After what one nurse called a "marathon ordeal" this week, Dr. Z and I welcomed our son to the world on Thursday evening at 5:04. The boy endured a long induction process, going through sporadic and often painful contractions with Mom in order to prepare her body for the labor. After nearly 30 hours of Pitocin-laden intervals, nurse #8 told us we'd proceed with "the process" after checking the dilation.
Another doctor arrived and prepared Mom for the manual breaking of the water. As he approached the bed, the water broke naturally (!), Mom had her most intense contraction, and then immediately vomited in an emergency puke bag.
And then things got moving in a hurry.
The painful preceeding hours had only pushed the dilation to 3.5 cm, and given the strength of the contraction, the immediate reaction to the fluid spill, and the absence of strength sapped by the previous days' work, Mom went off script and asked for the epidural. By 2:50 p.m., the shot was administered and the doctor OK'd Dr. Z's prognosis. By 3:45, less than an hour after completing the epidural and confirming a 3.5 cm dialation, Mom was at 8, and felt at times like she was actively holding back a child rather than letting one advance.
The doctor said the unborn boy had a bit more distance to travel, and speculated things would go even quicker around 4:30. By 4:42 we were set up and ready to push. Contractions became a bit harder to pin down at this point, but upon arrival, gave Mom three solid opportunities to work with the push. After just twenty-three minutes, our son set out on his great run, just as mom crossed another finish line.
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