puked again. This was worst sensation, puking, contracting, not being able to lift myself in the bed or turn, the feeling in my left leg coming back, cramping, wanting everyone to leave, needing a hug, feeling like something was wrong and being told there is not.
A shift change brought us a new nurse, who showed me the magical button that released more of the epidural. Instantly, I felt relief. It was ridiculous. I was furious at the previous nurse and the doctor who placed the epidural. They mentioned the button, but I was too aloof to ask about until it was too late. It seemed like an option they hadn't given me, so I didn't ask about it. I was able to use the release three times before I reached 10 centimeters.
The room was cleared out, my daddy went to the lobby. Kale, of course would stay. My mom asked if she could be there. I am her only daughter who gave birth naturally. I am so happy she asked and she stayed. The lower half of the bed was removed, bright lights were turned on and spotlit me. Kale stood on my right side and my mom on my left, supporting my feet in the stirrups and pushing them into me while I pushed through contractions.
At first I could not figure out when I was contracting. The epidural had made me lose the connection, but the nurse would watch the monitor and tell me when to push. I watched too and slowly began to feel my body again. Determining how to push, what muscles to use, how to keep going and not back off, and how to relax between contractions was intense. The contractions were definitely rhythmic and coming faster, lasting longer. But nothing hurt. The intensity of pushing, the intensity of labor and the involuntary, unstoppable course my body was taking without my control without an epidural must be excrutiating. And scary. I pooped. I pooped maybe three times. I was mortified. I wanted to stop immediately, but no one cared - they laughed. I probably pooped more than I realize. I don't care anymore.
Pushing, pushing, pushing to the count of 10. I stopped at 8 or 9 more often than not. There was barely time to let my breath out between contractions, but I needed the respite. Kale would come and put his body over mine to hug me and I could let it out. When he counted, I could push for longer. HE was my coach. I am so in love with him and his role as my partner and a father.
The spotlights caused a reflection in the light above me and I could see myself completely and in full color. I could see the nurse's hands stretching and turning, feeling for his face. I am not sure if she was turning him and wasn't telling us. I could see when his head crowned, I knew that small patch of his head first, that patch that was bruised and swollen when I held him later. Seeing him there, I could connect the right kind of pushing and begin to make progress. There was lots of coaching and support all around. I felt strong. I felt important. I felt dignified. I felt loved. I felt good.
And then, all of a sudden I didn't want to stop pushing.
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