Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Friday, June 20, 2008
Birth Story (the final chapter)
Within minutes the room exploded with people and carts.
Cowboy said later that it didn’t really hit him that we were having a baby TODAY until he saw them wheel in the baby-warming table. Do you think the poor guy was in a bit of denial up until this point?
The standing OB was brought in to give me my last ultrasound. Missy was face up. (They have to be face down to easily pass around your pubic bone). I don’t know how I lay still for the ultrasound. The contractions were coming hard and fast. I was still pain-med-free although I began regretting my decision to wave off the epidural.
At this point, Nurse Nicole crouched down and addressed me inches from my face. "There is no shame in getting an epidural at 8 centimeters," she counseled.
Cowboy was still counting to 30 once a contraction began. I imagined that I was running up a long hill in Forest Park as each contraction peaked. The mental imagery helped but the news that it would take 30-40 minutes to turn Missy before I could even start the real pushing just broke me.
I’m a wimp. I want an epidural.
Still, Nurse Nicole – following my birth plan to a tee – made me ask for an epidural three times before bringing in the anesthesiologist. Who did a fast and fabulous job. I could still feel my pressure in my legs and pressure where Missy was, but the epi totally took the edge off.
Someone snapped a picture of me post-epidural and I’m all smiles. I kind of wish I had a before and after-the-epidural pictures because it would have been hi-lar-ious. Then again, I probably would have snatched the camera from their hands and smashed it.
As the epidural kicked in, I received two surprises that made the delivery so special:
First, our doula arrived from Seattle and got us into position for optimum pushing. She quickly became legend in the L&D ward when the nurses found out that she had driven three hours in the wee hours of the morning to make it to the birth.
Second, my OB, who was not on call that weekend, arrived in the room in her scrubs. We were prepared to have another OB in her group deliver Missy but my OB happened to stop into the hospital on her way to the farmer's market with her family. She saw my name on the board and ditched her family in order to deliver our baby. I can’t say enough good things about my OB. She is wonderful.
Then it was time for the big show. They had me start pushing mildly as a contraction started. I could still feel pressure when a contraction came. After three rounds of pushing, the OB would REACH UP THERE and TURN THE BABY ever so slightly as I relaxed. Yowsers. Did I mention how glad I was that I caved and got an epidural? I was thanking my lucky stars that Nurse Nicole checked my cervix when she did.
The doula was holding me on one side and Cowboy ponied up on the other. He was supposed to stay uptown and instead he was getting the full meal deal. While I am very proud of him, it will probably be a looong time until we do it with the lights on. Men being so visual and all.
I pushed for a little over an hour and then she was here. Full head of hair. Just crying up a storm. Skin as ruddy as a lobster. She had a little fluid in her lungs (part of preemie status) but they just had me keep her crying for about an hour before she had her first nursing session. Our hospital has such great new baby policies. Missy remained in either Cowboy’s or my arms for the first hours after her birth.
The very thing that had consumed me and our marriage for so long was wailing up at me in my arms. Feed me, damn it, was all she said.
IF and all its baggage went sailing on down the river. I had no more time to dwell on it. There was work to be done.
We had a little come-to-Jesus – mother to her daughter – before our first nursing session. Earlier in my pregnancy, I had adopted the same stance on nursing that I had on having a baby. I hope I’ll be able to nurse, was my train of thought.
A few weeks before I delivered, however, I was overcome with this re-borne confidence in my body that had ebbed with each pregnancy failure. With my confidence anew, I decided that the maybe-I-could-nurse protective stance just wasn’t an option. Of course my body would do what I needed it to do.
OK, we can do this. Rookie mom and rookie baby. But we can do it.
I took some deep yoga breaths and relaxed. With that, Missy latched on like a little barracuda.
I felt like I had arrived.
Cowboy said later that it didn’t really hit him that we were having a baby TODAY until he saw them wheel in the baby-warming table. Do you think the poor guy was in a bit of denial up until this point?
The standing OB was brought in to give me my last ultrasound. Missy was face up. (They have to be face down to easily pass around your pubic bone). I don’t know how I lay still for the ultrasound. The contractions were coming hard and fast. I was still pain-med-free although I began regretting my decision to wave off the epidural.
At this point, Nurse Nicole crouched down and addressed me inches from my face. "There is no shame in getting an epidural at 8 centimeters," she counseled.
