They Don't Call It Labor for Nothing

The anesthesiologist still isn’t there a few minutes later and one of the nurses hits my IV with the Stadol. It was like I had just drunk four margaritas in quick succession; I could still feel the pain but I didn’t really care anymore. Just about that time the anesthesiologist finally strolls in the room. I have a nurse on either side of me trying to get me through the contractions and finish admitting me and Yale fanning me with some random laminated folders that happened to be in the room while this guy asks me questions that I could have much more easily answered had he been there earlier. Am I allergic to anything? No. What medication am I currently taking? I responded to that one by jabbing Yale in the stomach because I could not speak due to the pain he was supposed to be preventing. The doctor was very lucky that I was unable to get out of the bed, as I was not feeling too charitable to the male half of the human species at that moment and I certainly wasn’t feeling charitable to him, especially with the attitude he had. I’m sorry sir that my child decided to be born after you had already gone home for the evening and that my labor was inconvenient for you, but considering you are making an awful lot of money for this, you can kiss my ass. When he was finished asking the questions he could have found the answers to in my chart, which he was flipping through, he asked the magical question: Are you ready for your epidural?

Now remember, I had been given a rather powerful drug that relaxed me enough to feel great hatred towards the man who arrogantly was standing in front of me as if he were God. I had already had this conversation with the nurse before I was given drugs and pissed off and at that time I was undecided. I stared at the guy who was as sympathetic to my pain as I was to his having to leave his house in order for him to do his job. While I may have been in pain and this may have been the person able to relieve it, I was still Jenna and still mean and lucid enough to know the victory I was about to claim. “No thanks. I’ve gotten this far without it; I’m pretty sure I can make it the rest of the way.”

There was no going back at this point. I had gone without anything but Tylenol for most of the day and I certainly wasn’t going to voluntarily do something to myself that was going to prolong this, no matter how much less discomfort I was going to experience. Jenna was getting this shit done.

The on call doctor arrived and introduced herself to me—this is when things started going really fast. It seemed like everyone (except Dr. God) was in the room. Yale was told to grab one leg, a nurse grabbed the other, and off we went. My water was broken and the contractions began even faster. I hadn’t planned on a natural birth so my poor nurses had to talk me through it. I had so many directions being hurled my way I felt like I was some poor understudy who never planned on having to star on opening night.

Of course one pushes with each contraction—I had learned that a long time ago from watching Discovery Health. What I didn’t know was that I was going to have one rather annoying nurse standing over my left shoulder telling me to push when I wasn’t having a contraction and to breathe when I was. Had I not been so busy, I believe I would have punched her. This was the same nurse who was saying “Don’t make so much noise, you’re just going to tire yourself out.” Now, I didn’t want to make a scene and had not planned on screaming or anything. However, when one is doing something as primal as giving birth without pain killers, a little noise should be expected. I personally didn’t think I was that loud and it wasn’t like I was yelling curse words (although I could have and she just didn’t even know). Luckily, a more competent nurse told her to stop trying to direct me because I was doing just fine.

I was having trouble breathing even though I had an oxygen mask. The contractions were coming so fast I didn’t have time to catch my breath between them. I knew I should have not pushed on every contraction (everyone was telling me to slow down), but the sensation to do so is overwhelming. I can honestly say I have never been so concentrated on what my body was doing that almost everything else was blocked out—there was no reasoning with myself, no thinking about what I should do, just what I was doing. I did hear them say the baby’s heart rate was slowing down.

8 cm

I still had three weeks left until my due date. I had been ignoring Yale's urging to pack my hospital bag and no baby clothes were clean--they were just hanging in the nursery. When we told my mom we were finally going to the hospital she came over to help. I wasn't lucid enough to pack my own things, and honestly most of what I would have packed needed washing, so she just threw a bunch of things in a bag--luckily I was able to remember a few necessities (like shampoo) and added them to the lot. I remembered reading online to take my own pillow and make sure the case was a bright color so it wouldn't get confused with hospital bedding; we had to go back inside to get it and a red pillow case.
By this time, about 8:15 or so, it had been raining for a while, a nice steady rain that wasn't letting up. I squeezed into the front seat of the Focus (the infant seat in the back crowded the front passenger seat almost into the windshield) and Yale began driving. We didn't call Yale's parents and told mine to take their time getting ready to go to the hospital because if I really was in labor it would be a long wait. I had to tell Yale a few times to slow down because I was not going to be standing on the side of the road in the rain if he had an accident.
We arrive at River Oaks at 8:38 (I remember because we were able to take the main entrance to the Baby Suites; after 9 you have to enter through a side door). We go to the second floor (luckily Yale had the presence of mind to ask the doctor where to go as I had been planning on having this discussion with my doctor at the next appointment, therefore I had no clue) and walk off the elevator. The entire floor was empty except for a woman sitting in the hall with a toddler talking on her cell phone. I guess she read the pain on my face and asked if we needed help. Yale told her we were looking for labor and delivery. She said we needed to go and press the button on the wall and that the nurses would let us in. I go and push the button.
Nothing happens. No one comes over the intercom to ask if they could help us. I push again. Again nothing. Yale is beginning to freak out. He starts to stalk down the hall in the opposite direction in search of SOMEONE. I push the button one more time and a rather impatient voice comes over and says, "Yes?" "Um....I think I'm in labor."
The door is unlocked and we walk down the corridor towards what looks like an official looking spot. "You haven't been here before have you?" Yale and I look at each other. I'm wondering why this woman is asking us if we'd been there, almost like one asks in a restaurant, when she clarifies, "You haven't preregistered have you?" "No." I manage to grunt as I am leaning against the counter holding my belly. I am told to go to a room while Yale begins the paperwork.

