Well, he's here! We are so in love and so happy to have our healthy son home from the hospital.
Before the memory fades, we wanted to jot down our memories of the day he was born.
It all seemed to get going right as I was hanging up after catching up with my dad for the week and telling him that nothing was going on yet. I had my first contraction then, around 2:30. I thought I just had to go to the bathroom, and did, but had a few more. Then they totally stopped. I had been feeling weird that day and started to think that I should maybe not go in to work the next day, but when the contractions stopped I assumed we still had a long time to wait. B had an oil painting that he wanted to finish that day and I told him to go ahead and get the paints out.
Our birth class said that if you had contractions, you should go to the bathroom, eat, drink, and walk to see if they stopped or changed, and if they did, it wasn't likely labor. So I decided to vacuum the apartment in an attempt to either get something going or confirm nothing was going on. I vacuumed everything and B moved stuff around for me while I did and did general clean up instead of starting painting (a good decision in the end). I got the mop out and had mopped our bathroom floor and saw some stuff the vacuum had missed, so I squatted down to sweep it up with a hand broom, when POP, WHOOSH!!!!!!!! I tried to make it to the toilet to catch the fluid but laughably did not at all, and while doing this I said "my water just broke." B came in in disbelief and we both kind of laughed about it because we realized IT was happening. He said "we're going to meet our son," followed by more giddy laughter. He grabbed my phone for me and I called the doctor who had told us to call if my water broke "just so we know you're out there." It was 3:37, which B wrote down. After that, I immediately texted my long term sub telling her she was on for the next day to start teaching. She responded immediately with words of encouragement. It's funny that she was the first person to know we were in labor besides our doctor, but when you have to teach three classes the next day that you weren't necessarily prepared to do, every minute counts.
One of the two new midwifes in the practice was on call, and I hadn't met her yet. My coworker had just told me how wonderful she was though, so I was assured that we were in good hands. She told me that she needed to see me within 12 hours whether or not contractions had started to monitor the baby, but that I needed to monitor him for the next hour to make sure I felt him move, and if not, then we'd need to come in right away. B got me a cold glass of water, which usually would jolt him awake, and I laid down on my side because I could usually feel him then too. B got my computer out and I started watching some Netflix to take my mind off of things. Finally at the 30 minute mark, I felt him move. Huge relief. We were ok for 12 hours! Then, all of a sudden, the contractions started.
Our birth class and my doctors had told us about the 5-1-1 rule. Don't go to the hospital until your contractions are 5 minutes apart, lasting a minute each, for an hour. So we had time! B started getting together our bag in between times of helping me walk to the bathroom, talking me through contractions, and just generally doing whatever I asked of him. I had a baby app on my phone with a contraction timer that he would hit when I told him to start and stop.
Here's what we logged:
4:04 - 4:05 - 1 min 12 s long
4:12-4:13 - 59 seconds long, 7 min 56 seconds from previous
4:13-4:14 - 50 seconds long, 1 min 25 seconds from previous
4:16-4:17 - 1 min 23 seconds long, 2 min 37 seconds from previous
4:19-4:20 - 48 seconds long, 3 min 18 seconds from previous
4:21-4:23 - 1 min 20 seconds, 2 min 10 seconds from previous
4:24-4:25 - 1 min 20 seconds, 2 min 38 seconds from previous
4:28-4:30 - 1 min 14 seconds, 4 min 24 seconds from previous
About this time, from the toilet where I was sitting because I just kept leaking amniotic fluid, I said "it's time to go to the hospital." They were getting so strong that I was afraid I wouldn't be able to get to the car if we waited for 5-1-1. I started throwing up soon after saying that. I also insisted that B find a different shirt for me to wear because I was wearing a pajama shirt, and you can't give birth in your pajamas! We stopped fiddling around with the app, and I remember B calling the midwife and saying "we're coming in" before putting the last things in the bag, helping me lie down in bed to try to manage the last few contractions before leaving, then running down to the parking garage under our apartment to bring the car up to the handicapped spot right in front of our place so I'd only have 1 flight of stairs to go down. He also set towels down in the seat and got me a couple extra plastic bags in case I threw up again, which proved crucial. He helped me as best he could down the stairs, and we had to stop at the bottom and I just hung on him while I had another contraction.
We drove to the hospital as fast as we could, but every time our car turned I told B to slow down because it killed. We got to the hospital, where thankfully they have reserved "new family parking" out front. We had to go in through the emergency room because the main entrance was closed. There was no way I was walking in, so B ran inside and got a wheelchair. Seconds later, he was back, and we were rushing in. I started vomiting again in the parking lot and vomited all through the trip to the elevator to labor and delivery, where we thankfully knew our way around due to our time in November. I remember thinking to myself, "I wonder if this is transition," the stage between first stage (contraction, start of dilation) and second stage (pushing), that we'd learned about in our birth classes, because we had learned that it was characterized by a loss of modesty, and I couldn't have cared less about vomiting and leaving a trail of amniotic fluid through the emergency room. Transition was supposedly the toughest part, because contractions come often, sometimes have double peaks, and we had heard that the other big part of transition was the feeling that you couldn't do it.