Cowboy was still counting to 30 once a contraction began. I imagined that I was running up a long hill in Forest Park as each contraction peaked. The mental imagery helped but the news that it would take 30-40 minutes to turn Missy before I could even start the real pushing just broke me.
I’m a wimp. I want an epidural.
Still, Nurse Nicole – following my birth plan to a tee – made me ask for an epidural three times before bringing in the anesthesiologist. Who did a fast and fabulous job. I could still feel my pressure in my legs and pressure where Missy was, but the epi totally took the edge off.
Someone snapped a picture of me post-epidural and I’m all smiles. I kind of wish I had a before and after-the-epidural pictures because it would have been hi-lar-ious. Then again, I probably would have snatched the camera from their hands and smashed it.
As the epidural kicked in, I received two surprises that made the delivery so special:
First, our doula arrived from Seattle and got us into position for optimum pushing. She quickly became legend in the L&D ward when the nurses found out that she had driven three hours in the wee hours of the morning to make it to the birth.
Second, my OB, who was not on call that weekend, arrived in the room in her scrubs. We were prepared to have another OB in her group deliver Missy but my OB happened to stop into the hospital on her way to the farmer's market with her family. She saw my name on the board and ditched her family in order to deliver our baby. I can’t say enough good things about my OB. She is wonderful.
Then it was time for the big show. They had me start pushing mildly as a contraction started. I could still feel pressure when a contraction came. After three rounds of pushing, the OB would REACH UP THERE and TURN THE BABY ever so slightly as I relaxed. Yowsers. Did I mention how glad I was that I caved and got an epidural? I was thanking my lucky stars that Nurse Nicole checked my cervix when she did.
The doula was holding me on one side and Cowboy ponied up on the other. He was supposed to stay uptown and instead he was getting the full meal deal. While I am very proud of him, it will probably be a looong time until we do it with the lights on. Men being so visual and all.
I pushed for a little over an hour and then she was here. Full head of hair. Just crying up a storm. Skin as ruddy as a lobster. She had a little fluid in her lungs (part of preemie status) but they just had me keep her crying for about an hour before she had her first nursing session. Our hospital has such great new baby policies. Missy remained in either Cowboy’s or my arms for the first hours after her birth.
Nurse Nicole holds the lobster baby. Seriously, this was the color of her skin.
And like that, I was no longer pregnant. I was officially a mom. Only then did I start to tear up when I realized that she’s mine. All mine.
The very thing that had consumed me and our marriage for so long was wailing up at me in my arms. Feed me, damn it, was all she said.
IF and all its baggage went sailing on down the river. I had no more time to dwell on it. There was work to be done.
We had a little come-to-Jesus – mother to her daughter – before our first nursing session. Earlier in my pregnancy, I had adopted the same stance on nursing that I had on having a baby. I hope I’ll be able to nurse, was my train of thought.
A few weeks before I delivered, however, I was overcome with this re-borne confidence in my body that had ebbed with each pregnancy failure. With my confidence anew, I decided that the maybe-I-could-nurse protective stance just wasn’t an option. Of course my body would do what I needed it to do.
OK, we can do this. Rookie mom and rookie baby. But we can do it.
I took some deep yoga breaths and relaxed. With that, Missy latched on like a little barracuda.
I felt like I had arrived.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
1 whole month
It's fixin' to be time for my third nap of the day.
I loooove my baby art cards. The worm is my favorite.
I'm very concerned about the prospect of off-shore drilling for oil.
...We interrupt this birth story to bring you pictures of Missy at 1 month. Gosh, I can't believe it has been a whole month.
But there was some serious muffin top going on.
Ick.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Birth Story (chapter 2)
It was 2 AM by the time we got settled into our room at the hospital. Sadly, we had not stopped at the bar.
The night nurse took my birth plan – and actually began following it. I was offered no pain meds. They hooked me up to the monitors only briefly to check on Missy and my contractions. I breathed a HUGE sigh of relief when we heard Missy’s heartbeat. I hadn’t felt any movements from her in awhile. I guess she was sleeping in an effort to conserve her energy for the morning’s big event.
The nurses did not check to see how dilated I was. They did not want to risk infection. Instead, they were waiting on the on-call OB. Contractions were coming every 7-8 minutes and didn’t feel that bad to me. So they instructed us to hunker down for the night and try to get some rest. I guess they figured: first time mom = long labor = no rush.
