All This Shit Is Taking Forever: My Birth Story (Part One)

I’m back. Sort of. I am back as much as a person can be back after having had a person extracted from their person. Let’s begin at the beginning. Also known as, the end. Not being pregnant anymore is a fabulous, glorious feeling. Having a body that was just recently pregnant, however, is a whole other bag of, “No one fucking told me this was going to happen.” But we will get to that. It’s after the beginning/end.


I finally dilated a teensy, tiny bit, by my due date. One centimeter. As my OB put it, a tiny centimeter. I take that to mean, not an actual centimeter, and that she just knows I am prone to really exaggerated bouts of crying. At my last appointment, we found out the baby was pretty likely to be over 8 pounds. This was not a huge surprise to me. I come from a long line of enormous infants. And I was an enormous pregnant lady. But knowing the huge size, and that my due date was on its way out, we had to have a talk about the birth that I wasn’t super interested in having.


There was never a “birth plan,” per se. I didn’t really ever put much thought into my birth. Mostly because I knew that I had little to no control over what was going to happen when all the things were happening. I just knew that I really, really didn’t want a c-section. And I knew that I really, really wanted that moment where my baby comes out of my bits, and they wipe some of the uterus cheese off of him and then put him on my chest, and we have a super happy burst of a Mother and Son Moment. That was pretty much all I had decided on. And that want and that don’t-want were related. I knew that if the don’t-want fell through, I wouldn’t get the want. But, I also had complete trust in my doctor to not rush into slicing me open, and I knew I would do whatever she thought was best when all the things were happening.


So, she talked to me about inducing. I was “inducible” because of a number of factors pertaining to me and the baby. When you’re induced while inducible, your risk of a c-section does not go up. If I waited to go into labor on my own, with my huge baby getting huger, there may have come a point where my only option was a c-section. So I decided to go for it, and we scheduled my induction for two days later at 530am on Wednesday, August 29.


The whole nesting thing totally happened after that. I got a ton of nursery crap done. It looks almost all the way awesome. I will get to that part one day. August 29, Adam and I got up at o-dark-thirty in the morning and went to the hospital. I was a little scared, but mostly super pumped. I was finally getting this sucker out of me.


This was me. Seriously. There is just no face because I wasn’t putting makeup on at such a shit hour in the morning.


We got to the hospital, got admitted, and got hooked up to some Pitocin to get my labor started. I have the worst veins in the world, one of the reasons I have never been that much of a drug addict, so they stuck the stupid iv in my hand. A hand iv is an annoying, painful little bitch that I am not friends with. After my stupid iv, I decided that the best thing to watch when you aren’t allowed to eat is Food Network, and I let my body get contracting. Later, my doctor decided it was time to break my water, and this is where I get mad at anyone I know that has had their water broken in a hospital.


This stink-eye is for you, bitches.


One thing no one told me about labor? When they break your water in the hospital, you get to sit in it. Forever. Until your baby comes out. You just sit in your bed with your amniotic fluid. Sure, they put these absorbant pad things under you, but you’re still sitting in a puddle of baby-cushioning fluids that were just inside of you. There is so effing much in there, that just when you think it’s finally done, GUSH. And you feel like you’re peeing whenever some comes out. I kept thinking I was peeing, and then found out I wasn’t peeing at all. The nurse that checked my cervix to see how I was progressing (I was a little) asked me if I needed to empty my bladder, because it was huge and full and was possibly blocking the baby. Yup, I had enough pee in me that it formed a wall between my baby and the outside world. And here I thought I had been sometimes peeing my bed because HOW IS THERE THAT MUCH FLUID IN ME.


So then, the nurses sat me on a bed pan, because I needed to pee out my baby-blocker. And I just sat and waited to pee in a bed in front of my husband, because this is the shit we do to get our children out of us. I finally yelled, “I’m peeing!!” to Adam, who I am sure was as excited as I was, and I literally almost filled the pee pot. So there. There is a fun thing you didn’t know about labor, and a fun thing probably no one needed to know about my life. I am giving none of the shits right now.


So there I am, just sitting in my amniotic fluid, watching Giada make a food while showing every tooth in her mouth, and my contractions start slowing down. For a while, they are getting farther apart, and weaker, and finally, the nurse realizes that the iv is no longer in my vein, and my arm is crazy swollen from a buttload of Pitocin pooling under my skin. They switched arms, stuck an iv in some random ass vein in my forearm, which a new nurse told me was a complete Hail Mary, but it worked. After a while, my contractions were coming back and getting stronger. But my labor pretty much had to start over, after about five or six hours in.


No one was kitten me.



I will write more of this another day. Hopefully, a soon day. Labor is kind of a long thing.


Thanks to everyone that checked back and wrote me cute emails while I was away. You guys make me feel like a fancy bitch. Ass-slaps, all around.


6 thoughts on “All This Shit Is Taking Forever: My Birth Story (Part One)

  1. Read this while eating dinner. Clearly brilliant. Only thing that made me want to gag were the IV issues. God bless.

    I appreciate your candor. I will ALL the gory details when we have a babes. Anxiously awaiting more deets. (And nursery pics.)


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