Amazingly enough, it actually happened on my due date, but not really at all like I thought it would. During a blizzard where we got 18 inches of snow, of course. Mike dug us out once the day before (I was having contractions Sunday night already, the blizzard was Monday, the baby was born Tuesday). When we went to bed Sunday night I was having contractions about 15 minutes apart. I woke up to write down the times and they slowly moved closer together and got way more intense. By 1:00 am they were about four minutes apart so I called the hospital and they said to come in.
The four or five blocks to the main road weren't plowed, but luckily we have 4-wheel drive. Mike told me later he was scared we were going to get stuck, but at the time I couldn't think of anything except horrendous contractions.
They admitted us a little after 2:00 am and I continued to have contractions for awhile - about 2 minutes apart. Unfortunately I wasn't dilating at all with them (I was at about 2 cm and sticking). The doctor suggested we walk around to try to get things moving. The labor and delivery wing was u-shaped and pretty small. We'd walk to one end, stop in front of the nursery window, have a contraction, and walk to the other point of the "u". Then we'd stop in front of the door where the doctor was sleeping in a recliner (there were 22 blizzard babies born over the course of those couple days). I would have another contraction staring at the doctor's sock feet.
After 45 minutes of this, the doctor checked again ... 2.5 cm. I wanted to bawl. Or die. The most awesome nurse in the world, named Cindy Brady, finally just said if you want to get an epidural, just do it already. I was having contractions every two minutes for 90 seconds. I said yes, please.
It was awesome. The needle wasn’t even scary. I told them they should sell it on the streets. I could see my contractions on the monitor, but I couldn’t feel anything. I started to take a nap.
Suddenly the doctor and nurses were there, turning me on my side and pulling out the ticker tape from under the monitor that tracks the baby’s heartbeat. The baby was distressing, her heart rate was down to 65. All I could see was Mike’s face. He looked like he was going to throw up. They put a monitor on her head. After a few minutes, things seemed to be back to normal. I thanked God.
Since I still wasn’t dilating, they started a pitocin drip. We waited and dozed and then the doctor was there again. She said after every contraction the baby’s heart rate was dropping. Nothing as drastic as before, but she said there are certain patterns you don’t mess with, and maybe the cord was wrapped around the baby’s neck, or maybe the placenta was separating. She said she wanted to do a c-section right away. I wanted to talk to my mom. They were snowed in at home, but Mike was keeping them posted. I talked to my mom and tried not to cry. Later, my sister said at this point my dad said “this is bullshit” and they started digging out to get to town.
They wheeled me to the elevator and it went down to the surgery floor. Mike went with Cindy Brady to put scrubs on. At this point I didn’t feel scared. The anesthetist was so nice, and explaining everything that was happening. Mike got there and sat by me. They said I’d feel a lot of pressure, but I didn’t. I was moving my feet in circles the whole time. Then the baby cried and it was wonderful. And they said she looked beautiful and her head was big. I said that was Mike’s fault, and everyone laughed. They held her around the curtain and I thought she looked like my mom’s side of the family. Then Mike went with her and they cleaned her up. Then they brought her back over and I touched her little hand and it was all worth it.
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