Push it! Push it real good!

*Warning: this is a labor and delivery story, not sparing any of the details*

On September 10th, at 7:00 am, I walked into the hospital ready to have a baby.  At the reception desk, I filled out some paperwork and waited (not patiently) to get up to the room.  Each thing I did was followed with an echo of, "That the last time you get out your insurance card/push the number 4 on an elevator/sign your name/etc. not as a mom".  At about 7:45, I made it to my room, put on my gown and climbed into bed.  The nurse came in and talked with me for a while, just getting to know me.  Then another nurse came in and asked me a lot of questions about my health history.  Shortly after she finished her questioning, the nurse anesthetist gave me the complete description of getting an epidural and I signed the release in the event that I decided to get some pain relief.

Then-showtime.  The nurse attached the IV and started the pitocin to induce labor and added a line of saline to keep me hydrated.  (Since I was being induced, I had been fasting for 12 hours and not had anything to drink.)  She then hooked up two monitors to my belly, one for the baby and one for me.  Then she put on the blood pressure cuff and a finger-squeezy-pulse-thing.  My doctor then stopped by and broke my water, which feels like you are peeing yourself and makes everything from there on out messy and gross.  By now it was about 8:30.

The first hour was very mild.  My parents stopped in to check on us and my husband showed me some funny online videos, but by 9:30 it was down to business.  I started to really feel the contractions and kept moving around to try to ease the pain.  I knew that I was supposed to be getting rest in between contractions, but the pain was constant.  I told my nurse, who decided to back down my pitocin.  Thankfully, once they jump started my labor, my body kicked in and started working on it's own.  Backing down the pitocin let me rest between contractions, and by about noon, they were able to take me off the pitocin altogether.  

I labored sitting on the edge of the bed, sitting on a yoga ball, and also tried just standing up.  My husband held my hands and counted to 20, then backwards back to 1.  I knew that when he said 20 the contraction was as bad as it was going to get and by the time he said 1 it would be over.  With every number he said, I squeezed his hands to give me an outlet for the pain.

I keep saying pain, let me say, it was unlike anything I have ever felt before.  In the beginning stages it felt like a strong period cramp (which I have had plenty of in my life), but as it progressed, I could feel the pain wrap itself around me from my back, then all the way around my stomach.  It absolutely hurt, but once it was over, I could rest and recover.  I found myself doing two things I didn't expect.  Swaying and moaning.  Just like it soothes a baby; it was very soothing to me.  It was like crowding my senses with other non-pain sensations.  Between contractions, I would just sway side to side and these little sounds kept escaping me.  I didn't really feel like I could control it.  I made no conscious choice to do these things and was barely aware that I was doing them.  

I kept up this routine, keeping my husband always in contact with me, throughout the morning.  The nurse and doctor checked me several times for dilation.  I was making good progress and faster than expected.  I don't know if it helped, but every time I had a contraction I thought about the baby moving down, that each pain was working to get this little one out into the world.

By about 12:45, they told me I could get into the shower.  I was dilated to an 8 and off the pitocin.  I was so grateful to sit in the warm stream of water and let it hit my back, but I only got to sit there for about 5 minutes.  The water so relaxing, that all of a sudden I yelled to my husband that it felt like I had to poop!  I knew that I wasn't really going to poop (I had already done that earlier in the labor process, and in the toilet-not the table, I might add) but it was that pushing urge.  He yanked the red emergency cord on the wall and the nurse was there.  They got me out of the shower and onto the bed, where the checked me again it was push time.

Best I can estimate, pushing lasted about an hour.  It was strange, I felt the need to push and thought I would know what to do, but really, I had no clue.  After kind of writhing around through the first real pushing contraction, the nurse called me by name and said, "You need to focus!"  She gave me about a thousand directions, legs here!, hands there!, head here!, etc.  It was hard to take it all in, but with some time, we got there.  I could feel when pushing was working and when I wasn't being effective.  This kept up for a while and the doctor and my husband gave me updates throughout.

