So. Significant changes to this blog. Once upon a time, it started as "Diary of a Mother-to-be-to-be", following my preparations to eventually become pregnant. It was all about weight loss and other things that needed to be done prior to my becoming a parent. Then, it became "Diary of a Mother-to-be", once I did actually become pregnant. It followed my physical and emotional changes as I went through nine months of fun and frolic.
And now, it undergoes yet another change, as I AM NOW A MOTHER. I am now the proud owner of a bouncing baby boy named Brendan, 8 lbs, 22 inches long, born at 8:13 am on Saturday, October 23.
Just last Thursday I was wondering about the signs of labor and whether or not I would actually know when I was starting labor. I mean, you hear all the time about women who end up giving birth in bathrooms and backseats because they didn't know they were in labor until they were in the later stages. I spent part of that afternoon wondering about that, because I was having intermittent lower back and lower abdominal pain throughout the afternoon. They were minor pains, so I really didn't give them much thought other than to wonder if they were somehow related to early signs of labor.
But it wasn't until later that evening that it occurred to both myself and my husband that these pains might indeed be early contractions. That realization coincided with the loss of my mucous plug. From that point (about 11 pm), we started keeping track of how frequent these contractions were and how long they were lasting. At that moment the contractions were 25-30 minutes apart, and only lasting about a minute. I employed my breathing techniques (thank you, birthing class) each time one rolled around. I was surprised to find that I did at least doze in between the contractions. I wouldn't have thought that was possible--I figured the excitement (and discomfort) would be enough to keep me awake.
By 6:30 Friday morning, I was starting to really feel the discomfort (not yet pain) of the contractions, and they were about 10 minutes apart. I called the Family Birth Center at the hospital and spoke with one of the charge nurses. She wanted me to wait to come in until I was having contractions about 2-3 minutes apart. I told her that my 39 week checkup was that same morning, so she recommended I go see my OB as planned and see what she said about my situation.
My OB did a cervical check and informed me that I was about 3 cm dilated and 60% effaced. She said she had sort of "broken through" a membrane on my cervix while doing my exam, and she figured that would probably jumpstart things. She thought I'd be at the birth center within 4-5 hours. She said she was the OB on call that evening, and that she'd see me then. This was the first time that a cervical check had produced any kind of progress in my condition, so I was pretty excited (and in a bit of pain).
I spent the middle part of Friday just hanging in there, packing our hospital bag and making sure everything was ready for the baby. The contractions were gradually increasing in strength and frequency, until they were about 2 1/2 minutes apart and about 1 1/2 minutes long. By about 3 or so in the afternoon I was pretty uncomfortable and ready for the hospital. I called the birth center and spoke to the nurse, and she said it was time to come on in. After making sure the dogs had been walked (since we didn't know when someone would be back at the house to take them out again), we loaded up two vehicles (my husband was driving me, and we were followed by his parents and my dad) and headed to the hospital.
After signing some paperwork, the nurses led me into a triage room, where they checked me once again. Between 4-5 cm this time. My OB came in and said they were definitely admitting me, and that things were looking good. They got me in my own room, got me on an IV with some pain medication, and we settled in to see how things progressed. Every hour or so someone would come in to check me again. 6 cm. My contractions were strong; they had me hooked up to monitors and my husband could see each contraction and talk me through it. I was hurting pretty bad and was pretty tired; after all, I'd been having contractions for about 24 hours. But each time they checked me, the result was the same: about 6 cm. I just wasn't getting past that.
Some time that evening, I requested an epidural. I was really hurting bad, the contractions were really strong and very close together, but since I wasn't making any progress with my cervix opening, I couldn't get out of transitional labor. I was pretty exhausted. The anesthesiologist came in and ran the line in my back for the epidural. I've gotta say, I should have gotten the epidural WAY before then. It was wonderful. I've read horror stories about people whose epidurals didn't work, or were so strong they couldn't push, or only numbed half their back, or whatever, but mine was fabulous. They started me on pitocin in my IV to get me past the 6 cm stage, but each time they checked me, I was still stalled out. They upped my pitocin dosage three different times, to no avail. I could tell how strong the contractions were because I could SEE them each time my belly tightened up, and we could see them on the monitor, but since I wasn't opening up there was just nothing I could do. The hours passed, my epidural started to wear off a bit, and I started to hurt again.
