My second pregnancy was a world apart from my first. I felt nauseous and sick for weeks. If I moved too quickly in the mornings, I’d be sick before even leaving to drop Sophia off at the sitter’s. One morning, I was bent over the toilet, and Sophia came up behind me, rubbing my back and saying, “It’ll be okay, momma.” Bless that child.
When I hit the 34-week mark, I thought, Okay, I know what to expect if I go into labor now. At 34 weeks, I had my sprinkle (yes, I know, it was risky but I didn’t have any boy clothes yet. I guess I like to live on the edge). The last few weeks of my pregnancy were a blur, mainly because I was chasing around my almost-3-year-old.
Then, it happened.
“Your blood pressure is a little high for my liking,” Dr. Scholey said, glancing at her computer. Are you kidding me? It was only elevated in the doctor’s office. At home, I was monitoring it regularly, and it was fine. My mom was with me at this appointment, and I’m so grateful for her presence. I was in tears the whole time, and she asked questions, advocated for my VBAC, and was my warrior because I was falling apart.
I couldn’t stop wondering: What was wrong with my body? Why was I having these issues in pregnancy? What did I do wrong? Was I too overweight? I hadn’t gained any weight since getting pregnant with either of my kids. Was I that unhealthy? Did my body hate being pregnant, even though my heart longed for it?
All these questions were racing through my mind when Dr. Scholey dropped the dreaded word—induction. My previous induction with Sophia had been awful, so I broke down even more. And what did Dr. Scholey do? She rolled over to me on her little scooty stool and asked me to explain what happened with Sophia and why I was reacting the way I was.
The gist of it: I was given cytotec, which didn’t work, I was in excruciating pain for 26 hours with no progress, and then I had a C-section. I wasn’t allowed to see my baby for 10 hours after birth, but that’s a whole other story.
“I promise you, the minute he is born, he’s going straight to your chest,” she said with conviction.
She ordered some labs to check if I was already preeclamptic and then looked at the induction schedule. I had my grandpa’s 89th birthday that weekend, and I was feeling FOMO. I asked if I could go in Saturday night to be induced so I could attend his party. She agreed. I was scheduled to go in at 7 p.m. that Saturday.
At the time, Sam was working out of town, about an hour away. I called him, explained the plan, and he was on board. I went home and started packing, definitely overpacking.
Saturday arrived, and I went to my grandpa’s birthday party. My parents took Sophia for the night, Sam came home, and we headed to the hospital. I checked in and was put in my labor and delivery room. We had the most incredible nurse, Gina. She was so knowledgeable, explaining everything she was doing and why. I’d already told Dr. Scholey I refused to have cytotec, so we decided on a Foley catheter induction. They inserted the catheter into my cervix and inflated saline balloons to hold it in place. It was taped to my leg, and every few hours, they’d come in to pull on it and apply pressure to help my cervix start dilating.
I had lost my mucus plug earlier that week, but I was barely a centimeter dilated.
During the induction, I was able to walk around, go to the bathroom, and feel like myself, which was a relief. After a while, Gina pulled on the catheter, and it came out. I was about 3 cm dilated, on pitocin, just waiting for things to progress. Dr. Scholey came in and broke my water, which was an intense sensation.
I labored a while longer before deciding to get an epidural. I was terrified of getting it again after what happened with Sophia, but I couldn’t handle the contractions without it. After the epidural, I was able to rest for the remainder of my labor (definitely the right choice). The worst part was when the anesthesiologist came in, said he was going on lunch, and asked if we needed anything for the next hour. We said no, and he left. Near the end of that hour, I began feeling intense pain near my C-section scar. It wasn’t the scar itself, but that area felt like it was being stabbed with a thousand red-hot needles. I was crying in agony, thinking my uterus was rupturing (which it wasn’t).
When the anesthesiologist came back, he had an attitude and gave me a bolus of epidural medication. I ended up getting three boluses before delivery.
Hours later, I was at 9.5 cm. I told Sam to notify both my parents and his. At that point, I wasn’t sure if I wanted my mom in the room, but I needed her. She rushed over and said if she had hit one more red light, she would’ve missed it. At 10 cm, I began pushing. I pushed for 39 minutes, and my perfect little boy, Remington “Remi,” was born at 9:08 p.m. He was placed on my chest, just as Dr. Scholey promised.
I had a slight tear (half a degree), requiring four stitches, but I didn’t have the usual pain when using the restroom afterward.
Remi is the perfect addition to our family. We joke that Sophia has middle child energy with oldest child sass, and Remi is just chill. He’s laid-back and enjoys his sister’s presence, and I’m soaking in their tolerance of each other while it lasts!