how last monday unfolded
Aug. 25th, 2009 03:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sabineLast Monday started out as pretty much every other Monday this year has gone. I grumble when my alarm goes off, let the dog out, fix some cereal, feed the dog, and sit in front of my light box while reading Facebook, Twitter, or webcomics. True, it was Peanut's due date, but since she hadn't made so much as a peep of wanting to escape, I updated Facebook that I wasn't expecting to have the child.
I went to take a shower and noticed quite a lot of bloody show. I was immediately concerned, but since they'd told me to both expect it and that it could be several days yet before true labor, I tried to not worry. That resolve lasted about as long as it takes to wash my hair. I decided to call Triage to get their opinion, just to make sure.
They said to come in, just in case.
I woke up Downwood so that he could take the World's Fastest Shower and called Mom and the office to give her a heads' up and have them put me out on sick leave for the morning. Our bags had been in the car for about 3 weeks, so there wasn't really anything to pack. The car seat's base had been installed for the same amount of time, but we decided to put the seat in place, just in case. When we did, I had a very sad realization: the car seat needed the passenger seat to be so far forward and upright that me and my very pregnant belly couldn't fit!
Downwood tells it like I grabbed his keys and physically forced him into the passenger seat so that I could drive myself. I tell it like, "I couldn't fit in the passenger seat and I hadn't had a single contraction. No big deal."
I am impressed by the number of people who think that's crazy. They're generally the same people who think I was crazy for insisting on stopping to fill up the gas tank and get donuts. Both Downwood and I were fully expecting the nurses to send us right back home until Peanut got a move on.
The drive was otherwise uneventful, the donuts were tasty, parking was annoying, and the nice nurses in Triage got me hooked up to some monitors, taking vitals, and all the other bits of information that I knew they would ask since they use the software that the Evil Empire sells.
They did a quick test and, much to everyone's surprise, I'd apparently ruptured my membranes a little in the night. They admitted me, got me set up in a room, and called my doctor. I called Mom to let her know that she may want to get in the car Right Now and drive up. I also texted my sister and father to let them know what was going on and Downwood called his folks. This was about 10:30-11.
They'd started me on an IV of penicillin to knock out the group B strep, so when I hadn't had any Real Contractions by 1, they added a bag of pitocin.
Thankfully, the pitocin was not as scary in real life as the birthing class and the books had made it sound. The information that I'd had was kind of terrifying, but I didn't notice any side effects beyond "Oh, so that's what a Real Contraction feels like!"
Mom arrived about 3:30 and Downwood went to get the bags from the car then. Mom took my mind off of things by telling me about my sister's wedding and showing me scads of photos that she took. My doctor popped in about every hour to take a break from paperwork (he'd been on vacation for the previous week) and check on how things were going.
At 5, neither walking nor rocking nor the ball made the contractions any easier to handle. The HUGE bathtub of hot water, however, was simply amazing. It didn't make the pain go away, but it was relaxing enough that I could get through each contraction easier and chill out in between.
Around 6, they got me out of the tub. I was dilated to 4 cm, so they decided to fully rupture my membranes. They suspected that the initial tear was somewhere that Peanut's head was mostly sealing shut. At this point, I decided that labor was, in fact, pretty icky, but couldn't think about it too hard because Things Started Happening.
I also lost all track of clock time at this point. I know that Em was born at 9:06, but I don't know when anything happened in between. It was an endless Now. I'd used the phrase "living in the moment" in the past, but last Monday was when I finally fully understood it.
Downwood stood at the head of the bed and held my left hand. He brushed my hair off my face and held my water cup for me. He told me when to breathe in and when to breathe out. Mom stood a little further down the bed and held my right hand. She told me to breathe, flipped my pillow every so often, and kept cool washcloths on my neck and forehead.
I think it was around 6 and then again around 7ish I asked for some narcotics. I decided that I was okay without the epidural, but wasn't coping very well with the pain. I don't think the drugs helped much with the amount of pain, but they helped me to relax in between instead of staying tensed up the whole time.
I'd also like to point out that my pain scale has now been recalibrated. Something that I thought was a 10 before is now more like a 6 or 7. Maybe it's just that I've never been seriously physically injured before, but the contractions hurt more than I could have expected.
And then it was time to push. Dear God, did I regret not getting the epidural. If I'd thought the contractions were bad, pushing was agony.
During pushing was the first time all day that I'd seriously tried to break Downwood's hand while holding it. Before, I'd just needed the physical contact to reassure me that he was still there and wouldn't be going anywhere. Then, I needed an outlet for some of the hurt.
I was pretty much unaware of what was going on around me. I could hear the nurse telling me how to use my muscles to more effectively push (and many thanks to my dance teacher for making sure I strengthened those particular muscles over the last few months), my mom would count during each push - trying to hang on just one more second kept me going, the doctor told me what to do, and Downwood kept telling me that I was strong and that I could do it.
I only tried to give up once. I thought that I couldn't handle the pain anymore and I wanted to outright quit. Mom and Downwood told me that it was a little late to be giving up and that it was almost over.
