Howdy, y’all! This is Jeni, the absent yet very much present third of the venerable Price trio. I’m glad Matt has been keeping you well up to date with the happenings here at the Royal Infirmary. I have some internet access (“unlimited”, but so awkwardly crappy it makes my head hurt to think about it), but it won’t let me use blogger, so I can’t post directly from the room. I have read all of the incredible comments you’ve left; I can’t even describe how happy/grateful/weepy it’s made me feel to know you guys are hanging around on the ‘tubes thinking about us. Yay for fantastic friends!

I think I get to go home tomorrow. I’m a little scared about that (what if something happens? What will I do without 4 midwives/nurses at my call? How do I live without an adjustable bed?), but mostly I’m excited about the thought of being home with my husband and our son. I’m still recovering, obviously, and I definitely feel as though I had major abdominal surgery 3 days ago. I can’t see my scar since my belly still comes between it and my eyes, but I’m told it looks “good” by the doctor. My milk still hasn’t come in, which is super frustrating. Body! Do what you’re meant to do! Lactate, I say! But I’m pretty much okay, and I am so grateful that Hosea and I made it through safe and sound.

Aside: isn’t Hosea incredible? I can’t believe him. He’s so smooshy and soft and fantastic.

So, some of you have emailed asking for gory details about why I wound up needing a C-section. I’ll do my best to chronicle that here with a minimum of freaky medical terms or blood.

We went in for the induction at 1 p.m. Monday, and were promptly seen at, um, 5:30 p.m. I was given dose number 1 of prostoglandins, which are supposed to thin out the cervix and start dilating it. After 2 or 3 doses of prostoglandins (at 6-8 hour intervals) they then break your waters and give you a hormone to start contractions. I was told to expect some cramping, and to just hang out until dose number 2 in the morning. So Matt and I went for a walk, then played some Rummikub, and I sent him home.

I read for about an hour, then called Matt to wish him goodnight, then crawled into bed to try to get some sleep. Almost as soon as my head hit the pillow, a sharp crampy pain went through my abdomen. Lame, I thought, these cramps from the medication are really painful! I massaged my belly and closed my eyes. Another cramp shot through, then another. Hmm, these seem really close together. And regular. I looked at my cell phone clock- it said they were coming at 5 minute intervals. Yup.

At this point, my brain sounded like: I can’t be in labour! People start having contractions at 15-20 minute intervals that get *gradually* closer together. Who starts labour at 5 minutes? Are these even real contractions?

I walked up and down the hall and talked to a nurse, who said it might be or might not be, and gave me some Tylenol for the pain. I decided, in any event, to call Matt, who had only left under the promise that I would call him if ANYTHING happened. As I was talking to him, I had another “cramp” and I think that impressed him; he decided to call for a cab instead of waiting the hour for the bus. As I waited for him, I climbed into the tub in my room, which helped a pretty good amount.

By the time Matt had arrived, I was in considerable discomfort. I got out of the tub and we decided to go for a walk. Almost as soon as we left the ward, the contractions (which pretty much everyone agreed they were) were coming about 2-3 minutes apart, but we decided to continue with our walk down to the cafeteria for some coffee for Matt and juice for me. I was in pain, but I just had Matt hug me and tell me stories during the contractions, and it was okay.

However, by the time we got back to the ward, I was significantly less okay. The nurse gave me “gas and air” (laughing gas) to breathe during contractions. It may or may not have helped, but at least it made me feel woozy and distracted. They had me hooked to a monitor for awhile, then wheeled me into the room where I was, theoretically, to give birth. Once in there, I was so uncomfortable that I asked for an epidural. By the time that arrived, I had been in labour for about 3-4 hours, and there was no way I could have lasted much longer.

Pain of labour, incidentally, is the worst pain I have ever experienced. Ever. I’ve been thrown from horseback, slipped vertebrae, broken bones, etc. and nothing even comes close. Man oh man, I am a wuss when it comes to birthing babies. The flip side is the sweet sweet miracle called the epidural. As they were putting the catheter in, they mentioned how once it kicked in I could take a nap and I almost laughed at how ridiculous that thought was. But the relief was so complete that I actually did snooze for a few brief stretches. Wow.

Anyway, they checked my progress before they gave me the epidural and I was at 3cm. When they checked 2 hours later, I was at 5, and 3 hours after that, at 8. All in all, a textbook labour progression. However, my contractions pretty much stopped when I was at 8 cm. They went from strong every 2 minutes to moderate every, oh, 5-7 minutes. 2 hours later, I was at 9cm, and they sent in the doctor to check me out.

She said that he was posterior but also that his head was positioned wrongly. Instead of coming straight out, he was headed out “ear first” (kind of. Not that extreme, but in that direction). She decided to give me another hour with some drugs to make the contractions stronger to see if he’d shift at all once I was the rest of the way dilated, or if they’d be able to shift him.

After an hour, I was still at 9 cm and he was still in the wrong position. In addition, the drugs had made the contractions stronger but not closer together, and the stronger contractions were causing him distress (his heart rate was dropping pretty low during each). They recommended a c-section, and I concurred. During all of the excitement, too long had slipped since my last epidural top-up, so I was in a lot of pain, and they said they needed to wait (obviously) until I had some stronger epidural drugs on board. However, my body did not co-operate very well and it took almost another hour before they were satisfied with my anaesthetic. Actually, they still weren’t completely satisfied since I had some sensation, but since I told them I didn’t mind feeling it as long as it didn’t hurt, we were set. Oh, and since the epi took so long, they examined me once more to make sure I hadn’t dilated, but I hadn’t. That last 1cm was too much for my uterus, apparently.

The actual surgery was super fast- 10 minutes from scalpel touch to hearing Hosea screeching his way into the world, and another 35 before I was all stitched up. I discovered that despite the curtain I could see the surgery through the reflection in the lamp, so I kept myself entertained while Matt and Hosea were getting checked by the paediatrician.

And that’s pretty much it! We have a son, he’s awesome, I have a scar, etc. He’s been super healthy and much happier since he’s been getting enough food. I can’t wait to get him home and get on with our life as a family. Whee!