Once again, I find myself a prisoner of this pregnancy and what I can only describe as a drunk, confused, and totally broken cervix.
So, I am still pregnant. 40 weeks, 4 days. (I know, right?) And I am beyond over it at this point. I went to the midwife Monday, and she checked me out. I was not effacing, and barely dilating. So, she stretched me to a 3-4 and stripped my membranes. I am trying to do everything I can NOT to have a medical induction (hear that, Cervix?!), but day by day I feel that will be the only way she will be born. Anyway, membranes stripped, let’s do this. That day I am a little crampy, a little blah, but nothing big. So the next day around noon, I lose my mucus plug. I shall spare you the details, but it’s just gross. Gross, gross, gross. And I did a happy dance! We’re so close now! Yes!! Let’s do this, baby!….
Yesterday morning I wake up and start having contractions, about every 4-6 minutes apart, and they stuck around all morning. I was starting to feel nauseous and almost threw up three times in the shower. Yes! Go time! Let’s DO THIS BABY! So I time them for a little longer, and they won’t stop, and it’s all going into my back. Super. Back labor. That is not the most fun thing ever, but it’s a sign of progress. So. I call the troops (my husband took this W-F off on vacay to hopefully have this baby and do a few things he has to do), and we get to the hospital once all the troops have gathered.
Go through triage still rocking back labor and contractions…I think to myself, this has to be it. Resident Doc Mc Doofus (who I learn is NOT an L&D resident, but is an ER resident, who the nurse asks, “are you allowed to check her?” First clue I am not in the best hands) checks me and says, “you’re at a four, so and so station, 50% blah dee blah.” OK. Well four is the magic number for not being sent home, so I am stoked. Let’s do this. They tell me to go get lunch and walk for two hours to see if the contractions start actually doing anything. I tell them I have been having back labor, which they admit is normal and they can see my discomfort, but it’s nothing to be worried about because it’s LABOR and we’re on it. So we walk and have lunch with my mom, sister-in-law, and girls while waiting for the cervix to do what it is supposed to do (i.e. stop sucking and get on with it already). We even go so far as to skip up and down the halls and bridges, and I go in the bathroom and jump up and down in place 100 times before I go back to be rechecked. One can never be too sure with these things, and the nurse DID say we could do anything to get it moving (she included having sex, but that’s work. And we tried that the other morning to no avail. Sorry if it’s TMI. This is my blog after all, haha).
So, we go back and I am confident something has happened. Or else I am pretending to be confident. To be honest, I am sure nothing has happened, but I can hope, right? Well, I was right. I am at a 4. And Doc McDoofus asks me if I have tried icing and heating my back at twenty minute intervals for the back labor. I respond, “No. I have been here.” The nurse says, “well, that’s the answer right there!” I was beyond being nice and cordial at this point. Doc McDoofus even tells me he can FEEL HER HEAD… so I am thinking, good. He will call my midwife, she will tell them to admit me and break my water since she is RIGHT.THERE.OMG.I.AM.HAVING.THIS.BABY.TODAY…
Well, no. That’s not quite how it worked. I got sent home to “wait it out.” That’s right, folks. THREE TIMES now my body has presented itself in labor and my cervix has pretended to need a translator. So, I was pissed off as anything, and I made no bones about it. I am not going back to that hospital and will go to another one in my area. This is based on principle alone because I said, “I won’t be back here. NO Way!” as the nurse told me to come back if I was doing XYZ. Well, guess what, I WAS DOING XYZ AND HAVING THE CONTRACTIONS YOU WANTED ME TO HAVE AND NOTHING IS HAPPENING. I don’t know what else this stupid body wants from me, but I am over it. 100%. If I need induced, I am giving in to that. If they want to cut her out, have at it. I don’t know what I am supposed to do at this point, but what my body has been trying isn’t working. I cried from frustration. I don’t know… I’m just so confused. This is my third baby; you’d think my body would know what the hell to do, right?
So, I am still pregnant. After three false/early/not progressive labor attempts, Finola Marleigh is still inside of me. And frankly, I don’t know what else to do at this point but wait. And hope that nothing is wrong with me that is making me unable to have a baby. She’s ready. I am ready. My body, though, just doesn’t quite get it.