Monday night on March 24th is the worst night ever, full of pain, disappointment and raw emotions. I am so worried about the baby and I am incredibly uncomfortable. Even if the contractions are getting stronger and the baby seems to be hanging on, the pill doesn’t seem to be working. The next time I’m being checked (4 hours after the last time) is the most painful. It is a nurse this time and even if I realize somewhere deep, deep inside that she is probably just trying to do her job, I instantly hate her. What is she trying to do? Kill me? This is attempted murder by forcefully opening up an innocent pregnant woman. Murder weapon: purple gloved fingers and a small but lethal metal object. This time I scream, I cry, I kick and I actually sound like some badly wounded animal; not recognizing my own reactions or my own voice. This must be scary for my husband. Forget rating my contractions from 1-10, this is easily a 10. It is interesting how they ask you to rate your pain level from 1-10, 10 being hit by a car and being left for dead by the side of the road. How would you know what that feels like? I haven’t had much experience with pain; I guess I’ve been lucky that way. I have never broken a bone in my body, I have never had to go to the emergency room and the one time I thought I had appendicitis it was probably just a stomach ache due to all the popcorn I ate earlier in the night. I am a very careful person who takes major precautions not to get hurt or sick, somehow I have managed not to get seriously injured (my parents should thank me, I must have been an easy child whom they didn’t have to worry about; I mean my own son worries me constantly and has already gotten more hurt in his less than 3 years of life than me in 34 years). My life has been far from drama free thought, I do not seek out drama, I promise, it just sort of happens to me. I get into sticky situations all the time; situations bordering scary and sometimes terrifying and I am a firm believer that drama seeks me out, not the other way around. Crazy people also tend to gravitate towards me…hence my profession. Actually that has nothing to do with my profession but it would make sense if it did, I just like the idea of being able to help people and to really listen to them, actually hearing what they have to say.
I’m not very good with staying healthy either, I tend to get sick a lot and when I do, I do it right with sky high fevers and the longest possible recovery and I sometimes have bad luck with smaller things. Anyways, the longest hospital stay I have been through before this was during and after the delivery of my son. I did have a bit of drama with my first pregnancy and delivery (with the preeclampsia, baby’s heart rate going down, his broken clavicle and my 4th degree tear and 18+ stiches) but nothing like this. This drawn out pain and waiting and worry is about to drive me nuts. When they deliver the news (the news, NOT the baby) that I haven’t progressed AT ALL, I’m devastated. I actually turn into an incoherent, sobbing mess. My husband might be scared of me and no spy show or enticement is going to help right now. I just want my pain meds and call it a day. Sleep, rest, food, things I cared about, fantasized about and looked forward to about hours ago are gone from my mind, there is nothing I can do now to escape these intense cramps shaking me down to my core, tensing my whole entire body with their uncontrollable intensity. I am officially over it. “Pain meds over here please!” but baby might not be able to handle it, so of course we can’t risk it (again, lucky me). Since baby is doing okay but I haven’t progressed whatsoever they decide to risk putting the Pitocin into my IV to induce labor that way. That is a sure and known way to start intense contractions and speed things right along so that the baby will come way faster and sooner. Well…in everyone but me. My baby apparently has another plan.