There's no sleeping in the hospital. I realized this very quickly.
I couldn't feel my legs for about three hours afterwards. I had to pee. They had to put a thingy in there to relieve me. Doesn't that sound gross? After they cleaned me up and everything,
First of all, everyone wants to come visit you. You don't want visitors. You may want your mom, you may want your dad. You MAY even want a close friend or two. What you do NOT want, are people sitting on the floor of your room. And in the hallway. And people who have recently had babies are the only ones who know this.
It started with my parents and my in laws. So as not to create commotion, they all drove together as soon as the inlaws came in, and everyone saw the baby at the same time. It was our wish not to have ANYONE in L and D but the two of us. So we called them as soon as we were in our room and they showed up, and there were tears and it was fine. My friend Alison (who had Baby Grace not but four weeks prior in the same hospital) came and gifted us a HUGE bag of incidentals. "Here's everything you probably forgot!" She exclaimed.
Later that night, my wonderful cousin Jodie came and brought us a huge bouquet of dahlias, and everyone commented on their beauty. The parents took Andy for supper. Then it was quiet. Andy and I walked around the floor with Liam in the isolate, and we were a happy little family.
Sunday was a different story.
I got up, showered for the first time, got that STUPID IV out, washed my hair, put on a new night gown, and laid back in bed again. The room smelled less like a hospital with the aromas of shampoo and conditioners floating around in it. Andy showered and shaved and for the first time in 48 hours, we felt human again. Amazing that a little bottle of face wash and a blow dryer could make ya feel SO good! Turns out, I did forget conditioner and Alison remembered it in her bag of wonders, and for that I could have kissed her square on the lips.
Between 3:00 and 8:00 we had about 500 visitors. Maybe 550. Who's counting? I think the Obama's showed up, but I haven't read the registry in the baby book so I can't remember. People out the door. People taking turns to hold and snuffle my little son. They all came at the same time, and they all stayed.
At one point, I left the room because it was hot and I was irritable. Outside I met a girl- just shy of maybe 16. MAYBE. Maybe 100 lbs. MAYBE. Her hair was greasy and hombre with pink tips. Everything that could be pierced was- lip, nose, ears. She was walking down the hall painfully slow- a little pink bundle in her isolate, her mom by her side. "Your daughter is adorable!" I said to her. I expected her to be defiant and loud. Instead she was quiet and reserved. Her words came out with a speech impediment. Immediately I thought- oh dear one, who did this to you? But she quietly told me her little girl was three weeks early. She had an emergency C-section. And without a second thought, she carefully lifted her gown to reveal her incision.
I don't know what happened next. I don't remember the name of the baby. I'd like to say that I held her in my arms and we cried and time stopped and...and I'd love to say all of that. But none of it would be true.
What did happen is I looked back into our hospital room and I heard the din of all my family and friends in there (and piling out the door). I saw phones raised, people snapping pictures of each other holding Liam. I saw Andy's huge smile, sporting his "Liam's Daddy" shirt I had made for him.
What DID happen, is that I turned back to see everyone I loved and cared about joining together to celebrate the birth of my tiny son. How did I get so blessed?
Everyone left at 8, and the room was finally quiet. We looked around at the balloons and stuffed animals and flowers and I'm pretty sure I cried. And Liam cried. And cried. And cried. And it was perfect. Exhausting. But. Perfect.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Thursday, November 8, 2012
It's Show Time!
After the excitement died down, I fell asleep. Andy did too. He got serious with the sheet this time.
(You can catch a peek of the birth ball hiding under the white pad on the right).
And I'd like to take this moment to say, the man's back was hurting him like crazy. We NOW know, a month later, that it was a herniated disk.
After the epidural, life was good. I laid there watched my contractions pass on the monitor. I also began to feel my legs disappear. (My mind, oddly enough, began to remember reading about the death of Socretes. And after he drank the potion that would kill him, he began to feel the effects on his toes and feet first, and then it traveled up his legs, you know, eventually killing him.) This is the HONEST blog, remember? That's really what I was thinking. And then I fell asleep.
