Labor with TJ

My ECV, unsuccessful, took place on Friday, May 14th, 1999. I had just gotten all my Junior finals in, after making my teachers give them to me early. I had a feeling. It's hard to explain, but I knew TJ was coming well before his due date, and I didn't want anything undone. Some of my teachers were very unhappy about this, but, being the person I am, I pushed and got my way.

Sunday night, D-Bag and I had sex. I told him it was going to be a long six weeks before he got it again. I was right.

Monday morning, at about 4 am, I got up to go to the bathroom. I was sleeping on the couch (my bedroom was upstairs, and there was no bathroom up there, so I had decided that the couch was the best place for me to try to sleep). I went back to "bed". Shortly thereafter, I woke to a gush of liquid. My first thought was "What the fuck? I just peed!" I sat up, and more came out. It just kept on coming. I couldn't stop it. It was then that I realized my water had broken. I looked at the clock. 4:20. And then I laughed. Of course, it would be 4:20. Mind you, I hadn't smoked pot throughout my pregnancy, but prior to that, I was known as a stoner at school... Even though the times I smoked weed were few and far between. But in any case, I found this humorous.
I bundled up the sheet I was wrapped in between my legs, waddled through the kitchen, grabbed the cordless phone, and headed straight to the bathroom. I called Suzie. She, like most sane people at that hour, was asleep. She asked me the color of the fluid, and if I was having contractions. I told her: clear and no. She told me to meet her at the hospital at 7 am.
That was the longest 3 hours of my life.
I woke my mother up, and let her know what was happening. I apologised for the mess on the couch, but she said it was no big deal, she'd clean it up for me. At 5, I called D-Bag. To his credit, he got to our house in record time- a 45 minute drive turned into 25 I don't want to think about how fast he was actually driving. The three of us sat around waiting until it was time to go. I still wasn't feeling any contractions when we finally left.

When we got to the hospital, they did an ultrasound to confirm TJ's position. I saw Suzie's face, and knew it wasn't good news. She quietly asked the U/S tech, "Is that the cord?" To which the girl replied in an equally hushed whisper, "Yeah, it is".

The next words out of Suzie's mouth were: "I'm really sorry, you need a c-section." And my world imploded. 10,000 thoughts screamed through my brain. How could this happen to me? What was so wrong? Why was it imperative that I have a C/S? So I asked.

TJ had moved. His presenting part was one of his feet. The other was up by his face. His cord was wrapped around his presenting foot. There was not enough fluid around him to try to get him to move, even assuming that they could get his cord unwrapped from his foot.

My section was scheduled for 10:30 am. This would make it so that, for insurance purposes, my parents would not have to pay extra for an emergency section. Suzie said I had plenty of time. Breech labors are longer. He wasn't pressing on my cervix, so I wouldn't dilate much more than I already had. This was all she told me.

I was terrified. I had never had surgery. I was adamantly against having surgery of any kind. My mother signed the consent forms. I was doomed. From the time my mother signed me off to the hospital staff, to the time I woke up, neither she, nor my midwife, were allowed to be with me. I was horribly alone, with strangers who didn't care about me, they were just there to get me ready to be cut open.

I was kept on the monitors for the duration of labor. A nurse was assigned to watch them. At about 8am, she asked me to tell her when I thought I was having a contraction. I honestly had no clue. I didn't feel anything. After she stared at me for a good 15 minutes, I was feeling sort of sick, so I told her "Maybe... Now?" She blew up like a bomb. My contractions were 2 minutes apart, lasting 2 minutes, with double peaks. I was in transition already. "You should be screaming!" she said, and stormed out of the room. Oops, how was I to know?

The nurse came back with a posse of other L&D nurses. They were going to give me an IV. I had a severe phobia of needles. This was the beginning of what is known as "birth rape". Against my wishes, I was held down by six nurses, as they attempted (and failed several times) to get an IV in my tiny veins. It ended up being directly over my wrist bone, and it was excruciating. I was spread-eagle strapped to the bed, unable to do anything about it except cry. All I got was "It's not that bad. IV's don't hurt". My lady bits were shaved and washed.

I was wheeled into the OR at 8:45. I was then catheterized. They said that that also did not hurt. Well, they're all damn dirty liars, because it did hurt. When the anesthesiologist gave me whatever it was to knock me out, I could feel it burning as it traveled up my arm. He told me I was delusional, there was no way I could feel it. And then, I was out.