I had been having contractions every 3 to 5 minutes for 3 days. So when I went to my appointment at 3:30 on Friday the 17^th I was really looking forward to seeing some change. I had been dilated to a 3 on Monday- I figured with all the contractions I had to be at least a 4. Dr. Leggett poked around a bit and decided that I was maybe a 3.5. I was not pleased. She said that she wasn’t sure if there had been any change because someone else checked me last time. So- she gave me instructions to go home, record my contractions and come back in 2 hours if they were regular.

So I went home and decided that just waiting around for my weird contractions to become productive was not a good use of my time. I was tired, uncomfortable, and figured that after all the bed rest and hyperemesis I had been pregnant long enough. So I put on some classic rock and started running up and down the stairs with my two year old. I ran up and down the stairs for two hours- timing contractions on my watch and calling them out to Chris who was keeping the record of them.

After two hours my legs were numb from the workout and I hopped in the car heading to Labor and Delivery to see if anything had happened. They checked me out and said I was a definate four now. Woo-Hoo! I was in labor! But, of course it couldn’t be that simple. I was moving so slowly that they considered sending me back home. They decided that I should walk around the hospital and see if I made any more progress. So I started doing laps through the Mother-Baby unit and L&D. I called Chris and told him to drop Jonas off at our friend’s house and come walk around the hospital with me.

He got there about 45 minutes later and we started walking. At about 9 they checked me again and I was at a 4.5. Time to be admitted! I walked around the hospital with Chris for a few more hours. The contractions weren’t very strong. They hurt- but nothing to get excited about. I was the only woman having a baby that night- so it was very quiet on L&D. The doctors and nurses all stood around chatting waiting for me to do something that could make them useful. I chatted with them and kept walking around. They said I was the happiest laboring woman they had ever seen. The funny thing was, the nurses in the last hospital I gave birth in said the same thing. They don’t understand how much I despise pregnancy! I fall apart when I am pregnant. I have severe morning sickness the entire nine months that is barely kept in check with IVs and medications. I am weak, I am dizzy, and my pelvic bones had separated too soon so I was in a lot of pain any time I tried to change position. Then at about 30 weeks I go into preterm labor. I get stuck in the hospital (7 weeks with Jonas! Only three days with Maggie) drugged up, then sent home on bed rest. Was I happy to be in labor? Heck yes! Labor hurts- but it is a short space of time and when it gets over- it’s over. If all I had to do to have a baby was go through childbirth - I’d have more kids.

They keep asking me if I would like an epidural. But I am hardly in any pain so I can’t see any point to it. Finally, I am dilated to a 5. I have been in labor now longer than the entire 4 hours it took to have my son. I am getting impatient and hungry. They decide to break my water to speed things up. I am all for that. When they broke my water with my son - labor took off at rocket speed.

Two hours later, it is 2 am. I am barely at a 6. I cannot believe that I have been sitting there moving at the snails pace of .5 centimeters every two hours. I’m not hurting - but I’m not getting anywhere either! Last time I was at a 6 I had gone into an altered state due to the pain and was getting an epidural. This time I’m mildly uncomfortable. I was on pitocin last time - so there is the difference between induced labor and natural labor. My doctor comes in and asks if I would like some pitocin to speed up the process. I tell her lets wait an hour or two and see how things are. She asks again if I want the epidural. I’m not in pain- so I decline.

Two minutes later I have a BIG contraction. I rock back and forth on the bed. Soon after I get hit with another one. “Tell them I want my epidural NOW,” I instruct Chris. The contractions are dog piling on top of each other. The anesthesiologist arrives. My eyes are glazing over from the incredible amount of pain I’m in. She starts asking me questions; I start throwing up. Finally she is done being the Spanish Inquisition and starts the process of sticking the mile long needle in my back to administer the much needed pain relief.