We got up to the labor and delivery floor and were showed our room. I remember telling B I was mad because when we were there before they had asked us if we wanted a single or double bed and we had said double but this was a single. He reminded me that we'd be going to that room AFTER this room. What a funny thing to care about in that moment, huh?
I don't really remember the order of events after this, but I remember thinking I had to get in a hospital gown and then being unsure if I could even change clothes. The nurse who was there and who'd be staying past her shift ended to deliver our baby in the end told me that I could just stay in my shirt for then and see if I wanted to change later. That sounded like a plan. Our birth class had suggested a lot of different positions for managing contractions, but I honestly could barely stand on my feet, so I got in bed with the back bent up so I could sit up. The nurse asked us if we were planning on having a natural childbirth and at that moment I seriously considered saying "nope!" but I said "yes" reluctantly. B pointed out later that there's no way there was even time for an epidural, but I didn't know that at the time!!! I was super dehydrated from all the vomiting so B asked the nurse to get me some ice and held a cup and gave me a few at a time. He talked me through each contraction, like we had practiced. When I said "epidural" in my most pathetic sounding voice so he'd know I really needed it twice during different contractions, he said "let's just make it through this one" which I KNEW was a trick we had discussed in advance to help me make it through the tough parts, but I fell for it anyway. The other thing I remember B saying was how proud he was of me and how amazing I was, about a million times. With the most sincere look on his face in the world. I told him a few times that he shouldn't be and that I was doing a terrible job, but every time he said it I just wanted him to say it again.
The nurse's task was to get a monitor up on the baby so we could hear his heartbeat and to get another one on my uterus to monitor contractions. Before when I was having preterm labor, I didn't trust that monitor at all because it would say I was contracting even when I couldn't feel it. The funny thing was, I remember asking if when I felt contractions the monitor was actually picking them up, because I was afraid they weren't real! Ha. The hard part about getting those monitors in place is that a) she had to find the baby's heartbeat while I was writhing, and b) I insisted nobody touch me during contractions, which were seemingly constant at that point. She finally found him and when we heard his heartbeat it was a huge relief.
About this point, the midwife got there and introduced herself. She wanted to check me for dilation and I was having a contraction when she said it and I believe my response was "nobody is going near there." Once the contraction subsided, I relented, and she had great news -- I was 8 cm dilated already (out of 10). I knew that didn't mean anything in terms of timing though, because labor can stall at any point, so I wasn't convinced it was great news.
When the midwife arrived, the nurse started running a bath for me in the bathtub. I could hear the water running and I think I asked several times if someone needed to check to make sure the tub didn't overflow. I was assured that it would be fine. After getting checked, we headed to the tub, which was incredible for some reason. I could squirm around a lot more and the warm water was soothing. B was stationed right by me, feeding me ice chips between contractions and telling me how awesome I was. At this point I remember saying "I just need a break, why won't they give me a break?!?" because they were just coming constantly. I also remember asking the midwife, who told me I could do it, if she had kids, and she said no. In hindsight, I'm glad I didn't continue with "THEN HOW DO YOU KNOW?!" which is what I was thinking at the time.
As the contractions got worse, the pitch of my complaints during them rose a couple of octaves. All of a sudden, my hands went numb, and I told the midwife, and she told me it was because I was hyperventilating and needed to breathe better. She told me that I should focus on making low pitched moans instead of high pitched squeals because it would help me breathe. Not long after that, as I was trying my best to follow instructions, B and the midwife both were making low pitched noises to try to help me do the same. So we were all three in it together!
After what seemed like an eternity but was probably about 20 minutes in the tub, I started to want to push really badly. In the birth classes, they told us to wait to push until we had the "uncontrollable urge" so I said "uncontrollable urge to push" between contractions so they'd know I was serious. The nurse checked me then and I was 9.5 cm (going for 10!) so I was told to try to hold off as best I could until we got to 10. I think I made it through 3 more when I just couldn't help it and pushed with all my strength. After that, it was "ok, we have to get out of the tub" which I thought was physically impossible, but with everyone's help, I was able to get on the bed.
I started out on all fours for a couple of contractions but my hands were still numb from not breathing well (shame on me, that was something we practiced!) so I had to turn over. The midwife wanted to check just to make sure I was actually 10 cm, and when she did, we found out that not only was I 10 cm but that she only had to reach in about an inch to feel his head!