Then the doctor took my hand and showed me that Peanut was crowning and had a full head of hair. This got me through the next couple sets of long pushes and the couple sets of short ones to get her head and shoulders out.
And I could see my perfect baby girl.
They clamped her cord and gave Downwood the scissors to cut it. Then they put a hat on her head, her on my chest, and a blanket over the both of us. I was laughing and crying and instantly in love with my daughter. She squirmed her way up until her head was perfectly tucked under my chin and then did it again when they moved her down a little.
I have no idea when they delivered the placenta, nor did I have any desire to see it (ick). I don't know how many stitches I got, but think it was more than 2 and less then 5. They tried to use a local anesthetic, but I clearly felt at least one of them. It didn't really matter, though, since I was holding Emily Anne.
They took Em to get weighed, measured, and foot-printed. When they did, I got to eat for the first time in about 14 hours. I hadn't been hungry for most of it, but decided I was starving when they handed me the bagel. I talked to my dad, my godmother, and my step-father on the phone. I also finally noticed the other two doctors in the room. My doctor is a third-year resident. His supervisor was technically the attending, so he was there, as was a first-year student who had never seen a birth before. To their credit, I'd been introduced to all of them and said it was fine for the student to be there, but I'd had no idea.
Later, Downwood told me that he overheard the attending tell the first-year that if ever birth he ever saw went exactly like Emily's, that would be ideal. Also, it was the largest placenta that he'd ever seen. I think Downwood was really proud of both statements.
The rest of the evening was relaxed. Downwood's folks had brought his laptop from our house to the hospital so Downwood could make Facebook and Twitter updates for both of us. They were also totally excited to meet their grandbaby. Mom was beside herself with joy - her daughter was okay and her granddaughter was doing very well (Apgar scores were 9, 9, 10).
The nurse got me cleaned up, fed some more, and shuttled over to a room. Downwood and Mom headed home and I got a couple hours' of sleep before Em decided to try to eat.
The next day and a half in the hospital were filled with naps, staring at my daughter, both of us trying to learn how to breastfeed, lots of ice packs, staring at my daughter, and trying to rest up. Since coming home, we're still working on feeding, figuring out each other's sleep schedules, and more simply staring at my beautiful baby girl. Also, I haven't once felt the familiar weight of depression. It's hard and frustrating at times, but also the most joyful that I've felt in a very long time.
There were many, many times in the last 8 months - and many more times on Monday - when I wondered whose bright idea it had been to have a baby. Looking at Em's face, I know it was the right decision and the right time. I didn't think before that I was cut out to be a mother and wasn't sure that I wanted it. I know that she won't always be cute, tiny, and wonderful and that there will be plenty of rough times ahead, but that's okay. Right now my life feels exactly like I want it to be. That's plenty good enough for today.
I went to take a shower and noticed quite a lot of bloody show. I was immediately concerned, but since they'd told me to both expect it and that it could be several days yet before true labor, I tried to not worry. That resolve lasted about as long as it takes to wash my hair. I decided to call Triage to get their opinion, just to make sure.
They said to come in, just in case.
I woke up Downwood so that he could take the World's Fastest Shower and called Mom and the office to give her a heads' up and have them put me out on sick leave for the morning. Our bags had been in the car for about 3 weeks, so there wasn't really anything to pack. The car seat's base had been installed for the same amount of time, but we decided to put the seat in place, just in case. When we did, I had a very sad realization: the car seat needed the passenger seat to be so far forward and upright that me and my very pregnant belly couldn't fit!
Downwood tells it like I grabbed his keys and physically forced him into the passenger seat so that I could drive myself. I tell it like, "I couldn't fit in the passenger seat and I hadn't had a single contraction. No big deal."
I am impressed by the number of people who think that's crazy. They're generally the same people who think I was crazy for insisting on stopping to fill up the gas tank and get donuts. Both Downwood and I were fully expecting the nurses to send us right back home until Peanut got a move on.
The drive was otherwise uneventful, the donuts were tasty, parking was annoying, and the nice nurses in Triage got me hooked up to some monitors, taking vitals, and all the other bits of information that I knew they would ask since they use the software that the Evil Empire sells.
They did a quick test and, much to everyone's surprise, I'd apparently ruptured my membranes a little in the night. They admitted me, got me set up in a room, and called my doctor. I called Mom to let her know that she may want to get in the car Right Now and drive up. I also texted my sister and father to let them know what was going on and Downwood called his folks. This was about 10:30-11.
They'd started me on an IV of penicillin to knock out the group B strep, so when I hadn't had any Real Contractions by 1, they added a bag of pitocin.
Thankfully, the pitocin was not as scary in real life as the birthing class and the books had made it sound. The information that I'd had was kind of terrifying, but I didn't notice any side effects beyond "Oh, so that's what a Real Contraction feels like!"
Mom arrived about 3:30 and Downwood went to get the bags from the car then. Mom took my mind off of things by telling me about my sister's wedding and showing me scads of photos that she took. My doctor popped in about every hour to take a break from paperwork (he'd been on vacation for the previous week) and check on how things were going.
