Epidural

by Mary Syreze Smith

Created on: February 28, 2008

How a woman chooses to birth her child is a personal choice. Every woman sits through her pregnancy and dreams of how it will go. There are hopes and expectations of the delivery process. Often, we do not expect the realities that occur. This was my case.

I was determined to delivery naturally with my first daughter. I expected the pain, I was ready to deal with it, and my husband and I both agreed we didn't want anyone playing with my spine for any reason. The week before my daughter arrived I ended up at the hospital in pre-term labor. The pain was excruciating. I couldn't lay on the table comfortably and I kept raising up with the pain. I would hold my breath during each sharp, clenching pain in my back. They checked me, determined I was dilating, but were concerned because I was not at 37 weeks, which in the medical world is considered "term," even if it isn't 40 weeks. So, they gave me a shot of morphine and phenagren to stop the labor and ease the pain. Needless to say, the medication didn't even touch the pain. I was up the rest of the night. At some point, I finally started crying. My sister was insistent on calling my doctor. I told her no, that I didn't want to bother them.

I dealt with the pain for the next five days. I went in for my next check-up. The doctor said I was only half a centimeter dilated from the week before. I walked out of the office so discouraged. All that pain and misery and practically NOTHING to show for it. The only plus was that my membranes were bulging which was indicative of the water breaking soon. I went home and dealt with the pain in my lower back, as it started increasing in severity, and refused to call the doctor. I was certain they would tell me nothing was wrong and send me home again. Not wanting that experience twice, I just walked, took a warm bath, tried various positions to ease the pain. I couldn't sleep. Everytime I tried to, I couldn't get comfortable. At around 2:00 a.m. I felt this vise-like gripping pain on my spine. It felt as my spine was being twisted. I wrenched back and almost screamed. I woke my husband and said, "We have to go to the hospital now! Something is wrong!" He woke his cousin, who had spent the night at our house, and we piled into our Ford Explorer and my husband sped to the hospital.

I cried, screamed, and moaned the entire way. I thought for sure the pain would never go away. When we arrived at the hospital, I tried to walk in, but doubled over and grabbed ahold of a nearby trash can. I didn't care about the germs, the pain was too intense. My whole world became a bubble around me. I could see nothing but my blue nightshirt, my pink houseshoes, and my hand on my pregnant belly. The leaves on the bushes, the trash can, the sidewalk were a blur. The noises surrounding me were muffled. It was as if the pain was screaming silently and I was the only one that could hear it.

I know at some point someone arrived with a wheelchair and I was wheeled pretty fast to the obstetrics floor. On the monitoring table, they discovered I was dilated to three centimeters but they couldn't track any contractions. They talked to the doctor on call and he admitted me. While on the table, I begged for an epidural. They told me I had to wait until I was to four centimeters. They gave me Stadol to get me through to the next centimeter. The Stadol helped me sleep between contractions, but with every contraction, I woke, gripped the bed rail and tried to remember to breathe. I had various people holding my hands and letting me squeeze, brushing my hair back from my forehead, and telling me I was doing a good job. I finally made it to four centimeters.

The time for the epidural had come. The doctor administering the epidural kept telling me I was doing a good job, but all I could focus on was the pain from the contractions. I asked him what was taking so long. If I had known how quickly it was going, I would have been embarassed. After the epidural kicked in, it was sheer bliss. I slept through the remainder of my labor, waking only when they had to check me and when my water broke on its own. When it came time to push, I pushed for two hours and forty-five minutes. The doctor finally sat down and said, "We have never let a woman push this long. Your baby isn't coming out on her own. We need to help her. I can use the forceps, the vacuum, or do a c-section. They are prepping the OR for you right now." I was torn. I had pushed so long and I knew that a c-section was a major surgery. The doctor told me in his opinion a vacuum would slide right off her head, and that a c-section was a major surgery to go through after the labor I had already gone through. He told me he would use the forceps but if he had to pull too hard, he was giving me a c-section. I said okay and the necessary tools were brought in. One pull with the forceps and three pushes, and my first daughter had arrived. The cord was wrapped around her neck three times and she was slow to respond but she was healthy. She was a mere six pounds and four ounces and only twenty and one half inches long. The doctor made a comment while sewing up my tear (he had even given me an episiotomy and I still tore), "Six pounds, four ounces, I would have been embarassed to do a c-section on something that little!" We all laughed.

After the epidural wore off, the healing process lasted three weeks. I was miserable. I am glad I had an epidural with my first. I was glad the pain didn't take away from my experience with her. Only after did I have to worry about the pain but she was here and she helped center my focus off of myself.

With my second daughter, I was induced and received the epidural after four hours of natural labor. The doctor said he was impressed with my progress and asked if I was sure about the epidural. I was certain. My second daughter proved to be almost as difficult as my first but in a different way. The epidural caused me to have a panic attack, which I was told is normal, so they turned it down so I could have some sensation.

While I was dilating, my daughter's heart rate was erratic and not steady. So, they made me roll this way and that way, put on an oxygen mask, and stay very still. They finally inserted an internal fetal monitor, which slipped off once, but still her heart rate was erratic. At one point, it dropped to zero. At this point, the same doctor who delivered my first said, "Just get her dilated to ten, I don't care if she isn't fully effaced, just get her to ten." So, I made it to ten centimeters about thirty minutes later and with three good pushes, she was out. During the drama of her heart rate, they turned off my epidural, so the sensation was slowly returning. I was numb enough that I didn't feel any pain, but I could feel the pressure of my contractions and I could feel her slipping out. That was amazing.

Both times I am glad I chose the epidural. It is a personal choice, and I made mine. It is a choice I am happy with.

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