About 3 AM, my contractions got intense and started coming about every 4 minutes or so. I think. I didn’t have a watch. Cowboy was asleep. I went into the bathroom and sat backwards on the loo, gripping the plumbing post. I just gripped the shit out of that pipe and rode out each one like I was on a surfboard as a set of waves blew in. I didn’t call the nurse. I didn’t wake Cowboy. I just thought this was what labor was and I was being a wimp if I got everyone riled up.
I woke Cowboy up at 5:30 AM. I couldn’t do it alone any longer. The contractions were more intense and coming much closer together. We calculated every 2-3 minutes. No one had checked my cervix yet. I had a bath. The warm water helped a bit.
We started making calls: my mom, yes you are getting another grandchild today. The doula, who was hung over in Seattle but pulled the major rally and drove back to Portland. The salon where I was scheduled to get a brow shape that day – um, I have to cancel the appointment because I’m, like, giving birth today.
I thought I would be much more modest in the labor room. I brought yoga shorts and a yoga top to wear. Instead, I couldn’t stand to have anything on from the waist down. There I was straddling the ‘loo or sitting in child’s pose in the bath – full on commando. And so not like me. I just didn’t care at that point.
At 7:30 AM, the nurses had a shift change I was given the BEST L&D nurse. Ever.
Nurse Nicole summoned me from the throne to monitor Missy. She wanted me to let her know when my contractions started to feel like I had to poop.
"They’ve been feeling that way since 3 in the morning," I told her.
Her eyes widened a bit and her eyebrows arched.
"Okay, I’m going to check your cervix. Now."
She did. Then said she wanted to get a second opinion.
Nurse Nicole brought in the head nurse. Who also checked. And – for the record – having someone shove her hand up your lady garden during a contraction is majorly NO FUN.
Because I was in the middle of said contraction, all I heard was: "Oh, yeah, she’s at 8. Maybe 9."
The night nurse took my birth plan – and actually began following it. I was offered no pain meds. They hooked me up to the monitors only briefly to check on Missy and my contractions. I breathed a HUGE sigh of relief when we heard Missy’s heartbeat. I hadn’t felt any movements from her in awhile. I guess she was sleeping in an effort to conserve her energy for the morning’s big event.
The nurses did not check to see how dilated I was. They did not want to risk infection. Instead, they were waiting on the on-call OB. Contractions were coming every 7-8 minutes and didn’t feel that bad to me. So they instructed us to hunker down for the night and try to get some rest. I guess they figured: first time mom = long labor = no rush.
About 3 AM, my contractions got intense and started coming about every 4 minutes or so. I think. I didn’t have a watch. Cowboy was asleep. I went into the bathroom and sat backwards on the loo, gripping the plumbing post. I just gripped the shit out of that pipe and rode out each one like I was on a surfboard as a set of waves blew in. I didn’t call the nurse. I didn’t wake Cowboy. I just thought this was what labor was and I was being a wimp if I got everyone riled up.
I woke Cowboy up at 5:30 AM. I couldn’t do it alone any longer. The contractions were more intense and coming much closer together. We calculated every 2-3 minutes. No one had checked my cervix yet. I had a bath. The warm water helped a bit.
We started making calls: my mom, yes you are getting another grandchild today. The doula, who was hung over in Seattle but pulled the major rally and drove back to Portland. The salon where I was scheduled to get a brow shape that day – um, I have to cancel the appointment because I’m, like, giving birth today.
I thought I would be much more modest in the labor room. I brought yoga shorts and a yoga top to wear. Instead, I couldn’t stand to have anything on from the waist down. There I was straddling the ‘loo or sitting in child’s pose in the bath – full on commando. And so not like me. I just didn’t care at that point.
At 7:30 AM, the nurses had a shift change I was given the BEST L&D nurse. Ever.
Nurse Nicole summoned me from the throne to monitor Missy. She wanted me to let her know when my contractions started to feel like I had to poop.
"They’ve been feeling that way since 3 in the morning," I told her.
Her eyes widened a bit and her eyebrows arched.
"Okay, I’m going to check your cervix. Now."
She did. Then said she wanted to get a second opinion.
Nurse Nicole brought in the head nurse. Who also checked. And – for the record – having someone shove her hand up your lady garden during a contraction is majorly NO FUN.
Because I was in the middle of said contraction, all I heard was: "Oh, yeah, she’s at 8. Maybe 9."
