I'm sacrificing sleep for this, I'll have you know. They say rest when the baby rests. I wonder how many women actually follow this advice, because I can't seem to. Yes, I do nap when I can, but when she sleeps is the only time I can do little things for myself. I'm talking little things, like using the restroom, checking e-mail, tidying up here and there, eating. So without further ado, here's the birth story.
Sunday the 4th was the last day X and I had to ourselves. We didn't do much together, but we did go out to eat at Olive Garden. We used a gift card someone gave us, since neither of us really wanted to cook. I felt little cramps here and there, but nothing I figured I should worry about. I probably went to sleep around eleven that night. I awoke maybe two hours later, around 1:30 something. I woke up 'cause I had to pee, but as soon as I stood up getting out of bed, I felt something coming out. Turned out to be a glob of blood, which I can only assume was this "bloody show" all the books and classes had kept referring to. That being said, those same books said just because the "bloody show" occurs doesn't mean labor is beginning, but that it would be imminent. Knowing that, I didn't worry too much. I figured I still had time and that I would still be making my 10am appointment with my doctor.
But now that I was awake I started feeling the cramps more and they were slightly stronger than the day before. I didn't want to get back in bed, 'cause I didn't want to risk more blood coming out and I really didn't want to worry about cleaning up a mess, so instead I grabbed X's watch and sat on the recliner. I figured I would humor myself to see if there was any consistency between each cramp. There wasn't. Some were nine minutes apart, some were seven, then back to eight, and then maybe six. They seemed to last around 45 seconds to a minute each. I still thought it wasn't a big deal. I didn't want to wake up X and I still figured I would just wait til my appointment. They were a bit painful, but nothing I wasn't able to tolerate every eight minutes.
When the cramps came down to every six minutes, I thought, ok, maybe I should call my OB's office just in case. It was around 2:30 at this point. I called the emergency line and was put in touch with my nurse. I felt bad waking her, but I relayed to her what was happening. She, in her sleepy voice, instructed me to head for the hospital. I went to wake up X. I told him it was time. He said, "Damn, I just lost 5 bucks to your mom." Apparently, some betting had been going on without my knowledge. So he gets up, calls my parents and lets them know we'll be heading to the hospital soon. I started grabbing a couple of things, changed my clothes and made up the bed - YES, made my bed - all between contractions. We probably didn't head to the hospital until around 3:30. This was partly due to the fact that every time I had a contraction I felt the need to use the restroom, whether it be one or two.
Anyway, we finally left the apartment and en route to the hospital I probably had three or four more contractions. For each contraction, all I could do was do what I learned in class: breathe in through my nose, blow out with my mouth. It didn't lessen the pain, but somehow made it more manageable. X for some reason chose Juanes as our soundtrack to the hospital. "Es por tiiiiiiiii" was stuck in my head for awhile.
When we reached the hospital I went in alone and let X go park the car. I made my way to the baby floor, found some nurses behind a desk and said "I think I'm in labor," to which they smiled, let out a chuckle and thus began the whole process of admitting me. I told her I had already filled out forms online, but I guess they still had to ask a couple of questions on their own. The contractions kept coming and all I wanted was to sit down. Finally, they took me to a room with lots of beds and curtain dividers. It was empty. One nurse gave me a bag, told me to put my clothes in it and put on the hospital gown provided. She was about to start strapping me to some monitors, but I asked if I could use the restroom first. (See, again, with the restroom.) Once the monitors were hooked up, I was able to hear the baby's heartbeat and also read my contractions, not that I couldn't feel when each one was happening.
Two nurses were there, both young, one kinda had attitude, the other pretty chipper. One nurse examined me below and then asked the other to do the same. The first one, the chipper one, couldn't tell how far I was dilated. The nurse with attitude checked and said speaking directly to the other nurse as if I wasn't there, "I think she's already at a nine and a half." My eyes widened: Nine and half centimeters. For those of you who don't know, you have to reach ten centimeters to start pushing. Then the nurse with attitude said the scariest words I've ever heard, and once again saying them as if I wasn't there, "There may be no time for an epidural."
I was positively frightened at that point. No epidural? Was this really going to happen? I said, "What? No epidural?" The chipper nurse said there may not be time. So many thoughts ran through my head. How was I going to do this? Oh, my gosh, the unbearable pain, I was going to be one of those women who experienced it. What was this? Nineteen fifty? Owww. In my head I began giving myself a pep talk. "You'll get through it. It'll hurt, but you'll work through it."
