This morning he reverted to his 3:00 a.m. wake-up call - or my wake-up call. It didn't help that we didn't get to sleep until 11 p.m. last night and my husband got called in to work at midnight so he was operating on a mere one hour of sleep, and what few hours of sleep I did get was very restless.
Along with having dreams about hair plugs for balding men (I don't know, it came out of nowhere, really), my old flashbacks of labor and delivery returned. I kept having these for a week after giving birth and after about several weeks they went away. Perhaps now with the new anxiety of learning about my son's hearing loss and adjusting to hearing aids, it has jolted those memories back into the forefront of my brain.
I had just fed Butters and was rocking him back to sleep when I also drifted off myself. The "tick-tocking" of the clock in the background immediately sent my head into a tailspin as it brought back a similar "tick- tock" noise of the sensor that had been placed on Butters' head when I was in the labor and delivery room. I've always loved clocks, loved the tick-tocking sounds they make, but this noise was not calming. This noise alerted me to the status of my baby's heartbeat. And as my contractions kept coming closer together, the "tocking" noise would gradually become slower until it came to a complete stop. I had everyone in the delivery room, urging me to breathe. "Come on, you got to keep breathing," "Deep breaths, come on," "Breathe harder." Are you kidding me? What do you think I've been doing for the last eight hours? I really just wanted to tell everyone to leave me alone but I hurt too badly to yell this out much less muster the ability to even whimper.
For a first labor and delivery, this one was a doozy. I had actually been in labor for three days and it was BACK LABOR. Imagine having kidney stones and being in labor all at the same time because that's what it's like. The doctors didn't want to admit me until I had dilated another 5 cm. I finally went to my doctor on day three and basically told him that he needed to admit me or someone was going to be strangled to death - by my own bare hands.
He admitted me an hour later.
You think that your labor and delivery will be like what you see on t.v. and in the movies, and even just like the delivery stories that your friends love to tell you about. You never think you will encounter complications. But it happens sometimes, doesn't it. Just like life, you sometimes encounter complications that you have to deal with.
Butters was delivered at 40.5 weeks. He wasn't a preemie. I ate well (very well) throughout my pregnancy, gained a little too much weight, as a matter of fact. I even exercised like Dr. Granola Bar told me to do. My spirits were very high despite having one of my cousins die during the latter part of my pregnancy and worrying about my dad, who is in end stage renal disease. I was excited because this was my first child!
But despite all of my best efforts, it was a rough delivery. Butters did not like the contractions squeezing his head, and I found out later that the placenta was not providing enough nutrients for him during the last month of my pregnancy. My last ultrasound the month before he was born did not show any abnormalities.
So, as I drifted off in the early dark hours this morning holding Butters, that "tocking" noise came out of nowhere and I swear I felt that churning in the pit of my stomach like I did when I was in the delivery room. All of those nurses' voices telling me to breathe harder and my own thoughts of "Oh God, keep going" slammed back into my brain. I even believed for a split second that I had those horrible, wrenching cramps in my lower back and abdomen when my epidural wore off along with the cold sweat and the trembling. I slowly opened my eyes half believing that I would find myself back on the hospital bed because the flashbacks were that vivid. I glanced down and saw Butters peacefully sleeping. I was okay. He was more than okay. But I know I'll probably continue to have those flashbacks.
Women are always told that they will forget how difficult labor is. Many women go on to have more children. So, apparently I haven't hit that stage yet because my experience has scared the bejeezus out of me and I surely have not forgotten about it. I know that I never will, but I'm hoping that time will dull the memories a bit. Butters was worth every minute of it though - every stabbing pain, every hour, and every "tock!"
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