8:00AM- Pitocin administered. My contractions had slowed down at this point, and they wanted to get the baby out in a timely manner, so Pitocin it was. Hey, I didn't care! I was feeling NO pain. Dr. Berich gave the orders, then gave me a hug and left for the day. This would mean the midwife, Sandy, would be delivering my son. When she entered the room, I believe I said something to the effect of, "Sandy!! I prayed to Jesus that you would deliver my son and here you are!" Perhaps I took her aback...she said, "How about you go back to sleep...?" But I was so thankful and excited. It was like the cavalry had come. And for the record, I would not have minded Dr. Berich delivering our son, but Sandy was just such a driving force in my pregnancy. I was glad to have her there to see me through.
10:00AM- I have to poop. Like, really really poop. And I need chapstick. Poop and chapstick. No more Greek philosophers for this girl. The nurse was there, Alecia, that was HER name. I promise I'll never forget it for the rest of my life. Alecia got me the chapstick from my bag (Andy was still sawing wood in the corner) and she did an internal to decipher that I was 10 cms, the contractions were now right on top of each other (were they? darned if I knew!) and it was not time to poop, but to push. She radioed for Sandy, who came in, did her own internal, and then declared it was baby time.
10:45AM- The nurse, Alecia, dropped the bottom of the bed and put the stirrups on the bed and then put the back of the bed up like a chair. They placed my legs up in the stirrups (remember I can't feel them at ALL) and told me to hold my butt under my legs. Every contraction I get three good pushes and then I can rest. "Grab a leg, dad!" The nurse instructed. Andy put his eyes BACK in his head, and then did as he was told.
I knew my son was on his way. I focused all my attention on this. I would be meeting him momentarilly. Just have to get him out first. The things that were happening in the room are foggy memories because I was just so intent on pushing. For the record, I didn't scream, and I didn't cry. I just...pushed. I stared at the ceiling in between contractions (fifteen seconds apart at this stage) and then I stared at a lighting fixture while I was pushing. I counted until ten during every push. I could hear Alecia saying, "Pushpushpushpushpushpush" during every contraction and I could hear my Andy saying, "Great job, Whoot. We're almost there. We're almost there. I'm so proud of you." And he'd push my hair out of my eyes and then grab the leg again. They each pushed back on my legs and I pushed out and held on.
It's a common misconception that the epidural takes all the pain away. It doesn't. It takes the contractions away. It doesn't penetrate your bones, which is ultimately what the baby is pressing against to get out. There is still pain involved in childbirth with an epidural.
I felt the baby crown. The goal was to get the baby to crown, then call Sandy back in again, allowing the baby to rest on my perineum to avoid tearing. But they neglected to tell me of this goal. Alecia just said, "Stop pushing." And radioed for Sandy.
I think I screamed at this point. But I don't remember. Stop pushing?! Are you kidding me?? He's almost out! He is lodged in my pelvis! Stop pushing? No! Andy informs me at this point I checked out. He said he thought he lost me at one point because I just kept staring at the ceiling, not blinking, not breathing, not anything. I had to focus. I had to concentrate. I had to get the baby out.
Sandy sat down and instructed me to push again. And then I felt the tear. And then my son began to scream.
11:36AM.
(You can catch a peek of the birth ball hiding under the white pad on the right).
And I'd like to take this moment to say, the man's back was hurting him like crazy. We NOW know, a month later, that it was a herniated disk.
After the epidural, life was good. I laid there watched my contractions pass on the monitor. I also began to feel my legs disappear. (My mind, oddly enough, began to remember reading about the death of Socretes. And after he drank the potion that would kill him, he began to feel the effects on his toes and feet first, and then it traveled up his legs, you know, eventually killing him.) This is the HONEST blog, remember? That's really what I was thinking. And then I fell asleep.
8:00AM- Pitocin administered. My contractions had slowed down at this point, and they wanted to get the baby out in a timely manner, so Pitocin it was. Hey, I didn't care! I was feeling NO pain. Dr. Berich gave the orders, then gave me a hug and left for the day. This would mean the midwife, Sandy, would be delivering my son. When she entered the room, I believe I said something to the effect of, "Sandy!! I prayed to Jesus that you would deliver my son and here you are!" Perhaps I took her aback...she said, "How about you go back to sleep...?" But I was so thankful and excited. It was like the cavalry had come. And for the record, I would not have minded Dr. Berich delivering our son, but Sandy was just such a driving force in my pregnancy. I was glad to have her there to see me through.
