I kept PUSHHIINGGG...nothing.
The residents insisted that I PUSSSHHHHH...
So I would PUSHHHH, and nothing.
Waiting for the contractions to come was the worst part, by far. The pain of the contractions was so intense and immediate, I could barely consider the thought of pushing once they started that uphill climb to the peak.
Yet the nurses and residents kept insisting I push push push whenever I was at the height of the pain. It was quickly becoming obvious that I simply could NOT PUSH ANY MORE.
I felt as if I had been pushing for an hour, and even said so. "It's been an hour!!"
The consensus in the room was, no, it hasn't. You have been pushing for 15 minutes, maybe 20. You've been arguing for 30.
"I need help!!" I cried, oblivious to everyone around me, talking to no one in particular. "The epidural is NOT WORKING!!"
"The epidural isn't going to help during this part of labor." The nurse said, matter-of-factly. "You're going to have to push through the pain."
Ok, push through the pain. It'll be over soon. Everyone keeps saying so. "It'll be over in another push or two! You're an amazing pusher!"
So I kept pushing. Nothing. I finally got the nerve up and looked in the mirror they placed between my legs. I saw a little patch of unfamiliar hair coming out of a small opening. Every time I pushed, it would come out a little more, making the opening a little bigger...and then the contraction would end and it would slip back inside. Pushing was not working as well as everyone was leading me to believe.
I was getting pissed. The epidural was completely done. I was completely done. My pushing was ineffective, at best. The residents were getting frustrated. I was becoming desperate for some relief from the sharp, stabbing pain.
"PLEASE. I CAN NOT PUSH. MY BODY IS SHUTTING DOWN!!" I yelled. I looked at my husband, who was beaming and excited beyond belief. His eyes were shining with impending tears of joy. I felt as if I had let him down in some way by not popping this baby out sooner.
The resident looked up from between my legs and said in an annoyed voice, "Well, then you'll have to have a C-Section. Do you want that? A C-Section?" Her tone denoted a smart-assery that made things that much worse.
"YES. GIVE ME A C-SECTION." I hollered, dead serious. I wanted this DONE. I was over pushing. I was convinced everyone was lying to me. It was NOT just one more push, ever. In fact, if I heard "JUST ONE MORE PUSH!!" cheered to me one more time, I was going to rip out the IV, hop off the table and walk to the operating table on my own.
The resident looked shocked that her ploy had backfired. Little did she know that I was impervious to reverse psychology. I really did want a C-Section, if, in fact, that was what she was offering me.
"Well, it will be a different kind of pain!" She back-peddled as best she could, "You'll be recovering for months after a C-Section! You really don't want that, do you?"
"YES I DO." I repeated myself emphatically. And at that moment, I really did. Not my proudest moment, but YES I REALLY DID.
The nurses and residents conferred. The new anesthesiologist came in and gave me another shot into my catheter, hopefully to ease up on the pain so I could try pushing again, which I did...to no avail. Although the pain had lessened slightly, it came back with a vengeance twenty or so minutes later.
A second, blond resident came in and calmly spoke about another option. "We can do one thing before we try a C-Section. We can suction the baby out. Do you want to try that?"
I looked at my husband and weakly asked him what he thought. He said, "Whatever you want to do is fine with me." Although I knew this wasn't true...he would never have wanted me to go through with a C-Section.
The suction was attached, and the resident said, "You will have to push 200 times harder than you did before. Can you do it?"
I did. Two pushes later, he was out. He was quiet. They whisked him away and suctioned him from head to toe, sticking tubes down his throat, getting all the merconium out. Husband was thrilled and crying, checking on him, and then coming over to report to me what he was seeing.
Sadly, I don't remember most of what happened next. What I do remember is the incredible pain of having my uterus hand-scraped by the residents who delivered the baby. Apparently, they had pulled on the umbilical cord and it had promptly fallen off, causing them to act quickly to remove the placenta. If any part of the placenta was left inside, I was in danger of hemorrhaging.
If labor was painful, this was excruciating Hell on Earth. And it seemed to go on forever. Husband heard my screaming and came to my side, held my hand, and cried. He said later that he was frightened. He had never seen me in that much pain before.
The baby was almost done. Husband clipped the cord. They wrapped baby up in a blanket, put a hospital hat on him, and handed him to his dad.
All I remember then is being in the room with a swaddled baby. The rest, sadly, is a blur. I don't even remember holding him for the first time.
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