People gave my husband lots of tips, mostly different forms of, "DON'T look down there!" However, when it was time to push, the nurse took my left leg and directed my husband to take the right one.  The two of them stayed there the whole time.  He could see the baby's head when it crowned and encouraged me to keep going.  I was glad it was him telling me what was going on. I didn't feel like he was watching this happen, he was in it with me, counting, breathing, and holding me up.  And I am eternally grateful for that.

I kept working to get this baby here but was struggling to get passed the baby's head.  So the doctor told my husband to look away and made an episiotomy.  When he finished, I knew this baby was almost here.  I have this quick snapshot image of the baby's quiet, gray face as the doctor worked the shoulders out.  He told me to give a strong push and my husband kept saying that the baby is "almost here".  My eyes were still closed tight when I felt that baby leave, the doctor told me to open my eyes and as I did, I saw them lifting the now-crying baby up onto my chest all wet and beautiful and slippery.  I just cried and cried, grateful that the baby had made it.  On the way to my chest my husband saw the evidence and told me that we had a boy.  

Our sweet little boy.

The Pregnancy Summary

I am 11 days passed my due date.  After a long week and a half of waiting, we decided, along with the support of our doctor, to schedule an induction. It was strange to think about picking our kid's birthday, but the nurse called the hospital to see if September 10, 11, or 12 were available.  Due to the hospital's schedule, our child will be born on Monday, September 10th (unless he or she decides to come on their own sometime before then).  

I am so relieved to know that this child will eventually be born.  It has been emotionally taxing awaiting their arrival.  I was truly beginning to feel like this would never happen.

So here are some last stats and a picture from my journey, as well as my hopes for delivery.  The next time you hear from me, I will be writing with a baby by my side, instead of on my inside.

Stats

Weight gained: 24 pounds

Belly Measurement: 39 cm

Cravings: No real food cravings, I just kind of like everything.  However, sometimes I crave particular movies and songs (examples include: Judd Apatow films and Bon Iver songs), it is weird, but it is like emotional craving.

Aversions: In the beginning raw meat was tough to handle, but that passed.

Baby's Size: measured in at 7 pounds 3 oz after an ultrasound on Tuesday (Note: there is a high rate of error with this kind of testing, it can actually be +/- a pound)

Stretch Marks: Just those two that extend from my belly button piercing scar tissue. Notice that the pictures are never from the front, that scar is real bad.

Sleep: Still managing at least 8 hours a night, but this requires 2 pillows, no blankets, and the ceiling fan.

41 weeks and 4 days.

Hopes for delivery

It is my second biggest hope that this child decides to join us before the induction.  I would really like to be able to get through the early stages of labor at home, eating and drinking freely, and then go to the hospital, where I would be able to be mobile and not attached to all the machines.  I have imagined a natural childbirth (pretty much exclusively) up until this point, one where I can move freely and really experience this child's arrival into the world.

Since an induction is very likely, I am learning to adjust my world view a little.  We talked with the nurse today and learned that I will be on a pitocin drip the entire time (attached to an IV) and will have to be constantly monitored (attached to another machine).  With these kinds of limitations, I will only be allowed trips to the bathroom and to stand bedside if needed.  I know that lots of women labor in bed, but I just didn't picture it that way when it was my turn.  I feel like labor is something that I do, not something that happens to me, and being told that I can't do things that I know could help, will be a real challenge for me. 

It is my biggest hope of all that by Monday night, I know my child.  The anticipation of meeting him or her has been constantly growing throughout this pregnancy.  I wonder if it is a boy or girl.  I wonder if they will have my husband's skin, which doesn't fry in the sun like mine.  I wonder if they will have his ability to break down dairy products.  I wonder if they will have to wear glasses like me.  My husband wonders if they will appreciate dissonance. 

Regardless of how this childbirth occurs, the end result is the arrival of our sweet Hummingbird.  I know I have my ideas and dreams about how that happens, but truly, there is nothing more that I can hope for then their safe passage onto this planet.

Peace and love to all of you who have read and supported me this far.  I can't wait to tell you about the gory details and beautiful moments about life as new mom.

