Jack's Birth Story--Part 1

----Note: This is written primarily for the sake of me remembering and so is very long (I tried to shorten it, but I wanted to remember all the details and so, I didn't.) and has the nitty-gritty, possibly TMI tidbits (like frequent use of words like "fluid"), so don't read it if you don't want to know. For those who want the short version: I had a baby, his name is Jack. I didn't have drugs. It hurt...lots. But I feel like less of a wimp now. I love Jack. The end.----

If I wrote this story the day following Jack's birth, it would have said: "It was horrible. My baby is nice. But it was awful. The end." Since then, the memory has softened a bit and every day I spend with Jack, I think of his birth more fondly. I've decided that I can do it again. And I'm really so happy with the way things went--pretty much exactly as I hoped for-- and hope to do it the same way next time. It was hard and it hurt...a lot. But, Jack is worth every second and I AM so amazed by what my body could do and want to remember the process.

Well, you kind of got the beginning of my story when I posted about my water breaking, but for the sake of having it all in once place, I'm going to start over.

Saturday was kind of a bad day. I was very tired of being pregnant. Tired of having contractions and back pain that wasn't going anywhere. And jealous that my best friend, Marybeth, had her baby in her arms. I was very grumpy and had come to the conclusion that I would be pregnant forever, like our childhood pet goat, Minnie. (She was pregnant and months went by and then more months went by and she never had a baby but was still huge and fat and lactating and then she died. But I digress.) I knew from my appointment on Thursday that I was 3cm dialated and 50% effaced with the baby's head very low. I'd also lost my mucus plug the day before, so I was hoping that meant we were close. In the afternoon I had some really strong (so I thought at the time-ha!) contractions in my back and thought it might finally be the real thing. But, as usual, they went away after a few hours and I went to having pretty much nothing.

Tyler was very sweet and patient with me and had gotten us dinner and bought me roses for Mother's Day and we were hanging out, watching the very beginning of Saturday Night Live. And then, in the middle of the Lawrence Welk skit, I felt a little gush of water. (My siblings find the word "gush" offensive but that's what it was.) I was startled and then confused. I knew water didn't typically break in one huge puddle, like in the movies, but I also knew that the amount of water inside was alot more than had come out and after the first gush (sorry kids) there wasn't anything else coming. Since I was Group B Strep positive and had to receive antibiotics once my water broke, we decided I should call the midwife just in case. I knew she'd make me come in and check and I was right. So, we packed up and headed to the hospital, telling only my mom, as I was sure that I must be crazy and they'd just send me back home. The whole drive there I kept telling Tyler how ridiculous I felt, like I was a person in a sitcom who didn't even know if they were in labor or not. I was going to be so embarrassed to be sent back home. He was very calm and kind and reminded me that God had a plan for when Jack would be born and there was a reason we were going to the hospital, even if we weren't sure what it was yet.

At the hospital, we parked in the parking garage and walked all the way in and upstairs. I was having zero contractions. We got put in a room right away and spent the first hour getting the baby monitored, getting my blood pressure checked, and answering paperwork questions. It made me glad I wasn't in pain, cause man, all that would have been annoying if I was. Then my midwife, Merrilyn, got there and just as she was about to do an exam to see if my water had really broken, out came some more fluid and confirmed that it had. (The baby's head was so low, it was likely acting kind of like a cork, keeping most of it in.) I was still only having a few mild contractions, so she encouraged me to try to sleep till 6 the next morning and if labor hadn't started by that point, we would try castor oil and a few other things to get it going. And if that hadn't worked by 10:30, I would have to be induced. (I really didn't want to do those things, so I began praying for labor.) I called my mom and told her to come at 6 the next morning, they got my iv of antibiotics started and Tyler and I settled in to try to sleep.

The only picture of me in labor, but I wasn't really, really in labor. We don't have pictures of that cause flash photography might have caused violence. And I wasn't appropriately attired.

Right after she left, I noticed my contractions were starting to get more intense. As I texted people, updated my FB, and wrote this blog post, (priorities, priorities!) I had to begin stopping to breathe through them. At 2, I told Tyler to call my mom and tell her to come. There was no way I was going to sleep. By the time she got there at 2:30, I was on the floor, kneeling over a birthing ball and throwing up during contractions. I've never been so glad to see my mom in my whole life. The nurse actually noted that once she arrived, my contractions got more frequent and stronger, probably because I relaxed more. The rest of the night is this huge blur to me. I labored kneeling and leaning forward on a ball and on my side in the bed when they had to monitor the baby. They tried to get me to walk, to help me progress faster but I refused. I knew I couldn't handle a contraction standing up and I was so tired, the thought of getting up and down off the floor was annoying to me.

Being tired was probably one of the hardest parts...ok, well the contractions were hard too, but I was so exhausted, it made everything seem worse, since all I wanted to do was go to sleep. I actually would sometimes fall asleep between contractions--almost rolling off the ball at a couple points. And the contractions...oh my. One of the strange things about my labor is that my contractions never really got very close together. I'd have breaks between them for a good 3-4 minutes pretty much the entire labor. (Except for every so often when one would come right on top of another with no break. No bueno.) So, I got long breaks between, but the actual contractions, from the beginning lasted 1-2 minutes, which felt like eternity. I had a hard time managing my breathing, not holding my breath and tensing. The only way I was able to cope was by moaning out all my air slowly and then I would have to breathe in again. So I moaned and groaned and whatever all night. I always thought I wouldn't be one of "those loud people" during labor, but I was. (Though one of the nurses told me that they had people that night who were much louder, which I found comforting.) I also shook like I had the chills pretty much the whole time. Mentally, I kind of checked out most of the time. I'd kind of given up and was just getting through each contraction as best I could. When people would tell me that soon it would be over and I'd get to hold my baby I remember not really caring. I'd kind of forgotten about the baby, except to groan at him when he'd kick and cause a contraction. (I sound like such a loving mom!) I think I really just wasn't able to even think ahead for more than a few seconds, it was such a fight to stay in control of what I was doing then. The only thoughts I had were incredibly random. Every so often I'd try to act like I wasn't having a contraction when I was to see if I could "trick" everyone. I have no idea why. I also gave my mom a speech saying I couldn't believe she'd done this 4 times and that she was my hero and thanking her for having me even though it was so terrible. And I told Tyler I didn't think I'd be asking for another baby any time soon. (I've never claimed to not be dramatic!)

Will I be pregnant forever? Does he come out with all his toes? Do I hurt someone?

TO BE CONTINUED...dum, dum, dummmm! (That would be the suspenseful music. Except you know the end. Boo.)