Labor.
It's the one thing pregnant women probably all fear the most. Before I went into labor all I wanted to know was what it would feel like. I scoured the internets for some hint, some small clue as to what it might feel like so I could know it when I felt it. Seems silly, but it's this great unknown and I wanted to know more about it.
I'd had a hint of it when my placenta detached from my uterine wall, and again when I went into pre-labor for a few days, but I wasn't at all sure any of that would really help me understand what, exactly, I was looking for. Everything says you'll know it when you feel it. Well, la-dee- freaking-da, that's wonderful, only I doubt believe it. You hear all these stories about people not knowing and then going to poop only to come out of the bathroom with a baby. I don't want to be that girl, despite the fact that it would be hilarious. I just want, in clear, concise terms, the feeling of labor to be explained to me so that I can be ready for it.
As it turns out, ready for it is the one thing you can never be. Even if I had had someone describe it to me, it wouldn't have done me any good. For one thing, it would probably just have scared me and for another it's a completely difference experience for every woman. No birth is the same, despite the fact that the biological mechanisms controlling it are. Not only will everyone feel something different, but we all have different pain tolerances too. One woman's hell is another's really fucked up paradise. But, because I searched for it, I know other women will be too so, I've decided to document what I felt, in the hopes that it will help someone else be a little less freaked out. (Although when they read my description, it will probably have the exact opposite effect. Seeing as how I lived to write this tale, it's obviously something you can get through, even if it will one of the most unpleasant experiences of your life.)
It starts off innocuously enough; just some light cramping sensations that gradually grow stronger. Then it hits. Painful stomach like cramps. Sure, it's your uterus, not your stomach, but imagine having a stomach bug, that's kinda what it feels like. From there it progresses into the single most unpleasant sensation you will ever feel. Nothing else will likely hurt as much as contractions do, and no amount of focuses breathing will help ease the pain. It just HURTS and it hurts a lot. I liken it to the feeling of being sliced open by thousands of burning razor blades. It comes in waves, swelling with rapid intensity until it hits it's peak and fades away only to rise again with more force than before. It's like the tide is coming in to your internal organs and it's relentless in its attack.
If you're lucky, you'll have breaks in between said waves, I did not. Unbeknownst to me until after I gave birth, I had H.E.L.L.P syndrome which made my labor progress extraordinarily fast. So fast I did not get to enjoy the benefit of drugs. By the time I got my epidural, I had already advanced to 8 cm. It kicked in after I had started pushing. I felt EVERYTHING. And yet, I survived. I screamed a lot, just noise, not words, I felt worse than I have every felt, and more helpless due to pain than I ever felt, but I survived and honestly, I know I could do it that way again. (Do I want to? Hell no, but I could)
So even if you read this, and find yourself scared of labor, don't be. You can survive it and if the pain is too much, drugs exist. The nurses will help you through it all. You may not feel what I felt, you may feel back pain, or mild cramping or even what feels like crazy bad gas, but, it's true. When labor hits, you'll know it when you feel it.
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Saturday, June 22, 2013
The Irrationality of Being
I've been stressed lately. I couldn't figure out why. What the hell do I have to be stressed about? I'm on leave from work, I have no real responsibilities to worry about at this point, (save for the normal bills and other facets of daily life that involve money), we're as ready as we can be for the kid to arrive and I can take a nap anytime I damn well please. What's there to be anxious about?
It dawned on me, after several days of really poor sleep and visual migraines, (auras are a bitch, are they not?), that the source of my frustrations was entirely self perpetuated. You see, when I went in for my 37th week check up, I was in early labor. Early labor! I'd been contracting on and off for a few days, and things were starting to happen. It looked like birth was imminent. So much so that my doctor said there was a 50/50 chance that we'd have the baby in the next 7 days. A few days later, things really kicked up and it seemed like active labor was upon us. It's time! Only...it wasn't.
By the time I decided things were "real enough" to start timing, the contractions started to die down. Then they stopped, dead. We went to bed figuring things would pick up again, but they didn't. Over the next few days all the other early labor signs died off too. WTF. False labor? You sonofabitch. I felt let down. I also felt like I let my husband down, and everyone else who was waiting impatiently for me to poop the kid out. It didn't help that, knowing I was so close to my due date, I was getting more and more "when are you having that baby?!" questions from people. It was like I had somehow failed everyone, when really, everything my body was doing was completely normal. 50/50 is no guarantee, and even though I knew that, I took it as such. I allowed myself to get frustrated.