40 Weeks...And Five Days

OVERDUE.  Perhaps this is karma getting back at me for a terrible library checkout record.  For someone who would like to pursue a masters in library science and who's mother worked in a library, my library permanent record is marred with multiple lost items, late fees, and cds returned without the paper inserts.  I am not this reckless in any other area of my life, I don't know what my problem is.

I feel like I am going to burst.  Physically and mentally.  Getting to 40 weeks was the goal all throughout pregnancy, but about 3 weeks ago the idea of actually having this kid got planted in my head.  People started asking questions at work, telling me stories about their early deliveries.  I started to dilate at 38 weeks, stopped gaining weight, and started into the random contractions.  I started to think this could happen anytime.  However, here I sit, at 40 weeks...plus a little extra.

And currently, I sit in a chair of depression.  It is very strange.  I did not anticipate feeling this way, but this last week has left me feeling very isolated and sad.  If you are pregnant, nursing, or may become pregnant, perhaps you have or will encounter the same thing:

"Did YOU have that baby yet?"
"Are YOU having any labor signs?"
"When are YOU going to have that thing?"
"Oh YOU need to: walk/have sex/eat Mexican/drink raspberry leaf tea/drink Castor oil/climb stairs/ jump up and down 357 times while singing Abba songs and wearing flip flops."

I love every person who said the above things to me, but there is a common element among them.  I know that it is bologna, but it makes me feel that I am doing something to keep this baby from coming. That some how I am in control of it and doing a bad job.

To add: I haven't worked in a week.  I normally work at least 50 hours a week away from home, plus another 5-10 at home.  It consumes my brain and was very helpful when trying to keep myself from constantly thinking about the baby's arrival.

+ I had great relief when the baby "dropped".  He/she got out of my lungs and off my stomach so that I could breathe and eat a little more.  However, this child is still growing and while they are definitely low riding at this point, their feet have extended back into my lungs and stomach bringing back the heartburn and side-cramp-feel-like-I-just-ran-a-mile feeling.

+ I always feel like I have to poop.  This is another thing that I never heard about, and maybe it only happens to me, but with this child's noggin pushing on my colon, I constantly feel like I got to go.

+I have all the signs of labor everyday, minus the water breaking.  Contractions, cramping, loss of appetite, diarrhea, pressure in the lower abdomen, and yet, nothing ever comes of it.

I know that has been a total gripe fest, but I am struggling.  I have felt pretty good throughout, but this has hit me hard.  There are more variables involved: my husbands 50+ hours a week work schedule that results in a lot of alone time*, the dadgum hurricane humidity that makes me feel like I can't breathe outside, and the fact that this kid is so low, and that I can't wear my maternity shorts (the seam where the elastic stops is higher than were the head is).  I just didn't see this coming and I feel bummed.

Even with all these things going on in my head and body, my doctor and I are in agreement that unless the baby or I am in distress, we are going to wait this out.  The added risks that come with induction, like increased length of labor and higher chance for C-section, convince me that I will wait for this to happen in its own time.  Until then, I will try to cheer up, but if you could send some good feelings my way, I would appreciate it.




*My husband works a lot and that is not a negative thing.  I love him like crazy and everything he does is help us out as a family.  He is putting a lot of time now so that he can take 2 weeks off when the baby comes.  I am grateful for his hard work, just sad to be without him so much of the time.*

Bowled Wowlds

In my last entry, I talked about my love of National Parks and Muppets.  There is one other thing that I really, really love, more than Muppets, but slightly less than parks...donuts.  Or doughnuts if you are a traditionalist.  I accept both cultures equally.  

Anyone who has spent time with me knows about my affinity for the fried circle of dough.  I have eaten somewhere between 100 and 300,000 donuts in my life.  I don't want to toot my own horn, but that is a lot of donuts. Therefore,  I consider myself somewhat of an aficionado.  In my experience, I have found no better donut than the Old Fashioned donut from a small shop in the town where I work.  It is one of those places that make everything from scratch and in house, and it isn't like one of those new big deal kind of places, where they advertise "hand-rolled" and "homemade", it is just the way it is.  It is a local tradition that has been doing it the same way (i.e. the right way) for 25+ years, serve only regular or decaf hot coffee, and are open 24-7.  It is wonderful.

