Epidural please. Now.

So I was actually hoping the little guy would stay in there a little longer.  Going into labor makes me nervous.  I hate pain. As a result of my pure hatred for physical pain I opt for the epidural every time. Judge all you like.

Keep your documentaries and articles and blah blah blah.  You won't change my mind.  I have no guilt whatsoever. Just gimme the drugs.

I had an induction date set for July 12th, which is still 4 days away from when I'm writing this post.  My actual due date was July 18th, which was 6 days after that.  Due to the fact that my body is insane and not in a good way, out of these four kids, I've only made it to my induction date once, and even then, I was already in the early stages of labor, and wouldn't have made it much longer.  Actually the one time I did make it to my induction was my easiest and most problem free labor and delivery of all.  Again, another reason why I opt to go this route. I respect the gals who have strong enough bodies to go all natural, but I'm not one of them. I need medical help every time, not just for selfish reasons like "I hate pain", but because in the past I would have lost my firstborn, and probably died after giving birth to my second born if it wasn't for the pitocin and induction process. 

So the last week before I went into labor, I was feeling particularly yucky.  I've felt yucky during pregnancy many times, so I didn't think it was anything to make a huge deal about.  It was hard not to complain though.  Scott is convinced that there were events going on that whole week that stressed me into early labor.  I'm not sure if he's right or not, but it's hard to deny that with so many issues and things to worry about all coming at once that week, that I wasn't extremely stressed, and the stress did cause my body to react angrily.  There is a lot going on with us right now, when details are worked out I will blog about it, but right now nothing will be absolute until the kinks in our plans are figured out so I'll wait.  Part of that situation is that we are probably moving.  Again, long story, and I will blog about it later, once things are figured out and more absolute. Nevertheless all the information that came all at once, made life a little complicated during that week because I had to rearrange a lot of upcoming plans and prepare for new ones.  The night I started feeling the real labor pains, I was actually up until midnight packing some of my clothes in my closet into boxes and trying to figure out what I was going to keep and what I was going to throw away.  I was trying to get the majority of that figured out before the baby came.