I am sitting on the edge of my bed, trying in vain to stay totally still through the contractions. A nurse is standing in front of me and I am holding onto her arm for support. I am whimpering like a puppy. I feel the sting of the needle go in and know that sweet relief is imminent. Contractions are pummeling my body and I am hunched over, clinging desperately to the nurses arm. I am beginning to get extremely lightheaded from the pain. My first instinct is just pass out and be free from the pain. Then the reasonable, intelligent person inside realizes, “If you faint- they are going to freak out. And you will be unconscious, at the mercy of a room full of doctors who you don’t fully trust. You will have no control over anything.” That thought was enough to keep me conscious. I focus on my husband who is standing on the other side of the room. He is a calming presence. I ask the anesthesiologist when the epidural is going to kick in. She says soon. I am thinking it had better be soon because I really can’t take it getting any worse.

The epidural still isn’t kicking in. Not even a little bit. I am in more pain than I have ever been in at any time before in my life. They decide to check me since I seem to be so uncomfortable. It turns out that while I was getting the epidural I went completely through transition. I am not ‘nearly dilated’ as the doctors were guessing. I’m nearly done. The baby is right there; I am fully dilated and effaced. And the epidural isn’t working.

My doctor asks me if I feel the urge to push. I’m not, so she asks me if I would like to push. I figure the sooner I push, the sooner she’s born, and the sooner the pain stops. I’d LOVE to push.

As soon as I lay down the heart rate monitor for the baby goes off. Suddenly I have people on every side of me trying to hook me up to oxygen, take my blood pressure, put a monitor (that I didn’t want) on the baby, and just irritate me in general. The only thing getting me through these contractions is my ability to focus through them in a comfortable position and now these people are literally pulling me in 3 different directions. I hear them bickering amongst themselves. “I need her laying down, I need her over here, she’s gotta lean this way.” In an instant I hate them all.

Things stabilize about 30 seconds later, so we go forward with the pushing. I am a good pusher. I push long and hard. After 3 pushes everyone starts telling me they can see her hair. I could care less. I am not focusing on the fact that I am bring life into this world. The baby isn’t even a part of this. So many mothers use this “I can see the hair” moment as a big motivation to push harder so they can meet their offspring sooner. Pain is my motivating factor. The harder I push - the faster the pain stops. That is all I care about. In my mind there is no baby. There is no loving husband holding my hand- there is just pain. I push again.

The contraction stops and I am forced to stop pushing. The baby’s head is halfway out- and I can’t push. When they use the expression ‘ring of fire’ to describe the kind of pain one feels down there when the baby’s head is coming out- they aren’t kidding. I was only stalled for about 7 seconds until the next contraction hit, but those are officially the longest 7 seconds of my life. I push through the next contraction and she is born.

It is 2:36. She cries immediately and I am relieved. She is a preemie- but she is here and healthy. I see the nurses hand her to the NICU team. In that instant I think, “there’s my little Maggie.” I turn to Chris and ask if we can name her Margaret Donna. He says yes. The NICU team gets done checking her out and they hand her to Chris who brings her to me. She is amazing, but I can’t focus on it because my doctor is trying to assess the damage done to me and make sure everything is as it ought to be. Chris holds her again.

My doctor is frustrated because I am bleeding quite a bit. She asks me if I will push out the placenta. I refuse. I tell her I’m tired and I’ll do it in a little while. She doesn’t push me. A few minutes later I have another contraction and push it out. I still won’t stop bleeding. We have discovered that I have two tears, so she starts fixing those. After she does that, she reaches up inside and finds out that there is still a bunch of the amniotic membrane stuck inside of me. So she had to keep pulling that out and scraping out the inside of me until it was gone. The whole time I am still mad that the epidural never kicked in. This part is awful. At about 3:30 I’m ready to go over to Mother-Baby.

I finally get to hold my beautiful girl with no distractions. She is incredible. She has long, slender fingers and pretty dark hair. I’m in love and perfectly content. I wanted a daughter. I know you are supposed to just be grateful for a healthy baby but I really, really wanted a daughter. I pleaded with God to give me a girl this second time around. And He granted my wish.