This far along, everything is made more difficult; walking is hard, sitting is uncomfortable, sleeping is a mess, everything aches and you feel incredibly stretched out and tight in your own skin. You just want it to be over, even if you aren't really sure you're ready for it to be. It's just tiring.
When I realized I was doing myself in, I stopped. I may be really over this whole huge belly in the way of every goddamn thing phase, but it is what it is. I stretched, did some yoga, and went to bed. Migraines and frustration and feeling woefully inadequacy for no rational reason at all are hardly good ways to spend ones time.
It worked. I slept pretty well for the first time in awhile. Sure, I still had to get up every 2-3 hours to pee, but when a mass of humanity is resting, head down, on your bladder, such things are to be expected. I woke up today, made a baller ass cup of coffee and decided it would be a good day for leisure and art, something I have been neglecting in the name of accomplishing "things."
This is the last little bit of time as a non parent I have, I might as well enjoy it. Screw the stupid mental games, it's time to relax.
It dawned on me, after several days of really poor sleep and visual migraines, (auras are a bitch, are they not?), that the source of my frustrations was entirely self perpetuated. You see, when I went in for my 37th week check up, I was in early labor. Early labor! I'd been contracting on and off for a few days, and things were starting to happen. It looked like birth was imminent. So much so that my doctor said there was a 50/50 chance that we'd have the baby in the next 7 days. A few days later, things really kicked up and it seemed like active labor was upon us. It's time! Only...it wasn't.
By the time I decided things were "real enough" to start timing, the contractions started to die down. Then they stopped, dead. We went to bed figuring things would pick up again, but they didn't. Over the next few days all the other early labor signs died off too. WTF. False labor? You sonofabitch. I felt let down. I also felt like I let my husband down, and everyone else who was waiting impatiently for me to poop the kid out. It didn't help that, knowing I was so close to my due date, I was getting more and more "when are you having that baby?!" questions from people. It was like I had somehow failed everyone, when really, everything my body was doing was completely normal. 50/50 is no guarantee, and even though I knew that, I took it as such. I allowed myself to get frustrated.
This far along, everything is made more difficult; walking is hard, sitting is uncomfortable, sleeping is a mess, everything aches and you feel incredibly stretched out and tight in your own skin. You just want it to be over, even if you aren't really sure you're ready for it to be. It's just tiring.
When I realized I was doing myself in, I stopped. I may be really over this whole huge belly in the way of every goddamn thing phase, but it is what it is. I stretched, did some yoga, and went to bed. Migraines and frustration and feeling woefully inadequacy for no rational reason at all are hardly good ways to spend ones time.
It worked. I slept pretty well for the first time in awhile. Sure, I still had to get up every 2-3 hours to pee, but when a mass of humanity is resting, head down, on your bladder, such things are to be expected. I woke up today, made a baller ass cup of coffee and decided it would be a good day for leisure and art, something I have been neglecting in the name of accomplishing "things."
This is the last little bit of time as a non parent I have, I might as well enjoy it. Screw the stupid mental games, it's time to relax.
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Existential Mucosa
If I learned anything between high school biology and now, it's that humanity boils down to a big, fat pile of mucus.
Friday, June 7, 2013
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
A Second Pair of Hands
UPS drops off a huge box. I stare at it realizing I can't move it in on my own.
"Need help?"
"No, it's ok, I've got somebody inside."
UPS man stares at me for a moment, looks at my stomach, looks back at me and stands there puzzled before shrugging and walking off.
It's as if he was waiting for hands to burst forth from my vagina and grab the box. What a story that would have been.
"Need help?"
"No, it's ok, I've got somebody inside."
UPS man stares at me for a moment, looks at my stomach, looks back at me and stands there puzzled before shrugging and walking off.
It's as if he was waiting for hands to burst forth from my vagina and grab the box. What a story that would have been.
Thursday, May 23, 2013
Of Cooking and Clots
It's been quiet since we got home. No more bleeding, no feeling like the strange life form in m belly is trying to split my ribs apart, just your standard pregnancy pains. There's still the nasty business of passing all the clot, but that's nothing compared to how it feels when your placenta tears itself away from your uterine wall. That's good, because I have no desire to go through all that again.