So it was during that night, that I was organizing my clothes with Scott, that I started to feel what I thought were just more Braxton hicks contractions.  They actually started around 8pm and I noticed some were more painful than others, but that had been happening all week, so I figured it was no big deal.  I did start lazily timing them a little just in case though, but wasn't expecting it to go anywhere.  At the time they were still a little sparadic, some every 4 minutes, some every 8 minutes.  Since they weren't that consistent I just figured it was my body still being nuts and went on with my life.  There was a point while packing though, that I stopped and got down on all fours until the pain passed.  Probably should have taken that as a hint, but nooooo.  Instead I got back up and went back to work.  Scott joked that he hoped it was real labor because he didn't feel like going into work the next day, but since I grumpily told him I was fine, he didn't worry too much about it. So sometime after midnight I got into bed.  Scott noticed that I was in more pain than usual, but when he asked me about it again, I told him that I refuse to be the girl who goes running into the hospital with my hopes up only to be sent home in false labor, so unless something dramatic happened like my water breaking, I was just going to sleep it off.  I figured I was just tired and needed to rest, since it was late at night.
Trying to sleep wasn't my cup of tea.  I was still hurting, and I couldn't get comfortable, but I managed to fall asleep sometime after one.
So from there, one minute I'm having a dream about being in an amusement park.  I got into my seat to get into a roller coaster and just buckled my seat belt, when I was hit with a mind boggling pain.  In my dream I thought my appendix burst.  Then the pain came again, then again.  It finally jolted me out of my sleep.  I woke up in bed and was pretty annoyed that these contractions were hurting so bad, and also a little worried.  What if this was real?  Nah.  At first I thought, "well, if it's real it will take all day anyway, and I'm tired, I should just sleep through it and see if it still hurts in the morning, then maybe check it out if it's still there."  So I literally was dozing off between contractions, only to be jolted back awake when another one would come.  So finally I took out my phone and started loosely timing them.  They seemed to be coming every four minutes. Hm.  Well I've had false ones come that close together in the past and it was nothing so I shouldn't worry right?  Right?  I'm sure I look like a dope to people who were reading this and they're wondering why I didn't want to run to the hospital, but see, it was still just so early.   Maybe if it were a few days later, but since it had been a relatively healthy pregnancy up until the last week or so, I didn't see any reason for me to be going into labor.
They were still hurting.  A lot.  My insides were being squeezed by an imaginary giant fist that was determinded to liquify them.  Aw shiz, maybe this is real.  Well, let me get up and go to the bathroom and see if that makes it go away.
I must have been wiggling a lot, or maybe grunting and groaning because Scott woke up and asked me if I was okay.  All I could say was "I hurt."  In a groany, irritated tone. He wanted to take me to the hospital, but again, I was in complete denial.  NO.  I don't want to be in labor right now.  I didn't even pack my hospital bag, my living room is dirty. ..like with shoes and toys and probably Ritz cracker crumbs,  and I'm too busy to be in labor right now.  Nothing is organized.  Just no.
Scott went downstairs to try and find the camera and make sure the batteries in it were charged, "just in case". 
At that point it was Scott convincing me that we should get it checked out.  He started with,  suggesting that I should just go and the don't worry, the world won't end if it was just really painful false labor and, and better safe than sorry.  I kept telling him that I was probably just being a baby and a wimp and not to worry.
The pain was getting ridiculous though.  My entire pelvis was on fire.  If it could talk it would have been screaming "Whhhy?!  Why do you hate me?!  Let me DIIIIIE!"
Meanwhile, I was starting to be convinced, then unconvincing myself between contractions.  When one would hit, I'd stop moving and bend over and moan and say, "Okay okay this hurts lets go," and when it would pass and I felt good again, I would say, "No haha just kidding, I'm fine I'm fine, I feel good now I think it's gone must have just been a really bad random pain."  Then another one would hit, and it would start all over to "Aaargh!  Stop stabbing me!" back to, "Well that was probably the last one, lets go back to sleep."  So Scott being Mr. technology, started timing them on the ipad. This is an actual screen shot of the ipad that we took later since it was still on there by the time this was all over:

They were averaging every four and a half minutes so far

Started timing them around 3:30 until 4:40

So out of stubbornness and denial, I went through this ridiculous pain for a little over an hour.  I still refused to deal with the idea of waking up the kids in the middle of the night in case it was for no reason.  I have three kids.  Do you know what it's like to wake up three small children in the middle of the night?  Do you?  Yeah well it was enough for me to continue to remain in torturous pain for a while, that's what it's like.  I actually tried to convince Scott that I should just drive myself to the hospital because, really, I'm fine...and I'd call him from there if it was real.  He laughed at me and of course said no. Which caused me to whine that this was turning out to be too complicated. 
The next contraction sent me to the floor. To. The. Floor.  Gripping the carpet and squeezing my eyes shut as hard as I could.  I refused to scream.  Screaming is for the wimpy girls in the movies.  Nope, just going to stay here and focus on that stupid chocolate carpet stain that Jake made with his milk a few months ago.  Nice carpet stain.  Good carpet stain.  I love you carpet stain.
  Scott was loosing patience with me, and warned me that I would be like our neighbor who gave birth in the car on the way to the hospital and ended up on the news. (That really happened to our neighbor last year, I love her to death and felt so bad for her.)   He warned me that if that were the case he would take lots of pictures and make sure everyone saw them. That had me convinced, so I let him wake up the kids and we all got in the car to go to the hospital.
From there the ride was kind of like a movie, where the mom in hunched over with eyes tight shut in the front seat groaning every four minutes, while the kids are in the back asking if mom is okay.  I remember asking Scott why the car ride seemed to take so dang long and did he take a longer route or something?  Seriously, he was taking the long way wasn't he?
Scott dropped me off at the entrance.  I told him to go park with the kids, and that I'll keep him on speakerphone on my phone.  I didn't want him to come in with everybody because of Jake, who being only 18 months old and awakened from his silent slumber, was on an anger rampage and wasn't going to take any prisoners.  When I got there, a really nice security guard, who seemed to be the only one there in the main enterance since it was 4am, asked me if he could help me.  I told him that I thought I was in labor, and after an "oh dear" from him, he went and got a wheelchair and insisted on wheeling me to the maternity floor. I'll never know that guys name, but he was a really sweet guy.  I didn't feel like being the hero and trying to walk through the contractions at that point, so I was fine sitting in the chair like a helpless old lady.  Whatever. Let's just get this over with.
So I got in and they put me in a little back room where they could moniter me.  This happened before when I went into labor with Jacob, so I was fairly familiar with this room.  The only difference is that when I was in labor with Jake I still felt human, and not like I was being sawed in half.  Through all of this I was still trying to remain plesant, and even forced a smile to everyone I met, though it was probably more of a grimace.
 I had been dilated to a two,  days earlier but when the nurse checked, I was a little over a four.  From what the internet says, a four is a good time to go to the hospital, so I was feeling relived, thinking, "Cool, I'm a four, now take me to the delivery room and hook me up to an IV and get me out of this mother freaking pain!"  However, I guess because I wasn't screaming and cursing she said that they would monitor me for an hour first.  An hour.  If I could go back in time I would have resorted to the screaming and cursing, with a few threats, demanding she call my doctor.  Since I was exhauseted and in sort of a haze however, I just layed my head down and stared at the clock.
Longest. Hour. Ever.
I blame the nurse.  I could tell that she didn't want to be there and I was just a "job".  I even got up to go to the bathroom and I swear my water had broken and was trickling down my leg very lightly, but when I brought it up that I felt like things were more wet down there than usual, she shrugged it off an said it was from the lubricant she used when she checked my cervix.  She didn't even test it.  That little wench deserved a kick in the gut.  Really.  Maybe it's because I was in intense pain, but I decided right then that I hated her.  I still resent her because it was obvious she didn't care about me at all, and I was right too, because I found out her shift was ending and she just wanted to go home. I wish I remembered her name...I would complain to the hospital.  Yes that's mean and I don't know her and maybe she was having a bad day and blah blah blah but I was having my pelvic area beaten with a sledge hammer every four minutes and she made it obvious she didn't even care.  It was during this long and lonely hour that the terrible fear that I would just keep dilating and that I wouldn't get my epidural on time crossed my mind, and I was starting to internally panic a little.  I must have muttered a prayer under my breath after every single mind numbingly painful contraction that I would be able to get the epidural on time if this baby came fast.  Really.  I was saying silent prayers the whole time in spite of all the anger and frustration and my complete lack of feeling spiritual at the moment. I was desperately begging to PLEASE let me get out of pain before this baby comes.  Pleeeeease.
