update

Hmm...I don't even know where to start. I will just make this post about the actual delivery, so you can skip it if you want to, although I will skip out on the ooky details.

After our lovely morning of worry and stress about whether we'd be able to get in for my induction on Tuesday, we called back at 9 am and were told to come in as soon as we wanted to. So we hustled Abigail through breakfast, took her over to Andrea's, and drove to the hospital. They started my induction about ten minutes after ten. Neil and I spent about forty-five minutes walking up and down the halls until I could definitely feel some contractions, and then we went back to my room so that they could monitor me and determine that the induction was indeed "working." The rest of the morning was pretty slow--we walked around some more, I ate my exciting "clear liquid" lunch of bouillion, jell-o, and juice (although I must say it was exciting to be able to eat something other than ice chips, which was all I was given during Abigail's delivery). I read for awhile and Neil did some studying.

After determining that the hospital cafeteria only took cash, Neil left for about an hour to go to Target and buy salami, hard rolls, string cheese, grapes, and dried fruit (what he calls the "Decker Vacation Special," since my family always opts for salami-and-cheese sandwiches when on the road, and I've gotten Neil addicted as well). When he got back, he snuck me some real food, which I greatly appreciated.

At about 2 pm, the doctor came in to see how I was doing. I was at 2 cm when I came into the hospital and I'd gone up to 3 cm in the four hours since I'd been induced. While he was checking my progress, my water broke and the contractions suddenly became very businesslike to the point where they were about a minute apart and pretty nasty (you're supposed to go to the hospital when they're five minutes apart and a minute long, so you can imagine the general unpleasantness of these). Suddenly our quiet little oasis became a beehive of frantic activity--more monitors appeared, a nurse came in to give me the worst stick for an IV I've ever had (literally--blood was FOUNTAINING all over the place and they were using bathtowels to mop it up. Bathtowels. For an IV. I could tell how bad it was by how tight Neil's lips were--he was pretty angry. And the worst part was that the nurse was obviously flustered and kept saying "Oh wow...that's a good vein" and nervously moving her hands and accidentally catching the end of the unsecured tube, thus wrenching it around and causing more blood to gush out. It was quite painful).

After about fifteen minutes, the contractions were so bad that I wimped out and asked for some kind of pain relief. The anesthesiologist was busy, so they gave me a shot of something in my IV that was pretty interesting--I don't know much other than the fact that I could feel my eyes rolling up in my head and I was curious about whether I could see the inside of my eyelids. Everything was very fuzzy and Neil sounded like he was very far away (and pretty distressed when I just sort of laughed whenever he asked me a question and then answered the question five minutes later).

The anesthesiologist came in about 3:00 to do the epidural. Unlike my epidural with Abigail, it was a very long and painful process. It took about half an hour, and I was having contractions the whole time that were making my entire body shake, so it was pretty hard to hold still. At this point I was at 6 cm; if this fact had actually penetrated my pain-fogged brain I'm not sure I would have had the epidural, but I was firmly convinced that once I had it the pain would immediately leave (as it did with Abigail) and I would be able to nap for three hours (as I did with Abigail).

Unfortunately, all that happened was that my legs went numb--I could still feel each contraction. The anesthesiologist upped the dosage: nothing. The nurses happily reassured me that this was good; it meant the baby was coming soon and fast. I retorted that I did not want to have the baby yet, since I wanted to take a nap; they smilingly said "Of course you want the baby now!" and I decided I did not like those nurses. I wanted to send them all out of the room, especially the one who kept patting my arm and saying brightly "You're doing great, honey! Just great, sweetie!" For some reason it's always irritated me when people I don't know call me pet names; usually it doesn't bother me too much, but at that point I wasn't feeling particularly charitable. Especially when in the 30-second interval between each contraction she would say happily "Oh! That was a great one! Good job! Wow, this baby is sure coming fast!"

Fortunately, Neil was amazing. Absolutely amazing. My heart welled up with love for him every minute or so when he had finished talking me through each contraction, counting down the seconds steadily and audibly, encouraging me to squeeze his hand, and telling me when the contraction had peaked and was on its way down (thank goodness for those monitors). He stood there the whole time holding my hand and stroking my forehead and I loved him more in those minutes than I have ever loved anyone in my entire life.

After awhile, the nurses got bored and left, much to my relief. I'm not sure if Neil sent them out or if they left on their own; I do remember him asking angrily at one point "Is there anything you can do for her? Anything at all? She's really hurting and the epidural isn't giving her any relief!" and the nurse responding happily "Nope, she's progressing too fast for the epidural to catch up! Nothing we can do!"

An hour after the anesthesiologist left, I couldn't take it anymore. Whenever I opened my eyes I could see how worried Neil looked, which made me start to worry, plus I was physically starting to run out of energy from fighting through contractions that were several minutes long and coming every thirty seconds. Hard to recoup when you're still twitching as the next one starts. I was also (contrarily) irritated that nobody had been by to check on me for an hour during which I had been having ripping contractions and that nobody seemed to care that the epidural wasn't working and that the anesthesiologist hadn't been by to check on me as promised, nor the doctor and my original nurse had disappeared, so I buzzed the little nurse thing and yelled "Get a doctor or a nurse in here NOW!" which worked wonderfully well and someone came running right away. At first I was told that my nurse was in a C-section and couldn't be spared, etc. etc., but reveling in the new found efficacy of my rage, I kept yelling "Get a nurse here!" and finally one appeared and decided to check my progress, and lo and behold...I was 10 cm and the baby was just about to make an appearance. I shudder to think what would have happened if I hadn't finally lost my cool and abandoned all attempts at patience. Neil would have had a whole new doctoral experience, I suppose.

As it was, the doctor took quite awhile to get there, during which point I kept yelling "Where is the doctor?!" partially just for the fun of it and because it was so nice to say something and see everyone run around frantically repeating the same thing after I said it. It made me feel a little like the Chief Lemming. But after another twenty minutes (!!) the doctor showed up and I was finally allowed to have the baby. She was born about five minutes after the doctor got there at 4:42 pm, six hours and thirty-two minutes from the time the induction started. If you're keeping track, it took me 36 weeks to get to 1 cm, 3 weeks to get to 2 cm, 4 hours to get to 3 cm, and 2 hours for the last 7 cm. Pretty lickety-split. Oh, and the epidural kicked in during the last fifteen minutes, so at least I didn't feel the actual birth part and the stitches afterwards, for which I am deeply grateful.

All things considered, however, I must confess that it was a much easier labor than Abigail's, of which I spent twelve hours in labor at home (including the four darkest hours of my life when I was curled up on the floor under the end table crying from pain and completely unable to wake Neil up to take me to the hospital--it took me about an hour to get from the living room to our bedroom) and another twelve in labor at the hospital. It was also a much less physically damaging ordeal, and I was able to actually get out of bed fairly competently under my own power as soon as the epidural wore off, a feat which took me about a week to do with Abigail. I cannot even describe to you the depth of my rejoicing for that blessing.

As I was cradling Juliet in my arms at about 2 am that morning, I had a feeling of overwhelming peace and a sudden confidence and surety about being a mother of two--I had the feeling that not only could I really do this, but more importantly, that I wanted to do this. I was so excited and happy to be a full-time mommy to these two little girls, and I was so grateful that I had a husband who supported me in that rather than expressing frustration at the fact that he worked twelve-hour days while I kicked back (so to speak) at home. I can't really capture how special that moment was for me, but it was, and I'll just leave it at that.