With this person right up there.
I attempted, and was successful in a VBAC.
But I guess I should start from the beginning. I woke up with contractions at 0130. Tried to sleep through them or hope that they weren't really contraction for the next two hours. Gave that up at 0330 (since I was keeping my husband from getting good sleep, and if this was for real, he would be useless without good sleep) and came downstairs. When the sun came up, I took a shower, we took the kids to my neighbor, and headed to the hospital. They wouldn't admit me right away, so we went downstairs, I walked for an hour, went to the DFAC (dining facility) then headed back up. Yes, I got an epidural (so thankful for modern medicine and things that take pain away) but luckily for me, it didn't slow my labor down. In fact, 30 minutes after I got it (I think it was 30 minutes) my water broke all by itself. We thought we would have a baby by 1900, but that was not to be. I started pushing, and shortly thereafter we discovered that this baby was stuck behind my pubic bone. He was stuck there for about 3 hours. My epidural was so strong at the beginning that I couldn't feel a darn thing. Not even pressure. And of course the only person that could turn it down couldn't come and do it for what seemed like forever. (lame. teach the nurses how to do it!!!!) After about 3 hours of pushing, and the nurse walked away for a second, I said quietly to my husband 'we need to pray!' He told me he had been praying. (As had I) There was much discussion amongst the midwife, doctor, nurse and us. They decided that if I hadn't made any more progress, they would use the vacuum. I pushed a few more times. And then magically (because I really don't know how he did it or how I managed to push him past it in my exhausted state) he moved past my pubic bone and BOOM he was out. Holy crap. THAT was what a vaginal birth felt like???? Unfortunately, this boy weighed over a pound more than my other babies (but not that it really mattered as nothing that large had ever passed through there before) and I had some extensive repairs. They had to adjust the bed so my bum was in the air and my head was down for them to see well enough to stitch things up. And right as the doctor put his face there to start working, I farted. Right in his face. (that was the beginning of the end of any control I had over that bodily function. sigh.) Baby's head was really sad looking as it had had a lot of pressure on it, being stuck, for over 3 hours. He also didn't cry at first. But he was very alert, looking around with his eyes wide open while they cleaned him up. They had put him on my belly right after he was delivered, but I was so tired, I couldn't even hold him. I also recall my husband kissing my forehead and saying 'you did it!!!' Yup, I did it.
He was born at 2238. 8 lbs. 7 oz. 20 inches. February 5.
I'm not sure if I was smart or crazy to do a VBAC. If (and that is a giant if) I have any more babies, I suppose I can deliver vaginally again. I find it fascinating that 1) women deliver like this all the time. 2) women choose to do it without pain meds. I fully support women choosing both of those things. It just is still crazy sounding to me.
Now that he is a month old, I am still taking motrin twice a day for the pain. I tried to only take one, and boy that was not good. My favorite thing is the squeeze bottle I brought home from the hospital. My milk coming in was not near as bad (although still incredibly painful) as the first two times. I still have a belly which means I can't fit any of my clothes, and my nursing boobs won't fit into any of my shirts. So I am restricted to elastic waist pants and maternity shirts until things get back to normal. I tell myself 9 months up, 9 months down.....but that still doesn't make me feel any better about not fitting my clothes. I could go buy some jeans that fit, except jeans that are long enough for me are dang expensive. And buying expensive jeans for only a few months time almost doesn't seem worth it. I may give in and buy one pair....I don't know.
Right now he is sleeping on my chest. I feel like I can't seem to get anything done around here. Laundry is piled high, the dishes need to be done. My bed doesn't get made. Dinners are sad. I have had help for the last month between my husband (who got the week off of work to stay home that first week), my best friend, my sister in law, and then my mother. Now they are all gone. And while I am enjoying having the house to myself again, I am finding it tough to accomplish anything. I am seriously considering getting a housekeeper once a month for the next two months or so. Changing your expectations of yourself is rough. I know things will get better, so I just have to be patient with myself, do the best that I can, and accept how things are. And now I need to eat breakfast so that I can take a motrin so I can walk without dying today.