 So... during this time where they decided to keep monitoring me, Scott was still there on the phone and instead of waiting there for an hour with the kids in the car, he decided to just go ahead and drive them to my parents house so that he could come inside the hospital and keep me company.   By now it was about 5am.  My body felt like it was being eaten alive by flesh eating zombies for the last two hours.  THIS is why I was dumb for just not going in at three a.m. people.  What the crap was wrong with me?   Why did I always have to prove that my pain isn't real?  I did this once when I was seventeen and I tore my ACL ligament in my left knee.  Instead of getting it checked out by a doctor, I was sure it was just a sprain and I went and found some old crutches in the garage and used those for two weeks, before my dad finally forced me to have a doctor look at it.  Yeah that little knee problem ended up in major reconstructive surgery and I still have two huge screws holding my left knee together and the scar to prove it.  I am an idiot when it comes to pride and pain.  An idiot.
Anyway back to the story, from what I was told, while I was writhing in agony inside that little back room in the hospital, Scott arrived at my parents house with the kids at about 5:30.  My sister, half asleep, answered the door, and Scott just said, "Lisa's in the hospital.  Here." and handed my 18 month old to her and pushed the older two in the door and then ran to the car and drove away like a madman.  My sister just stood there confused because she had just woken up, and my poor kids were even more confused.
 Scott called me a little bit after that while he was on his way back.  By then, I was sitting there alone and in pain, hooked up to a monitor and angrier than a hornet.  Honestly I don't remember much about the conversation, except that I cursed out the nurse to Scott, and I paused mid sentence while doing it, because I was having another contraction, and could not speak during them.   I just wanted Scott there because every minute was beginning to feel like an eternity. I remember that Scott laughed at some point because I was breathing furious threats that if they thought after this hour that there was even a chance they could send me home than I would raise hell and unleash all my inner demons upon the pitiful and pathetic souls that were were trying to torture me there.  Sometimes, pain makes you want to curl up in a ball and die, but for me, I was angry.  Really really angry.  I wanted to kill someone first, then curl up in a ball and die, but not until I took someone with me.
10 minutes before the hour ended, the new nurse who took over for the one I hated popped her head in the door and offered to check my progress even though I still had ten more minutes before the hour was through. Yes please.  I could tell this one was already a much better nurse. So she checked me  and then informed me that I was now dilated to a 6, so she would call my doctor and they would move me into the delivery room, where I could get out of pain and have all my dreams come true.
Scott came in right about then.  Finally it seemed like things were going to be okay.
Once we got into the room they were starting me on my IV fluid and went to call the anesthesiologist.  Too bad the anesthesiologist was taking his sweet time.  Where was he?  Was he counting floor tiles?  Tiptoeing through the tulips?  Making out with a nurse somewhere?  Filing his nails?  In the bathroom with diarrhea?  Where the freak was he????  At this point, I swear I could feel my body dilating even more. My bones were splitting open. I felt helpless.  A lot of angry thoughts about why any woman would actually choose to feel all this pain was going through my mind. (for which I apologize, because a lot of women I really like and respect chose natural childbirth and I admire them for it, but I was in labor and not thinking kind thoughts.)  Then I realized that the reason I was  so upset, was because unlike me, those woman chose the pain.  I didn't.  Maybe if I was one of those girls that actually wanted to try natural birth than this would be more tolerable because it would be the consequences of my own decisions, but now I was trapped in a tunnel of unbelievable pain and I had no say in the matter and what if that stupid anesthesiologist doesn't get here in time?  I can feel this baby coming now.  I can feel it, he's coming, and now I would be trapped into the birth plan that I don't want and feeling this monstrous pain that I never wanted and I only had two hours of sleep and this had been such a hard week and what if the baby was too small because it's so early and why can't anything I originally plan actually work out without something changing those plans, or going wrong?  I was angry and frustrated and in pain and a little afraid and overwhelmed, and I finally let my tough girl guard down and two little tears started to fall down my face.
Interestingly enough, those little tears were enough to snap me out of my feeling trapped sensation because I couldn't let anybody see me cry. Yes, in spite of all of this, that was still a priority for me. I didn't want to be the lady who shamelessly cried and made a scene like the one in the movies while giving birth. Yes, my pride won again.
Too late though.  Scott noticed.  He asked if I was okay and I just shrugged.  The nurse turned around just in time to see me quickly wipe a tear and asked if I was alright and I stuck my nose in the air and sniffed, and said "I'm fine."  I'm not sure because at this point in all the pain it was kind of a haze but I think she chuckled at my defiance.
Finally that dang Anesthesiologist came in and took what felt like the longest time humanly possible to get me prepped and ready for the needle, then hook up the tube to my body so that I could get out of pain. I wanted to scream at him to just stab me with that thing already, but instead I co operated and was kind. He must have known how I was feeling because he made sure I had as high a dose as possible to start out with.  He hit me right on the nerve, I know because I felt that little shocky feeling that you get when you hit a nerve.  I've had it before while getting a root canal and the dentist gave me a shot and hit the needle directly on the nerve.  I was glad though, because that meant that the medicine would work faster, which it did once it was finally flowing through my system. 

