The Experience Part II

You leave your wife in L&D to empty the SUV of all the paraphernalia you obediently brought to the hospital that day at the guidance learned from several books on having a baby. The list included: two pillows, toiletries, panic button (for you), snacks, your iPod, magazines, ejection seat (for you or any medical personnel who get fiesty with your wife), books, your vat of cold medications due to your having gotten "THE CRUD" one week prior, a change of clothing, sleeping clothes, horse tranquilizer (for you, not for your wife), and a healthy portion of patience, positivity, prudence, and partnership.

The medical personnel begin to attach all sorts of monitors and equipment to your wife. It all appears state-of-the-art. When it comes time to put in her IV, the technician frowns like a clown who has just had a pigeon poop all over his big shiny red shoes. The technician, as skilled and pleasant as she is, cannot get it started after blowing through one of Meghan's valves. Enter our faithful nurse - the one who has been with us since the first exam that morning. She also blows a valve and then tries a second time. On this third time, Meghan has her arm penetrated like a worm on a fishing hook, as the nurse goes at it with determination... and she struggles. The needle is under your wife's skin, but no blood has entered it yet. So the nurse turns the needle while keeping it under the skin. She searches for a vein in which to insert the sharp tip. Your wife squirms as little as possible while restraining herself from making any large movements that might make it even harder for the nurse to do her job. The burning feels like one tiny area of you arm is being dragged heavily across a carpet repeatedly. As the nurse continues to work away, you realize you had become distracted by your wife's pain laden breathing. As you look back to the nurse you see that she has turned the needle - twisting it to a 9o degree angle to the veins! Man does this look like it hurts. She then gives up and your wife exhales heavily.

While you two talk about how hard it is to find her veins today, you both hear people whispering a specific name. The name is not important, it's how the name sounds that is telling. It could be "Gunner...Hunter...Rockwell... - I can't be sure. But it sounds intimidating. Although you do not know if the staff is calling security, listing the names of their favorite wrestlers, or summoning the power of some mythical god, you get the impression that the guy the staff are talking about is the expert on putting in IVs.

Not 2 minutes later, a tall, chizzled man of about 23 walks into the room and making very little eye contact, gently asks a few questions to your wife while he flips open cabinets and drawers assempling his little tray of sharp goodies and tubing. Clearly this is the go-to-guy for IVs. You wonder, "why didn't they bring him in 1st?" With one determined kneel at your wife's bedside and a very steady hand, this technician inserts the needle underneath the skin of your wife's arm, pauses, palpates and drives it into a vein. The little catheter alights with red, and he advances it fully into place. Nothing says smooth sailing like 4 tries just to get te IV started! You hope this isn't foreshadowing for the epidural.

There you are like two children camped out under the overhang of the boxoffice that will be opening in the morning with tickets to the sequel of the Star Wars movie. You are pumped up with anticipatory glee, yet conscious of the significant amount of pain and work that must occur in order to reach the impending crescendo. Your wife's doctor enters the room and examines your wife again. She is now 70% effaced and 5 cm dialated. Your wife and you beam with excitement as she tells you "this baby is going to come tonight." Your wife remains connected to all sorts of equipment and has now been administered Pitocin -- the hormone that initiates and regulates contractions (it was mentioned in an earlier post I had on this blog which was not a popular post due to its description of ways to trigger labor through intimacy).

The doctor finally departs before mentioning to your wife that she can have her epidural whenever she would like. The doctor warns that it will take a good 30 min to get the anesthesiologist onto the floor. It is 11:10 when your doctors leaves the room. You look at your wife as if to say "What now?" She shudders as the next contraction begins and you hold her hand and ask if there's anything you can do. You breathe with her (you do it as much for you as you do for her). She asks you when you think she should get the epidural and states the pros and cons. You supportively reassure her that it is up to her. It is now 11:30. After another few contractions, your wife appears on the verge of tears due to the pain of the last few -- now very regular and very strong contractions. You say to her. Let's order the epidural. She agrees without a word. In fact, you surmise that she has been waiting for your input before doing this. You think to yourself, "My input? You are the one in pain. How could my opinion matter?" And then you realize how much she is relying on you during this whole event. You more clearly understand the role she expects you to play in order to meet her needs. You're feel honored.

Your wife has just had a catheter put in as the nurse anesthetist enters the room. This guy looks like he should be a center for the Celtics. He asks a few questions, and foolishly tells us he hasn't worked on the Labor and Delivery unit in a "long time." Based on the IV fiasco, you're not exactly chuckling along with him when he tells you this. He informs your wife that she will have to hold absolutely still during any contractions that occur while he is trying to insert the needle. She takes a deep breath and agrees. You are utterly dumbfounded that someone can tolerate the intense contractions at 5-minute intervals, let alone remain absolutely still during one. The nurse anesthetist lets you both know he will begin right when the next contraction ends. Your wife indicates that the contraction is ending. In your mind you hear "Ding, Ding" like the sound of boxers beginning the round. He goes to work on your wife's back. She is breathing hard, and clenching your hand as you stand in front of her. She sits on the edge of the bed with her gown pulled up to the back of her neck. Her eyes convey fear and pain. You are calm, optimistic, confident that she will succed in remaining still as the extra-long needle is inserted in her back, between the vertebrae into the spinal column. And at the same time, you feel your involvment and impact on your wife is limited right now. She tenses with pain as a contraction begins. You continue to hold her hand and breathe with her feeling about as ineffective as one would feel if attmpting to put our a fire with a squirt gun. Just as your wife makes a facial grimace, illustrating the intensity of her pain and extent of her efforts to tolerate this, a seasoned Lt Col nurse squats in front of your wife, grabs one of her hands and commands her attention in the most gentle, persuasive, graceful way possible. It almost seems impossible that someone can take control of another person's attention with only her presence and eye-contact. The veteran woman locks her hazel eyes with your wife, silently reeling her in. As your wife remains focused intently on the nurse's stare, you hear the Lt Col speaking in a steady, peaceful, yet deliberate voice. She coaches your wife to remain still and breath. She somehow soothes your wife's nerves by describing what is happening and informing her of exactly how well she is doing and what impact your wife's efforts will deliver. Your wife appears emboldened. She makes it through the contraction without any problems. After another 2-3 minutes the nurse anesthetist announces that the procedure is complete. He asks your wife is she can feel sensations in various locations. The room exhales, along with the people in it. You and your wife smile and thank the expert nurse for her help. As she leaves you both remark at how powerfully effective the nurse was at helping your wife focus and cope with the painful procedure while tolerating a painful contraction. You both relax until the next "round."