That Shouldn’t Hurt aka Round Two

Along with pregnancy number two came a few other changes in life.  We had moved to Riverton, Wyoming.  I was self-employed, which can also be translated as “I had really bad health insurance”.  And despite having Dr. in front of my name, I have yet to find the money tree everyone seems to think exists in doctor’s back yards.  I’ve evidently had poor soil, incorrect sunlight, too much rain, not enough rain… I really don’t know.  But the tree has never sprouted.  So I was pregnant and looking for ways to save money.  I discovered in my searching that the Worland hospital, one and a half hours from our home, charged considerably less than our home town hospital for a delivery.  Well, I drove to Worland for clinic every week.  Young Doc who delivered the babies in Worland was a block down the road from my clinic location.  I just had to mesh my schedule with his and it was no problem.  I’d just pop over there, they generally got me right in, and then I’d pop back to work.  That was slick – except for the delivery part.  The doc was afraid given my history (see blog My Braxton Hicks Baby) that I might end up delivering my child in the back seat of our car in the middle of the Wind River Canyon if left to my own devices.  Wisely he decided I should be induced in an attempt to make my delivery process more controlled.

But what to do about that epidural?  I didn’t want to spend the money.  I figured I’d pretty much delivered without one the first time, might as well skip it the second time and save a few more bucks.  Jeff, on the other hand, disagreed strongly.  Maybe I could do it without one, but he couldn’t.  He wanted to have no part in such a thing.  So I talked it over with the anesthetist, telling him my sorry tale of woe.  “Oh, no problem,” he assured me with soothing tones.  “I can make sure your delivery is pain-free this time.”  And so we made a verbal pact that I would take his epidural and he would make sure I felt no pain.  We had an agreement.

The day arrived.  We drove by the reservoir, through the canyon, past the hot springs, to the hospital.  I waddled in.  The medicine was started.  Nothing. We sat around and waited.  Nothing. I started creating and trying out custom gymnastics moves.  Nothing.  That evening family called wondering how things were going.  “Nothing.”

Come night fall, Young Doc decided it was a good time to break my water.  We talked over the details.  “When do I get my epidural?”  I questioned.  “Well, you’re at 2cm now.  I’ll break your water and check you again in about an hour.  If you’re at 4cm you can have the epidural.  If you get it too soon it will make it hard for you to dilate.”  That all sounded reasonable enough.

I assumed position and Young Doc proceeded to break my water.  Immediately I felt a sharp searing pain.  I told him about it.  “Hmm… that shouldn’t hurt,” he informed me.  Interesting concept.  But totally false.  IT HURT.  This time I decided I should be a whiner since I had a spoken pact with the anesthetist in which he assured me that I would not hurt.  He was violating his pact and no one had even informed him of this violation.  He at least needed to know.  So when the searing pain never stopped, I called the nurse in every ten minutes to remind her that I would like my epidural.  I was in pain.  I had been promised no pain.  I was not getting what I had been promised.  After multiple such discussions, she returned to the room to tell me approval had been granted and the anesthetist had been summoned from his place of residence.

About an hour after the “that shouldn’t hurt” event, the anesthetist arrived.  He got right to work and in short order the entire lower half of my body went completely numb.  AMAZING!  Before leaving the room he suggested I put my legs in the stir-ups and he would get the doc.  He glanced back before walking out the door, his jaw dropped open and he yelled out the door for Young Doc to come quick.  As the doc arrived at the door, the anesthetist said the words Jeff most liked repeating from this tall tale, “I don’t know what she was last time you looked, but she’s (he held his hands apart like a fisherman telling a story and made a gunshot sound) now!”

The searing pain was identified. I think I had one contraction during that whole labor process. It just happened to last about an hour.

We only had two children on purpose.

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3 Comments

  1. Teresa Thompson

     /  November 23, 2011

    No matter how they “adjust” it, it’s still labor. What a unique delivery–only one labor pain!

    Reply
  2. Holding On

     /  November 23, 2011

    what a great story.

    Reply

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