Warning: Due to the violent and somewhat graphic nature of this post, reader discretion is advised! (well, ok...only for those primigravidas out there!!)
It all began one dark and stormy night...Seriously folks, it was a little before 8:00 pm on Tuesday, the 18th. My contractions started and continued to get closer together and noticeably stronger. By 1:00 am they were 6 minutes apart, and we decided to call Enza, the best doula in the world. My contractions continued at a steady rate, until Enza arrived. They tapered off, and at one point were almost an hour apart. Enza left for the morning, while contractions continued, but not with the consistency at which they had started. A few hours later, around noon, we called Enza to come back up. Contractions were again 6-7 minutes apart, and had stayed that way for over 2 hours. By the time she arrived, they were relatively painful and coming more frequently. By 5:00pm on Wednesday, we decided to call the doctor since my contractions were then 3-5 minutes apart and quite painful. Shocker, right?! We arrived at the hospital, fully anticipating that I would be at least a good 6 cm. dilated. I was checked and the verdict was 3 cm! I almost cried. They let me walk for 2 hours and at that point was rechecked, 4 cm. As the night wore on, my contractions remained irregular, anywhere from 3-12 minutes apart. Despite the inconsistency, the intensity continued to increase. Miguel and Enza were absolutely incredible. They championed through the night with me, helping to ease the frustrations, pains, and feelings of failure.
By 4:00am on Thursday, I was utterly exhausted and knew I couldn't continue for hours on end and then have to push at the end. With much hesitation and frustration, I asked for an epidural. Pride was my main factor in not wanting pain relief. I had made it this far, why not continue. The midwife checked me one more time, to reveal I was only 5.5cm. Shoot me up. I was exhausted and done. Had the labor NOT been 32 hours to that point, I would have continued on. But 5.5 cm with no end in sight...hmm...part one of birth plan-out the window-Epidural received. Rest achieved and pain relief so sweet.
Part 2 and 3 out the window: water broken, Pitocin administered. I continued to labor until 10:00 am on Thursday morning, the 20th (38 hours and counting), when finally the verdict came in that I was fully dilated. Thank you JESUS! As I began pushing, part 4 of birth plan out the window-pooped on the table...lots of times. How humiliating, especially with two student nurses in the room! Seriously, why didn't someone get me the deodorizing spray?! I wanted to gag!
Part 5 and 6 out the window: After pushing for 2.5 hours, the doctor decided I was too small to push out our little girl, so they gave me an episiotomy, thinking she would pop right out. Nope. They had to use the vacuum to help her on her way.
Seconds later, at 12:26pm, Isabel Renee Barowski came into the world. Miguel and I both bawled, she screamed, and we cried even more. The 40.5 hours of labor was surely NOT forgotten (how in the world do women say that they forget the pain?!?!), but it was all worth it. Every second of every minute of every stinking long hour. Every part of the "failed" birth plan was trivial. Our little girl was safe, healthy and ours, finally.