A view of the goods.

Thankfully, today was my last day of work before beginning my baby leave.  Even if nothing happens between now and Monday, I will be taking unpaid leave until this kiddo decides they want to make an appearance.  In celebration, a dear friend and social studies teacher, brought me four Old Fashioned donuts from the aforementioned shop.  I was so excited!  It only makes it better that I had stopped for a decaf coffee and egg/cheese wrap from the Dunkin' Donuts, so I had a coffee to go with this great treat!  At 7:20 this morning, I sat down at my desk, put on For Emma, Forever Ago (my favorite Bon Iver album), and savored the donut and quiet morning.  I was almost blissful when the bell rang and kids started piling in.  

Within 45 into the school day, we had a code red (how to hide from an intruder), a tornado drill, and dealt with a crying child.  During this excitement I started to develop a blindspot, which for me, is a tell-tell sign of a migraine.  I felt very off and foggy, but I have dealt with these for a long time and have learned to plow through it.  Thinking this would be much the same, I continued about the day.  Then around minute 50, I started to feel really weird.  Like super weird.  I was going over the directions for a lab, and I tried to say, "Bold words" but "bald walds" came out.  Followed by " bowled wowleds".  I stammered around trying to continue the activity and call on students, but I could not speak coherently. I knew it was bad when the kids started laughing. As this was happening, I started to get flush, sweat through my dress, get really dizzy.  Terrified, I told the kids I didn't feel well and walked out of the room.

I walked directly into the office the assistant principal and sat down.  She checked my pulse, which was approximately 1000 beat per minute, made some calls and got someone to cover my room.  She was very kind and I am grateful for that.  Then my principal showed up with a wheelchair... 

I started to feel better, but I didn't feel right.  As a group, we decided I should leave and go to the doctor.  I am thankful that they did not call an ambulance and that I was able to get to my doctor.  My principal wheeled me out to another teacher's car and loaded me up.  I knew that I was not currently in labor (though word spread through the school that I was) but I wanted to leave.

Two sweet women drove me to the doctor, where my husband met us and went in to see the doc.  I explained the whole ordeal, the garbled speech, the sweating, heart-racing, and general panic.  He told me it was a textbook case of hypoglycemia (low blood sugar).  He said that a pregnant woman metabolizes sugar faster and often run about 15-20 points lower than a non-pregnant person- essentially explaining that we can crash real quick after consuming sugar.  Yep.  I had a complete episode in front of the children, got wheeled out of my place of employment in a wheelchair by a man that I have very little rapport with, and driven 30 miles by some nice ladies to a doctors office where I just walked in and demanded an appointment, because of a donut.

All because of a donut.

(P.S. We are all fine here, thankfully.)

Bird's Gender Neutral Nest

With eight days until my due date, I have just washed the last few items that belong in Hummingbird's room.  Here are some pictures of the set up.

This is one of 10 Charley Harper prints that we ordered from the US Government Bookstore.    These beautiful pictures were painted in the 1960's to promote the National Parks, which is one of my husband and I's most favorite things in the whole wide world.  In addition to the awesome print, my husband made the frame as a gift to the little one out of raw cedar.

Here is the crib we bought from Baby's Dream.  The rocker pictured on the right is a Mennonite-made Hickory rocker.  Every woman on my mom's side of the family has one in their homes.  I was rocked in one just like it as a baby.  Also included in this picture is a great rug that we bought from a small business run by my in-laws.  Check out their American made goods and furnishings at: http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Garden-of-Uden/168108878289

It is hard to find bedding that is: a) not gender specific, and  b) is not covered in crazy bright patterns or rainforest animals.  We found the little sheep to be just right.

I LOVE BOOKS.  However, these shelves are far from full,  I know that will change in a few months.  I also wanted to show off some handmade art.  The frog, lamb, duck, and elephant were all designed and painted by a dear friend of mine.  She works mainly in graphic design and has a great portfolio at:
http://www.layersoflevy.com/index.html

This is a barrel full of toys in which Kermit gets a front row seat.   Muppets only fall slightly behind National Parks on the list of things I love.

