Three Strikes and You're Out

I've been up for about 25 hours now due to contractions. Contractions that, according to our third pointless trip to Labor and Delivery, are not causing me to dilate or efface.

Wednesday night I was up in the middle of the night from about 3 to 4:30 with contractions. Eventually they subsided and I was able to sleep for another hour or so. By 9 a.m. the contractions were back. But they weren't too painful and they definitely weren't consistent or timeable. I went about my business trying to have a normal day. By 5 p.m. the contractions were strong enough that I thought I should time them.

I called Terry at work around 5:45 and told him that they were coming regularly every three minutes. They got strong enough that I worried he wouldn't get home in time for us to make the hour trip to the hospital.

We had to make arrangements for Micah so we had my mom come spend the night at our house with us. Having gone through two trips to the hospital already I wanted us to dot our "I's" and cross all of our "T's" before heading to the hospital. So while my mom was on her way, I put my contractions through the test. I walked. I lied on my side. Drank a few cups of water. Ate dinner.

Nothing I did made the contractions slow or fade at all. They got stronger-- which I've been told is the true sign of labor. So, Terry and I called and let family and friends know that we were in labor.

We got to the hospital and they hooked me up to the monitors- baby's heart beat and my contractions. They took my blood pressure which was a bit high. Turns out I once again have 3 or 4 of the signs of pre-eclampsia.

The nurse checked me and I hadn't progressed beyond 2 cm. She was encouraging and said that with second births things happen fast. I told her that I wasn't going home without a baby so I'd take any advice on what to do to get my cervix going. She said walking would do it.

So, Terry and I spent the next 2 hours walking around the hospital for 30 minutes then coming back to the room to be monitored, then walking some more. Each time we lapped the hospital in my cute hospital gown the contractions got stronger and after 90 minutes of walking I was in some pretty good pain.

Terry and I were ready! The nurse hooked me up to the monitors and within minutes Terry was observing my contractions and saying things like, "Wow, that was a big one." I bet it wasn't even three minutes after he commented on my high-arching contractions that the nurse checked me and said I'd made no progress so I'd have to go home.

I've been a bit emotional with this pregnancy and unfortunately for this nurse, this was not the news I wanted to hear. I couldn't understand why I was having to go through so much pain without reaping any of the benefits. I told her that I was not going home. That she needed to call my doctor and tell her to start me on pitocin to artificially get my cervix to open.

My lovely doctor, who was in the building at the time, couldn't even make it in to tell me herself that she wouldn't give me any labor-inducing medication until I was 39 weeks. 8 days away.

But Dr. Holste did insist I made it to my regularly scheduled appointment which is about 3 hours from now. This is the final straw for my doctor. She will NOT be my OBGYN next time around. She was in the building and didn't come see me to save me the trip out to the Medical Center today.

Anyway, after a minor breakdown in the bathroom after being in too much pain to get my clothes back on without sitting on the gross bathroom floor, and wondering what I'd done to deserve these ridiculous circumstances, the nurse asked me to sign my release papers.

This is when I about lost it. She tells me that I indeed might be in early labor so I am not to ignore any contractions at all. She says I'm to call as soon as my contractions get 5-7 minutes apart. All I could do was roll my eyes. My contractions were on the monitor showing up less than every 3 minutes. What did she want me to do? Go out to my car and then call my doctor back?? She sensed my annoyance and clarified, "Don't call until the contractions are so heavy that you're breathing through every one of them."

More evil eyes from me.

And then she makes it worse: "Don't forget that second labors usually happen very quickly, so don't ignore any signs of labor."

And that's when my brain melted and ran out my ears.

She'd exactly nailed down my dilemna: I live an hour from the hospital. No one's fault but my own. Considering her always-busy office in Willowbrook, I'm not the only one of her clients to drive so far. My point, though, is that when it comes to laboring with my second child, who knows how quickly it will go. If I wait until I'm dying of pain, whose to say I'll even make it to the hospital in time?

That's my main fear right now. Not that I'll be in too much pain, but that Caleb will be forced to unsafely arrive at home or in the car because of my current confusion over interpreting what hurts and what hurts "real bad." When I was in labor with Micah, we left the house when I was in a moderate amount of pain and by the time we got to the hospital I was crying and asking for my epidural immediately. So who can give me the magic formula of 'correct amount of pain' verus 'time to make it to the hospital?'

So, I guess we might have a few more false alarm hospital visits in our future. I'll risk more egg on my face, more mean looks from OB nurses, (heck- I'll even endure more insults from my friends and family who've showed an uber amount of, um... compassion regarding our current situation) in an effort to make sure Caleb gets to arrive just as safely and smoothly as Micah did.

As far as my contractions go, no one can tell me why I've had to be in so much pain without results. I get varying answers from everyone I've talked to about it. The latest theory is something called, Irritable Uterus. Yeah, I don't know how irritable my uterus is. But after 7 hours of sleep in the last two days and contractions that, as we speak, are still kicking my butt, I know without a doubt that I AM IRRITABLE.