It's been over three months since my last post and WOW! Things have changed and time has flown by! It is now officially Fall and I can say with certainty that I had the best summer of my life. I could shout it from the rooftops: I AM THE HAPPIEST WOMAN IN THE WORLD! BEING A MOM IS THE BEST THING I’VE EVER DONE! I thought I knew love, but I had no idea.
I am definitely surprised by how quickly memories fade. Already, I think back to our first few weeks and it's like looking through a thick fog, the details already fading away. Memories, that at the time I was living it, I thought would stay fresh and vivid, but are already fading away around the edges like old pictures.
The Birth of baby B is a story all it's own. I was struggling to stay positive at the end…I anticipated him being late, but the emotional toll was more than I expected. I cried several times a day those last few days before being induced. I would wake up angry and disappointed that labor hadn’t started in the middle of the night. But finally, Monday, June 18th came. I got more and more excited with each passing hour. I got over the disappointment and bitterness of not starting labor on my own and was simply focused on the fact that I was going to meet my son. My in-laws came up that morning. John and his dad got a last-minute project done, I ran (okay, maybe waddled is a more accurate portrayal) around the house getting the last minute things done. I had my “last supper” at The Pit (yum!), and we got to the hospital at 6:30 (30 minutes early, whoops!). They showed me to my room and I asked my in-laws to come pray with us before they left for the night.
Before I even was able to slip into that sexy hospital gown (ha), I felt contractions. How ironic. They struggled to get the IV in, thanks to my uncooperative veins and hooked up the fetal monitor for an hour. Sure enough, contractions about every 4 minutes apart. I wasn’t dilated, so I got the folly bulb catheter and two Ambien, called it a night and tried to get as much rest as I could for the next day. I called the doula just to let her know the progress and she decided she needed to be there just in case because contractions four minutes apart can go from 0 to 10 pretty quickly. By the time she got there, the Ambien had kicked in and I slipped off for some moderate sleep. Bless her heart, she slept all night in an uncomfortable chair.
The midwife came in early, before 6am. I was already awake, working through contractions. The catheter had helped me dilate to 4cm, 60% effaced and -3 station. She broke my water…there was meconium, so it was a lovely yellow/green goo that would gush with each contraction…so gross. My parents came in shortly after, and according to my doula’s notes, I became noticeably calmer and reported my pain level down from a 7 to a 5. The chair was my favorite place to labor, and that poor chair will never be the same. *shudder* I labored naturally for a few more hours and assumed we had made some headway. When the midwife checked me again, I was still at 4cm, 80% and -2 station. At that point, I had been having steady contractions for 19 hours and she thought it was time to start Pitocin - that a small dose might give labor a little “nudge” and be all I needed to finish dilating and meet my baby. I reluctantly agreed – I was very ready to see some progress. The Pitocin really amped up the contractions…it became increasingly harder to manage the pain. A lot of that time is a blur, but what stands out the most is that my mom stood by my side rubbing my head and playing with my hair for HOURS. That was the only thing that really helped keep me calm. The intensity was getting so high that I didn’t know if I could ride out another contraction. I remember breaking down crying at one point…the contraction was so strong that it took my breath away, and they were only getting worse. I was excited for the midwife to come check my progress, because I just knew that I was enduring all of this because good things were happening. This pain was necessary to help Baby B get to where he needed to be. So when the midwife told me that I was still at 4cm, I lost it. I had never felt so defeated in my life. It took all of the wind out of my sails. I knew I had taken all that I could take if that was the progress I was making. She told me, “even if you get to 10cm, you are going to be so physically exhausted, I don’t know how you will be able to push him out.” I was ready for an epidural. I wanted it, I accepted it, I embraced it. They gave me some fentanyl while I waited for the anesthesiologist, and that helped me cope (at least that’s what I was told…I just recall pain until that epidural kicked in!). At 3:15, the epidural was placed. I remember feeling 3 more contractions vividly, then they faded away to a dull pressure. Hallelujah!
