A First Timer Tells All...Mostly

I was a total first timer. Just to give you an idea of exactly how naive I was about many birthing facts, I'll tell you this: I thought that when the doctor checked for dilation, it was a sort of spot check. Like he'd get in a catcher's position and sort of eyeball it. Maybe use some sort of tape measure or something.

The first clue that I had it wrong was when my doctor said, "You may think I'm reaching for your tonsils." The next was when I literally saw stars. It was so much worse than your run of the mill gyno exam. Especially when, come to find out, I was dilated to a ZERO. Like I said, so much worse. And then I had to come to terms with the fact that I was going to have to endure this every week until delivery. It was enough to make tears come to my eyes.

My major concern as a first timer was the epidural. I was not about to miss my window of opportunity there. Oh, no. Hearing all this business about women who arrived at the hospital too late, or the baby was already crowning...that was not going to be me. So one of my first questions to my nurse (whom we'll call Gigi) was, "Look. I don't mean to be a baby or anything, but I am wondering, when exactly do I ask for an epidural? I don't want to miss it, you know."

She laughed, I think looking back on it a bit diabolically. "Oh, you won't miss it. With a first pregnancy, your labor could go for 24 hours, and you'll know when you need it." I think it is quite possible that Gigi was trained by the Gestapo. She was nice enough and very knowledgeable, but she clearly did not have a problem with pain, as became evident when she said, "What we're looking for is a consistent labor pattern with strong contractions because you don't want to slow things down too much. I think your pain goal should be about a 9."

Pain goal? Nine?? What??? Should I actually have a "pain goal?" Those words don't seem to go together. I thought the whole ideology behind the epidural was the avoidance of pain. Not setting goals for enduring it. And a nine on a scale of 1-10? That's some pretty heavy duty pain in my mind. But like a good first timer I trusted my nurse and settled in for the long haul. "Nine. Hmmm...what does nine feel like, anyway?" I asked myself. "A 10 should be an intolerable sort of pain, so a nine would be somewhere near unbearable."

I had been hooked up to the pitocin for 3 hours and 45 minutes before I felt the first contraction that knocked the wind out of me. I tried to relax. Tried to breathe. I felt pretty proud for about a minute and a half, then the next one hit, and again and again. Wave upon wave. I couldn't get on top of the pain. "If I had some time to rest between I would--" Another contraction hit.

At 11:30 I asked Thomas, "Where is my mom? When is she coming?" Mom arrived close to 12:00, just in time to hear me say, "I can't lay down. I've got to get up. Help me up!" Thomas pulled me to my knees and I threw my arms around his neck burying my face in his chest. "I've got you," he soothed, as the pain made my body go weak.

And then my first birthing miracle occurred. Gigi had to leave to deliver another baby. Nurse #2 entered the room and within two minutes said, "Would you like something for the pain?"

"Yes! What are my options?"

"Well, would you like your epidural?"

"What? Yes! Now. Immediately if possible." I never saw her again, but she has my undying love. The anaesthesiologist was not long before coming in. "Now this might hurt," he warned. But it didn't. The little pinching I felt did not even compare to the hour and a half before it, and then came the drugs: cold loveliness across my shoulder and back. I began to relax, and as I felt the pain blessedly begin to subside, I thought, "I'll never be a first timer again. Huh, nine, shmine! Give my regards to the gestapo, Gigi!"