They quickly moved me to my own labor and delivery room, where I finally saw X again. I relayed the news to him and he seemed concerned for me. All he could do was call my mother and give her the update. The nurses began getting me hooked up to an IV and doing other things, but I'm not sure what 'cause I was in so much pain. The contractions kept coming, each more painful than before. The chipper nurse said, "You must have a high tolerance for pain. I can't believe you didn't get to the hospital sooner." Here's the thing: The contractions were painful, they sucked royally, but in my head they never seemed to be the worst, or what I imagined to be the worst pain ever, so I kept tolerating them. Every time a contraction came I did the breathing thing I learned and all the nurses were impressed that I was following the instruction learned in my birth education class. I'm not sure if the nurses were really impressed or if they were just saying positive things to keep me motivated.
They kept checking me below and said the baby's head had not lowered enough, so they said there may still be a chance for the epidural. I didn't get my hopes up though. I didn't want to set myself up for disappointment. Moments later this Asian man came in and the chipper nurse said he's the epidural guy. Score, I thought. The epidural guy came over and they had me sit up and curve my back. I was leaning into X and the nurse. They asked me to be as still as possible even though I was having a contraction and the epidural guy warned I may feel some slight pain. Ha, slight pain - in comparison to the contractions, whatever he did back there was like a walk in the park. I felt the cool liquid run in and knew relief would be here soon. This was around 5:30.
From that point on, we waited. The nurses said the baby would likely come in an hour or so. So I laid there, text some friends and family and mostly just tried to rest. Seven o'clock came and there was shift change. I got new nurses. They checked to see what the progress was on the head lowering. They realized my water had not been broken, which was likely why the head wasn't lowering. They broke my water, but I didn't feel a thing except for a flood of moisture. The nurses left me again. They instructed me to buzz them when I felt pressure below.
I laid there some more and felt no pressure. It was basically a waiting game at this point. During this time I would talk to my parents who were en route to San Antonio, a five hour drive from Pecos. At first I wasn't sure they would make it in time for the birth, but as the clock kept ticking I figured they may still have a chance.
Around 9:15 the nurses came in and said the head was beginning to lower more, but that I was going to have to push a little to encourage her out. They gave me instruction to take a deep breath, hold it and push for 10 seconds. I did this, but they said I was pushing with the wrong muscles. They told me not to push with my butt, which is what I was doing, but to push with abs. I couldn't really feel what I was pushing with, so the nurse decided we should have a tug of war. They got a towel, twisted it and asked me to pull on one end as one of the nurses pulled on the other. So I tugged and tugged and apparently it was working: the baby's head was lowering. I asked why I was needing to push if the doctor wasn't even there yet. They said they were trying to get the baby into position. So we played tug of war for a couple more rounds and then they let me have a breather. I'm guessing at this point the head had crowned, 'cause one nurse said, "Man, she's got a full head of hair. It's long. You can probably make a pony tail out of it."
Shortly thereafter my doctor came in. He got himself ready, the nurses got themselves in position and X stood to my left. Before the pushing got started up again, one nurse asked me if I would mind if students came in to watch. I paused for a moment to think and then told them it would be fine, "anything for education," I said. At this point, modesty was out the window, so it didn't really matter who was doing what to me and who was watching. It was only two girls and they stood in the back observing.
Finally the pushing began. I don't recall how many sets of pushes I had to do at this point, but I think it was two, maybe three. And just like you see on TV and in the movies, the nurses were exclaiming, "Push, push, deep breath, hold it, push, push." And then it happened, I felt suddenly empty and no tightness or pressure in my belly, she was out. Tears ran down my face as I heard her cry for the first time. She was out breathing on her own. They placed her on my stomach and I cried some more as I looked at this beautiful baby covered in gunk. She looked nothing like I imagined her to look. I couldn't believe she was mine or that she came out of me, but there she was in the flesh.
And so like it's been said time and time again and it may be cliche, but it's so true, she's a miracle, my little baby girl, my little Lucero.
Waiting...

More waiting. By the way, I was incredibly thirsty. They wouldn't let me drink water and there was no ice chips. I felt gipped.

Lucero makes her debut.




Getting weighed

My doctor and nurses

My parents make their way in just minutes after her birth.

Me, the new mom

Father and daughter...

Mother and daughter meet at last...

The proud grandparents...


Sorry, this took so long to post. I tend to make long stories longer. But there you have it. More photos to come eventually.