I spent the weekend before Laszlo's birth crying, getting a pelvic adjustment to try and entice him into engaging and hiking daily with Warren. My midwife called in a BPP test on Monday early afternoon. He wouldn't move for the camera so we went off the hospital and we started cervadil at about 8pm.
We had a meeting with the new shift nurse midwife at around 2pm - she advised me that the cervadil had made no progress. I was informed I was uninduceable and basically offered cytotec, discharge or a c-section. Warren and I walked a bit and I decided to attempt cytotec and then request a discharge if it didn't work.
Cytotec appeared to not work and by about 8pm I was sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to call my midwife to see if I could still birth out of hospital if I was discharged. I audibly heard two pops and suddenly couldn't speak from pain. I ran to the shower and my water soon broke. I remember feeling incredibly grateful that I wouldn't need continous monitoring throughout the labor since I'd started without pitocin.
My pain level was immediately higher than I'd ever imagined anything could ever be. I labored mostly alone in the bathroom with the door shut. Things intensified to the point that I couldn't keep down liquids due to pain and by about 11pm I was a remarkable 3 centimeters.
I wasn't laboring normally - he'd flipped into posterior, so I had back labor and I only very rarely had breaks between contractions. I requested stadol and received three bags, which only sort of helped for just a minute. I couldn't lift my head from dehydration, exhaustion and pain, and I begged for an epidural. By 6am, the next interaction I remember clearly, he was back in a good position and I'd progressed to an 8. I called my own midwives to come and act as doulas.
By 9am or so, I discovered I was still an 8. They started pitocin and I was quickly complete. At 12 I still wasn't feel an urge to push. We agreed to let the epidural wear off. 2pm, we started pushing. I pulled myself up to a standing position and squatted with each contraction. It was empowering and everyone said they were incredibly impressed. Pushing took about 40 minutes, and I was very nice for the first 35 or so. I demanded Warren read me Rumi's "Music Master" and he obliged. Laszlo was thrown onto me in a gush of meconium, and I remember being astonished that I'd grown something so much darker-skinned than myself. He proceeded to scream, poop and pee some more. His apgars were 8/8 since he was wheezing - he was taken from me pretty quickly for a very long exam and I later found out they were concerned about his lungs or meconium aspiration or maybe both. I had a first degree upwards tear that took 3 stitches.
We were informed at 4pm the next day that his bilirubin was absurdly high, and they were concerned about his risk due to the fact he and I have different blood types and the rather dramatic head molding he emerged with. I still can't think about this without weeping, but he spent about 16 hours undergoing phototherapy in the nursery. I got him for a 30 minute break every three hours, which wasn't enough to get anything accomplished or fall asleep once - even with the industrial breast pump I borrowed from the hospital to most expediently syringe-feed him colostrum. All of this caused his weight to drop from 8.2 to 7.8 by Saturday.
My milk came in by Sunday and he seems to be gaining about an ounce a day or so. I'm receiving my postnatal care from my own midwives, and they stop by frequently to weigh him. The most senior midwife has stated that my labor was sufficiently abnormal that I wasn't progressing from pain and couldn't have had him without the epidural.
Despite the circumstances of his birth, Laszlo is remarkable. He's rolled over, only once but I couldn't be more thrilled! I've had a lot of tears about the loss of my natural birth, but I believe I'll accomplish that goal one day.