My pregnancy was perfect. I gained only 15 pounds and never had blood pressure issues or any other problems aside from when I was 33 weeks and had to spend the night in the hospital because I was so upset about my cat passing that I had preterm contractions. Thankfully, they stopped and I was able to make it full term.

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Going into labor was when things got crazy. My due date was November 4,and at that time my official labor had not started, so my doctor decided if I didn’t go into labor on my own before November 11, they would induce. On the early morning of November 6, I woke up in severe pain. It was the worst pain I have EVER experienced. I was able to hold out until about 6:00 a.m. when I called my doctor and then went to the hospital. I wasn’t far enough dilated for them to keep me. I was sent home and returned a few hours later in hopes I was far enough along they had to keep me. No such luck.

At that point I had already been throwing up from the morphine shot that I was given for the pain. The throwing up seemed to be the only thing the shot did for me. I also couldn’t eat and could only sleep for about 45 minutes at a time before the pain would wake me up again. Finally, in the early hours of November 7, my fluid started leaking. Off to the hospital we went, and once I was there (I couldn’t even walk it hurt so much and thankfully the hospital chaplain saw us and brought a wheelchair), I was at 4 centimeters and my water broke when the nurse checked me.

I was taken to my delivery room and administered my epidural. My family made it there too and we basically hung out in my room all day. My labor wasn’t progressing so they gave me Pitocin to help things along. At 7:00 p.m. I had a fever and was finally at a 10 centimeters and was ready to push. Because I had the fever, they told me as soon as my son was born they’d have to take him to the NICU. That caused me to have a panic attack that lasted my entire delivery. Even with the epidural, the pain was so great I finally became numb. I pushed for two hours while panicking and almost blacked out a few times and probably would have if I didn’t have oxygen on.

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I looked down in time to watch my precious boy be born. I was able to hold him before he had to go to the NICU. I lost so much blood I almost had to have a transfusion. After that, we spent a few days at the hospital before we were released to go home.

They say you forget the pain and that is true, but I remember the fear and the panic and I told my husband while delivering my son that I did not want any more kids. I wasn’t just saying that in the moment either: I really meant it. Last year I had a pregnancy scare and I had an anxiety attack from it. Thankfully it was a false alarm, as I am on the pill but know it is not 100 percent, and at some point my husband is getting snipped.

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Now that my son has gotten to be older, some family members and even strangers have asked my husband and me when we are going to have another child. My answer to that is usually a laugh followed by, “Never.” Then I usually get the whole “you’ll change your mind” or “but your son will get lonely.” Despite those reasons, I will not change my mind, and I stand firm in my decision not to have more children or go through that experience again.

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