10:00AM- I have to poop. Like, really really poop. And I need chapstick. Poop and chapstick. No more Greek philosophers for this girl. The nurse was there, Alecia, that was HER name. I promise I'll never forget it for the rest of my life. Alecia got me the chapstick from my bag (Andy was still sawing wood in the corner) and she did an internal to decipher that I was 10 cms, the contractions were now right on top of each other (were they? darned if I knew!) and it was not time to poop, but to push. She radioed for Sandy, who came in, did her own internal, and then declared it was baby time.
10:45AM- The nurse, Alecia, dropped the bottom of the bed and put the stirrups on the bed and then put the back of the bed up like a chair. They placed my legs up in the stirrups (remember I can't feel them at ALL) and told me to hold my butt under my legs. Every contraction I get three good pushes and then I can rest. "Grab a leg, dad!" The nurse instructed. Andy put his eyes BACK in his head, and then did as he was told.
I knew my son was on his way. I focused all my attention on this. I would be meeting him momentarilly. Just have to get him out first. The things that were happening in the room are foggy memories because I was just so intent on pushing. For the record, I didn't scream, and I didn't cry. I just...pushed. I stared at the ceiling in between contractions (fifteen seconds apart at this stage) and then I stared at a lighting fixture while I was pushing. I counted until ten during every push. I could hear Alecia saying, "Pushpushpushpushpushpush" during every contraction and I could hear my Andy saying, "Great job, Whoot. We're almost there. We're almost there. I'm so proud of you." And he'd push my hair out of my eyes and then grab the leg again. They each pushed back on my legs and I pushed out and held on.
It's a common misconception that the epidural takes all the pain away. It doesn't. It takes the contractions away. It doesn't penetrate your bones, which is ultimately what the baby is pressing against to get out. There is still pain involved in childbirth with an epidural.
I felt the baby crown. The goal was to get the baby to crown, then call Sandy back in again, allowing the baby to rest on my perineum to avoid tearing. But they neglected to tell me of this goal. Alecia just said, "Stop pushing." And radioed for Sandy.
I think I screamed at this point. But I don't remember. Stop pushing?! Are you kidding me?? He's almost out! He is lodged in my pelvis! Stop pushing? No! Andy informs me at this point I checked out. He said he thought he lost me at one point because I just kept staring at the ceiling, not blinking, not breathing, not anything. I had to focus. I had to concentrate. I had to get the baby out.
Sandy sat down and instructed me to push again. And then I felt the tear. And then my son began to scream.
11:36AM.
Going Numb
6:30AM- the anesthesiologist shows up. In the meantime, I have been warding off contractions at a rate of 45 seconds apart. Some having multiple peaks. It was bad, and I wasn't even at transition yet. This was the right call. At the point he walked in, I was bent over my ball and I said, "Hi, I'm glad you're here, but I'm having a contraction."
It just so happened that he was amazingly handsome. Young, tall, pretty eyes, close cropped beard, brown sandy hair tucked up under that little doctor hat. He had me at 'hello I'm doctor...' Crap. I promised I wouldn't forget HIS name either. Since he saved my life with his precious needles of numbing agents.
So as my white rear and is hanging out of my gown and I'm swaying on my ball, Grey's Anatomy's next hot doctor walks in my room. Oh and he was TALL, did I mention he was tall?? Because they had to put the bed up the whole way so he didn't have to stoop. I sat on the bed and they handed Andy a mask to wear. He and I were prepared for this. He put his forehead on mine and I stared into his eyes, seeking more of that strength he was giving me in huge doses. He would whispering encouraging phrases- he told me I was doing great and he was so proud of me.
Doctor Zhivago back there was telling me exactly what he was doing at every moment. And it didn't hurt. There was pressure. There was tingling. There was cold. But there was no pain other than the contractions that didn't stop just because help was on the way. But that's often hard to differentiate those feelings from pain, but I did it. And it was fine.
He finished up and I thanked him. The L and D nurse said, "How'd that contraction feel?" To which I sleepily replied, "What contraction?" And everyone cheered.
It just so happened that he was amazingly handsome. Young, tall, pretty eyes, close cropped beard, brown sandy hair tucked up under that little doctor hat. He had me at 'hello I'm doctor...' Crap. I promised I wouldn't forget HIS name either. Since he saved my life with his precious needles of numbing agents.