Clot passing feel like mild menstrual cramps. I'm sure the thought makes all the men reading grimace, but get over it fellas. Women have periods and they involve cramping. Clots can come out in big ole hunks or little bits, it depends on how they're feeling. The difference is obvious though, so seeing it happen is no cause for concern.
The worst part of the recovery is being limited in what I can do. I'm a decently active person (or I was before pregnancy made me feel like all energy had been sucked from my body by some celestial vampire reaching down from the stars to steal whatever life I have for its own use.
I rode my bike until 7.5 months, only stopping because my husband was hit head on by a cab while riding his bike. After that I walked the mile from the train station to work and back. Slow, sure, but exercise is a good thing. Now most of my days are spent feet up on the couch. I realize rest is the best thing for my body right now, but man can it be boring. To keep busy I've been trying to catch up on all those little things I couldn't do while working; paperwork, filing, finishing the artwork for babby's room and even...cooking.
Cooking. That thing I don't do because who has the time for it when they work full time and commute? Or at least, that's what I tell myself. In large part that IS the reason but in the back of my head, I have all these voices telling me that a modern, independent woman shouldn't learn these basic domestic skills because that's falling into the old framework of what it means to be a woman. Nevermind that we all have to eat, and that cooking is a good skill to have regardless; I have to constantly battle with the idea that engaging in such skills is a sign of domesticity and failure, not a desire to eat tasty food. Or even a desire to save some dough. Eating out is easy, but it's pretty damn costly as well. Maybe this whole eating in thing is worth a look, eh? Maybe cooking is far less stressful when you actually have time to do it.
As it turns out, I am find it to be an enjoyable endeavor, at least so far. Without the stress of having to cram in a meal and everything else I might need to get done in the short time between 7:30 and 9, I can be far more relaxed about the idea of taking time to make food. I can even make food I WANT to eat, rather than settling for whatever is in the freezer and takes less than 10 minutes. Who knew such things were even possible?
I'm sure the novelty will eventually wear off, and all I'll want is to have someone cook for me, but in the meantime, I'm going to try and enjoy this.
Clot passing feel like mild menstrual cramps. I'm sure the thought makes all the men reading grimace, but get over it fellas. Women have periods and they involve cramping. Clots can come out in big ole hunks or little bits, it depends on how they're feeling. The difference is obvious though, so seeing it happen is no cause for concern.
The worst part of the recovery is being limited in what I can do. I'm a decently active person (or I was before pregnancy made me feel like all energy had been sucked from my body by some celestial vampire reaching down from the stars to steal whatever life I have for its own use.
I rode my bike until 7.5 months, only stopping because my husband was hit head on by a cab while riding his bike. After that I walked the mile from the train station to work and back. Slow, sure, but exercise is a good thing. Now most of my days are spent feet up on the couch. I realize rest is the best thing for my body right now, but man can it be boring. To keep busy I've been trying to catch up on all those little things I couldn't do while working; paperwork, filing, finishing the artwork for babby's room and even...cooking.
Cooking. That thing I don't do because who has the time for it when they work full time and commute? Or at least, that's what I tell myself. In large part that IS the reason but in the back of my head, I have all these voices telling me that a modern, independent woman shouldn't learn these basic domestic skills because that's falling into the old framework of what it means to be a woman. Nevermind that we all have to eat, and that cooking is a good skill to have regardless; I have to constantly battle with the idea that engaging in such skills is a sign of domesticity and failure, not a desire to eat tasty food. Or even a desire to save some dough. Eating out is easy, but it's pretty damn costly as well. Maybe this whole eating in thing is worth a look, eh? Maybe cooking is far less stressful when you actually have time to do it.
As it turns out, I am find it to be an enjoyable endeavor, at least so far. Without the stress of having to cram in a meal and everything else I might need to get done in the short time between 7:30 and 9, I can be far more relaxed about the idea of taking time to make food. I can even make food I WANT to eat, rather than settling for whatever is in the freezer and takes less than 10 minutes. Who knew such things were even possible?
I'm sure the novelty will eventually wear off, and all I'll want is to have someone cook for me, but in the meantime, I'm going to try and enjoy this.
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
How I Nearly Had an Emergency C-Section When All I Wanted Was Tea pt 4
Sunday morning. We're exhausted. My poor husband has been with me all weekend, sleeping on a pull out bed in the room, while nurses flow in and out, checking my contractions, my meds, the baby's heartbeat and anything else they need to. They've given him pillows and blankets to help him be comfortable, but it's a hospital. Sleep is difficult, to say the least.