The room was dark and I had no idea what I was supposed to do so I just kind of stand there. A nurse finally comes in and turns on the light and leaves. Then another comes in and starts getting things going. I put on a hospital gown and she wants to do an examination. Yale is there beside me holding my hand.

“Okay, I’m going to need you to be very calm right now,” says the nurse. Great, I think, I’m probably about 2 cm out of 10 dilated and will have to sit here all night until these stupid contractions subside. “You’re 8 cm dilated.”

“WHAT?! Are you kidding?” I manage to gasp, incomplete shock.

“What’s that mean?” asks Yale.

“It means we’re having a baby. And soon,” the nurse replies as she practically runs from the room to get everyone else moving. It’s about 9 o’clock.

The only thing I could think of was that he was still 3 weeks early. That means that his lungs, which are the last to fully mature, may not be ready. Had I been like any other sane woman, and gone to the hospital that morning, I would probably been given something to stop the contractions and then been given steroids that would help his lungs mature faster. As it was I stubborn and now we were way past stopping anything.

“Are you getting an epidural?”

“Uh, I guess so. I had planned to,” I said, thinking that I had planned to when I was envisioning myself getting to the hospital with hours and hours of labor ahead of me. As it was, I didn’t know how much I had but I knew it wasn’t hours.

“Well, we’ve called the anesthesiologist and he’s on his way.”

“How far away is he?” I grunt as another contraction begins.

Ten minutes and many painful contractions later the anesthesiologist still isn’t there.

“Okay, here’s the deal. Your water hasn’t broken so the doctor will break it when she gets here. If you get an epidural you won’t feel anything but it will slow the labor down. I’m not trying to dissuade you from having pain medication but you’re up to 9 cm and that baby is coming.”

I ask if there is anything they can give me to take the edge off. They say yes, Stadol, but if I get it the baby will be really lethargic when he gets here. I decide to wait.

