My second Tale of birth – No babies sliding out here

Baby #2

Though sporting a small bump again, history taught me that this baby could be big too, but I knew I could deliver, so no worries there. The one problem. Baby #2, sex still unknown, decided NOT to make a debut on or anywhere near my due date. So 10 days following, I was induced with the evil Pitocin. Did I know it evil then? No, but I was sure about to find out. Of course au natural insisted on having no pain medication again. But this labor would be far shorter, right? Wrong!

All day long I was connected to the Pitocin pump which infuriated me as it required that I be strapped to the monitors making it difficult to work through my contractions. I could tell I was trying the nurses patience as well with my incessant complaining that I felt restricted by these “seat-belts” and confined to rocking in a chair. I also informed them I neither puked in little pink trays, nor peed in bed pans. Therefore, with my Dr.’s approval they had to unhook me each time I hit the restroom. Twelve torturous, vomitous hours later, the dear Dr. says, “I’m sorry, you haven’t made the progress we had hoped, so we may have to turn the Pitocin off and start up again tomorrow.” What?!? I didn’t think I could possibly be hearing this right. Since I really couldn’t speak at this point, he must have seen the daggers I was shooting at him through my eyes so he tells the nurse to try turning up the Pitocin just one more time.

An hour later, bing, Boom, BAM! Suddenly I am in piercing, mind-blowing pain, screaming for my mother. Bellowing for help. I am literally blind. Screeching so loudly, I remember the nurses yanking an oxygen mask over my face and telling me to breath to help the baby. “Help the baby!” I shout, “Who’s going to help me?” The doctor comes running. Guess that worked! Baby is coming down. Phew!

After a few minutes, I did manage to pant, “Dr, as we discussed, I’d like to avoid, ya know the cutting?” I definitely wanted to nix the gardening tools this time. Well that was a big mistake. HUGE mistake. Since fyi y’all, tearing hurts more than cutting. You would think I was the Virgin Mother Mary. Guess not all second timers get a pass on that one. Fortunately, despite all my shouting, my second bundle of joy arrived a little chilly, but healthy and a whole pound lighter than her big sister at 8 lbs 3oz.

Honestly I thought my birth stories would have ended there, even though a very nice psychic advised, there would a third. I shrugged that off as nonsense. In fact, I had I completely forgotten about that psychic lady when 8 years later, I discovered myself pregnant with surprise baby number three.

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