So as my white rear and is hanging out of my gown and I'm swaying on my ball, Grey's Anatomy's next hot doctor walks in my room. Oh and he was TALL, did I mention he was tall?? Because they had to put the bed up the whole way so he didn't have to stoop. I sat on the bed and they handed Andy a mask to wear. He and I were prepared for this. He put his forehead on mine and I stared into his eyes, seeking more of that strength he was giving me in huge doses. He would whispering encouraging phrases- he told me I was doing great and he was so proud of me.
Doctor Zhivago back there was telling me exactly what he was doing at every moment. And it didn't hurt. There was pressure. There was tingling. There was cold. But there was no pain other than the contractions that didn't stop just because help was on the way. But that's often hard to differentiate those feelings from pain, but I did it. And it was fine.
He finished up and I thanked him. The L and D nurse said, "How'd that contraction feel?" To which I sleepily replied, "What contraction?" And everyone cheered.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
A Hard Days Night
When your contractions start, they're mild at first. Because remember up to this point, I had been in labor for supposedly 12 hours without knowing it. So I naively went into this thinking I could handle the pain.
After they break your water, your stomach goes down considerably, but you're also on the clock. Because the baby can't survive more than 24 hours without any fluid in there. However when your water breaks, the contractions come closer together. So instead of one breath-stealing moment every five minutes, you start having them every three, every two, every one, and then there are only seconds between contractions.
The only way I can describe a contraction, and be aware that I had back labor the entire time, is it feels like someone is spreading your pelvis with their bare hands. You have to breathe through them, because most people, myself included, hold their breath during pain. Andy and I had the birth ball we brought from home, and they covered it with a large pad. I tried sitting on it, but it just hurt too much. So we put it on the bottom of the bed and I leaned over it, spread my legs apart on the floor about shoulder width, and just swayed. Andy stood behind me and put pressure on my lower back- LOTS of pressure, the more the better- and swayed with me.
My goal was to dilate to half way before getting an epidural. Stay on my feet as long as possible, and make it as far as we possibly could before being tied to the bed with an epi. So Andy and I took to the halls. At first the contractions came at the beginning of the hallway and then at the end of the hallway. And I'd hold on to the handle bar around the hall, and breathe, and then we'd keep walking. And then they contractions started coming ever three doors. And then they started to come every door.
The L and D nurse suggested pain meds. I said no. Everyone I had spoken to said that pain meds doped you up and they wouldn't use them again. She suggested the jacuzzi tub. I said okay.
What can I say about the jacuzzi? In the birthing movies, they act like this tub was the end all be all for birth. People do underwater births. It makes you feel weightless. Blah blah blah. None of this was true for me. When on land, gravity takes over and you can bear down, hold on, and manage the pain. In water, there's none of this. You're floating. The water was warm, which was nice, but the jets were loud and relentless. I was able to fall asleep a little, but Andy tells me every twenty minutes like clockwork I would wake up and start screaming. I remember some of this. I felt like I was out of control- like I was drowning. He would hold me, help me out of the tub, help me use the bathroom, run more hot water in the tub, and help me back in again. And this went on for hours.
5:30AM, Saturday October 6th- It's time for the epidural. I was up at 4:30AM Friday morning. It was now 25 hours later and I had not slept soundly in that amount of time. Andy was helping me out of the tub for the final time, helping me get dressed, and Dr. Berich came in. "Thank goodness you're here!" I said. To which she replied, "WHY don't you have that epidural yet?? I told you to order it whenever you wanted!" When they did the internal, I was dilated to six centimeters- more than half way. I had reached my goal. The L and D nurse called the anesthesiologist and I waited for relief.
People ask me if I screamed during the contractions, and the truth is I didn't scream. I didn't say much of anything except "ouch" and "oh my goodness this hurts so bad." I cried a good deal, and sobbed a good deal, but there was never actual screaming. Leave that for the movies.
More tomorrow.
After they break your water, your stomach goes down considerably, but you're also on the clock. Because the baby can't survive more than 24 hours without any fluid in there. However when your water breaks, the contractions come closer together. So instead of one breath-stealing moment every five minutes, you start having them every three, every two, every one, and then there are only seconds between contractions.
The only way I can describe a contraction, and be aware that I had back labor the entire time, is it feels like someone is spreading your pelvis with their bare hands. You have to breathe through them, because most people, myself included, hold their breath during pain. Andy and I had the birth ball we brought from home, and they covered it with a large pad. I tried sitting on it, but it just hurt too much. So we put it on the bottom of the bed and I leaned over it, spread my legs apart on the floor about shoulder width, and just swayed. Andy stood behind me and put pressure on my lower back- LOTS of pressure, the more the better- and swayed with me.