General Tso's Chicken

Just a piece of advice: when nine months pregnant, don't eat a meal that could cause you to mistake labor for gas pains or indigestion.
Tuesday morning began much like any day--the alarm went off for Yale at 6 o'clock and he got up to get a shower. I had had trouble sleeping the night before but this was not a new development; I hadn't slept really well all night for about 4 months. I laid there for a bit, thinking that my General Tso's Chicken from the night before hadn't settled well. I thought, like most pregnant women, great, I get to deal with having gas today on top of everything else I need to do.
I had some breakfast (which I strangely can't remember) and got back in the bed after Yale went to work because I was feeling so crappy. My mother had taken the day off because she too had had the GTC for Monday night's dinner and wasn't feeling well either. I watched some of the Olympic coverage with Deuce and Tess, all the while getting really angry about the Chinese food. I wasn't doubled over in pain but I certainly wasn't ready to go to the grocery store (which I needed to do desperately) or do laundry (which, again, really needed to be done).
I began to think that maybe I was feeling so bad because not only had I eaten that evil food, but I was also having Braxton-Hicks contractions. I had been having them off and on for a few weeks, possibly longer that I just didn't notice, with the latest bout having been on Sunday. I had felt wonderful Monday, Rachel even came by for a visit during which we watched Platinum Weddings and insulted the rich bitch bride for spending $12,000 on a custom made Amsale gown that looked like it was made from synthetic satin.
Fast forward to lunchtime. Yale is very concerned, as he had been whenever I even mentioned feeling slightly odd, and tells me to call the doctor. I really didn't want to because my symptoms were so vague: just a slight discomfort in the lower abdomen that I had already dismissed as indigestion and cramping that I had explained as very normal Braxton-Hicks contractions. I did as he asked, however, and called and left a message for the triage nurse, as my doctor/nurse combo was in surgery. She called back about an hour later, I described my symptoms and what I thought they were, and she agreed with me that it was most likely a very normal, very inane event with a woman who was 36, almost 37, weeks pregnant. I was advised to eat some lunch, take some Tylenol, relax in the tub, and call if any signs of labor developed. I had my weekly appointment with my doctor the next morning and I decided that I would just wait and go to that before freaking out and demanding to be seen that afternoon.
By late afternoon, around 4 or so, I was beginning to get irritated. I had been looking all day online for a definite way for me to tell if I was in labor or not. My back was hurting but, again, I was 36 weeks pregnant and had gained about 35 lbs. by this point--of course my back was hurting! But my abdominal cramps were getting more painful, which I attributed to my impatience at the situation and my exhaustion from having been dealing with them since the night before, and I just wanted to know what was going on. I got back in the hot bath and was trying to decide with my mother what to do. She is not a person to get birth advice from and she was as confused by my symptoms as I was. The lists online for "Labor" and "False Labor" both had symptoms I was having. I still didn't think I was in labor, although I had to admit that if I wasn't it was a pretty convincing false alarm.
My mom had made dinner for herself and my dad, and made some for Yale and I also since I had been feeling so horrible all day. She brought it over right before it started raining.
Yale got home around 6 and commenced asking very reasonable questions, which just served to annoy me. I was so convinced that this was false labor I wouldn't entertain any other options. We sat down and ate, me stopping every few minutes to deal with a cramp. After dinner I decided, at the urging of Yale and my parents, to call the doctor's office and get the on call doctor to discuss my symptoms with me. She called and I told her I didn't think I was in real labor, my water hadn't broken, and that I hadn't been timing the "contractions" because there was no rhyme or reason to them--nothing regular, nothing to time. She told me to try and start timing them for an hour and to call if there were any developments. This was about 7 pm. We tried to use an online contraction timer for a while but it kept messing up--it was saying that my contractions were about 2 to 3 minutes apart, which couldn't be possible (at least I thought so). I finally looked at Yale around 8 and said "If this isn't real labor than it's a really mean joke. Let's go to the hospital so that they can either stop this or can go ahead and get real labor moving." Yale called the on call doctor and told her the new developments and she agreed that we should go to the hospital, if for nothing else than to be reassured that nothing was really happening.

A Model in the Making

The Early Bird Catches the Worm

Jonah Yale Murphy
Born: August 19th, 2008
Weighed: 6 lbs. 5 oz.
Length: 19.5 in.

Will post more when I get some sleep!!!

I Blame Shelby

Shelby sent me a link to an awesomely funny blog called Cake Wrecks (http://cakewrecks.blogspot.com/) about cakes baked by professionals that aren't exactly what the person ordered. There are also some really disturbing cakes that may be exactly what was ordered (see the baby shower cakes).
Now I want cake ALL THE TIME. I know that most of those cakes shown probably taste like shit, but I also realize that in the Big Mac commercials the burger will never look/taste as good as they claim and that doesn't make me stop wanting one.

I ♥ (burn) You

I am currently taking two extra strength Pepcids a day and using Tums as necessary.
This big ol' baby boy is pushing all my organs to funny places in my abdomen and my stomach I am pretty sure is somewhere near my right boobie. Needless to say, this doesn't make the stomach happy, therefore it takes out it's displeasure on me by producing so much acid reflux I feel like I could breathe fire at just about any time of day or night.
Anyone have any remedies out there that is safe for the baby? While I am partial to ice cream, I have a feeling my doctor wouldn't agree.

It's the Final Countdown!

As requested:
I am currently 35 weeks pregnant (nine months). Full term is 37 weeks, meaning the baby is ready for the outside world. A due date is scheduled for 40 weeks--that's technically full gestation.

For all baby shower attendees

Hudson's in Ridgeland has TONS of super nice baby stuff for half off (at least they did Sat.).
Also, if anyone is wanting to get rid of baby stuff, we are happy for hand-me-downs.

A sign of the apocolypse

COLUMBUS, Ohio (AP) -- A death row inmate scheduled for execution says he's too fat to be put to death, claiming executioners would have trouble finding his veins and that his weight could diminish the effectiveness of one of the lethal injection drugs.

Death row inmate Richard Cooey says executioners would have trouble finding his veins to lethally inject him.

Lawyers for Richard Cooey argue in a federal lawsuit that Cooey -- 5-feet-7 and 267 pounds -- had poor veins when he faced execution five years ago and the problem has been worsened by weight gain.

The lawsuit, filed Friday in federal court, also says prison officials have had difficulty drawing blood from Cooey for medical procedures.

