After meeting my husband and suffering an early loss we were heartbroken. I went through I time of depression where nothing else mattered in the world. It took some time before we were ready to try again, but when we finally did it happened fairly quickly. We were ecstatic and overjoyed, but also very scared at the same time. Every day of the first trimester was like walking on egg shells. As we sat in the room at our 12 week appointment we tapped our feet and twiddled our thumbs anxiously. The nurse walked in with a Doppler and after a good 10-15 minute attempt to find our baby's heartbeat there was no luck. She left the room to fetch the doctor and I bawled. We cried together and feared the worst. I tried to dry my eyes as the doctor told me he wanted to send me for an ultra sound, but it was too hard. We walked down the hall to the moment of truth still scared out of our minds. But as the ultra sound tech turned up the volume and we heard the gentle thump-thump-thump of our babies heartbeat, we laughed. We made it and everything was alright! We were going to be parents.

When we found out it was a boy the family celebrated. He would be the first boy on both sides out of tons of grandkids. He would carry on my husband's family name so of course we were treated like royalty! We did all the usual stuff couples do while preparing for a child. My mother-in-law threw me a wonderful baby shower and we enjoyed every moment of being pregnant. Until an all too familiar occurance. The contractions were back. After 20 weeks of progesterone being shot into my ass, and it only held me off until they stopped the injections. I began heading to the hospital several times a week to have my contractions stopped. Even though I was dilated to 4 cm. I was not considered in active labor because I did not dilate within an hour of being at the hospital. Each and every time they sent me home after sitting there for hours, awaiting a verdict, I cringed. I hated those words, "Well, you can head home now". Finally my ob prescribed me medication to bring home so I wouldn't have to run into the hospital every time my contractions were 2 minutes apart.

So on my husband's day off and after dropping my oldest off at school on the morning of October 20th, I started having contractions and thought nothing of it. The only thing we still needed before the baby came was a bassinet. I waited and waited and waited for that bassinet until the day came that we could afford to run and get one. So that is what we did that morning. We found a wonderful bassinet and brought it home, set it up and then had sex to try and jump start labor. At that point, I had tried everything. We were having sex several times a day, taking LONG walks, power walks even, spicy foods, even castor oil. I was tired of those stupid contractions not doing anything but being a nuisance. When we got ourselves together we decided to go to Walmart and walk around, to try even more to get things going. By the time we arrived at Walmart, I found myself having strange period cramp feelings that I had never felt before. Every 8-10 minutes or so I would have to stop and lean on my husband because I could not walk through the pain. He seemed aggravated with me though, thinking it was just me complaining again as usual.

Eventually it came time to pick my daughter up from school so we took off. By the time we got in the car I felt the need to go to the hospital AGAIN. We were all dreading it though, thinking we would just be sitting there for hours to be sent home, yet again. We picked up my daughter and headed on down to the fabulous labor and delivery triage. The nurses were incredibly rude to me. At that point I was sure they had enough and was ready to kick me to the curb, just knowing it was another false alarm. So they hooked me up and checked me saying I was still 4. NOT what I wanted to hear. I was terrified, I had been mistaken again and they were going to send me home. When I heard those devastating words "If you have not changed in an hour we will just send you on back home", I burst into tears. The nurse left the room and I bawled. I cried and cried and cried, for what seemed like hours. As I sobbed laying on my back the contractions hurt worse then ever but I could see on the monitor they were spacing out. I lost all hope of having my baby that day. I decided to turn to my side to find some comfort when I felt a familiar feeling. I busted out laughing. My husband looked at me like I was crazy as I tried to gather myself and get some words out. He asked "What on earth"...and I responded with a giggly "My water just broke". I laughed and laughed and laughed. Sure beat the crying by a long shot. I finally found a minute to breath and I paged the nurse. She came in with her little test strip to make sure I wasn't crazy and sure enough...

