If you are just tuning in, you can read The Emancipation of Mimi: Part 1 and Part 2 here and here.
Just kidding. No hell broke loose.
Nurse J said she was just going to check to see how far along I was and informed me it would be a little uncomfortable. I mentally laughed at the comment, seeing how I was in labor. Without medicine. On purpose. I was sort of planning on some minor discomfort.
Yes. Yes, I was ready. But because Nurse J was so busy being in charge, I still didn't have a saline lock in my arm. A handful of other nurses ran in and began preparing me. I also heard some shouting about getting a room ready, though they probably weren't actually shouting. At this point, my sense of hearing was incredibly heightened and I noted things I normally block out.
Then, I received my ER moment. They ripped the monitors off of me and raced me through the hallways on the gurney. I must admit, if you are in transition and have the opportunity to have a nurse run through the halls with you, take it. The breeze on my face was quite refreshing and the distraction proved to be extremely useful.
We reached the delivery room and they helped move me onto the bed. I was on all fours, but my shoulders were getting tired, so I moved to the floor and laid my upper body on the bed. Sweet relief. My doctor rushed in and was preparing rapidly while I just thanked God that I was finally in a position that minimized the pain.
Unfortunately, the doctor knew I was in the wrong position after one push, and I did too. But I was finally feeling some relief after being on my back for so long that I begged her to let me try again. After two more pushes and being spoon-fed ice chips (my power food, apparently), I was ready to get in a position that would work.
They moved me on my side and I pushed some more. All of the nurses were yelling like it was some raucous sporting event. "Push push push push harder harder harder harder!!!!"
But I couldn't push harder. Until I let a scream rip through my throat.
The contraction passed and the baby was still in. There was another contraction and this time I started out screaming. The strange thing is I wasn't screaming in pain. I couldn't really feel the pain because I was too busy trying to get the baby out. The screaming was the only way I could garner enough strength to actually force that 13" head out of my body.
And it worked. I looked up and saw the baby's head.
I said that, though I didn't mean to. I also caught a glimpse of one of the nurses who seemed to have an amused look on her face. Patrick later let me know that during my screaming, the nurses seemed to be saying, "Whoa!" Yep, it was that loud.
One more scream (I mean push) and the baby was out.
Patrick, is it a boy or a girl?
I don't know. I can't see yet.
Elizabeth saw, but she didn't spoil the surprise.
An hour and 15 minutes after arriving at the hospital, the doctor placed our squirming, screaming, messy baby girl on my chest. I was in shock and in love.