This picture couldn't be more accurate for me.

Not even two minutes later did the pain start to ease and my doctor, who was dressed all in golfing clothes came in the room.  Apparently she was inturrupted on her drive over to make tee time when they called.  I apologized and she just laughed and said that it was no big deal and she just called her friends and told them she was going to be late and to start without her.  She was just as surprised as I was that I didn't make it to the 12th, since the last time she saw me a week earlier, all was well.  It was actually a great relief to see her there.  I love my O.B.  She is amazing and just seeing her actually calmed me down.  With all of my kids, she had done an amazing job and always made me feel like my needs came first.
So she checked my cervix right away, and lo and behold, I had been dilated to an 8.
I read later on the internet that once you're dilated to an 8 they usually don't give you the epidural anymore because it's just too late and it wouldn't take affect in time anyway.  Apparently I had made it just in time.  I believe it was a tender mercy from Heavenly Father to save me from having to go through the whole thing in pain and against my will.  Believe what you want, but I seriously think that he cared enough about me and my small pathetic needs to throw me a bone and give me the birth experience I actually  wanted at the last second.  The funny part is that the nurses kept telling me that I managed the pain really well and stayed extremely controlled during that time.  HA!  If they only knew.  Scott did.  He knows me well enough to know how hard that was for me no matter how stone faced I seemed on the outside.  Worst. Pain. Ever. Seriously. 
On a side note, This post isn't meant to be a big debate on epidurals vs natural birth.  I think every mom should have the option of getting the birth experience she wants.  That's all.  I'm still convinced that my attitude would have been much better if I had chosen to go all natural,  but by feeling forced into it, I panicked.  I also sympathize with the moms who want to be all natural and can't because of whatever complications come up.  In the end, it stinks either way when you don't get the birth you want.  I'm just thankful that in spite of my horrible attitude and anger and frustration, that somehow those little muttered prayers during that hour in the monitor room were heard, and that Heavenly Father let me have my stupid epidural just in time, and that in the colossal scheme of real problems in the world, that I mattered enough to him for him to let me have that one little tender mercy.
It wasn't even ten minutes later after she checked my cervix at an 8 that I jumped up to 10 and had to start pushing.  Because he was so ready to come, it only took three long pushes and he was out.  Another wonderful little miracle was that it turned out he was posterior, and my wonderful O.B. was able to turn in just in time before he came out.   
He let out nice healthy cries, and they handed him to me and let me look at his perfect little face.  Magically, just like the three other times before that, I was in immediately in a deep soul filled love.  He was beautiful, wonderful, and mine. My body formed and molded this perfect little human being.

I love him, I love him, I love him!!!!

7lbs 6oz and 20 inches long.  I was told that had I gone full term he would have been huge.  I like him at this size.  So does my cervix.

We are all so happy to have him here! 

Daddy and little Sammy

Once the kids were able to come visit, they seemed the most excited of all.  Last time with Jake even though they understood and thought it was cool, it was still so new.  Now that they knew a little bit of what to expect, they were beyond thrilled to meet him and hold him.  It made me so happy to see how excited they were.

Crystal is madly in love.  Every morning when she wakes up she asks to hold him.  She also frequently exclaims, "I love him SO much" over and over. 

Seth still remembers Jake being new and in the home, and now that he's older he was more excited than ever to see his new little brother.  He thinks Sam is the cutest kid who ever existed.