At 5 am on Saturday morning, my OB (who looked pretty worn out herself; they'd had a lot of babies that night) came in. She said, "I get the feeling you've had it; you're done. You just aren't progressing like you should be, and I can tell you are really tired. So I think we're going to do a c-section and get this baby out. There's no reason to prolong this any more than we already have." I was so relieved (and I'm sure my family was, too; in my preoccupation with my own situation I had pretty much forgotten that my in-laws and my dad had been holed up in the waiting room since Friday afternoon with only the occasional update). She said, "Well, within the hour we should have a baby for you!"
But within a few minutes, the nurses came in to tell me there would be yet another delay: another woman in labor was having complications, and they were going to do a c-section on her as well. They decided since she was having trouble and I wasn't (Brendan was never distressed or anything, and I was fine except for being tired and frustrated) that she would go first. The anesthesiologist came back in and gave me a second hit to my epidural; he said it would be a real bummer to be sitting there, waiting, and having painful contractions since my previous one was kind of wearing off. And then we waited. Again. Still.
Not sure how complicated this other woman's situation was, but it must have been a doozy, because they didn't come for me until about 7:30. They got me set up in the operating room, got my husband set up in his scrubs, and dosed me up good with more painkillers. Between those and the previous shot to my epidural site, I could barely keep my eyes open. They put the drape up across my chest so we couldn't see what was going on around my abdomen (for which my husband was thankful; he was worried about passing out, even during a regular delivery). And from that point, things went very quickly. It was probably only ten minutes or so from the first incision (not that I would know, since I couldn't really tell when the first incision was or anything like that) before they came around the corner of the drape to show off my son (who was a little gooey but otherwise pretty good-looking). He was lighter than previously estimated (only 8 lbs rather than 9+, which makes it seem unlikely that I had stalled out in my labor progress because "he wouldn't fit"), but he was long, 22 inches. They took him over to clean him up, take care of his cord, weigh him, measure him, and whatever else it is that they do, and my OB continued to do whatever it was she was doing down there.
It turns out that even if I had done a regular delivery, she might have had to go in, because my placenta was firmly attached to the top of my uterus, and she really had to work to get it delivered. It took much longer to get the placenta out than it did to get the baby out. But she did successfully get everything out and closed back up, and they got me back to my room. Brendan was right behind me, and I got to feed him for the first time (not that there was much feeding; he wasn't exactly hungry and I wasn't completely coherent, but still). And so we settled in. Nurses came in regularly to check on us, take vital signs, get me up on my feet (after the epidurals wore off, of course), get me cleaned up, and all those fun things. Brendan had a bunch of tests he had to go through (heel sticks and such), a circumcision to endure (the nurse asked if either my husband or I would like to go watch--she didn't even have the question out of her mouth when my husband said, "No, that's OK"), and get his hearing checked.
It was difficult to get much sleep either night we were in the birth center. The nurses kept coming in to check on the both of us. Of course Brendan didn't have any kind of routine either; he woke up when he felt like it. Since he wasn't eating much, it was hard to figure out how to soothe him. And neither my husband on the pullout sofa nor I on my slightly reclined hospital bed was particularly comfortable. We were happy on Monday evening to be discharged so we could come home and at least sleep in our own bed.
The days since we came home have been interesting, to say the least. I'm just glad my husband was given the week off so we could get the hang of things together, before he has to start getting up in the mornings to get to work. And I'm glad my in-laws have been here. My mother-in-law especially has been a huge blessing--she's cooking for us, filling our freezer for when she goes home, cleaning up the house, and watching the baby for us so we can go take an occasional badly needed nap. I'm glad my father got to be here to see his first grandchild. He seemed really excited about the whole thing. And I'm glad that, as long and exhausting as the birth process was, things went as smoothly as they did. My pregnancy was easy, my blood pressure and age never became issues, and a week after I had what amounts to major abdominal surgery, I'm healing pretty well (I just wish the swelling in my legs and feet would go down). If there's one thing I would change about this whole thing, it would be to have my mom here. Especially since all this took place over what would have been her 67th birthday, her presence was sorely missed. I know she was looking down on us and was with me the whole time, but I sure wish I could have been able to put him in her arms and see her face looking down at his.
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