Iain's story... it must be told!

You probably don't want to hear about Iain's birth story... BUT, isn't this what all mommies do -- share the long, drawn-out, gut-wrenching details!? Either that, or it's just something we mommies have to somehow capture before every last scrap of that memory has disintegrated into the oblivion.... (Otherwise, would we go through the torture again? And again?!)

At any rate, I'll make this somewhat short... and certainly less painful than the real deal.

Sean and I went in to the hospital on Monday morning, December 21, for a "final check-up." My OBGYN was out of town, so another doctor "did the honors." I wasn't progressing as much as they'd hoped, so they scheduled me to come in that night for "the procedure." (What's "the procedure?" Well, short and simple: the "substitute doctor" inserted two balloons. Not the party kind of balloon. And, believe me, it was no fun celebration. Enough said.)

I started having contractions after that... some of them pretty intense, but it was nothing "special." I was told that nothing would happen until the next day - when they induced me -- so I was instructed to "just get some rest." YEAH... right! Where have I heard THAT before...... could it be the FIRST time I did this -- with Jaiden? (I was also told that the balloons would fall out when I was 4 cm dilated. Hmmm.... Keep that in mind!)

Around midnight, having viewed a few "Lost" (season 5) episodes and having watched Sean play XBOX 360 games for several hours, the pain was getting a bit much (the labor pain, that is, not the headache from trying to figure out "Lost" or the eye strain from watching video games on a tiny hospital TV). The nurse brought me some pain medication, and I was somewhat "comfortable" for about an hour.... between contractions, that is. (I happened to notice that the contractions were pretty close together. Like every 2 minutes or so. But those dang balloons were still there, so I was convinced nothing was really happening.)

Suddenly -- and I mean suddenly -- everything changed. I went from somewhat painful contractions to whopping, intense, INSANE contractions. Sean immediately called for the nurse. She came in. Then another nurse came in. And another.... It was rather 3-ring-circus like for a few minutes, as my mind reeled and my body convulsed from the pain. Out with the balloons. Something must be happening here... oh, looky! We're 8 cm dilated! (I thought those balloons were good until 4! AGH! Stupid balloons!)

I was in full-blown labor and suffering by this point. And since it was about 2:30 in the morning, the nurses on duty had to call for the on-call doctor... which also meant that I could not get an epidural until the doctor arrived. I honestly thought I'd explode while we waited. Really. And I'm sure Sean and the nurses thought my bed would explode, as I held on to it while shaking violently from the pains. FUN, eh? (Oh, and the family was called by this time... and everyone made it quickly and safely to the hospital.)

The on-call OBGYN finally made her way in -- about an hour later. Let's see: yep. 8 cm. Let's break the water... and get that epidural... just in time. I nearly passed out. Nearly threw-up. Nearly lost my mind. Then the super-heroic anesthesiologist saved the day! Ha-ha! ;)

It's just too bad that we were so close to shift change. After my epidural, we sat and waited. And waited. And waited some more. No one checked me after 9.5 cm. My nurse kept telling me to "close your eyes and get some sleep!" Ummmm.... you're only supposed to go to 10 cm, and then you push! And you want me to SLEEP!??! Yeah. OK.

Sure enough, at 5 am, the new nurses were on duty. Mine came in around 5:13 and made a starling discovery: I was 10 cm and ready to push. Wow. Startling. (I was 9.5 cm 2 hours ago, people. Sheesh!) ;)

SO... around 5:30ish, the pushing began. But my very calm, mild, soft-spoken nurse was not the loud, gung-ho cheerleader type needed to help convince a very sleep-deprived, half-numb mommy to push a watermelon... well, you get my point!

I pushed. But not much happened. I pushed some more. Same results.

Iain started to stress out a bit, so they inserted a little doohicky on his head to track his heartbeat. And then they gave me oxygen. I getting WAY too tired by this time. Luckily, MY doctor arrived on the scene around 6:30. (And about 5 or 6 other people started roaming around the room, too. It was weird. But, I was out of it by that point and didn't much care anymore.) She told me the not-so-great news: we would need to use forceps. Maybe that announcement did it for me... 'cause the next few pushes did more than the whole lot that preceded them! And, lo and behold.... little Iain made his way into the world... at 7:06 am... while a very proud daddy (and a totally exhausted mommy) cried with joy and relief!

Ah, the miracle of life!
(And the miracle of forgetting how traumatic the miracle of life can be in order for your body and mind to reset itself and even consider going through the trauma yet again in order to experience the miracle of life more than once...)