Cooey, 41, is sentenced to die for raping and murdering two young women in 1986. His execution is scheduled for October 14.

His attorneys say a drug he is taking for migraine headaches could affect the execution process. The drug Topamax, a type of seizure medication, may have created a resistance to thiopental, the drug used to put inmates to sleep before two other lethal drugs are administered, Dr. Mark Heath, a physician hired by the Ohio Public Defender's Office, said in documents filed with the court.

Heath says Cooey's weight, combined with the potential drug resistance, increases the risk he would not be properly anesthetized.

"All of the experts agree if the first drug doesn't work, the execution is going to be excruciating," Cooey's public defender, Kelly Culshaw Schneider, said Monday.

Prison system spokeswoman Andrea Carson and Jim Gravelle, a spokesman for the Ohio Attorney General's Office, both said Monday they hadn't seen the lawsuit and couldn't comment.

Last year, Carson cited the obesity of condemned inmate Christopher Newton as one of the reasons prison officials had difficulty accessing his veins before his execution. Newton was 6 feet tall and weighed 265 pounds.

Two years ago, convicted killer Jeffrey Lundgren was put to death after a federal appeals court rejected his claim that he was at greater risk of experiencing pain and suffering because he was overweight and diabetic.

Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Everyday

There are so many new forms of birth control out there, and so many advertisements, that I am sick of listening to it all.

YAZ--A new form of BC that takes care of the symptoms that are caused by PMS
Seasonale--A new form of birth control that allows you to have a period only once every three months
Mirena--A new form of birth control that prevents pregnancy for up to five years
NuvaRing--A form of birth control for idiots

Okay, so that last one isn't an accurate description, but come on! I am really offended by some of the tactics the marketing people use to try and convince women that they are too stupid/crazy to take a regular birth control pill or use any other form of BC than hormonal methods.
Everyone remembers the YAZ commercials with the women discussing their periods in a nightclub? While it no longer runs, I (and every other person I know, including my OB-GYN) HATED that ad. Number one, very rarely does a group of female friends discuss their menstrual symptoms unless something weird is going on, and then they may decide to keep those problems between themselves and their doctors. Number two, who goes out and then decides that the topic of conversation is going to be how miserable they feel? Honestly, if that was the game plan for the evening, everyone would have been much happier staying at home in pjs with ice cream and a screening of Dirty Dancing. While that particular commercial is no longer making the rounds of daytime TV, a slightly more annoying one that is all high energy and bright colors is. Ad execs, you are marketing a birth control pill to grown women, not the newest knock off Barbie that looks like it should be working a street corner rather than taking up residence in a little girl's toy box.
Seasonale is not new. Taking a regular BC pill continuously in order to avoid Aunt Flo has been well known and documented for years. I myself have even practiced this with a "regular" pill in the past. However, I have heard of some pretty bad side effects from the Seasonale version, including a continuous period for the first cycle of the pills (that's three whole months in case you weren't doing the math) and an unplanned pregnancy that wasn't discovered until three months after conception; three months which included some pretty dubious behavior on the mommy-to-be's part and a hazy recollection of who exactly was the proud papa. Why this kind of continuous usage has these side effects and just using a normal BC pill in the same way doesn't (at least in my own experience) I have no idea.
The IUD (or intrauterine device) is the most commonly used form of BC in Europe. It used to be widespread in the US until the '70s when one type ended up poisoning some women and killing them. Apparently, it's been long enough to begin re-marketing the product under the name Mirena. It also has a really annoying commercial with a bunch of gingers and while I applaud the fact that it does disclose some of the more unsavory possible side effects, it doesn't even bother telling potential consumers one important thing: lots of doctors don't insert them. It is considered one of the most effective forms of BC, mainly because it doesn't rely on the lazy/moronic consumer to do anything other than visit their dr., but not having access to it does seem to make the use a little more difficult--at least in my humble opinion.
The NuvaRing is really just like pill, only it only needs to be remembered once a week instead of once a day. This is the main commercial that irritates me. I, of all people, know that remembering to take a pill everyday at exactly the same time can be difficult what with the stress involved in everyday life. But that's not the point of the commercial. It talks about how hard it is to take something everyday. It's not hard--just pop the thing and take it (hell, pill heads always seem to remember). Insinuating that it's difficult to take the normal pill, therefore you need to have this thing you only remember once a week, is implying that your market is either stupid ("So you mean I put this in my mouth and swallow it, every day? Wow!") or so lazy that your marketing is a waste of time because they will probably not use the ring anyway.
I haven't decided what kind of BC I will be using after baby, but I am certainly getting all kinds of info thrown at me. Maybe I'll just do what the girls at East Rankin were told--hold an aspirin between my knees and make sure it doesn't fall out. ;-)