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Birth Story (chapter 1)
"You might want to get the car seat in the car this weekend."
That was from my OB on Thursday, May 15 during my 36-week check-up. Turns out I was 75% effaced and 2 cm dilated.
A friend assured me I could stay like that for a few weeks. I immediately began cranking on all of that last minute stuff: a birth plan (yeah, I caved), a post-birth plan for Missy’s care, a list of what to pack for the hospital. I cleaned. Looking back, it should have been a sure sign of imminent labor that I was scrubbing my shower with a half of a lemon dipped in baking soda.
Friday, May 16 was freakishly hot in Portland. My cankles responded super well to the heat. My mom was in town for the baby shower and we spent the day shopping in this hip section of town, enjoying the sun. My back ached a little bit. I chalked it up to hauling my huge belly around in the heat. I was having BH contractions throughout the day but thought nothing of it.
A little after midnight, I was lying in bed and woke from a dead sleep. I felt a trickle. And got mad.
I can take the fat ass. And the swollen face. And the cankles. I haven’t complained about them all one bit. But to have this pregnancy make me pee the bed is just downright insulting.
I jacked myself up and barely made it to the bathroom before more "pee" came out.
I wonder if my water just broke?
I woke up Cowboy who, after imbibing in nearly a bottle of wine at dinner earlier in the evening, was none to happy to be awake.
I think my water just broke, I said when he appeared in the doorway.
He looked like a deer trapped in the headlights. Seriously. I wish I had picture of his face.
Go wake up your mom.
I am not waking up my mom, I hissed. This is our deal, not hers.
Instead, I woke up the answering service of my OB. The OB on call rang back immediately. She wanted us to get the hospital sooner rather than later.
She asked if I had felt the baby move since the "pee" incident. I had not. And immediately I was terrified. We hadn’t come this far to have something bad happen to Missy. I begab praying that she was still okay in there.
We packed in a jiffy (good thing I had written up a list the night before) and headed off. On our way to the hospital we passed the Old Lompoc Bar. We joked about going in to have a beer since it was 30 minutes before last call.
Besides, it might be our last chance to do so for awhile without hiring a babysitter.
That was from my OB on Thursday, May 15 during my 36-week check-up. Turns out I was 75% effaced and 2 cm dilated.
A friend assured me I could stay like that for a few weeks. I immediately began cranking on all of that last minute stuff: a birth plan (yeah, I caved), a post-birth plan for Missy’s care, a list of what to pack for the hospital. I cleaned. Looking back, it should have been a sure sign of imminent labor that I was scrubbing my shower with a half of a lemon dipped in baking soda.
Friday, May 16 was freakishly hot in Portland. My cankles responded super well to the heat. My mom was in town for the baby shower and we spent the day shopping in this hip section of town, enjoying the sun. My back ached a little bit. I chalked it up to hauling my huge belly around in the heat. I was having BH contractions throughout the day but thought nothing of it.
A little after midnight, I was lying in bed and woke from a dead sleep. I felt a trickle. And got mad.
I can take the fat ass. And the swollen face. And the cankles. I haven’t complained about them all one bit. But to have this pregnancy make me pee the bed is just downright insulting.
I jacked myself up and barely made it to the bathroom before more "pee" came out.
I wonder if my water just broke?
I woke up Cowboy who, after imbibing in nearly a bottle of wine at dinner earlier in the evening, was none to happy to be awake.
I think my water just broke, I said when he appeared in the doorway.
He looked like a deer trapped in the headlights. Seriously. I wish I had picture of his face.
Go wake up your mom.
I am not waking up my mom, I hissed. This is our deal, not hers.
Instead, I woke up the answering service of my OB. The OB on call rang back immediately. She wanted us to get the hospital sooner rather than later.
She asked if I had felt the baby move since the "pee" incident. I had not. And immediately I was terrified. We hadn’t come this far to have something bad happen to Missy. I begab praying that she was still okay in there.
We packed in a jiffy (good thing I had written up a list the night before) and headed off. On our way to the hospital we passed the Old Lompoc Bar. We joked about going in to have a beer since it was 30 minutes before last call.
Besides, it might be our last chance to do so for awhile without hiring a babysitter.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Let's Go to the Highlights
I have managed to write my birth story – in three parts nonetheless. I’ve thought long and hard about publishing it to this blog. I mean, this is a blog about miscarriages and dealing with infertility. Does Missy’s birth story – the conclusion of this part of the journey - really belong here?
