TLDR: Ethan took his sweet time exiting my uterus. I’m that friend of a friend of an aunt’s cousin who you hear about having a ridiculously long labour. Whenever you come across such a tale, you never actually think it’s real because if it was real, it would really, really suck. Well I’m here to confirm it is real and it does indeed suck.
December 13, 2015
Early Sunday morning, around 5:00 AM, I started having contractions. They weren’t severe enough to warrant profanities but they were uncomfortable enough to wake me from my sleep. Then they slowed down as the day progressed so I dismissed the morning’s events as a false alarm.
As we entered the evening, the contractions returned with a vengeance. They were much closer together and hurt like words I’m not comfortable children reading. So I thought, okay, this is probably it. We waited for my water to break or for my contractions to be even closer together, but neither of those events happened. The pain persisted though.
December 14, 2015
After catching zero hours of sleep all night, we finally made the trek to the hospital. I started to prepare my heart for the arrival of my first born. Once there, a doctor stuck her hand in me and announced that I was only 2 cm dilated (you need to be 10 cm to give birth and more than 5 cm to be admitted to the hospital). TWO CM. All that freaking pain, and I wasn’t even the size of a quarter. They shot me up with gravol and morphine and sent my husband and I home.
It was rough, but we accepted that it wasn’t time and that I needed to stop being a baby about my pain because my actual baby wants to chill in my utero-oven a bit longer.
December 15, 2015
Profanities, profanities, profanities. I hadn’t cursed that much since I was a too cool twelve year old, roaming the elementary school hallways with my “back up.” The pain was off the charts. The only way to relieve it was to push. My water still hadn’t broken and my contractions were still 7-10 mins apart (ideally they should be 3-4 mins before heading to the hospital).
I was extremely reluctant to make another trip to the maternity ward as I felt another rejection could destroy my soul. But, we went anyway. After another night of excruciating pain and no sleep, I was elated to learn that I was now a whole…3 cm dilated. My husband and I picked up the shattered pieces of my soul and went home.
December 16, 2015
At this point, despite the mind-numbing pain and the high-pitch shrieks that my neighbours could’ve mistaken for murder, I was determined to stay home until the baby’s head was protruding from my vagina. That’s obviously an exaggeration, but I genuinely could not emotionally handle another hospital rejection.
We waited until the early afternoon. I decided to call my OBGYN as the urge to push was stronger than ever now. She quickly advised that I go to the hospital and she would admit me as she was the attending physician. My husband and I looked at each other with cautious excitement and proceeded to the hospital.
My OBGYN checked me and exclaimed that I was 6 cm dilated and I could possibly have the baby before her shift ended in 2.5 hours. WHAT?!?! My husband started texting close family members and friends – get the balloons and confetti ready, people!
Hours passed. The pain was unreal. My OBGYN’s shift ended and another physician replaced her. He proceeded to check me and expressed, “uh, you’re only 4, maybe 5 cm dilated.” WHAT?!?! Cancel the balloons and confetti, this kid is growing old and retiring in my uterus.
I don’t know how there was such a discrepancy, but it was too late – I was admitted, hooked up and I was staying in the hospital for the long haul. Also, SHOOT ME UP WITH THE EPIDURAL – PLEASE!
December 17, 2015
After the epidural, my labour could’ve gone on for another 80 hours and I wouldn’t have cared. I was comfortably resting on the hospital bed while wave after wave of contractions came and went. Then around 3:00 AM, I was told to push. To be honest, without the pain, I was getting pretty bored and impatient after about 30 mins. My husband described the experience as extremely anti-climatic and compared it to watching me work out, which if you know me, is exactly as uneventful as you would imagine.
4:07 AM – Ethan Atticus Cheuk bursts into the world. The nurse immediately wonders out loud, “why isn’t he breathing?” My heart skips a beat and then the baby lets out a bloodcurdling cry. “Sounds like he’s breathing to me,” the doctor responds. Then Chris is asked if he wants to cut the umbilical cord, to which he says yes. After he makes the cut, the doctor recoils in terror and clenches his fingers. “Just kidding,” the doctor smirks.
What are these people doing to us?! (Other than those two isolated incidents, all the staff at the hospital were freaking amazing).
So there he was – in his gooey placenta-clad glory. Ethan was placed on top of me – skin to skin – I looked down at him and he looked up at me. He was calm and I thought to myself, “phew, the hard part’s over. I can finally get some rest.”
Needless to say, I was still hopped up on drugs.
4 Comments
My experience with my first childbirth is somewhat similar to yours. I also had contractions for 5 days and my daughter was born via emergency C-section. The doctor had to make my water break. They gave me an epidural and waited til it wore off then made me push. Pushing for about 1.5-2 hours didn’t work for me.
My 2nd daughter was also born via emergency C-section.
Oh man, Kathy!! 5 days?? You’re a true rockstar.
I absolutely loved reading your post! And can’t believe already 2 years has passed! I’m excited to hear to come 🙂 happy birthday Ethan!
Thanks so much, Christine! Time really flies, right??