At 5, neither walking nor rocking nor the ball made the contractions any easier to handle. The HUGE bathtub of hot water, however, was simply amazing. It didn't make the pain go away, but it was relaxing enough that I could get through each contraction easier and chill out in between.
Around 6, they got me out of the tub. I was dilated to 4 cm, so they decided to fully rupture my membranes. They suspected that the initial tear was somewhere that Peanut's head was mostly sealing shut. At this point, I decided that labor was, in fact, pretty icky, but couldn't think about it too hard because Things Started Happening.
I also lost all track of clock time at this point. I know that Em was born at 9:06, but I don't know when anything happened in between. It was an endless Now. I'd used the phrase "living in the moment" in the past, but last Monday was when I finally fully understood it.
Downwood stood at the head of the bed and held my left hand. He brushed my hair off my face and held my water cup for me. He told me when to breathe in and when to breathe out. Mom stood a little further down the bed and held my right hand. She told me to breathe, flipped my pillow every so often, and kept cool washcloths on my neck and forehead.
I think it was around 6 and then again around 7ish I asked for some narcotics. I decided that I was okay without the epidural, but wasn't coping very well with the pain. I don't think the drugs helped much with the amount of pain, but they helped me to relax in between instead of staying tensed up the whole time.
I'd also like to point out that my pain scale has now been recalibrated. Something that I thought was a 10 before is now more like a 6 or 7. Maybe it's just that I've never been seriously physically injured before, but the contractions hurt more than I could have expected.
And then it was time to push. Dear God, did I regret not getting the epidural. If I'd thought the contractions were bad, pushing was agony.
During pushing was the first time all day that I'd seriously tried to break Downwood's hand while holding it. Before, I'd just needed the physical contact to reassure me that he was still there and wouldn't be going anywhere. Then, I needed an outlet for some of the hurt.
I was pretty much unaware of what was going on around me. I could hear the nurse telling me how to use my muscles to more effectively push (and many thanks to my dance teacher for making sure I strengthened those particular muscles over the last few months), my mom would count during each push - trying to hang on just one more second kept me going, the doctor told me what to do, and Downwood kept telling me that I was strong and that I could do it.
I only tried to give up once. I thought that I couldn't handle the pain anymore and I wanted to outright quit. Mom and Downwood told me that it was a little late to be giving up and that it was almost over.
Then the doctor took my hand and showed me that Peanut was crowning and had a full head of hair. This got me through the next couple sets of long pushes and the couple sets of short ones to get her head and shoulders out.
And I could see my perfect baby girl.
They clamped her cord and gave Downwood the scissors to cut it. Then they put a hat on her head, her on my chest, and a blanket over the both of us. I was laughing and crying and instantly in love with my daughter. She squirmed her way up until her head was perfectly tucked under my chin and then did it again when they moved her down a little.
I have no idea when they delivered the placenta, nor did I have any desire to see it (ick). I don't know how many stitches I got, but think it was more than 2 and less then 5. They tried to use a local anesthetic, but I clearly felt at least one of them. It didn't really matter, though, since I was holding Emily Anne.
They took Em to get weighed, measured, and foot-printed. When they did, I got to eat for the first time in about 14 hours. I hadn't been hungry for most of it, but decided I was starving when they handed me the bagel. I talked to my dad, my godmother, and my step-father on the phone. I also finally noticed the other two doctors in the room. My doctor is a third-year resident. His supervisor was technically the attending, so he was there, as was a first-year student who had never seen a birth before. To their credit, I'd been introduced to all of them and said it was fine for the student to be there, but I'd had no idea.
Later, Downwood told me that he overheard the attending tell the first-year that if ever birth he ever saw went exactly like Emily's, that would be ideal. Also, it was the largest placenta that he'd ever seen. I think Downwood was really proud of both statements.
The rest of the evening was relaxed. Downwood's folks had brought his laptop from our house to the hospital so Downwood could make Facebook and Twitter updates for both of us. They were also totally excited to meet their grandbaby. Mom was beside herself with joy - her daughter was okay and her granddaughter was doing very well (Apgar scores were 9, 9, 10).
The nurse got me cleaned up, fed some more, and shuttled over to a room. Downwood and Mom headed home and I got a couple hours' of sleep before Em decided to try to eat.
The next day and a half in the hospital were filled with naps, staring at my daughter, both of us trying to learn how to breastfeed, lots of ice packs, staring at my daughter, and trying to rest up. Since coming home, we're still working on feeding, figuring out each other's sleep schedules, and more simply staring at my beautiful baby girl. Also, I haven't once felt the familiar weight of depression. It's hard and frustrating at times, but also the most joyful that I've felt in a very long time.
There were many, many times in the last 8 months - and many more times on Monday - when I wondered whose bright idea it had been to have a baby. Looking at Em's face, I know it was the right decision and the right time. I didn't think before that I was cut out to be a mother and wasn't sure that I wanted it. I know that she won't always be cute, tiny, and wonderful and that there will be plenty of rough times ahead, but that's okay. Right now my life feels exactly like I want it to be. That's plenty good enough for today.
