The past few weeks have been a total blur, to say the least. My parents arrived at our house the day before my due date, and boy was I ready to have a baby by that point. In fact, several times I was completely certain that I was in labor. My Braxton-Hicks contractions were happening nearly every day the week before my due date, and it was hard to tell if they were the real thing or not. I would wake up in the middle of the night and time them, only to realize that they were not getting more regular or stronger and ended up feeling sort of disappointed. There was a point where I thought I would be the first woman on earth to be pregnant forever. (That actually didn't happen.)
It was Tuesday, August 6. At my doctor visit that morning, I was already 3 cm dilated and the doctor said she would be surprised if I made it through the week without going into labor. That evening around 8:30, I felt the contractions start up again, and they began to get more uncomfortable as the evening went on. I thought to myself, "Ok, this is really it," as I put a few last items into my hospital bag, paced around the house, and bounced on my birthing ball. I pulled up my contraction timer app on my phone and started logging them. The evening slogged on, and around midnight, the contractions were about five minutes apart, lasting about a minute each time. They were not exactly painful yet, but did make me have to stop and breathe deeply when each one came. I wanted to labor at home for as long as I could, and had been snacking, relaxing, and trying to stay comfortable. My doctor's voice rang in my head: "Second babies come fast, so don't wait too long to get to the hospital!"
By the time we got to the hospital, a whole 9 minute drive from our house, it was nearly 1am. I was disappointed when they checked my cervix to find out that I was still only 3 1/2 cm dilated. The four hours of laboring at home had barely gotten me anywhere! The nurse asked if we wanted to go home and come back later, which seemed silly at this hour. So we got checked into a delivery room, and I tried all the coping methods I could remember to deal with the contractions. I walked, I sat. I laid down. I bounced on my ball. I leaned on the birthing bar. I leaned on my husband. I tried to sleep, but was eventually woken out of a half-slumber state by the increasing pain in my abdomen. There had been a moment where I thought that maybe I could do all this the natural way, as a total 180 from my first labor - there were currently no monitors hooked up to me in invasive parts of my body, and I was not relegated to being in the hospital bed since I wasn't receiving any medication yet. The nurses were coming in to monitor the baby every hour, but that was just an external monitor on my belly. But the pain increased with each contraction. It was an incredibly scary pain. It felt like a huge earthquake was jolting all my insides with each one that came. I writhed and cried and knew it was time to call for the anesthesiologist.
It took about 20 minutes to administer the epidural, and slowly I felt my body become numb from the waist down. Unfortunately, with the epidural came a bunch of other stuff that had to be poked into my body. The IV for fluids (which sucked because they couldn't find my vein and two nurses had to try it four times!), a catheter since I couldn't feel when I had to pee, and of course the button that was connected to the epidural which allowed me to increase the dosage as I wished. So I was now chained to my hospital bed, but I didn't care because it was incredible to not feel that pain anymore. I fell into a much needed sleep for a few hours.
I was woken up by a nurse who was telling me something about Pitocin. The dreaded P word! I wanted nothing to do with this drug after being in labor with it for like 30 hours the first time. The nurse explained that my doctor was recommending a small dosage of it since my contractions were still not getting closer together. I thought about protesting, but had little energy left to do so. Yes, I was here to have this baby and with the epidural on, I knew I wouldn't feel the effects much anyway.
Well, modern medicine did its thing, because the next thing I knew, it was 9am and and I was woken up by another nurse who came into the room and said, "I think you're ready!" In my groggy state, I asked, "Ready for what?" thinking more drugs or something were on the way. She replied cheerfully, "To have a baby! You're over 9 cm now!" Wow, that was quick. I took a minute to process that somehow, this had all happened while I was sleeping. Then, looking over at the couch where Paul was sleeping with his mouth wide open, I half whispered to him, "Honey, wake up. I'm going to push!" I don't really know why I was whispering. It just seemed like the type of information not to get too public with.
Through all of this, I still had this nasty phlegmy cough that Elisa had so lovingly given me a few weeks prior, and the cough had gotten worse just that day. The nurse observed me coughing as she got me into position to deliver, and noted that the baby was actually descending with each coughing fit I had! And so I pushed, and coughed, and mostly coughed, but also pushed, until the baby was apparently crowning and I realized my doctor was nowhere to be seen. At that very moment, she dashed in the door, put on scrubs, a shower cap, and a face shield thing, and I continued to push with her direction. "Do you want to feel the baby's head?" she asked at one point. I don't know why this totally grossed me out, but I declined.
A few more pushes, and the hardest part was over. Paul was cheering me on in an apprehensive sort of way. In between mumbling, "Oh my God" under his breath he would say, "You're doing amazing! Almost there!" My doctor said, "One more big push!" and push I did - and before I knew it, a wet wriggling baby was placed on my chest.
I immediately started bawling. This didn't happen with Elisa - maybe I was too drugged out - but for some reason a huge flood of emotions hit me like a ton of bricks. She was so perfect, and looking down at her in this very lucid state, with a labor that was not too difficult, I couldn't believe she was really here. I was so happy to have my glasses on so I could see her clearly (didn't the first time) and I was not a disgusting sweaty mess like the first time either. She was here. She was beautiful. And she looked like Elisa, but then again she didn't. That moment will always be one of the most precious in my entire life - holding her tiny little body for the first time, looking down at this incredible being that had just spent 9 months inside my body, that was now outside of my body and ready to be a part of our family.
And now as a family of 4, we are slowly adjusting and getting to know Cara better each day. She is a sweet, mild baby very different from our first, who needed lots of soothing, swinging, and shushing all the time. While Elisa was strong-willed and determined from the first day, Cara is less decisive, a little more easy-going, and very observant of the new world around her. She has been a pretty good sleeper, is growing and eating well, and her big sister loves her to pieces, often exclaiming in delight, "Baby Cara! MUAH!"
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| Pushing the double stroller around the neighborhood. This thing weighs a ton! |
2 comments:
Yay! You posted post-baby. She's beautiful, Connie. Glad it was an "easy" delivery. xo
muah to baby cara! thanks for sharing this incredible journey!
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