I got spooked when they told me that Missy was face up and that we’d have to spend about 30-40 minutes of "gentle" pushing while the OB turned her face down for the delivery. Yeah, "gentle pushing" in between roller coaster contractions that we coming every other minute. I don’t regret it. I went from the fetal position to complimenting the anesthesiologist on her fantastic snakeskin heels within minutes.
#5. Cowboy was a rock star. He even cut the cord! He didn’t stay uptown like he was supposed to, but I didn’t care because he helped me with the worst of the contractions by letting me know when each one was half over. Contractions only last one minute each. Believe me. Those are some long ass minutes. So it helped mightily to have him time them. It is kind of going on a long run. Somehow it seems easier to handle the fatigue if you know where you are in the process. Once each contraction hit the 30-second mark, I could breathe deeply knowing that the pain would subside soon.
And because no one is coming to this blog these days to read the blah-blah-blah from me, here is a photo of Missy at three weeks old.
Our part-time-for-the-summer nanny starts this week so hopefully I will have time to catch up on the computer and all of your blogs. I apologize that I have been M.I.A.
Or is it just for me to remember?
I don’t know. I just can’t decide about publishing it for now.
Here are some highlights though:
#1. The 10-hour labor. My water broke spontaneously at 12:30 AM and Missy arrived by 10:43 that morning.
#2. Our doula – who I neglected to let know I was 2 cm dilated because all of my friends assured me I could hang out like that for weeks – was in Seattle. We called her at 5:30 in the morning to give her the heads up. She could have called in a reserve doula, but she got up and drove back to Portland. Hung over. (She admitted she’d had a bit too much wine with her family the night prior). She arrived just when I started to push. We heart our doula.
#3. Despite all of my tough talk, I caved and got an epidural when I was 8cm dilated. "There’s no shame in getting an epidural at eight centimeters," our labor nurse rationalized, "It’s the women who come in and beg for an epidural at 2 centimeters that we kind of roll our eyes at." Our doula wasn’t there yet so Cowboy and I had managed 95% of the labor sans drugs and sans any assistance except for some pointers from the labor nurse.
I got spooked when they told me that Missy was face up and that we’d have to spend about 30-40 minutes of "gentle" pushing while the OB turned her face down for the delivery. Yeah, "gentle pushing" in between roller coaster contractions that we coming every other minute. I don’t regret it. I went from the fetal position to complimenting the anesthesiologist on her fantastic snakeskin heels within minutes.
#4. I labored through most of the night by myself in the birthing room bathroom. For those who have had spontaneous miscarriages, there is a scary point in labor when the contractions intensify and begin to feel exactly like cramping that happens during a miscarriage. I had to face my demons here. It took a lot of mental strength to remind myself that this was good. That these contractions would result in a real live baby. That I was okay. I started to panic at this point, but am proud that I talked myself back from the ledge and relaxed into the contractions rather than fighting them by tensing up in fear.
#5. Cowboy was a rock star. He even cut the cord! He didn’t stay uptown like he was supposed to, but I didn’t care because he helped me with the worst of the contractions by letting me know when each one was half over. Contractions only last one minute each. Believe me. Those are some long ass minutes. So it helped mightily to have him time them. It is kind of going on a long run. Somehow it seems easier to handle the fatigue if you know where you are in the process. Once each contraction hit the 30-second mark, I could breathe deeply knowing that the pain would subside soon.
#6. The only bummer about a labor that comes before your due date is that – or at least for me – you’re not prepared to say good-bye to your pregnancy. Don’t get me wrong. I did not relish the whole pregnancy gig. But one day you have this fuzzy little kitten moving around in your belly and the next day the feeling you got so used to is GONE. Like that. During our first night in the hospital, I so missed the feeling of Missy squirming in my belly as I fell asleep that I moved her from her bassinet to my bed and we snuggled like the old days.
#7. These days I stare as much at my ankles as I do my daughter. My (c)ankles swelled to epic proportions post-delivery. The day my old slender, athletic ankles appeared again was a banner day in our house.
And because no one is coming to this blog these days to read the blah-blah-blah from me, here is a photo of Missy at three weeks old.
Our part-time-for-the-summer nanny starts this week so hopefully I will have time to catch up on the computer and all of your blogs. I apologize that I have been M.I.A.
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