And Here is Where You Hyperventilate

Last week we went on our hospital tour. I thought it was a good idea to get to know where we should be before I go into labor so Eric doesn’t have to try to follow signs with me flailing wildly and screaming at him about how much it hurts. The hospital is not only beautiful (which we already knew from my grandpa’s heart attack) but also, apparently, has one of the best labor and delivery units in the country.

Our tour leader was a slightly up-tight blonde woman in very pointy shoes. She’s a childbirth educator. She’s also, probably, some form of robot. She began with showing us where we’d come in, “This is where you park. You can only park here for 2 hours.” Followed by, “This is triage. This is where you go to find out if you’re in labor or not.” Then round about and up some elevators to L&D admissions. Here is where they explained how secure the ward was. That you had to be either in labor or proving who you’re visiting to even get through the super-secure, locked doors. Here is also where Eric bit his tongue and didn’t mention how, the last time we were there to do pre-admissions, the pre-admissions woman just let some random man looking for the cafeteria go through those super-secure, locked doors with no more than a, “Yeah, down the hall, take the elevators at the end of the hall.” You know, the end of the hall that has all the unlocked doors with women having babies and whatnot.

So, past the not-so-super-secure, locked doors we went. “Here is secondary triage.” I’m not sure whether they’re way over-estimating the amount of women who plan to come at one time to give birth (flash mob L&D triage, maybe?) or maybe secondary triage doesn’t trust primary triage and feels they need to double check their work. Either way, there are two separate places where I could be told (like my poor mother), “You’re not in labor, yet. Go home. Drink a bottle of wine. Take a bath.”

Next, “Here is one of the operating rooms. Here is the other. Here is where you get water and ice chips. Here is where your husband gets to keep the food he’ll get to eat in front of you, while you are offered 7-up even though you’ve been in labor for the past 22 hours, have had nothing to eat all day and are expected to do marathon pushing like a champ to get this child out of you. And right around this corner is the L&D room.”

The room is beautiful, nicer than most hotel rooms I’ve been in and at least 3x the size. There are imprinted leaves for focus points on the ceiling, all the scary medical stuff is tucked and hidden in beautiful wood cabinetry, there’s a jacuzzi in the bathroom and a really comfy couch in the corner. There is also me, standing in the corner, trying my best not to hyperventilate. It started getting hot because we had to close the door. This is when she shows us the squat bar and the ”break away” bottom of the bed, explaining, “This breaks away because your doctor will get right up in there.” Here is where I get a little dizzy and break open my water for the first time. Nothing says, “You’re about to give birth to a child” like a break away bed.

The rest of the tour is a bit of a blur. “We don’t have a well baby nursery, we have an amazing NICU, we have wifi in all delivery and post-partum rooms (yup, Andria, I will be trying my best to keep this updated while in the hospital - expect something like, “IT HURTS! SOMEONE MAKE IT STOP!”), your family has to come in that way and they’re not allowed to go in there. Use this sign if you want privacy, this sign if you want visitors, this sign if you don’t want men around, this sign if you’d like a margarita and some morphine.” I plan to take full advantage of the latter.

It’s getting *way* too close. 28 days. A mommy on a board I frequent was due a week or two after me and just gave birth last week to an incredibly beautiful baby girl. (Congratulations, Becky!) As much as it made my heart flop and flip and wish for my baby Ben to be here, too, it also made my heart flop and flip and realize how completely unprepared I am. (Although, I did get my hospital bag about 90% packed the night we got home from the tour.) I think I may need that last sign now…

Filed under 3rd Trimester, hospital, pregnancy |