Here it comes… The long awaited internet unveiling of too much information regarding the birth of my daughter and the absurdities that preceded it. Complete absurdities. A LOT has happened – I will break it up into sections and installments for everyone’s convenience, mainly mine. But I don’t doubt this will be lengthy no matter how much detail I omit. That’s just how it went down… Long, tedious and belabored. Pun intended. Let’s begin.

Chapter 1 – The C-section that wasn’t. 

The frustrations of this day were vented about in my last post — feel free to read that if you’re looking for in the moment feelings, and a few vague details.  What the heck happened? We were scheduled for a c-section on my due date because the baby was sunny-side up. We arrived at the hospital with our excitement and bags packed and nothing on the to-do list except ‘have baby’. We waited in multiple places, signed multiple papers, took multiple pictures- it was the most exciting monotony of our lives… I gowned up, they drew my blood, the anesthesiologists gave me the whole run down of what to expect for surgery and recovery, as did the nurses… And then the ultrasound that clearly should’ve been step 1… It was the first one I ever hated.  There it was on the monitor…the picture of that beautiful perfect head, right in place for the perfect normal, push that baby out delivery. No longer breech. No longer necessitating the surgery that I was so prepared for and five minutes away from. In that moment I was devastated. Ryan was too. Baby was perfectly content and waving at us on the screen. Our mouths dropped and we sat with tears welling as everything going on around us was halted/cancelled/stopped. I was so close to holding my baby and in one second, that joy felt light years away. I begged for an induction even though there was not even a slight medical reason for one… The midwife who had counseled me for the section was on call and ‘argued’ for me to the powers that be with no success… She clearly did so for the sake of my sanity and not because she thought it to be the best plan of action, but I appreciated her support nonetheless… I was sent home, but given the earliest induction date available… A sympathy induction date. A date to give me something tangible to look forward to…

So we left. I put my maternity clothes back on and Ry and I walked down the hall to our gathering of similarly stunned family and we picked ourselves up and went to breakfast at 2pm because I wanted maple syrup. Everyone had mimosas, I had orange juice. Most ordered lunch. I ordered two breakfasts because I had feelings I needed to eat. Topics of conversation included my whiney complaints and methods to naturally induce labor, all of which are just awkward enough to make one want to cry even if you aren’t already on the brink. We came home and played monopoly to pass time.

It wasn’t my favorite day.

Chapter 2 – The Induction that didn’t.

After a week of waiting (& wading) by the pool working on my bump tan, eating way more pineapple than any human should and walking the dog more than necessary in the mid-July heat, we were ready to be induced exactly one week after my due date and the miserable c-section fiasco. The timeline was less than ideal; My father-in-law was headed to Colombia on business (awful), my RI crew already made this trip a week before (super inconvenient), my cousin/sister Katy’s bridal shower was the upcoming weekend and I was clearly going to miss it (uber upsetting) and here we were starting all over again and making false alarm/dress rehearsal/trial run jokes. It made for a far less exciting hospital arrival (been there, done that), but at least we knew all the funny business was finally coming to an end soon… Definitely by Wednesday. The longest inductions I’d heard of were 3 days……

I took notes like a good little mommy blogger… 7:30: Arrived and registered, 8:30: Admitted to L&D room 1726… I made sure to document ev.er.y.thing. so that I wouldn’t forget the details of what I thought would be a very special day. I wrote down what we watched on Netflix, when and what we had for lunch, when I took walks, when I ate popsicles, who the next nurse was… And obviously all of the actual induction details. With each note we grew more and more excited – Each a step closer to meeting Baby Hess. We weren’t just waiting anymore…

Except that we were just waiting… A day full of Madmen, midwife exams, and a few medications down and they finally started my first round of the all mighty pitocin at 10pm Monday night. And we waited… According to the monitors my contractions started but I couldn’t feel them. My main concerns were that:

this mosquito bite was itchy.

& this wasn’t grape.

The pitocin levels were adjusted and increased and a whopping 17 hours of How I Met Your Mother later I reached the maximum level of pitocin. And it did next to nothing. The induction that didn’t. I had yet to feel even a slight cramp never mind the contractions. We walked our many laps around the unit and as I’d smile at the nurses they would cringe and comment that I was far too comfortable. I had only progressed a half centimeter which isn’t really even a thing except they were trying to appease me… I’ve yet to decide whether the midwives glimmers of hope / sanity preservation efforts were actually beneficial.

Once I was on the max dose of pitocin for a while, I was finally uncomfortable — Tuesday evening was a long miserable laboring one complete with lots of moaning, groaning, whimpering and neediness on my end and lots of patience, hand holding, repositioning, supporting and doing everything right on Ryan’s. By midnight it was decision time, I needed relief… Epidural or stop the pitocin and let my body rest for the night and try again the next day… We chose the latter in accordance with the midwife’s recommendation (read: requirement, only option, I’m not giving you an epidural because you are not progressing) although it felt like a major step backwards… This same midwife was the first to comment on the fact that I should be at home and that there was no reason I should’ve been induced before 42 weeks. I was 41.5 at this point. I wasn’t thrilled with her, or the idea of stopping the pitocin and was absolutely NOT entertaining the idea of going home but I was ready to embrace a solid nights sleep… So Wednesday. Wednesday would be the day….

I woke up in the best mood, so so excited and hopeful. I showered, felt completely energized and ready to take on the contractions again and get to the baby finish line. Pitocin started and reached the max levels by lunch…but again it did nothing. The induction that didn’t.  We now had 60 hours invested in this induction and nothing productive had occurred except a made up half centimeter since Monday night. Wednesday evening brought with it the very dreaded conversation. If I were going to go home, this would’ve been the time. I cried openly and unabashedly and squeezed Ryan’s hand tighter than I had through the contractions and physical pain of Tuesday night. This was so much worse. We talked through the let down of going home the first time… And that I blatantly was not going to agree to do that again. I much preferred to forego the ‘comforts of home’ that they tried to lure me out the door with… And instead planned to hold on to the dwindling hope that these medical interventions would eventually succeed. Thankfully, the midwife coming on for the night was warm, attentive and willing to work with me.  She was not quite in agreement with my wishes and seemed surprised by my stark refusal to leave, but ultimately allowed me one last ditch effort. We stopped the second failed round of pitocin and planned to go back to other methods/medications to see if those got us anywhere and after a night of discomfort and prayers we got somewhere – another half centimeter… Hardly enough to call progress.

What day is it now? Valid question… It’s Thursday morning- the 4th day.  At this point I am exhausted,       sick of the IVs and monitors, incredibly sore and immobile due to swelling and worst of all, on the defensive.  Stay tuned for the next installment, where my least favorite midwife joins the team… *eyeroll*

…this saga does have a beautiful, happy ending worth returning for, I promise.