Believe Me Now

Things looked good there for a little while. Monday: Evening (shortly after that last blog post), I went into labor.  Spent the evening, then the whole night, with contractions 6-7 minutes apart.

Tuesday: Mark was up and showered at 5am.  He didn't have to leave for his flight until 2:45pm, we were surely meeting this baby!  Went on a good walk around the neighborhood, notified our doula.  This baby was coming. Relief. We were so happy.  Soon, however, the contractions started to space out, more like 9 minutes apart.  Called midwives.  "Sounds like you are in non-progressing labor.  Take a warm bath, try to go to sleep.  This isn't going to get you anywhere."  Crushed.  Did what they advised.  Said one really hard goodbye.  Mark left for Florida.

My labor didn't exactly stop.  Contractions still hard, 7 minutes apart, all day long.  Went into hospital around 9pm with mom, doula and luggage in hand.  They had to keep me.  Please. Dilated to 3.5cm.  Again, non-progressive labor (or some more medical diagnosis).  No! Midwife still suggests trying to stop labor, like that is going to work.  Sent home with nice dose of Ambien and put to bed by doula.  It's been a sad day.  Surprisingly get 5 hours of somewhat uninterrupted sleep.

Wednesday:  Wake up and labor for a couple hours before mom walks into my room with what she has titled the "Greatest News Ever."  What could possibly be good right now?  "Mark has leave from Jetblue.  He's coming home."  Relief, joy.  Top moment of my life. Made decision that I wouldn't actually ask Mark about job situation until baby was born. Was secretly wondering if he had quit.  Almost didn't care.  Thought baby would come before he arrived, but again, didn't care. Knew I would be okay.

Contractions at 3-4 minutes apart.  Went to hospital at 3pm.  Dilated to 5cm.  They were keeping me!  Labored hard for next 5 hrs.  Mark walks through the door at 8pm.  Happy. So happy.  Then tell him I'm loud and not to be offended if I ignore him.  This takes a lot of concentration.  He does as much work as I do over the 5 hrs, pressing my back as that's my only way to cope.

Thursday: Checked at 1am.  Dilated to 7cm (I only later find out that truly I was more at 5 1/2cm).  Disappointed, but after the way this has gone I expect little more. Midwife gives me 2 options for my "stalled" labor (which feels anything but).  Pitocin or breaking water.  I chose lesser of two evils. Water broken.  Things become a bit blurry from here as contractions give me no more than 20 second breaks for the next few hours.  I remember hating everyone in the room except Mark.  Asking Telling them to give me drugs.  I was done.  And finally realizing that they were indeed not going to give me anything.  I'll spare you, and myself, more details about those bleak hours for now.  I heard my midwife, I heard my doula, when they warned this could keep going for hours upon hours, or face further intervention, if I didn't work through it.  I pulled my last threads of strength together and met my son at 4:55am.  He's a miniature replica of an obese, bald, old man with bad skin.  Also known as the most beautiful baby on earth.   I'm in love all over again.

Now I can say that I had the dream team for my labor and delivery.  They didn't give me drugs, they honored what I really wanted, even when I didn't. They didn't give up, even when I did.  I'm convinced that no one on earth other than this midwife, this doula, and this nurse could have pulled this labor off.  And to have Mark there, well, I got everything I ever wanted.  I asked about his job later in the morning.  When he arrived in Florida, his company said he couldn't stay, that he couldn't miss the birth.  They paid to fly him home on another airline.  He's employed and has a job waiting for him, though we don't know exactly when he'll report back.  We almost named Luke "Jett."  Almost.

To top off my dream team, my good friend, neighbor, and now nurse Erin walked through the door of our room 2 hours after Luke was born.  She hasn't worked on this floor since last August, and only works one day a week, but was assigned to us that morning.  We were (almost) her only patients.  We were in great hands.

So that's my greatest-story-ever-told.  There's a song by Steven Curtis Chapman (don't laugh- I like him), that played in my head over the last month.  It'll be playing for a long time.

Believe Me Now
"Believe me now, believe me here, remember all the times I told you loud and clear.  I am with you, I am for you.  Believe me now."