Saturday, March 31st - The Sailor and I didn't sleep at all that night. Every time I would have one of my super irregular contractions it would take all of my effort to not scream in agony. It felt like I was carrying a vampire baby and he was trying to eat his way out of my uterus (yes, just like in Twilight). The best description would be to imagine that every once and a while it felt like your bladder was going through a paper shredder for a minute to 90 seconds.
I spent a good amount of time in the tub with The Sailor just spraying me with the shower head (since the tub is tiny and the water would barely cover half my body). If we weren't in the bathroom, we were in bed and he was rubbing my back. At about 6 am I agreed to go back to the hospital because I was pretty sure I was going to die from the pain alone if we didn't do something.
The same nurses were working and they could tell right away that my pain level was through the roof. So, they hooked me up to the monitors again. Still, unless there was a nurse there to continuously move the contraction monitor it wouldn't pick them up. When they went to check if I had dilated at all I experience the most searing pain in my cervix ever. I had developed a minor fever so Dr. V finally agreed to give me some freaking antibiotics and he gave me some percocet for the pain. Luckily, the first dose of pain killers worked like a charm and I was able to get a few hours of sleep.
Throughout the day the percocet worked less and less at actually relieving the pain. The first dose got rid of the pain and put me to sleep. After that each dose would make me feel high as a kite but it dulled the pain less and less. And at about 5 o'clock I was pretty sure the bladder infection had gotten so bad that I lost control of my bladder. By 7 I was back to damn near crying every time I had a contraction and since I was still high as a kite from pain meds I hadn't noticed they started getting regular. Luckily, The Sailor had been timing them - they were only lasting about a minute but they were almost exactly 3 minutes apart. At this point I didn't even fight it when The Sailor said we had to go back to the hospital.
When we got up to the nurses' station at the MIU, my high self simply said, "I've been here like 37 billion times in the past day and a half, apparently I have a bladder infection. My bladder feels like it's going through a paper shredder and I'm pretty sure I've been peeing myself for the past few hours."
They asked if maybe my water had broken, but I was convinced I had just been peeing myself because of the bladder infection. Then The Sailor told them the contractions were every 3 minutes so they brought me into a room right away to swab my vag to check if I actually was pissing myself or if my water had broken. They informed me if the swab turned blue that meant my water had broken and I would be admitted to have the baby. And man did that swab turn blue. So did the second one, since I still didn't believe them (why yes...I was in total denial). So, they called in my favorite (notice the sarcasm) doctor who apparently also didn't believe that my water had broken despite the two bright blue swabs.
First he did an ultrasound to which he said, "there's still a ton of fluid in there, I really don't think your water broke." The nurse that had swabbed my vag was not happy with that. She informed me that he was being a douche and that there was no reason to not believe my water had broken considering the proof was in the bright blue swabs! She had apparently asked him if she could just call my midwife (since it said right on my file if I went in to labor she wanted to be called in right away) but he said she wasn't allowed to until he confirmed I was in labor. And he was insisting on shoving a massive metal cone up my already super sore vagina to actually look and see if my water had broken.
She warned me that given the amount of discomfort I was showing during the internal exams they had done this was probably going to hurt. A lot. And she was right.
I could feel that my insides were swollen and sore. And when he shoved that giant metal cone up my hoo-hah I wanted to die. As I was sobbing Dr. V casually stated, "huh...she actually is grossly ruptured." And then, without asking or warning me, he shoved a poker thingy up the giant metal cone and officially "broke" my water.
At that point he finally allowed the nurses to call the midwife and I was admitted into the hospital to have The Seamonkey...