Here is Jake meeting Samuel.  The funniest thing is that even though he liked him and wanted to grab him every five seconds, he didn't realize we were keeping him until we brought him home, and then he couldn't stop saying "baby!" and wouldn't leave him alone once he noticed him in our house.  We're still trying to get him to learn his name instead of just calling him "baby."  We're also really careful not to let him get too close for right now.

Just so the people complaining about this pic on Facebook are aware, I Photoshopped the shiz out of my face on this one.  It had dark circles and tired eyes and puffier cheeks.  Notice my stomach is also completely covered. I modified it to the "internet friendly" version, instead of the "I just gave birth" version.  In real life I look like a zombie Snooki right now.

Little hospital name tag on his bed

My sweet family.

It's been 6 days since I gave birth, so nearly a week.  I'm still exhausted.  Whenever I get after pains, I remember the pains from the contractions of being dilated to an 8 and I cringe.  I'm traumatized for life. LIFE I tell you. I hate pain. In a way it's good that this happened with my last child because, having felt nine tenths of whatever natural childbirth is like, I don't think I would ever want to risk feeling that again.  I'm sure I won't always feel that way, but for now I'm still unhappy about how painful it was.  I'm also sure a lot of people who really love the whole natural thing are thinking, "You almost did it, you should have waited those last 10 minutes so you could say you had a real natural birth, you were so close!"  Yeah...no.  I never want to do that again.  Sorry.  Worst pain ever.  I don't care if that makes me a wimp in your eyes.  I don't care if you've had 10 natural births and didn't blink an eye.  Good for you.  My mind works differently than yours, and I cannot for the life of me find any logic in choosing to feel pain when you don't have to.  I just can't.  I hope we can still be friends though.
So these days I'm trying to take it easy, which is easier said than done with three other kids and a lot of stuff to figure out in the next five or six weeks.  Scott keeps demanding that I lay down and rest and take naps because he doesn't want me to make myself sick.  My doctor already told him that due to my "human frailty" that I'm not even allowed to push a vacuum, and to stop me when I try and do anything. To tell you the truth it's a little frustrating.  I feel physically useless.
Scott has been fantastic and extremely supportive through all of this.  He really is my best friend in the world.  Even lately I can just lean on his shoulder and tell him all the things that I'm worried about and that are stressing me out and he is super patient and loving and compassionate and understanding.  He is taking good care of me.
  I love quiet time with my new little man.  I love holding him and kissing him and cuddling him up.  He's such a great baby so far.  He's an amazing sleeper.  I actually have to wake him up to feed him at night or he will just keep sleeping.  It actually makes me nervous, I find myself waking up and poking him and making him wiggle just to make sure he's okay because he's so dang quiet.  This is the polar opposite of the last baby, so I'm not used to a mellow, quiet baby anymore.  Granted, he's still brand new...things could change in his personality in the next few weeks, but for right now, he is just an angel.  I can't wait to continue to get to know him as his personality develops in the next few months.
Life is good.  I have a lot to be thankful for.  I did it!  I'm a mother of FOUR kids!  The whole thought of being the mother of four is still surreal to me.  Physically, I can definately feel it, but it still is weird.  I love being a mom though.  I really feel that it's my purpose, and my calling, to raise these four beautiful spirits and help them learn their way in this crazy world.  I don't take that responsibility lightly.  I think it's amazing that God trusts me with these perfect little people.  I miss them when I don't see them after a while.  Even if it's just a few hours.  I think I need them more than they need me, if that's possible. I'm so thankful for my family.  This wasn't my easiest childbirth, but so far he's my easiest newborn.  I think it's silly when I hear people say they don't want to have another kid because they couldn't possibly love someone else as much as they love their current child. I can understand other reasons, but thinking you couldn't possibly love another one as much is something I disagree with.   People are under the myth that their heart has only so much room for affection.  The amazing thing about having another kid, is that your capacity to love just grows and grows, and with that capacity to feel so much love, you also feel so much more joy and happiness.  It's the best thing ever.