This will be the story of my labor and delivery.
I went into labor on April 9th. It was a Saturday. My mom and Carter (my oldest) had driven down on Thursday, and my husband arrived late Friday night. I was set to be induced on April 13th. I had argued with the doctor about the date, because I don’t like odd numbers. He told me it was the 13th or wait another week. I took option A, knowing I wouldn’t even make it to my induction date. So there we were, April 9th. Carter was brutal. He was needy, cranky and didn’t want anything that we offered him. We ended up taking him to an indoor kids play place in Vegas because it was raining outside. I looked around and kept thinking about my future with two kids. I was beyond overwhelmed with just one at 38 weeks pregnant.
We went back home that afternoon and I just felt off. My husband knew. He kept asking me if I was okay, but I wanted to keep quiet. We had a relaxed evening as the Oliver, Morgan, Vidovcich clan settled in to watch the new Star Wars. I felt like all eyes were on me. Even with the slightest twitch, my family was wondering if I was okay. I’d been having inconsistent contractions but as soon as a laid down, they got more consistent. Every time I had one, I would squeeze my husbands leg. Everyone had gone to bed or fallen asleep on the couch, so I asked my husband if we could lay down in the bedroom and see if I felt any better. We woke up our Uncle Hugh and in his haze he asked if it was baby time, I confirmed that I was pretty sure it was on the horizon…. so he decided he needed a cocktail!
After about 7 minutes of laying down we decided it was definitely time to head to the hospital. We got our bags together and headed out. It was raining and “our song” was playing in the truck. Summer – Calvin Harris for those of you wondering. I also noticed the time was 11:11. The time has a lot meaning to my husband and I, so it was a little God wink that everything was going to be okay. The ride to the hospital was about 25 minutes. Cody tried to make sure I was calm, and we made a couple of calls. My mom and Carter stayed at the house.
We got to Sunrise Children’s Hospital and walked around like idiots for awhile. I hadn’t even had time to do my hospital tour and I almost peed my pants while wandering around. Once checked in the triaged me. I was at a 4, so they decided to monitor me for two hours. Contractions were consistent, and my sweet nurse decided to help me along a little so they could admit me.
It was 3am and all I wanted to do was sleep. My room was cold and sterile. No windows, a boring beige color on the wall with a TV mounted on the wall directly in front of me. The floors were typical hospital floor, a grainy look with blue stripes. There was a sink with an annoying drip and shortly after I arrived in my room, the NICU delivered Vince’s isolate. The hospital staff at Sunrise was phenomenal. They knew the situation with my baby, and were incredibly sensitive to how scared I was feeling. I opted for the epidural because I knew that the last thing I wanted to feel was any physical pain. The emotional pain I was feeling was enough. My husband and I snap chatted, watched golf, made jokes. He calmed me, rubbed my head, and kept reminding me to stay positive. We napped on and off, constantly being interrupted by beeping monitors, nurse checks and the incurable giggle fits that I got every time I tried to move my lower half. Vince ended up being stuck in my birth canal, and it stalled my labor for quite some time.
After they broke my water, I finally started to progress. Once they told me they were going to call in my OB, pure panic overcame me. I started shaking, it was like the room was suddenly a frozen tundra. I cried and cried while more poor husband just repeatedly told me everything would be okay. He put Tropical House on Pandora to have a distraction. I had vivid flashbacks of how painful it was to deliver Carter. I begged them to just put me under a do a c-section. The entire room got fuzzy and all I could do was pray to God that my sweet boy would be okay. I had a sudden feeling of guilt that because I had detached from this pregnancy of anything happened to him, it was my fault.
With all my strength I pulled it together to bring our sweet boy into the world. April 10th, 2016. 3:28:PM 8lb9oz, 21 1/2 inches long, Vincent James Vidovcich was brought into this world. After 22 hours of labor, 5 pushes and some definite curse words, I heard a beautiful loud angry cry. The one sound I was so desperate to hear because we didn’t know if we would ever hear it. The NICU team immediately took him to do some tests in my room. They were about to whisk him away and my husband begged that they let me hold him for at least 20 seconds, they granted me that because he appeared to be stable. I cried so hard. He was so chubby, and although most parents hate hearing their kid cry, it was a beautiful sound for me to hear. After that my husband left with Vince to the NICU and it was just me and my nurse. It was silent. I sobbed. It wasn’t the delivery I had dreamed of or planned. I was supposed to be back in Reno with my midwifes. Inside the four walls of a hospital where I know a lot of the staff because my mom has worked there so long. In a room that was warm and had a birthing tub and dimmed lights. I was alone and scared.
That moment right after birth is supposed to be so joyful. Your endorphins are the highest they will ever be and it’s so euphoric that unless you’ve had a baby, you can’t put into words. I was the opposite. I was shattered. I have zero shame admitting this, because I want to keep it real. I was hurting. My mind, my body, my soul. I had oily hair and dried blood seemingly everywhere. Even when my mom and son showed up, I felt so empty and helpless. At that point I couldn’t fathom the life I had ahead of me.