Kerri, with a K

trying to be me

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Logan Mateo Part 1: Labor and Delivery

Logan Mateo.  The love of my life.  Was born Saturday, June 11, 2011.

I think the word intense doesn’t even begin to describe the whirlwind of things that has happened since Friday morning.  There’s so much love and so many emotions and so much anxiety and so much calmness, it’s truly amazing.

I was in labor for 36 hours.  I’ve heard stories of that happening and never thought it would happen to me.  Yes, this is my first child, but you always hope for the best case scenario.  Labor for me started as a really uncomfortable feeling at 1:30 am.  My stomach felt queasy.  I felt like I wanted to go to the bathroom.  But that was it.  Hubs was supposed to work the 3am to 1pm shift, so we are normally up to get him ready for work.  When he left, I went back to sleep watching tv on the couch.

By the time 6am came around, I was starting to feel the way I did earlier that morning.  It didn’t last very long, but while it did, it was uncomfortable.  Honestly, I just thought it was indigestion.  Again, I went back to sleep.  Little did I know that that was the beginning of what we be a very long 36 hours…

The next moment I was uncomfortable was around 8am, then again at 11, and 1… and the kept getting closer and closer.  I called Hubs every time I felt  uncomfortable to keep him up to date, and also to time how close they were – which ended up being essentially useless information. 

Hubs had me call my doctor to see if there was anything I should have been doing.  I spoke to my favorite Nurse, Theresa, who told me to have a snack, drink lots of water, and keep track of how close the contractions were to each other, and to call back when they were consistently 5 minutes apart for at least two hours.  This was close to 1:30.

My parents kept calling after they found out I was feeling uncomfortable, assuming they were contractions.  My dad kept telling me not to be brave and just go to the hospital, and if they sent me home, they sent me home. 

It wasn’t until 7pm that I finally took my dad’s advice.  I couldn’t take the pain anymore.  I could barely talk on the phone, let alone move, or stand or sit.  Hubs loaded up my bag and drove me to the emergency room.

The cop/security guard in the ER gave us poor directions to Labor and Delivery, and we ended up getting lost in the ICU, where the nurses were much kinder and smarter and WALKED us over to where we needed to be.  The paperwork was insane, and I kept feeling sicker as the admitting nurses asked me questions about where I lived and what I did for work.  Lucky for me Hubs was able to field most of those questions.

They gave me a bucket and I threw up several times before I was admitted.  When I finally got to a check-up room, my water broke.  Hubs was moving the car while the nurse checked my vital signs, and by the time she was finished, Hubs was back and they were ready to move me to the delivery room.

The pain was unbearable.  I couldn’t breathe.  The epidural helped until it didn’t.  It took away most of the pain, but it also made my entire lower body numb and I couldn’t move my legs, which terrified me.  A small price to pay to have no pain. 

The doctors predicted that I would be fully dilated around 2 or 3am… I was not.  We waited.  They gave me more Lidocaine to help with the pain.  We watched the clock and the door waiting for someone, anyone, to tell us it was time.

The Lidocaine wore off again, and doctors did not want to give me more for the pain for fear I would be too numb to push when the time came, but the pain again was unbearable, so they gave me a smaller dose.  It helped… until it didn’t.  My parents called and friends called to check in.

At 7, they came in to tell me it was time to push.  They started prepping the room, and themselves and me.  A medical student came in and explained that this would be her first delivery and she was thankful to have this experience and appreciated that we would allow her to help. 

At 7:30, it was time to push.  Hubs held one leg, the med student held the other.  There was a doctor and a nurse at the receiving end, and a nurse up by my head monitoring me and giving me ice chips and holding a bucket in case I needed to throw up, and coaching me through the contractions and the pushing.  I’m sure she was doing other things, but I can’t remember anything else.

I started pushing, and it hurt.  There is no scale to determine how much it hurt.  It was off the charts.  At each contraction, which were then one minute apart, everyone had something to say.  Hubs was trying to be supportive telling me I was doing great and I just need to keep going, and he could see the head. 

It took an hour.  One hour before I was able to feel any kind of relief.  I cried, I pushed, I begged for it all to stop.  But at 8:30 am, my son, my love, finally revealed himself to the world and I was finished. 

The after part was just as difficult as the before and during.  I had lost a lot of blood.  I had a 3rd degree laceration.  Even though I was done with delivery, I was not done with everything else.  The doctor poked and stitched, and the nurses gave me more medication to ease the pain.  I was out of it and everything was a blur.  I don’t remember what was being said or how many people were in the room or what everyone was doing.  Hubs stood there holding my hand for awhile, and told me later that he was in awe.

Pictures were taken of Logan, and of Hubs, and of me, and we waited to be moved out of the delivery room and into the more permanent room where I would finish out my stay…

To be continued…