I was still extremely pregnant, still uncomfortable, incredibly miserable, and totally exhausted. After 3 or 4 hours in the jacuzzi, I felt relaxed enough to try to sleep again. Unfortunately during the walk from the jacuzzi back to the induction room, my relaxation left me, and my uterus returned to being irritable.
Now, at this point in my life I was still planning on doing this whole thing drug free (HAH!) and when the nurse suggested morphine for the 10th time, at 4:30 am, I lost it, and started sobbing. The nurse decided to check my cervix to see if anything was actually going on, and unfortunately for me, nothing had changed. I was 2cm dialated, exactly as I had been when I got there on Wednesday afternoon. She suggested morphine again, and I quietly sobbed into my pillow.
Ian appeared about 45 minutes later. The nurse had called him at home and said "She needs a little more support than I am able to give her." I was happy to see him, but so tired and sore that I couldn't do much more than whimper. He told me not to be stupid, take the drugs and get some sleep. So, I told the nurse and she happily gave me a shot in my bottom. I was a much easier patient drugged up, you see, and she was relieved that I had finally given in. I slept for about 2 hours.
I woke up feeling...Not quite as miserable, and looked around the room. Some time during the night, the two remaining women had been taken up to labour and delivery, and I was all alone. They quickly filled the 3 beds with other women desperate to have their babies. I was confident that today would be the day I had mine.
They hooked up the pitocin IV at about 9 am. They would slowly increase the pitocin levels over the day, but the nurse told me that most women never reached the highest level of the drug, they would go into labour long before that. Yay, I thought. I'm going to have this baby!
By mid afternoon, I was up to the maximum levels of pitocin and was still feeling nothing but an irritable uterus. Occasionally they would check my cervix to find it steadfastly holding on to 2 cm. The water broke of the woman across from me. I paced up and down the halls, dragging my iv pole beside me, getting more and more miserable. Another of my room-mates went up to labour and delivery, and I have to admit, I hated her a little bit.
My friend V came to visit for a while, and she provided an excellent diversion. She brought hot Pho, and games to keep my mind off the fact that I was in pain, and still pregnant. She stayed for a few hours, and then left. Shortly after she left, the 3rd woman's water broke, and up she went to have her baby. I was all alone in the room again, and still only 2cm dialated.
At about 8 that night the resident came in, checked me out, sighed and shook her head. The induction room would be closed at 9 for the weekend, so it was time to get this show on the road. She decided that they would take me upstairs, and break my water.
I got into my own (very nice) little room in labour and delivery, settled in, and was promptly abandoned. Ian decided that he would pop home to feed the cats while we waited. There was a cot for him in this room, so we didn't know when he would be home again after things got started.
Ian left, and the Dr. came in about 10 seconds later to break the water. I was sad that Ian wasn't there, and little frightened, but it was probably for the best. The Dr. took this thing...It looked like a crochet hook, and did the deed. No one warned me that it would be as gross as it was. It was like a fountain, and I soaked the poor doctor. I was incredibly embarrassed.
After my water was broken, I began to realize that what I had been feeling since the day before was nothing. This was pain. I curled up on the bed, and whimpered some more. They tell you to breath through it, but I could hardly remember to breathe at all. Ian was gone, and I was in pain and running on 2 hours of sleep since Wednesday morning. I just couldn't handle it.
When Ian got back about half an hour later (it felt a lot longer than that) I told him that I wanted an epideural. So much for the whole natural childbirth thing, eh? Anyways, I told Ian, I told every nurse that I could see, I told my pillow, I told the fetal monitor. I want an epideural. So, finally, one of the nurses when to find the Anesthesiologist.
Dr. Quinn was the name of the man who gave me my epideural. He walked into the room and said "You won't remember any of the other nurses or doctors names you see here, but you'll remember mine, because I'm going to make the pain go away." He was arrogant, but he was correct. The giving of the epideural was an experience that I would rather have not had. I was hot, and shaking and terrified. The nurse draped herself over me to keep me hunched in the right position, and I got claustrophobic. Thank God for Ian telling the nurse to stop touching me! The needle had to be put in several times, apparently my spine has a little wiggle in it or something, and every time he poked me, I had a sharp stabbing pain in my hip. Finally he got it in, and the drugs started to flow. Thank God for those drugs.
After the epideural was placed, things got much better for me. I was tired, and I was able to doze through the night to gather some energy. My blood pressure was taken every 15 minutes, so I didn't sleep well, but at that point, anything was better than nothing, and I was able to sleep till the next morning.
To Be Continued....