I went to the doctor on Thursday, June 16th, and told the doctor that if I hadn't yet delivered, I wanted the next appointment to be on Wednesday so we could schedule an induction for Thursday. That would be one week overdue. For my emotional health, I just couldn't take going any longer than that.
Friday about 7am I woke to a "bloody show." (Ugh, I hate that term but the only alternative I know is no better.) Which only means you'll probably deliver within a week, but I was glad at least that I saw some sign of things moving along and that maybe I wouldn't have to be induced. I got up and started getting ready for church and within about an hour I started having some contractions but didn't think too much of them since I'd had so many during the last few months. They seemed to be not going away though, so I was hopeful. By the time we left for church about 9 they were fairly consistent so I started timing them once we got there. They were about 9 minutes apart.
By the time Sacrament meeting was finished and they hadn't stopped, I figured it was time to head home and get ready to go to the hospital. Some very kind friends we've made here, the Ethingtons, had offered to watch the boys when the time came, so it was convenient that we were already with them at church. We took Richard home with us, showed him around the things the boys might need during the day and then he went back to church with our car so he could drive the boys home. Their plan was to come back, have lunch and a nap and then take them to swim. That day was also their daughter's first birthday. Luckily they had already celebrated it the weekend before. I felt a little bad infringing on their day with her, but what could I do? :)
As I hurried around trying to think of last-minute things we needed to do, I lost track of the contractions and thought they might be dissipating. I was going to be embarrassed if the baby never came that day since after leaving church for the hospital, everyone there knew what was happening. But once I sat down and started timing again, they were coming right along. By the time we left around 1pm the contractions were about 5 minutes apart. Richard got home with the boys just before we left so it was nice to get to see them and hug them again before we went off since I knew next time I saw them I was going to be so much more distracted.
We took a cab to the Al Corniche Hospital, which is probably just 2 miles away from our apartment and checked into urgent care. I sat in triage being monitored for about an hour, being dilated to a 2 when they first checked. My contractions didn't progress much until I got up to go to the bathroom about 2:30. Then they sure got moving! I had been thinking of trying to do this birth naturally like with Davey but once the contractions really kicked into gear, I decided to abandon that idea and get an epidural. The nurses finally arranged for me to go upstairs to a delivery room and no, they didn't take me up in a wheelchair, I was walking all around the hospital. By the time we got to the ward, I could barely walk the contractions were coming so quickly and strong. I was doubled over in pain trying to deal with them and crying - not really sure why I was crying... partially from the pain, unsure I could do this again, and partially from the crazy hormones, amazed that this pregnancy was finally coming to an end and I was going to get to meet my little guy. The nurses ushered me into some sort of waiting room before figuring out what to do with me. Then they had me walk down a long hallway to the end into a room. Took me forever to get ther and when I did, I realized I wasn't in the delivery ward, I was in a recovery room! What?!?! I was dying for an epidural and knowing I was making fast progress toward delivery. They had just dropped us off in this shared recovery room - a lady was there with her baby, listening to me in labor - and left. I couldn't believe it! So I sent Dave to find someone to come back and check me again and get me to the delivery room. They checked me, I was dilated to a four, and saw how much distress I was in and finally got themselves into gear and made arrangements for a delivery room. Apparently it was a really busy day in the hospital and the rooms had all been full. Which I think is crazy for a hospital that does nothing but maternity.
I was finally taken up to a delivery room, though I don't remember the time. I'm guessing about 3pm. I immediately asked my midwife, Princess, for an epidural. She promptly told me it would not be possible, which made me angry. I was almost yelling at her, for which I apologized a couple minutes later. Apparently there were 3 women ahead of me who had asked for one and it sounded like no one was getting one because there weren't enough midwives on duty to watch over them after they'd been administered. Ridiculous. If you're having a busy day, call in some more midwives to work.
I didn't want to use drugs that would affect the baby so she advised me to try using the nitrous oxide gas (laughing gas) during my next contraction to see what I thought. I didn't feel much help but it did help me focus on breathing to get through the contraction... since I wanted some kind of pain relief so badly, I was taking very deep breaths through that mask. Eventually it started helping a little as it made me drowsy. From that point, the gas made me loopy. It was a strange experience, really. It seemed like I could still feel everything but I was sleepy and disconnected from it. And I started making no sense. I knew what I was saying was silly but couldn't help it. Sometimes I would alternate groaning in pain with laughter at the crazy things I was thinking, which really confused Dave and the midwife. I kept on telling Dave how I loved his eyes. The gas made me feel like I loved everyone there, even though now looking back I would not repeat the experience and don't feel much love for it. My water broke just shortly before it was time to push. Dave says I pushed for about fifteen minutes.
Henry was born at 4:14pm (GMT +4). He had Apgar scores of 8 and 9 because he didn't cry right away and his hands were blue. I held him right away, which was wonderful. He was so tiny. Then he was weighed and sat on the warmer for a long time while they sewed me up. I had, as usual, tons of tearing inside and out. They spent an hour and a half sewing me up and removing a quite large cyst as well. It was about the size of my thumb but wider. The sewing me up part was just as hard as the delivery to get through. So I didn't get to hold Henry again for a long time but he was happy.
Some random details to remember: The Corniche Hospital policy is not to bathe the babies for 6 hours but they didn't bathe him until about 24 hours later, but he came out amazingly clean. A couple nurses commented on it. Also, nurses kept coming into the recovery room and commenting on how fast my labor was. One nurse told me I looked like I was Arabic. Sharing a recovery room wasn't terrible but wasn't nice. The worst parts were sharing a bathroom and dealing with the other person's light being on so bright in the middle of the night when I was trying to sleep. Luckily her baby didn't cry too much. They really left me alone a lot and it was very quiet in the room (we were at the end of a long all, which probably helped), which was nice since they rarely woke me from sleeping. Henry had a Hep B shot in the hospital, but I declined the BCG vaccine (tuberculosis) because its not a shot they give in the US and it leaves a nasty welt on the child's arm that often gets infected and it just looks so painful. When I spoke with the pediatrician at his 8 day appointment, she supported my decision saying it only protects the child for a couple years anyway. The shot is, however, mandatory in the UAE. For that reason I'm glad we don't live there. The food at the hospital was surprisingly edible.
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