My goal was to dilate to half way before getting an epidural. Stay on my feet as long as possible, and make it as far as we possibly could before being tied to the bed with an epi. So Andy and I took to the halls. At first the contractions came at the beginning of the hallway and then at the end of the hallway. And I'd hold on to the handle bar around the hall, and breathe, and then we'd keep walking. And then they contractions started coming ever three doors. And then they started to come every door.
The L and D nurse suggested pain meds. I said no. Everyone I had spoken to said that pain meds doped you up and they wouldn't use them again. She suggested the jacuzzi tub. I said okay.
What can I say about the jacuzzi? In the birthing movies, they act like this tub was the end all be all for birth. People do underwater births. It makes you feel weightless. Blah blah blah. None of this was true for me. When on land, gravity takes over and you can bear down, hold on, and manage the pain. In water, there's none of this. You're floating. The water was warm, which was nice, but the jets were loud and relentless. I was able to fall asleep a little, but Andy tells me every twenty minutes like clockwork I would wake up and start screaming. I remember some of this. I felt like I was out of control- like I was drowning. He would hold me, help me out of the tub, help me use the bathroom, run more hot water in the tub, and help me back in again. And this went on for hours.
5:30AM, Saturday October 6th- It's time for the epidural. I was up at 4:30AM Friday morning. It was now 25 hours later and I had not slept soundly in that amount of time. Andy was helping me out of the tub for the final time, helping me get dressed, and Dr. Berich came in. "Thank goodness you're here!" I said. To which she replied, "WHY don't you have that epidural yet?? I told you to order it whenever you wanted!" When they did the internal, I was dilated to six centimeters- more than half way. I had reached my goal. The L and D nurse called the anesthesiologist and I waited for relief.
People ask me if I screamed during the contractions, and the truth is I didn't scream. I didn't say much of anything except "ouch" and "oh my goodness this hurts so bad." I cried a good deal, and sobbed a good deal, but there was never actual screaming. Leave that for the movies.
More tomorrow.
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
The Hospital
Today Little Liam Man is one month old. So writing this is a little bittersweet, knowing that it is now history.
-----
7:30PM- As we were driving to the hospital, it was slowly starting to sink in that this WAS happening. But I had this terrible thought in the back of my head- what if I'm not really in labor? What if they send me home? Up to this point, I hadn't told anyone we were going just in case this WAS the case. I didn't want to get anyones hopes up. Especially mine.
I felt really small and really foolish checking into the hospital, "I think I'm in labor? I was told to come here?" The nurses station looked like a hen session- not very busy on that Friday night. They took me to the antepartem room and I took off my outfit and put on a robe and the nurse did an internal. "You're not dilated enough, maybe 2 cms? You're only about 40% effaced." she said. "They're probably going to send you home. Let me call the on call doctor."
My heart just broke. Andy held my hand. I felt embarrassed. "Why would TWO doctors tell you that you were going to have the baby tonight and then ONE nurse tell you differently? Just calm down and we'll see what the doctor says." I made him promise me we'd go for ice cream on the way home. He obliged.
The on call doc was one from my practice, as I expected. She suggested I walk the halls until she got there and then she'd make a decision. 45 minutes later I was back on the bed with my knees up. She determined I was truly 4 cms dilated and 90% effaced. "In fact, I could pop your bag of waters with my finger right now! But let's get you admitted first." Dr. Berich has seen me in the office since I was 16. She reminisced about watching me grow from a young lady into a beautiful woman. I was immediately sure this was the right thing to do. The membranes didn't seem like a big deal any more.
"I'm scared. I'm sorry." I told the L and D nurse (I swore I wouldn't forget her name for all of eternity...but...) "Stop apologizing. We'll get you through this." Turns out she had three children of her own. Her husband was a doctor. She was from the west.
The phlebotomist came to put in my IV. This was the worst IV I have ever gotten. They put it at a stupid location on my wrist, and then she hit an artery or something and blood went everywhere. She had to change my bed. Andy encouraged me not to look at it and just focus on him- which I did.
