(To catch up on Previously, In The Life Of Mary you can read "The Story Of My Life, Part 1" etc)
I was a single mother for the next 18 months. My husband went to school full time and worked
part-time. He spent the summer in New
York on a scholarship. I was still
dealing with undiagnosed depression.
Because of my distrust of medicine I was wary of mentioning it to
anyone. I was afraid the doctor would
whip out a prescription for Paxil or something and I would wind up worse than
ever. I didn’t want to go through life
drugged. I just tried my best to hang on
and hope things would be better once Rob graduated. Maybe getting pregnant again would help… My sixth pregnancy began with healthy morning
sickness. I was relieved. My experience has been the more sick I feel,
the better. When my nausea suddenly
disappeared at 7 weeks, I was frantic. I
knew the doctor’s office probably wouldn’t see me before my scheduled 12 week
visit. All the doctors I have known have
been very nice and professional. But
it’s frustrating. No one seems to take
my miscarriages seriously. Everyone
tells me the same thing. “It happens. Next time will probably be fine.” I was not about to wait and wonder if my baby
was dead or dying until I spontaneously aborted in a couple of weeks. So, I called my friendly neighborhood crisis pregnancy center. They have ultrasounds and they have
time. I was so relieved to hear the
washing machine motor of my baby’s heart.
And, I was a week further than I thought! Always good news. Robert graduated OU’s Price College when I was 4 months. He accepted a job with American Airlines and we moved to Tulsa. Dr W. became my 6th
OB. This was also my 6th move
and our 6th year of marriage.
Dr W. was a lot like Dr M.
Nice, but busy. Very standard,
nothing new or out of the box. This
pregnancy was uneventful. Although I did
experience worsening varicose veins and some pelvic separation. At this time I had several friends who had
experienced homebirths and had favorable reports. I admired and envied them a bit. I could see how much easier it would be to
have the natural birth I wanted in a home setting. I also knew there was a good midwife in the
Tulsa area. But I was too scared. After all, I had wimped out twice now. There was no reason to believe I would make a
good homebirther. In fact, I was pretty
much planning on an epidural this time around.
About two weeks before I was due,
Dr W.'s nurse asked me if I had preregistered for my
epidural. No. Was I supposed to? I raced off to get that done, worried that I
might go into labor in the car. (I was over 4 cm dilated at 38 weeks) I signed all the papers and handed over my
insurance card. Then, the woman demanded
$150. Of all the nerve! I had not expected this. The lady reassured me they accepted Discover
and if I didn’t use the epidural I could get a refund. I stalked out, grimly determined to earn my
money back…
I figured my best chance to escape the epidural trap was to
not be induced. For ANY reason! So, I steadily dilated. Two days before my due date, I was nearly a six. I was afraid if I sneezed he might come
flying out. And finally, some contractions! But were they real? Were they regular? I thought I was having them every two
minutes, but they weren’t very strong.
We went ahead and went to the hospital on my due date. As soon as
I got there they evened out to one every 15 minutes. But in an hour I was a 7, so they had to keep
me overnight. At this point I was still
hoping to go into real labor on my own.
We walked. We danced. The next day my water was artificially ruptured. Still, only one contraction every 15
minutes. My cervix has a mind of it’s
own! I gave in to a little Pitocin and
we were off! The Bradley method served
me very well. I was able to relax and
breathe deeply. I could hear the nurse
comment on how it looked like I was asleep.
Around 8 or 9 cm things were getting intense and my mom was asking me if
I wanted the epidural. I remember saying
“No, I’m too far for that” and thinking
to myself “Way to go! Instead of begging for the epidural you refused it. You are going to make it this time.” And I did.
I wasn’t so sure if that was a good thing or not as the nurses were
massaging my fundus and the Dr stitched me up.
But my husband was impressed. And
convinced that natural was the only way to go.
Within an hour I was pretty proud of myself and glad I had done it. But at first, I wasn’t so sure. We welcomed our little bowling ball, Alvin, into the world. All 9lbs 5 oz of him!
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