Coke zero + sweet pea=the following birthing story

I used to drink a lot of caffeine in the form of diet soda.

I still drink a ton of diet soda, but now it is mainly caffeine free.

But I seem to forget from time to time that I no longer tolerate caffeine late into the evening anymore.

Case in point.

Last night I drank a 20 oz Coke Zero at 10 pm. Normally no biggie when my tolerance is higher.

But last night I found myself awake until 2 in the morning, my mind racing a million miles a minute and my body itching to jump out of bed and clean something.

But I forced myself to stay in bed and eventually I drifted off into fitful sleep.

Only to wake up again at 3, and then at 5.

It. Was. Not. Awesome.

But as I lay there, I began to think about my use of the term sweet pea when addressing my children.

It is a term of endearment for sure, but I have been using it for so long that I kind of forgot when I started using it.

Until last night, when my overcaffeinated brain sat and pondered over many things, including the birth of my oldest child 12 1/2 years ago.

I gave birth to Kate in a little town, in the same hospital where I was born.
They don't see a whole lot of births compared to some of the other hospitals I have delivered my children in, lets just say that.

When the anesthesiologist arrived it took him 4 tries, yes 4, to get my epidural in.

It's hard enough to sit there for one try while your body is wracked with labor pains, but 4?

I had a scar like someone had stabbed me with a fork for quite a while.

After the blessed medication finally began making it's way through my body, I noticed it wasn't doing anything on one side. (I now know this is normal and they just roll you over to allow gravity to pull the epidural medication to the other side).

My doctor, however, did not know this. She said "Well, I guess it isn't working, shut it off"

What!!!???

Of course, being 23, and kind of timid anyway, I just said, "ok", and let the pain take over.

And mercifully I started pushing not much longer after that.

I should, however, have known I was in the Twilight zone when the labor and delivery nurse kept saying "Amy, Amy, you need to calm down" or some cr*p like that as I pushed and screamed out my 9 lb 6 oz baby.

But luckily, I had no idea it could be any different, so I felt I had the best experience ever. (It wasn't bad, I just learned with subsequent deliveries, that it could in fact be MUCH better)

We welcomed all the family in to see Kate, we spent that evening at the hospital, and then headed home with our little package the next day.

Well, as I began the recovery of sore bum, bosoms, and general fatigue, I started getting a head ache that kept building and building.

It got to the point where I couldn't even sit up without my head literally feeling like it was about to pop off my body.

My mom mentioned she had experienced that same kind of heachache with one of us and that they gave her caffeine for it, so she brought over a case of diet pepsi.

And though I was grateful for the month's supply of soda, it did nothing for my headache.

Finally, by day 2 or 3 of this, my wise, smart sister-in-law Amy tells me this isn't normal and I should go back to the hospital.

So she drives me the 1/2 mile to the little county hospital, and I walk in, bent over so that I don't experience more of the excruciating pain.

When I get there, they have the same anesthesiologist take a look at me.

He tells me that in the process of my epidural (you know, when he stabbed me repeatedly) that the needle went in too far, causing a small hole that was allowing spinal fluid to leak so that as the spinal fluid leaked, it was literally pulling on my brain, hence giving me a massive headache (that's why it hurt so much to stand up).

So to fix it, they would have to take blood from me, place another tube in my spine, and patch the hole up with my own blood.

Perfectly simple, right?

Well, once again, the Dr. Pain proceeds to not be able to find the right spot.
As the nurse holds me steady while I sob from the pain, he pokes me another 3 or 4 times before he can get the needle in.

And the whole time he's saying "I'm so sorry sweet pea, I'm so sorry".

Which at that moment was oddly comforting.

Even later when he told me the problem was with the curvature of my spine (which weirdly enough, 5 other anesthesiologists never had a problem with)
even then, I still liked that he called me sweet pea.

And even as he stuck me repeatedly and made me wish for a quick death,it stuck with me as a comforting, kind thing to say to someone. I am so weird.

Now, after 5 more children, I have learned that it is my body, my baby, and if I don't like something I can speak up. I have also learned that cities like Provo, Ut (where Julia was born) and Orem, Ut (where Henry was born) with the same birth rates as third world countries have the best anesthesiologists anywhere. They had 4 assigned just to labor and delivery. And Henry and Julia were my least stressed, most pain free experiences.

And I left with not a fork mark in sight.