“Honey, take your time, cause I don’t mind, waitin’ on a woman.”
-Brad Paisley
We had been waiting for what seemed like an eternity for our little lady to arrive. My friends and family were afraid to text or call me anymore. My husband didn’t know which woman he was coming home to at night. I had tried every natural method to go into labor, and at the end gave up on it all, sat on the couch, cried and ate nachos.
I went to the point that my doctor and I weren’t comfortable waiting anymore, so an induction was scheduled. I cried for 3 days about it since I wanted an all-natural experience, but I wanted a safe arrival more so we arrived at the hospital, excited and scared, at 5:30 in the morning to start the induction. I curled my hair and everything.
I heard that Pitocin contractions were more intense, but I was convinced that I could power through it and, hopefully, deliver my daughter in a short amount of time. Seriously, I was already dilated to a 3 and my body had been labor-ready for almost 3 weeks, (my doctor had been telling me, “any second now!”) I was convinced that my body just needed a little push to get the party started.
The contractions started around 8:00. My wise and fabulous doula was there, coaching me through the pains. My husband, sister and mother took turns massaging me and encouraging me. At this point, I was still laughing and telling stories in between contractions. Natural birth? Bring it!
Then something started changing fast. I had less time in between contractions and they were at maximum intensity for way too long. I braced myself; I just knew I was in transition and I would get to push and finally meet our daughter. My doctor came in to check my progress, and I assumed she would tell me that I was dilated to a 10. I prided myself and my brave 3 hours of natural labor. Iwas ready for the great dilation news!
“You’re still a 3.” My doctor quietly said.
And I lost it. I mean, really lost it. Like,
no emotional control. I had been in horrible pain that I thought was progressing my labor, but it turns out I was just in maximum pain and still at a 3. I now hated the number 3. And I gave up, right then and there.
“I WANT AN EPIDURAL! “
My husband and doula reminded me of my well-thought out natural birth plan while my loyal sister shot out of the room and yelled up and down the hall for the epidural fairy. My Mom and my doula coached me through the contractions from hell and my husband consulted with my OB. I tried to focus, but I was really trying to figure out how to rip out my IV’s and run for the door.
I continued to fall apart. I was biting the bed and yelling “MAMA!!”. (Cause when you hurt like that, only yo momma can make it better). My doula and my Mom got bossy, (I needed it), and I tried not to vomit as the contractions ripped through my body.
Anyone who came between me and an epidural at that point was my enemy.
30 agonizing minutes later- the elixir of life was coursing through my body. Apparently, it was just what I needed because I dilated from a 3 to a 10 in 2 short hours. My doctor walked in and said it was time. I remember saying, “I get to meet her now…I finally get to meet my daughter!”
My husband held my hand, my mother cried, my sister took pictures and my doula faithfully kept to the remainder of my tattered birth plan. 2 pushes later, Miss Lilah Joy finally,
and I do mean finally, graced us with her arrival. When my son was born, I wept. When she was born, I laughed…and I couldn’t stop laughing. There was this perfect little lady in my arms. And yes, she was very much worth the wait.