I sat in my pretty little hospital bed, happy as could be and called everyone I knew. After some time the contractions got more intense so even though I was still only at 5 they agreed to administer the epidural anyways. As I laid down after the epidural I waited for it to kick in, praying all the while that it did and I didn't go through what I had last time. After some time I still had feeling to the left side of my body. I could still only feel the contractions on my left side. So the nurse sat with me waiting for it to kick in which was only about 20 minutes. She then decided to have me turn to my left side hoping it would help gravitate some of the medicine, or something. Once I was comfortably on my left side she left the room for just a moment she said. Just  as she was walking out the door I felt yet again, an all too familiar feeling. I looked at my husband and said "I think I have to push". He asked if he should get the nurse and I said "No, hang on just a second, it went away". But it hadn't gone away, just the contraction. As soon as the next contraction started up a minute later I knew I was right. There was no going back then. It did not stop. I felt the pressure and I HAD to push. I hollered at him to get her NOW. He ran as fast as he could as I huffed and puffed and tried not to push. The nurse told me there was no way I had to push because only 20 minutes ago I was 5. She was in for a huge shock when she checked me and found our son to be crowning.

Now, I had only come into the hospital one hour before. There was NO WAY I could be having a baby already! But it was happening and I had to push. I screamed at everyone that I had to push and they screamed back not to. I could not believe my ears. "What do they mean, DONT PUSH...are they serious"...I had to push and I told them several times, I had to push but they were very demanding that I did not. I could not figure out why. I remember at one point 2 hands in my vaginal area holding my child's head in and that is the truth. They were holding my baby in telling me not to push. What had been a "perfect labor" up until that point had all of a sudden gone crazy and chaotic. People poured in in amazement, people were putting on gloves and robes and grabbing equipment. They all ran around like mad men and I've never seen so many people in my life. What was a quiet peaceful environment had all of a sudden turned into a battle zone where people seemed panicked and frightened. One of the nurses holding my baby in took a moment to teach me how to breath which helped tremendously. What I had seen as "breathing techniques" on sitcoms and funny movies seemed ridiculous. I never could have imagined it actually helped. It did wonders and helped me not to push, even though I still didn't know why I couldn't push at that point. The breathing only helped for so long before I had no choice. I actually don't even remember pushing when the doctor ran in, slid on some gloves and DOVE to catch our son. He literally just slid out on his own into the doctors hands. It just so happened to be the ONE doctor that I could not stand out of the 7 I met with in the one practice. That's right...7 doctors in one practice. I had only spoken to each of them once and had no idea which one I would get on delivery day. At least, I only had to interact with him for 2 minutes and he was gone.

Now what should have been a wonderful moment with my son was actually a nightmare. This hospital was much different than my last and they let me hold him, and try to nurse him and bond with him before they took him off. I believe I had a full hour with him which should have been amazing. But the matter of fact is, it was not. I felt no connection to my baby boy. I was disgusted with myself for not having immediate, intense love for him. To put it nicely, I could have cared less. That sounds AWFUL and I hate to say it, but somewhere during the whole process I lost something. I felt like I lost my will to love or something. It was the strangest feeling. I had no problem letting them take him when the time came. It was almost as if it had all happened SO fast and wildly that it didn't even feel like I was ever in labor or ever had a baby. I never really had any pain, I never felt anything, looking back my contractions were a peice of cake, especially compared to the ones I had after pitocin and I only labored for a few hours. It passed me by so quickly, I didn't know what hit me. Even after that it took awhile for me to feel a bond with him. I would actually probably put it at weeks.

Thankfully now, we are INCREDIBLY close. He is a momma's boy and never leaves my side. I am lost when he is not with me. I still hate though, that I missed that initial connection that we should have had and I blame it on the epidural and the chaos of the hospital setting, I even think I had a case of post traumatic stress. Once again, it doesn't sound like it would have been that traumatizing, but YOU try and not push a baby that is ready to come out, and have people screaming in your face with bright lights, and people rushing in from no where acting like someone need to have their limbs sewed back on. Whenever I try to revisit that moment, I don't want to. It scares me and makes me feel awful. It's not a place I want to be ever again, nor a place I should have been in the first place.

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