|Is that a baby in there or are you just happy to see me?|
I am the type of person who has always hesitated to take medications, from aspirin to prescription, but as soon as I had my first contraction, I was willing to sell
With Jack, I was pre-eclamptic. My body swelled so much, so quickly, that I gained ten pounds in a weekend. The fact that this was eight years ago and I didn't have WebMD to scare the shit out of me is probably the only reason I made it through that weekend. When my midwife took one look at me, she had me admitted to the hospital, and I was induced. My cervix went from 2 cm to 10 cm in 45 minutes. It was the worst pain I have ever experienced in my life. My husband took one look at me and tried to buy me an epidural in the gift shop. I think I might have tried to make out with the anesthesiologist when he finally arrived. All I know for sure is when he walked into the room choirs of angels starting singing and a bright light shone down on him from the heavens. I know anethesthiologists are well paid but whatever he makes it is NOT ENOUGH.
With Gabby, my third, labor started like the gun going off at the start of a race. One second we were eating a casserole (poor choice, trust me), the next I had contractions two minutes apart that lasted a minute. I was kind of afraid she was going to be born on the kitchen floor amidst the dirty casserole pans. We had no midwife this time, and were greeted at the hospital by a resident who asked me: "and what brings you in here this evening?" This time, I was given an epidural with a PUMP to manage the medications myself, and I sat in total numbness, relishing my first alone time with my husband in months. I count those few hours the three of us had alone (me, Nick, and the pump) amongst the most romantic of our marriage. And this is even after taking into account the fact that every few minutes, someone checked my cervix.
That, and not pooping on the table.