This is my favorite part.  It looks like a bunch of baskets, but inside are the soft, clean clothes and blankets that Hummingbird will soon be using.  I can't wait to wrap the kid up in all these blankets (even though it is still summer here in the South) and get to know this little human.

FAT FEET!

I have to say, this pregnancy has not been terrible.  In fact, it has been quite good.  The usual sickness in the early days, but each week has just been better and better.  Until a few weeks ago.

Again, let me preface with how good this pregnancy has been, there are so many women who have it way worse than I do, but there have been some strange...developments during this last stretch.

When I first got my copy of What to Expect when you are Expecting (thank you to my sister-in-law), I read the first few sections and laughed out loud at the fact: some women experience an excess in saliva production during pregnancy, which can cause drooling.  I thought that it was so funny and could not see how slobbering related to pregnancy.  Karma decided to teach me how.  In addition to all the things that swell and become inflamed (thank you hormones) add: nasal passages to the list.  I am very congested all the time, but particularly in the evening.  What happens when a person who can't breathe out of their nose lies down in bed?  Mouth breathing and, ick, drool.  It is super gross.  Luckily, I am ALWAYS the first one up, so my loving and sleepy husband has yet to notice.

Next up is having an internal temperature of 10,000 degrees.  I have always been a cold person, heartless and bitter.  Okay, just kidding, but I have always been cold in that "I need a sweater" sort of way.  I usually have ice toes and fingers, but lately I am so hot.  At night I sleep with the ceiling fan on high and use no blankets.  It is very strange considering my years of blanket-hogging and over cuddling for warmth.

Today was my first day back to work with students.  In an effort to maintain our professional dress policy, and to not confuse 11-year-old boys (this is a very important element in my line of work),  I came to school completely covered.  By 9:00 A.M., I sweat through my new(thrift store) dress.  Eww.

And to finish, I have fat feet.  And fat fingers.  My wedding ring creates this lovely contour line for the excessive finger swelling to mould around and my feet take on the pattern of my sandals (the only footwear that fit me) by the end of the day.

All in all, I feel like a slob.  However, learning that I am 1 cm dilated and that the baby has moved down, encourages me that things will be back to normal soon.  But a lady I work with told me she pees when she sneezes because she pushed a kid out of her hooha...

Becoming a Purple Tiger

I have earned my first stripes.  Two purple-y, jagged lines extending from my belly button towards my right side.

Streeeeeeeeeeeeeeetch Marks.

My mom had good luck and was able to make it through her pregnancies without any stretch marks.  Which is quite a feat for a woman who weighed less than 100 pounds when she got pregnant and carried around a 9 pounder.  Needless to say, I got a little cocky in thinking, I would be just the same.

Since month three, I have rubbed delicious smelling cocoa butter lotion on my skin post-shower and it seemed to be doing the trick.  However, I gained four pounds in the last 3 weeks and could actually feel my skin tightening.  Then a few nights ago as I was getting into my pjs (I have taken to wearing my husband's shorts and t-shirts to bed), I saw them.  I couldn't help but feel disappointed.  I know that they are silly, topical, harmless, side effects of the most miraculous thing to ever happen to me, but I still felt that pang of female shame.

As mentioned previously, I see a dermatologist several times a year for a full body scan, i.e. stand in the buff and let some one look look at every inch of my skin with a critical eye.  This time, as he inspected the skin on my belly he said, "Wow, what is that?"  "Is that a bruise?"

He was referring to a very large purple scar that has developed on my stomach.

When I was 18, I got my belly button pierced.  Who didn't?  I stopped wearing jewelry in it as soon as we thought about having a kid, so it had over 6 months to heal.  However, as my outsides stretched to fit my growing insides, the site stretched and left me with some really purple, unattractive scar tissue.  Therefore ruining my chances of reenacting the following photo:

For more awesome pregnancy photo ideas, please click the link below.  It is definitely not a waste of time...

http://imgur.com/a/X4Xdg