Friday, August 28, 2009

the process

Looking over my past entries, it just occured to me that I have been a poor blogger.  I post a picture of my newborn and I, and then go straight into the transition period crazies and jump right into my new life and all that.  Many of my fair readers are friends who have been appraised of my schedule via Facebook or calls, but for everyone else, there are many, many holes.  So, without further ado - as many deets as I can share before the manchild wakes up and WT gets bored with her crayons:


Sunday night (the 16th - has it already been almost 2 weeks?!) I started getting painful contractions around 10pm, but I’ve had ‘em before and didn’t know if they were linked to anything.  After a few hours of fitful sleep, I woke up in pain and decided I needed to start timing these suckers.  But, being blind as a bat, I couldn’t see the clock so I had to grab my glasses - problem was, I couldn’t find them and I was grunting in pain as I felt my way around our bedroom in the dark, thereby waking up SexyHusband.  He wanted to know what I was doing and I gasped out my plan, and then told me to put on some clothes and call the hospital.  “No!” I said.  “I have to time them and see if they are close enough!”


“I hate to break it to you, but you’re having a baby.  Now.  Let’s go.”  It’s handy to have a husband at times like this when the brain isn’t running at full speed.


So, we braved the 1 mile commute to the hospital (small town, remember?) at 2am and were ushered in through the emergency room by a cheerful nurse who greeted us by name.  I couldn’t recall her, but she informed us she was our neighbor - I met her once, but what with the grunting, couldn’t think straight.  Again, this small town thing just kills me.


We were the only people in the birthing center, with the lone nurse and my amazing midwife.  The lights were low and SH was coaching me through every contraction with the lamaze breathing thing we’d learned from a single viewing of a DVD 3 years ago that has proven quite successful for me.  The nurse and midwife commented on what a fantastic team we were and wondered if we’d taken a class or something to be so prepared.  Nope, take that Bradley crackas.  Heh.


I have to admit, when it comes to labor, SH is the most amazing husband.  He’s at my side the entire time, face in mine, focused and supporting.  Keeping me focused on the breathing and giving support along the way, but mostly the focus thing.  It’s all about me - the doctors are there for the baby, but he’s there for me.  It makes me fall crazier in love with him, it does.


So, at the 2am time, they informed me I was 5cm and expected some time before baby made his entrance.  But man, when my body decides to have a baby, it goes for it gung-ho, none of this sitting around, taking its sweet time.  Before I could get the epidural - which is a must - they needed to do some bloodwork to make sure my platele count was high enough.  By the time they woke someone up to do that and they got their tests done (which was only about 3am, but still) I was 8cm and the midwife broke the news that there might not be time for that epidural - and THAT’S when I started crying.  I’d hit the point where the pain was more than me breathing could cover and I wanted RELIEF, dagnabit.


Now,some people out there get a high from natural childbirth, and more power to ‘em, but I’m not one of them.  I have a friend who told me she goes without medication to prove to herself she can and to give herself a ego boost.  I have nothing to prove to the world on that account - I’ve done my proving - I want pain medication!!  After explaining this not-as-delicately to my midwife, she hurried that anesthesiologist in there.  I think they had to wake him up too, poor guy.  No pity here, though.


He told me it was a smaller dose since I was so far along and I had 2 hours before it wore off - so I made a deadline of 5:30am to evict this kid.  After a few contractions where I only felt it on one side of my body as the epidural worked its way through my system, I was set and SO thankful for modern medicine.  I almost enjoyed myself the rest of labor, honestly :)


I pushed and pushed and pushed and by 5:12, I had my little boy.  The relief of him being pushed out (as opposed to taken out like last time - no c-section, but the Brasilian doctors were impatient and sped things along), and the weight of it all hit me and I started crying and they put him right on my chest - very different from my last experience - but it was very, very cool.  SH and I just cried and smiled for a while - I loved how the nurse and midwife stepped back and gave us a moment.  It’s so blasted cool to be there with your sweetheart and know this little creature is straight from heaven and YOURS.  There were a lot of “I love yous” and all that mushiness.  It was also kind of funny when the midwife asked if he wanted to cut the cord, and he looked like she had four heads and said “no, that’s YOUR job…”  His job was to be there for me, and he was.  Dang, I gots me a good one.


And then I had a few nice days in the hospital before coming home and going insane.  But you know all about that.


Now, the issue is that his umbilical cord stump fell off at some point in the last few days, but I don’t know where or when.  Kind of creepy to know that’s floating around the house…

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