What Happened

So, I think Emilie and Shawn were keeping you updated last week, but as you know, I was bound and determined and pretty darn convinced that I was going to have to be induced on Wednesday the 24th (with Pitocin being started on Thursday morning the 25th).  I say convinced because my doctor said "there's no way this baby is coming on his own".  She's been doing this a lot longer than I have.

I was planning with Wednesday in mind.  Pacing out my "to dos" because bedrest was starting to get to me.

Well, low and behold, after feeling what I thought were B-H contractions (or some... um.... gas), taking myself off bedrest for a couple hours to finish off the baby registry at BRU, eating at my favorite sushi restaurant, and meeting Julie and Baby Danny for ice cream, and funnily enough, joking about how the upcoming storm and changes in barometric pressure could put me into labor....  my water broke.

I mean BROKE. 

In comedy-movie-this-doesn't-happen-in-real-life-fashion.

After a quick call to Julie to confirm I didn't pee myself... it was on.

I decided I needed to shower (since I'm classy and hadn't that day).

Shawn called the doctor, who asked to speak to me, and he said "but she's in the shower".  She meant it.  And sent me straight to the hospital.

After downloading a few more CDs to our IPod.

And re-packing our suitcase that had slowly come unpacked after two weeks of waiting around.

And calling some very excited grandparents.

We rolled into Sibley around 5:30, and they got me hooked up to an IV of antibiotics, and another one of Pitocin to get labor started.  And that it did.

Labor... it stunk.  It hurt.  A lot.

Then I asked for my epidural around midnight, and only 2 cms dilated.  Contractions were two minutes apart and really really painful.  And Labor... it still stunk.  And still hurt.  A lot.

I should've known something was wrong when the anethesiologist was telling me all the things that would start happening when the epidural was kicking in, and none of them were happening to me.

I laid there, wide awake, from midnight to 7am thinking.  "How do women do this?"  "I'm never going through this again."  "Maybe I'm just a complete and total wuss."  "What do you mean, I'm still 2 cms dilated."  "Epidurals suck... what's the point."

It turns out that around 7am when I finally got the courage to say that my pain was still there.  And this "pressure" I was supposed to be feeling while under the epidural was just PAIN, pure and simple, that we found out my epidural didn't take.

In came another doctor, and another epidural. 

Ya'll?  Epidurals ROCK. 

They are awesome. 

Women do this.  They have second children after first ones.  They aren't complete and total wusses.  Those things the doctors say are supposed to happen?  They happen when your epidural works! 

Then my blood pressure dropped.  (Ironic isn't it?).  Dropped big time.  To 80/50.  For a few hours.  Baby Robbie wasn't in distress, so they just put some more drug cocktails in the mix, and we were off to the races.

And then labor turns a little boring.

You watch a few episodes of Maury Povich.  You doze off some, since you watched the clock every two minutes throughout the whole night.  You get visited by the doctor and learn that you haven't made any labor progress at all in the 18 hours you have been there.  And you learn that you are going to have a c-section.

And all is ok.  Other than the thought of them cutting you open.

And worrying that your epidural will wear off when you are on the operating table.

It didn't. 

The doctor who assisted in the c-section?  Went to college with me, apparently.  We chatted through mutual friends.  The whole time I'm thinking "I'm probably pretty happy that he can't see me on the other side of this sheet and vice versa.   This could be awkward."

I think the c-section freaked Shawn out.  They bring the dads in after you are already strapped to the table, crucifix style.  There's a reason that the men don't have the babies.  I started shaking pretty uncontrollably from the meds... more Shawn freak outs.

But then there was a baby.  It happened quickly!  A crying "grunting" baby. 

Baby Robert Lacy!

The "grunting" got him sent to the special care nursery after a quick photo shoot with Dad, and it wasn't until about 9pm that evening I was able to meet him. 

It was totally worth it.

Introducing, in his Palmetto outfit, our Palmetto Baby.