Getting the Epidural
3:30 a.m.: The anesthesiologist arrived, a cart full of medicine in tow. He told me to sit on the bed, cross my legs and hunch over to round out my spine. I tried the best I could to stay still, as my nurse had instructed, but my contractions were strong and only one minute apart. My nerves were on edge, thanks to an intense fear of needles, so I concentrated on my husband instead of what went on behind me. The anesthesiologist numbed my back and administered the medicine. Relief soon followed. Shortly thereafter, thanks to the epidural, Demerol, and the sleeping pills, I felt the need to sleep creeping up on me again. I informed the Internet that I was dilated to 6 centimeters and felt "very, very, very, very, very, very, very happy."
5:26 a.m.: I settled my happy self into bed, hoping to get a little sleep before the Big Event. Sometime before I passed out, I called my mom, who was in town for the birth, to tell her what was going on. Even though I didn't want anyone in the room, she showed up at the hospital, where nurses continued to give me vaginal exams while I slept.
5:41 a.m.: My doctor arrived at the hospital, due to the fact that my daughter's heartbeat kept dropping during my contractions. She informed me that they would try to get everything under control, but I might have to have a c-section. Tired and confused from the drug cocktail, I just smiled and nodded. They gave me some medicine to slow down my contractions and turned me on my left side. The medicine made me feel cold and shaky, so they covered me with blankets. Again, this time with the help of my husband, I informed the Internet of my progress: 8 centimeters dilated and "blood is coming out."