Sleeping in a hospital room is a lot like sleeping in a hotel, only your bedroom door is constantly being opened so you can be poked and prodded to make sure you're alright. It's loud, it's busy and it's generally not restful. The idea of a full night's sleep in our own bed sounds glorious. The question is, when is that happening? I have my mind set on tonight, but I realize a lot of that is up to how everything is looking.
Admittedly, this is an interesting turn of events. Just the other night I was looking at a C-Section and now, here we are, looking to head home. I'm not bleeding anymore, and haven't been since really early Saturday morning. My contractions, while on going, have settled into more Braxton Hicks type pattern, a huge change from the labor contractions I was having Friday night. I don't even feel them anymore. Haven't for over a day.
This whole deal wasn't supposed to happen. I have no risk factors for placental separation. The attending Doc says these sorts of things are a 1 in 200 chance. They do just happen, but, when they do, they generally only happen once. I still have a clot floating around, and I will need to be very careful, but odds are good the rest of the pregnancy will be uneventful and go full term. I'm cleared to go, and will probably be discharged by 5pm. WHOO! Modified bed rest is in my future. I can't work, but I can at least get up to use the restroom, get myself some food, and light activity. I can't sit down normally for a bit, lest the pressure on my cervix cause problems. I have to recline. Can't ride in a car too long, but I can make it back and forth to my appointments. In a few day slight walking, around the block, will be fine. Just don't do too much. They don't know what caused the tear in the first place and no one wants to see it happen again.
So that was it, that was my weekend. A simple trip for tea turned into a near C-Section and a weekend stay in the county hospital. The lesson here, kids, is weird things can happen. You need to be ready to act when they do.
I want to say thanks to all the nurses and doctors who helped me through the weekend. I seriously had a great nursing crew. They were patient, answered all my questions and were a pleasure to be around. They were everything I always heard nurses could be and they were great at it to boot. Everyone who was on shift came out to say goodbye when I left. I need to send them all flowers or something, seriously.
I did get my tea too, by the way. A nice tall jasmine lime arrived once I was able to eat real food and drink things again.
Sleeping in a hospital room is a lot like sleeping in a hotel, only your bedroom door is constantly being opened so you can be poked and prodded to make sure you're alright. It's loud, it's busy and it's generally not restful. The idea of a full night's sleep in our own bed sounds glorious. The question is, when is that happening? I have my mind set on tonight, but I realize a lot of that is up to how everything is looking.
Admittedly, this is an interesting turn of events. Just the other night I was looking at a C-Section and now, here we are, looking to head home. I'm not bleeding anymore, and haven't been since really early Saturday morning. My contractions, while on going, have settled into more Braxton Hicks type pattern, a huge change from the labor contractions I was having Friday night. I don't even feel them anymore. Haven't for over a day.
This whole deal wasn't supposed to happen. I have no risk factors for placental separation. The attending Doc says these sorts of things are a 1 in 200 chance. They do just happen, but, when they do, they generally only happen once. I still have a clot floating around, and I will need to be very careful, but odds are good the rest of the pregnancy will be uneventful and go full term. I'm cleared to go, and will probably be discharged by 5pm. WHOO! Modified bed rest is in my future. I can't work, but I can at least get up to use the restroom, get myself some food, and light activity. I can't sit down normally for a bit, lest the pressure on my cervix cause problems. I have to recline. Can't ride in a car too long, but I can make it back and forth to my appointments. In a few day slight walking, around the block, will be fine. Just don't do too much. They don't know what caused the tear in the first place and no one wants to see it happen again.
So that was it, that was my weekend. A simple trip for tea turned into a near C-Section and a weekend stay in the county hospital. The lesson here, kids, is weird things can happen. You need to be ready to act when they do.
I want to say thanks to all the nurses and doctors who helped me through the weekend. I seriously had a great nursing crew. They were patient, answered all my questions and were a pleasure to be around. They were everything I always heard nurses could be and they were great at it to boot. Everyone who was on shift came out to say goodbye when I left. I need to send them all flowers or something, seriously.
I did get my tea too, by the way. A nice tall jasmine lime arrived once I was able to eat real food and drink things again.
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