Once the pitocin got into my bloodstream, oh boy did things kick into gear. Pitocin is a drug that acts a a synthetic hormone to oxytocin, which helps the uterus to contract. Therefore, my contractions quickly intensified to another degree. Throughout the next 4 hours, the amount of pitocin received increased intermittently, as well as the intensity of my contractions. The contractions were so painful that I thought I was going to pass out. Each and every time I contracted, Evan was right there. When the onset of a contraction would come, I’d reach for Evan and ask, “Can I do this?” And he’d respond, “Yes, you got this. Let’s go!”
After that, I would stare at him, breathing unusually, until the contraction ended, and then I’d slump back down to wherever I was. At one point during a contraction, I gripped the insides of Evan’s arms so tightly that I thought I penetrated his skin with the grip of my nails. In that moment, Evan cringed with masked pain and stated, “Yep, I can take it! Come on!”
His support and gangster-like grit encouraged me.
Midway through the administration of pitocin, my mom walked in (mic drop). Guys, I had no clue that my mother and father had immediately hit the road to make the 8-hour trek to Chicago upon receiving notice that I’d been admitted to the hospital. Seeing my mom walk into the labor room made me cry unexpectedly. The pitocin caused the contractions to be so strong that when I wasn’t contracting, I looked like death—for a lack of better words. My mom immediately started crying when seeing me in such a weakened physical state.
By 1:15pm, I made up in my mind that I had endured my last contraction on pitocin. As if no one else was in the room, I looked at Evan and said, “I’m done Evan. I can’t do this anymore.”
I looked at the nurses and told them to get me off of the pitocin. I kept repeating over and over, “Get me off this pitocin. I can’t do this anymore.”
The midwife relayed the benefits of remaining on pitocin, considering that my contractions were still irregular. After 4 hours on pitocin, my contractions were intense but were still coming every 8-12 minutes. Things weren't progressing as expected. The midwife gave me other options in order to handle the pain—an epidural being one of them.
I was in such a state of delusion that I just looked at Evan and said, “You decide. All I know is that I can’t keep going on like this.” Evan reminded me of all the past times that I reminded him of just how much I didn’t want an epidural. Yada-yada-yada. All I knew was that I just wanted to get off of the pitocin. At the same time, I didn't want to be in labor for days. While trying to decide my options, I unexpectedly threw up several times. My body, which was already weak, became that much more feeble.
With the decision left unmade, the nurses and midwife stepped out of the room so that Evan and I could decide whether or not I wanted to move forward with an epidural. By this time, I “accidentally” snatched the IV out of my arm so that I was receiving no more pitocin.
Evan and I came to the conclusion to get the epidural. I knew that I couldn’t endure anymore more hours/days of labor—which looked likely without the pitocin (Did I tell you that I still hadn’t dilated any further in the four hours of laboring with pitocin? And did I tell you that they ended up rupturing my membrane too—that is breaking my water—and that I still hadn’t dilated any further by 1:15PM?) In my head, I just wanted to eat lol. I kept thinking, “Can we just take an hour break to let me eat, nap, and then get back to it later?” But I guess labor doesn’t work like that? Or maybe it does, under different circumstances. Well, back to the story.