9:30PM- When Dr. Berich came in to break my water, I think my blood pressure was probably a zillion over a billion. I was hooked up to a fetal monitor and a heart monitor and my blood pressure was being taken every 30 seconds (or so it seemed. My arm was sore for a few days after.) She inserted this crochet-like hook "up in there" and there was this burst of pressure and then it was like I couldn't stop peeing. It was warm and smelled funny, and I felt awkward doing all this in a bed. I laid really still, because I felt dirty. Every time I would move or cough or laugh, more would come out. It was truly uncontrollable.
Andy went to the car to get our mountain of labor supplies. I made him swear to me that he'd be right back. No sense running now!
Just a shout out to nurses everywhere- you guys are amazing. I'd never been in the hospital before, and the nurses just rocked. The nurse brought me pads, helped me put these crazy underwear on and never batted an eye. Pretty sure this wasn't her first delivery... She dimmed the lights and encouraged me to sleep until the contractions started.
Yeah. Right. But Andy clearly took her seriously. The poor guy was so nervous. And his back was hurting him so badly. But he was such a trooper and I loved him so much at that very minute.
I kept staring at the nursery attached to our room, imagining my screaming, slimy son to be there in a few hours.
-----
7:30PM- As we were driving to the hospital, it was slowly starting to sink in that this WAS happening. But I had this terrible thought in the back of my head- what if I'm not really in labor? What if they send me home? Up to this point, I hadn't told anyone we were going just in case this WAS the case. I didn't want to get anyones hopes up. Especially mine.
I felt really small and really foolish checking into the hospital, "I think I'm in labor? I was told to come here?" The nurses station looked like a hen session- not very busy on that Friday night. They took me to the antepartem room and I took off my outfit and put on a robe and the nurse did an internal. "You're not dilated enough, maybe 2 cms? You're only about 40% effaced." she said. "They're probably going to send you home. Let me call the on call doctor."
My heart just broke. Andy held my hand. I felt embarrassed. "Why would TWO doctors tell you that you were going to have the baby tonight and then ONE nurse tell you differently? Just calm down and we'll see what the doctor says." I made him promise me we'd go for ice cream on the way home. He obliged.
The on call doc was one from my practice, as I expected. She suggested I walk the halls until she got there and then she'd make a decision. 45 minutes later I was back on the bed with my knees up. She determined I was truly 4 cms dilated and 90% effaced. "In fact, I could pop your bag of waters with my finger right now! But let's get you admitted first." Dr. Berich has seen me in the office since I was 16. She reminisced about watching me grow from a young lady into a beautiful woman. I was immediately sure this was the right thing to do. The membranes didn't seem like a big deal any more.
"I'm scared. I'm sorry." I told the L and D nurse (I swore I wouldn't forget her name for all of eternity...but...) "Stop apologizing. We'll get you through this." Turns out she had three children of her own. Her husband was a doctor. She was from the west.
The phlebotomist came to put in my IV. This was the worst IV I have ever gotten. They put it at a stupid location on my wrist, and then she hit an artery or something and blood went everywhere. She had to change my bed. Andy encouraged me not to look at it and just focus on him- which I did.
Andy went to the car to get our mountain of labor supplies. I made him swear to me that he'd be right back. No sense running now!
Just a shout out to nurses everywhere- you guys are amazing. I'd never been in the hospital before, and the nurses just rocked. The nurse brought me pads, helped me put these crazy underwear on and never batted an eye. Pretty sure this wasn't her first delivery... She dimmed the lights and encouraged me to sleep until the contractions started.
Yeah. Right. But Andy clearly took her seriously. The poor guy was so nervous. And his back was hurting him so badly. But he was such a trooper and I loved him so much at that very minute.
I kept staring at the nursery attached to our room, imagining my screaming, slimy son to be there in a few hours.
And then. The contractions started.
Monday, November 5, 2012
In the Beginning...
I can't believe it's been an entire month since I've written.
Wait.
Yes. Yes I can. Because you can't type with an infant in your arms, and I never want to put mine down. He's just as amazing as I expected- maybe even more.
So here I am. Here's my story...at least a portion of it. I will try to spread it out through a few posts so as not to bore the reader.
---
Friday, October 5th:
10:30AM- Something didn't feel right. Something hurt. Something was wrong. So I called the OB, and they said- just come in. I was a little apprehensive. I had an appointment later on in the afternoon, but I just couldn't wait. I didn't tell anyone I was going. I didn't call Andy. I didn't email anyone. I didn't phone a friend. I drove in and took a seat in the waiting room. A little boy befriended me and helped to pass the time by chatting my ear off. But I didn't mind, because I was so nervous.
