This is part of the Stream of Consciousness prompt I’m taking part in by way of the Love Is In Da Blog challenge. I have to write what comes to mind
without with as little editing as possible (I just fix obvious typos from my fingers hitting the keys too fast). This is what flooded my mind with the prompt “contraction”.
Contraction? It wasn’t clear when I first woke up, in a daze. Within moments it was evident;
contractions is what woke me from my heavily pregnant, heartburn filled, propped up with 6 pillows to sleep sitting up, don’t lay on the wrong side, hate that I can’t sleep on my stomach sleep. It was 11:30 at night and little did I know that within the next 8 hours, I’d be holding my little girl.
The pain was excruciating and lasted for yours. The contractions would come and go so I didn’t want to get myself too excited just to go on like any other day. 3 and a half hours later, it was clear that these were contractions and no Braxton Hicks. You’d think I would have known sooner this being my second delivery, but things were so different between the two pregnancies.
I wanted a home birth this time around, but it didn’t work out. I sat in the hospital for hours in pain, the nurse was ready to send me back home because my progression wasn’t textbook enough for her liking. I wouldn’t have gone further than the lobby had they discharged me because I knew I was in active labor. The contractions were strong even though they were farther apart than she would have liked. I wondered if she was a mom because she wasn’t very sympathetic or understanding. She was very judgmental and condescending. I decided she had never had contractions, she only knew what it was like to see them mapped out on a screen. She must have taken my agony as a Grammy winning performance. I couldn’t understand at the time why the contractions hurt so badly if according to her they weren’t active labor contractions.
Finally I had progressed enough to be admitted into labor and delivery. I’m glad that I listened to my body because in the two minutes between my last check and when the L&D nurse came to get me, I was moments away from having the baby. By the time I got upstairs it all made sense. Within an hour of the nurse wanting to discharge me, I was holding the baby. So while the contractions weren’t close enough or long enough for her liking, they were strong enough to do what they were meant to. I wanted a natural home water birth, I didn’t have the home or the water part but I did get the natural. Even though I begged for drugs, it was too late. I had progressed too much and they wouldn’t have time to kick in. So I was left with no choice but for the contractions to kick me in. My doctor didn’t make it and the doctor on call just barely did.
As excruciating as the pain was, radiating my body in waves, momentarily paralyzing me, having me assume the fetal position, sucking the air out of me, starting from the very core of my body and the unrelenting back ache. These were some strong sons of contractions. They weren’t playing around. They had a job to do and they were kicking butt and taking names. I don’t have a high pain tolerance as it is but this was the worst pain I’d felt. No breathing, humming, or pressure points relieved it. Yet I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again. I was walking, and pain free after that delivery and didn’t take so much as an Ibuprofen afterwards. I wasn’t groggy, or drowsy, I had no side effects because I hadn’t taken anything. I was clear of mind and my emotions were running high. The contractions my have beat me at first, but in the end, I won. Take that contractions!