The next 30 minutes are probably my proudest because I (mostly) stopped complaining and just pushed. B helped support my back as I sat up and one leg, the nurse supported the other leg, and the midwife was doing stuff down there that I honestly don't know about and don't want to. After every contraction I'd get an update about how much of his head they could see, and at one point they told me he had dark hair. I think there were about 10 contractions left the first time the midwife said "you're so close." I didn't know there were 10 left, though, and after hearing that 5 times you really start to doubt people's sincerity. With 3 left, she said "I think you'll have this in 2-3 contractions" and that was more concrete and helpful.
During the final one, I was about out of juice when I felt what I had been told was called "the ring of fire," and I knew because it felt like a literal RING OF FIRE. I knew that meant that it was the largest part of his head and I also knew I didn't want to feel it twice, so I was reenergized. I pushed once more and felt a huge release of pressure and after that, the shoulders, torso, and legs were cake. All of a sudden I had a baby on my belly. He was covered in white vernix, which protects the skin from amniotic fluid. He wasn't wailing but was making a lot of little noises; he had a lot of fluid in his lungs. Brett and I just stared at him in disbelief. It was 7:20 pm.
One nurse immediately started taking his vitals while another was checking me. The midwife started worrying about my placenta but we didn't notice any of this. We found out that he was cold so his nurse brought heated blankets to put on him. (We didn't find out how cold until later -- 96.3 degrees. But they checked his vitals every 15 minutes and he heated up quickly.) After a few minutes, they asked B if he wanted to cut the cord, which he did. B asked if he could touch it and learned that he could squeeze it as hard as he could and not cut off circulation, yet some contractions during labor actually do. He reports that it felt plasticky.
The next hour is a total blur. Things were happening all around us, including something with the placenta, which B opted to and I opted not to see. He reports "multi colored." We just were there staring at and touching this beautiful baby. I think B texted our parents after 45 minutes or so. I asked him if they knew the name and he said no because he wanted to confirm with me. We agreed on his name, which made him seem very ours.
After about an hour, the nurses started asking us some logistical stuff. We needed to measure him, I needed to use the bathroom, and most importantly, they asked us what we were going to do for dinner. The hospital cafeteria was closed. They brought a binder of menus from places that delivered to the hospital. We decided on sandwiches and chocolate milkshakes from Snarf's but when B called he found out that they stopped delivering at 8 and closed at 9. He went ahead and placed a carry out order and ran out to pick them up.
His nurse started teaching me about breastfeeding about that time. She was so kind and comforting and helpful. So we attempted that while B was out. After awhile I decided to call my mom and my dad and tell them the name. They were both so excited, obviously. He just laid on me and gurgled and attempted to eat. When B got back I decided it wise to start with the milkshake. B called his parents who were also over the moon.
After his phone call, it was time to weigh and measure our baby. B accompanied him to the scale and warmer. We found out he was 7 lb 2 oz and 21 inches long, although B thought the length measurement was off. He was right -- at the pediatrician yesterday we found out he either shrank or was 20 inches to start with. I watched from the bed.
My nurse tried to help me up to go to the bathroom and even though I felt like I needed to, I just couldn't. First time for everything.
B got his first skin to skin time in after A had been weighed and measured, poked and prodded. They sat in a chair next to me admiring each other while I scarfed down my sandwich. Note that in all this time, B did not drink his milkshake, and I reminded him about it several times, secretly hoping he'd tell me to just eat it. :) He ate it melted instead.
After the skin to skin time, a nurse swaddled our little burrito baby and handed him to us.
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| Baby's first bed |
We transferred to our room at about 11:00. The queen size hospital bed that we had requested was waiting for us! We knew we needed to get some sleep but we were both too jazzed up to do it right away. We had two nurses that night, one who helped me actually get breastfeeding going the somewhat-right way for the first time. She was also a lactation consultant, so she knew her stuff.
At this point I'd like to say that the hospital staff was just so supportive and wonderful to us. Each nurse, doctor, midwife, lactation consultant, aide who helped us and our son helped us to feel confident and answered all of our questions patiently and thoroughly. Our wishes for birth and for his care were totally respected and honored. We couldn't have had a better first two days with him, and we are so grateful for that.
I wrote this mainly so we could remember, and if you made it this far, congratulations! Your internet attention span is probably at least three standard deviations above the mean, meaning you are exceptional. We had a beautiful, uncomplicated birth, and if it had been any other way, it still would have been beautiful because we would have ended up with him in the end. I hope all parents are able to look back on their baby's birth day with the same fondness, no matter how they got to the baby in the end. And now I know why people say the day their kids were born is the best day/days of their life. Although each day since then seems to surpass it in our joy, it was so singular and incredible that perhaps I should call it the most awesome day of our lives.
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