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Patricks' Story
    I knew my first child would have a lot of her dad's personality when, 6 days after my due date, she still hadn't arrived.
    When she finally decided to come, I naively allowed the medical professionals around me to medicate me very early in the process, slowing labor to a crawl.  Everything worked out well, however; my 8 lb, 13 oz daughter latched like a pro almost from the beginning, and my milk came in with a vengeance before we were discharged 48 hours later.
    I knew, however, from this experience that I would not allow an epidural with the next child -- at least, not until 6 cm dilation, when I was sure I would chicken out and beg for drugs.
    Five-and-a-half years later, my second child looked to be following in his big sister's footsteps -- at least in regards to tardiness.  This time, though, my OB wasn't willing to let us wait it out.  I did not have gestational diabetes, but I was, to quote my OB, "very sweet."  I am small in stature but I had a history of delivering a large baby.  Given this information, my doctor feared I might have trouble delivering vaginally if we let my baby stay put (and grow) as long as he might want to.  It was decided that we would induce at 4 days past my due date.
    I wasn't thrilled, but I wanted an emergency C-section even less, and at least this way I was almost guaranteed that my favorite OB in the practice would be the one delivering the baby.
    I was hooked up to the pitocin drip on March 14, 2001, at about 8 am.  A few hours later, the contractions were extremely powerful, and I was certain labor had progressed quite a bit.  We paged the nurse for a check and discovered that I was only at 3 cm!  I burst into tears.  I had been in what seemed like strong, active labor for hours, and had run through most of the techniques for getting through labor without meds, and here the nurse was telling me I wasn't even technically in active labor!
    I knew it would take a while to get hooked up to the epidural pump, and I knew with the pain I was already in there was no way I would make it to 6 cm without it.  I told the nurse to get the anesthesiologist, and while I was waiting, how about a shot of Stadol?
    The anesthesiologist was very busy.  Almost an hour later, I still didn't have my epidural, but I did need to make yet another trip to the bathroom.  With my wonderful husband's help, I made it without falling over in pain.  But when I sat down, I realized I felt the need not to urinate, but to defecate.  Remembering from childbirth class that this feeling might actually mean I was ready to deliver the baby, I began panting like a puppy dog and told my husband to get the nurse.
     The baby was crowning!
     But wait!  I still want my epidural!!
     Did I mention that, since I'd been at 3 cm only an hour before, my OB had left the birthing center and returned to her office across the parking lot?
     She answered her page and raced back.
     Did I mention she has excersise-induced asthma?
     She arrived just in time (panting furiously) to catch my 9 lb, 11 oz baby boy.
    He was perfect... but by the time we got home, 48 hours later, on a Friday afternoon, I was starting to suspect things were not going well.
    I didn't think his diapers were very wet, but I was being assured by all (over the phone) that diapers had improved amazingly in the 5 years between my children.  Then, just before the pediatrician's office was to close for the weekend, I found what looked slightly like blood, and slightly like ground up red bricks in his diaper.  (He is not circumcized.)
    The doctor's office assured me (by phone) that he was fine -- that these were crystals often passed in the first few days after birth.
    He was fussy all weekend long.  He did not nurse well.  He barely slept.  He cried constantly.  I wasn't engorged or leaking.  Over the weekend, I called the advice nurse for my insurance company, the on-call pediatrician, and a good friend who is an OB nurse.  No one actually saw my son.  They all just told me, over the phone, that I was just having new mommy jitters and he was fine.
    I knew they were wrong.
    On Monday, I took him to the doctor's.  They told me he was dehydrated and that I needed to start formula.  I wanted to see an LC first, so they gave me the number of a lactation consultant to contact.
    Sadly, after before-and-after weight checks, with trying for an hour to get him to nurse well, she confirmed that -- for whatever reason -- he wasn't getting milk from me.  If I didn't give him formula soon, the doctor might put him in the hospital on an IV.
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Last Updated February 2, 2004