Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Losing Focus

That was a disappointment.  This dose of Nubain wasn't working AT. ALL.

I was losing focus pretty quickly.  I felt like a flailing baby, alone... falling... out of control.  Matt could not help, Hailey could not help (really anyway, what could they do? How could they know what I needed if I couldn't tell them?) I turned to the nurse for support and asked her what to do next because I had used up all my tricks.

She sweetly suggested an epidural.

With modern monitors and medication do nurses even know how to take care of laboring women anymore?  Or are they just there to interpret the information the machine spits out and administer the medication that takes care of the pain so you don't have to?  Is that why they insisted I remain in bed... to be monitored?  Would this nurse have had any idea how to help and support me through a tough labor had it not been near the end?  Have they lost the art because no one requires it of them anymore?  It never dawned on my that I should have added "a intuitive/caring nurse" to the list of prayers I had been reciting for the last few weeks.  I know having more support wouldn't have changed the outcome, it's pretty black and white:  All pregnant women eventually end up delivering.  A healthy baby and mom are the main objectives but the avenues taken to get to that end... do they matter?  I still think so.  I believe I am in the minority.


"Let's just check you and see where you're at."


Because I know how my body labors, I knew this was it....  Soon I'd have a baby!

I voiced "It can't be long now"  because I knew...

I knew it darn-it! 

This is why the drugs weren't working... This was transition for me...  I knew it...

Replaying each of my experiences with this phase I always dubbed as my "don't remember time",  I knew it was almost time for "call the doctor", "set the stage" and "BAM! 7-8-9-10 -Baby".

I will never forget the look on the nurse's face as she replied to my statement of "It can't be long now".

The words, not so much, but the look... annoyance, irritation, pretentiousness...

"Well, I don't know about that."


Gone was my focus.  Every thing I knew, I didn't know anymore.  I lost all confidence and felt completely overwhelmed... I cried.  She had somehow, with that one look, undone all I had in me...

Defeated, I gave in... I caved... I went against all I knew about myself and my stamina.  I requested an epidural.

She checked me again... 8.  Too late for an epidural.

I wish I could report that with that news I mustered my fortitude and pressed on.  But I didn't.  I went on because I had no choice. 

I told her I was going to turn over and push.  She checked me again... 10. 

 I knew it darn-it!

I opened my eyes expecting to see the doctor and more nurses or at least the spotlights on.  Nothing.  No one.

I remember asking "Where is everybody?"  I don't know if anyone answered.

Next time I opened my eyes the stage was set...  the doctor appeared... I was pretzel-ed and pushing.  No one was talking (or cheering) I had no idea if I was making any progress.  I remember asking how I was doing and calling for some encouragement...

If there is a next time... I'm bringing the pep-band.


Anonymous said...

No kidding Kari. I totally agree that most nurses just don't know what to do but read papers and offer drugs. I also reached a point where I just didn't know what to do anymore, and had the same offer of meds. BUT we made it through and our beautiful baby girls are here!

:-) Julie S

Joanna Taylor said...

I had to come check out your blog after you left a comment on my contest and saw that you home schooled! I love your voice on your blog. This post brought tears to my eyes. I had four c-sections and I think three of them were unnecessary. I have a little platform about medical care, and it's hard when you are at the mercy of someone not rooting for you! I'm glad to read that all went well in the end. Congratulations on your addition to your beautiful family!