I was supposed to see Dr. Mantione, but instead Sandy came in to see me. Ah, I love Sandy. Sandy, Sandy, Sandy. I came out with it, "Something feels wrong and I'm probably going to cry now." And she just wrapped her arms around me and she said, "Honey, let's get this figured out. Please don't be afraid." And then she gave me an internal. And then she said I was dilated 4 cm. And then she told me I was 90% effaced. And then she told me I had been in labor for 12 hours. And then she told me I was going to have a baby. That night. And then I started to cry.
She stood up from the exam, and I could tell her hand was bloody. She said, "I went ahead and ruptured your membranes while I was in there, so it's only a matter of time." And then I started to sob. Dr. Mantione came in, and they both held me while I cried. "Go home, put your feet up, take a nap, and we'll see you tonight in L and D. All our doctor's are on call this weekend- it's a GREAT weekend to have a baby."
I got in the car and I called my cousin Jodie. "They ruptured my membranes without me knowing!" I gasped to her. She calmed me down. "You were already on the way. It's safe. You weren't starting from scratch. You're going to be fine."
I called my husband, "Hi whoot..." Is how it started. "You're going to be a daddy...tonight." That's all I could muster. Somewhere in the background I heard cheers at his workplace.
I called my mom. I can't remember what I said. Maybe I just cried.
So of course I went back to work. I came home and my mom and Lauren met me there to stay until Andy got home. Then Andy and I walked for cheese steaks and fries (what a great last meal...mmm...) and what seemed like an ETERNITY later, we packed up the car with the birth ball, the go bag, the baby's go bag, a bunch of things we threw in at the last minute. Andy took pictures of me on the porch one last time with my gigantic belly, and we drove off.
I look at them now, one month later, and I laugh. I don't remember being pregnant.
Wait.
Yes. Yes I can. Because you can't type with an infant in your arms, and I never want to put mine down. He's just as amazing as I expected- maybe even more.
So here I am. Here's my story...at least a portion of it. I will try to spread it out through a few posts so as not to bore the reader.
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Friday, October 5th:
10:30AM- Something didn't feel right. Something hurt. Something was wrong. So I called the OB, and they said- just come in. I was a little apprehensive. I had an appointment later on in the afternoon, but I just couldn't wait. I didn't tell anyone I was going. I didn't call Andy. I didn't email anyone. I didn't phone a friend. I drove in and took a seat in the waiting room. A little boy befriended me and helped to pass the time by chatting my ear off. But I didn't mind, because I was so nervous.
I was supposed to see Dr. Mantione, but instead Sandy came in to see me. Ah, I love Sandy. Sandy, Sandy, Sandy. I came out with it, "Something feels wrong and I'm probably going to cry now." And she just wrapped her arms around me and she said, "Honey, let's get this figured out. Please don't be afraid." And then she gave me an internal. And then she said I was dilated 4 cm. And then she told me I was 90% effaced. And then she told me I had been in labor for 12 hours. And then she told me I was going to have a baby. That night. And then I started to cry.
She stood up from the exam, and I could tell her hand was bloody. She said, "I went ahead and ruptured your membranes while I was in there, so it's only a matter of time." And then I started to sob. Dr. Mantione came in, and they both held me while I cried. "Go home, put your feet up, take a nap, and we'll see you tonight in L and D. All our doctor's are on call this weekend- it's a GREAT weekend to have a baby."
I got in the car and I called my cousin Jodie. "They ruptured my membranes without me knowing!" I gasped to her. She calmed me down. "You were already on the way. It's safe. You weren't starting from scratch. You're going to be fine."
I called my husband, "Hi whoot..." Is how it started. "You're going to be a daddy...tonight." That's all I could muster. Somewhere in the background I heard cheers at his workplace.
I called my mom. I can't remember what I said. Maybe I just cried.
So of course I went back to work. I came home and my mom and Lauren met me there to stay until Andy got home. Then Andy and I walked for cheese steaks and fries (what a great last meal...mmm...) and what seemed like an ETERNITY later, we packed up the car with the birth ball, the go bag, the baby's go bag, a bunch of things we threw in at the last minute. Andy took pictures of me on the porch one last time with my gigantic belly, and we drove off.
I look at them now, one month later, and I laugh. I don't remember being pregnant.
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