(Added a pic to the end...-Epi)
My BP was so high. That on it's own isn't necessarily an emergency...
Except I was very pregnant, and sick. This combination was enough to freak out my PCP and was quickly making me just as nervous.
I did what I promised my Doctor I'd do. I drove directly to the local hospital where my OB doc was going to induce me. I might have paused first to call Mr. Epi, who I couldn't get a hold of, and my Mom.
"Mom, Dr. Leslie is saying that I need to go to the hospital. My Blood pressure's up and that's bad stuff for the little one.... Can you come up there?" I did my best to not allow the terror I was feeling to come out over the phone. It was difficult, I tend to wear my emotions on my sleeve.
It didn't take her long to catch on. The woman with the fiercest work ethic I have ever come across promised me that she would leave work immediately and meet me at the local hospital.
When I arrived in the ER/EC/ED my mother wasn't there yet. It was minutes before I was relocated to the the Labor and Delivery floor. The ER couldn't get rid of me quick enough. And that was okay with me.
I was quickly settled into my room, the same room I'd labor, deliver and recover in. It was beautiful, not at all like the sterile white hospital rooms I've stayed in in the past. This room had wood floors, Monet prints and warm colors.
And a fold out couch, mini fridge, cd player and very comfortable rocking chair that I never got to sit in.
I was too scared to enjoy any of it.
I was alone, and in typical fashion I had a million thoughts running through my head.
Is Baby FC going to be okay? Am I going to end up having seizures? What do seizures feel like? Where is my husband? What if he doesn't make it here in time. Will the baby really be okay? I want my Mom. Where in the HELL is my HUSBAND??? God, I hope he wasn't in a car accident... Jesus, what if he was in an accident and he's out there hurt and...
"Epi? You doing okay there honey?"
I jumped out of my skin. "EEEEEK! Where did you come from?" The nurse had succeeded in simultaneously interrupting my mini mental rant and scaring the crap out of me.
"I'm so sorry I startled you, I need to start an IV and draw some blood." She set her supplies down on the table next to me and took my hand. "Your Mother and Husband will be here soon, Epi. You just hang in there."
Four attempts later (Uhm, OW?) I had the securest IV EVER. It wasn't her fault, I have those spindly rolling veins. They look good until you try to stick me. Made me a human pincusion in Medic School, believe me. Oh yeah. Good times.
Sorry, I'm babbling.
So the IV was patent and the magnesium drip was started. If you haven't had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of magnesium that's probably for the best. Trust me on this one.
My Mom arrived a bit later. She sat at the side of my bed holding my hand while I tried to sleep. I was scared for my baby, sweating like a hooker in church, feeling horrible, and I was getting this headache...
Preeclampsia's a bitch folks.
Shortly after six pm Mr. Epi arrived, breathless and sweaty and smelling like someone who should really be taking a shower and going to bed after an extremely long day at work. He didn't understand what was happening, he was scared, and tired, and irritable.
I needed him there. I didn't want to spend the night in that hospital with the possibility of delivering... alone. I had no idea when they were planning on starting the pitocin, and I had already sent my Mom home for the night...
Rather than spending the night snapping back and forth (and having to smell his funky butt), I sent him home. He didn't protest. I remember wishing that he would have. He was exhausted and really needed to get some sleep. And so did I. It was for the best. And I could call him if I really needed him of course.
What I can only describe as the worst headache anyone has EVER had set in about an hour later. Just about the same time that a 14-year-old girl was pushing her baby out with no epidural right across the hall. Naturally.
"SOOOOMEONE KILLLL MEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!! GOOOOOOOOOD IT HUUUUURRRRTTTTSSSSS!!!!" She was screaming bloody murder.
I felt bad for her, really. But this headache... It was blindingly painful. When I was in High School I was treated for migraines. I have to say this was worse than a migraine. I remember wanting to duct tape her mouth.
Six hours later I still had it. I was laying in bed on my left side in tears when the nurse came in to check on me.
"How are you holding up there, Epi? Ohhhh Honey, what's wrong... are you okay?" She was a Saint, my nurse that night.
*Sob* "My head..." *Sob* "It's excruciating...." *SOB* "I can't see straight it hurts so badly..." *long whimpering* I was a hot mess at that point. Literally. The mag made my body feel like it was on fire.
That nurse (I do remember her name, even close to nine years later. Kelly, wherever you are, you're a SAINT!) did something that to this day ranks as one of the three sweetest things another person has ever done for me.
She gave me a head rub. Kelly rubbed my head for almost an hour.
Had I not already had a name picked out for my son, he would have been named Kelly.
"I survived. Barely," I mumbled, wiping the sleep from my eyes.
"I brought your body pillow." He produced the four foot long pillow.
"Oh God, thank you. The Nurse said they're going to up the pitocin at eight. Looks like it's going to be a long day." I propped myself up in the bed and pulled my tray towards me. Breakfast would consist of ice chips. Yay.
I looked longingly at Mr. Epi's orange juice. McDonalds. I hated him instantly. How dare he enter my room with orange juice.
Two hours later and I still wasn't having contractions. They decided to increase my Pitocin yet again in order to kick start some serious contractions.
That's when the real fun started. The pitocin kicked in, and just about as quickly I found myself in a world of pain.
Pitocin, like Preeclampsia, is a bitch.
Within an hour the contractions started. I did okay initially. I actually watched Martha Stewart and The Rock from WWE bake Valentines Day cookies for his wife. It was a nice distraction. About the time that they started to get a little painful, Mr. Epi's pager went off.
Perfect effing timing.
"ARE YOU SERIOUS? You're STILL on call?" I was chewing on ice chips, sweating, and mad as hell at everyone.
"I couldn't get anyone to cover... It's okay, I'll be back in an hour." He was running for the door.
"I HOPE I DON'T DELIVER YOUR SON BEFORE THEN!!!!" I was yelling after him. I was pissed. Highly.
Three attempts at an epidural with no success.
Nubain given, resulting in me puking green jello for a good two minutes.
Basically, a lot of bitching and whining on my part. But hey, when you're in labor you're allowed to do that, right?
Okay, I'm sorry.
At about 4:56pm on February 10th, 2000 , I delivered FC. 7lbs. 8oz. 21 inches long. My life would be forever changed.
Mr. Epi was asked if he would like to cut the cord. He had to sit down to think about it. My OB cut the cord while Mr. Epi was fanned by my Mom. He's never been a fan of blood.