A few hours later, after we’d been watching the internal contraction monitor have huge peaks two minutes apart, they checked again. Still 4-5cm and they were able to feel his fontanels and determine he was face-up and his head tipped back (military attitude) instead of his chin tucked down towards his chest. I was rolled on my side for an hour to see if that would help the baby roll over. Hindsight, I think the midwife knew that I needed a caesarean and was buying time to get the surgeon ready. An hour later I met the doctor who would deliver my son. He was pleasant, warm, in control, and made me feel calm. I didn’t feel forced or pressured, even though there really was no alternative left. My cervix was swollen and labor was not going to make any further progress. For someone who was so anti-medical intervention going in, I was grateful for him and I was at peace about every decision I had made. It was all to get my baby boy in my arms safely.
We prayed again. I think it was me and John, my parents, his parents, and the doula. Maybe my brother and sister-in-law too? My father-in-laws prayer moved me and calmed my nerves - the last thing I remember seeing was my mom crying but trying not to let me see. Off to the OR we went. It was cold and bright and I was nervous and excited. I was shaking so hard from the meds that I couldn’t focus on anything other than trying to control the shaking. Everyone was getting prepped for surgery – I asked the anesthesiologist if she had to strap my arms down…. I didn’t like the idea of being so immobile and helpless, not able to lift my hand to touch my son when John was able to bring him around to meet me. She made me promise not to grab at anything and left my arms free and I was thankful for that. Unfortunately, my IV “blew” and the only vein they could find was in the crease of my arm, so I didn’t move my arms anyways. In a matter of minutes, the prep was done and it was time to start surgery. A few minutes into surgery and I hear, “Look at all of that dark hair!” and then, “Whoa, look at this head!” A nurse told me later that he was so big, they had to widen the incision and that the surgeon and his assistant were really struggling to pull him out – she said it looked like the WWE “dropping ‘bows off the top rope!” Finally, I heard that beautiful, amazing cry and talk of how huge he was. The nurses and doctors were taking guesses at what his weight would be. John brought him around to me and I kissed him over and over and over. I was surprised that my first thought wasn’t how beautiful he was...it was shock at how big his mouth looked. I swear, I thought, “who in the world’s lips are those?! They are HUGE! He has a mouth like Steven Tyler!” He weighed in at a whopping ELEVEN pounds. Amazing. He was almost twice as big as most newborns. No wonder I was laboring for 26 hours with no progress! The nurses had to go to the nursery to get a diaper big enough :) John was bouncing around the room from my head, to the baby, to standing up watching the doctor sew me up. He even tried to take a picture of it, but the surgical lights were too bright for anything to show up.
In the end, I was okay with everything we did to get him here. I do have some sadness that I wasn’t able to “deliver” him and experience that part of childbirth, and I was sad that I wasn’t able to immediately hold him on my chest. Waiting in recovery was the longest hour of my life – my heart rate was sky high and they wouldn't let me leave Recovery and get to him until my heart rate was back under control. I willed myself to breath, slow down, relax. Finally getting to hold him was surreal. I don’t remember as much about that as I thought. My in-laws had waited patiently to hold him before they left town. I don’t remember holding him then, but I’ve seen the pictures. I was so exhausted.
What I do remember is a few hours later, about 3am, we nursed for the first time. I didn’t know better, and left unsupervised, he did some serious nipple damage. That began the month of the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through and was the beginning of a victory I am proud to have won. But that’s a whole ‘nother story. After he ate, while John was fast asleep on the sleeper/sofa, I finally had the one-on-one time I had been waiting for with my baby boy. It was the most intoxicating, beautiful, precious moments that I pray I will never forgot – him sleeping on my chest in the dimly lit room, breathing in sync, smelling his amazingly sweet breathe, feeling his perfectly soft skin and knowing he was mine. The "aha" moment when I realized, "I would kill for you. I would literally rip out a jugular with my teeth for you. I could endure anything for you." It's strange to feel so empowered and yet so vulnerable at the same time.
I could talk about him for days. That switch comes on. Once you know this love, there is no unknowing it. And you just can’t understand it until you have a child yourself. Even while pregnant, I had no idea the depths of love I would feel. He is my world, my heart, my life. The apple of my eye. He is such an amazing baby – I am blessed beyond measure. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror the other day while I was thinking about him and I thought, “wow, look at that smile! You look beautiful.” I am truly so in love, I feel like I have a glowing, radiating warmth in my chest and stomach. Nothing compares.
