Weak stomach's beware. This may be a little TMI for some. Not to mention LONG!It had been a week. An entire week past the 'due date'. Surprisingly, I was ok with that. Anxious, yes, but ok with it. Baby would come when it was good and ready. After all, due dates are only estimations.
We rushed to the clinic... it was late... we'd get there late. I hate being late. M had her 18 month shots too... so I really didn't want to be late. Oops. I guess I shouldn't have visited that last garage sale. Ha ha. Oh well, five minutes isn't too bad... is it?
Thankfully, my husband was there as well. It makes things so much easier.
The doctor checked me... I was already 3-4cm dilated. He did a sweep... perhaps that would get baby moving... well... ok, get the contractions happening. Baby was already as low as he'd get.
"You are quite overdue. If you don't go into labor naturally this weekend, I would like to see you at the hospital at 7:30am on Monday to break your water." the doctor told me.
Hmmm. I really did not want THAT. So, I prayed that the baby would come that day, or maybe the next. I didn't really want to be in labor on Mother's day, either.
"Oh, and if you go in tomorrow, I'm in meetings all day..."
Today then? Lord, today?
M did NOT like her shots. She did like the ball she got from the Doctor though. It's the same as the one from her 12 month needles... a matching set? Think she cares?
We went to the mall to do some grocery shopping at Dollar Days at our local supermarket. I didn't feel like going home yet anyway. Home is boring. Home means work. Home equals me, by myself, with my daughter (which isn't entirely bad, just lacking in conversation).
I felt something strange. Pressure, of sorts. I asked my husband the time. 11:30am.
Every 10 minutes I felt the same thing. No pain, just pressure. In fact, I hardly noticed it.
We had lunch, and continued to look around the mall a bit. 5 minutes now. That happened quickly. Perhaps we should go home and get a few things? My husband wanted to shower anyway, and I liked the idea of laboring at home for a bit, if I could.
It was 1:45 by the time we arrived at home. They were 4 minutes apart... and beginning to feel like more than just 'pressure'. A bit more intense, anyway. He took a shower, M tried to play with me briefly and was confused by my lack of attention, so she sought out daddy instead. At 2:15 we were headed back to town...
My mom was waiting for us in front of her workplace to take M. I waved goodbye to her, not wanting to get up due to yet another contraction. She was happy, anyway. Apparently she worked her charm on everyone who saw her there, too. That's my lil girl, ha ha.
We got to the hospital shortly before 3. The contractions were no longer just 'oh, I think I'm having a contraction'... more like 'stop moving, hon, I can hardly walk!' Or maybe 'BOOM, here I COME!'... alright, not that bad. They hooked me up to the fetal monitor to check the baby's heartbeat. Laying down plus contractions equals not a lot of fun. They started to actually hurt then. Not terribly, but they weren't like before. They reminded me of the contractions I had with M when I first started feeling them... I KNEW they were labor contractions... there was no 'is this another Braxton'? And I was 5 cm.
I labored by walking a bit, and using the rocking chair... was offered the tub and gladly took it. It was a while before it was ready, and by then I was having a hard time getting into the tub. After only being in there for 5 minutes, I thought my water broke. Wasn't sure (since it didn't break on it's own with my daughter)... but I couldn't get out of the tub very easily. When we finally made it back to the room, they checked me. 8cm. Not long now. I just stayed in the bed... there wasn't time between contractions for me to really get up anyway.
Another contraction hit.
"I want DRUGS!" ... was that really my voice?
"Are you sure?" asks my husband... I wasn't sure if I wanted to strangle him or not. I couldn't even really see him by that time... concentrating too much on breathing and
NOT fighting the contractions like I had done by this time with M. He ran to 'fetch' the nurse. I could hear them nearby... no idea whether they were even in the room or not.
"It's too late. They wouldn't even take effect by the time the baby is born". Some movement, another contraction or two, someone telling me I was 'breathing really well' or something like that. Uh... breathing? More like sucking in as much air as I possibly can!
They put a mask in my hand. "You've used the gas before, right? Do you know how to use it?" I nod... thinking 'yuck, I have to resort to
this stuff?'. I inhale... and continued to put it on my mouth for each inhalation of the contraction. Ok... it doesn't taste as bad as last time... still not as good as oxygen, but I think it's helping... a little... maybe.
"My arms are limp... hee hee".
Another contraction or two... maybe three. I got smart and only inhaled with the mask every other breath... or less. Another one hit...
"AAH! My water broke!!!" I yell to my husband. He jumps up. "AAH! I'm PUSHING!" He runs from the room... the nurses had just left me seconds earlier. After all, it should have been a bit longer than that, right?
In minutes they were all there, helping me onto my back, asking how I wanted the bed, and all I could think was "
I'm PUSHING! Should I be PUSHING? WHERE'S the DOCTOR". The nurses tried to get me to calm down... I was shivering uncontrollably, panicking like I've never panicked before, wondering why it was so different with my daughter than now (oh yeah... I had a spinal with her... duh!). After two such contractions, my doctor walks in. I remember him saying something about perfect timing... he had gotten the 'page' just as his last patient was leaving the clinic (around 5:30 I would guess... or later... he often works really late for some reason... sometimes till almost 6). Another contraction hit. I pushed...
I think it was only another 2 or 3 contractions... I can't remember... time doesn't flow normally at that point. Then I heard them say something about suctioning the baby.
What? Is the baby stuck? You need to suction them out? I barely started... oh who cares, just get this kid OUT! Then the nurse said for me to calm down again... they were going to check the cord after my next push.
The cord? What? You mean the head is out already? When did that happen? Another contraction...
"It's a boy! He looks just like his sister!"
I'm done? Really? And then, they laid him on my chest. And I got to see him. And all that had just happened was forgotten for just a minute as I looked at his tiny fingers, his little nose, his face that so resembled his sister it was uncanny...
Bram, I thought.
He looks like a Bram.
I could hold him. It was done. I went through it, I could feel my body was still there, and I wasn't so tired that I needed them to take him away... I wasn't so tired that I would fall asleep.
I found myself thankful that I didn't use drugs... the drugs took that moment with my daughter away from me . I couldn't hold her like I could my son. I had to ask them to take her before I dropped her... but I could hold him. I could nurse him. Everything happened the way it was meant to... the way God intended it... the way I had prayed for. No IV, no threats of catheters, no waiting another hour to nurse because the placenta didn't want to come, no excess blood loss... I could get up within the hour, watch my baby sleep on my chest after he'd eaten his fill, eat my supper, everything. Things I couldn't do with my daughter. No, with her I had to stay in bed for at least 8 hours or else I would faint. I couldn't even eat. This time, I didn't even miss a meal, while with her I hadn't eaten in over 24 hours.
How incredible. I thought my experience with my daughter was wonderful, and here it was even better than before. God is so good!
My parents came to visit with my little girl. My husband had gone over to their house (they live just a short walk from the hospital) for supper, and M cried when she saw him without me. She lit up when she saw me in the hospital room... briefly. Then her face distorted and she gave me this look... a 'you aren't the same' look. She would not let me hold her. She wanted grandma instead. As for Bram... well, what was that? The look she gave when she saw him was hilarious. I gave her a hug before she left, even though she screamed. I wanted to cry.
That first night was difficult. Bram started choking and gagging when I tried to feed him. He was hungry, but he couldn't figure out how to eat and breathe at the same time. I called the nurse, and she took him from me, telling me his breathing was too quick and she wanted to call the doctor to make sure everything was ok. She told me not to worry. I prayed.
The doctor came. Bram was indeed having difficulty breathing. I thought it was mucous. The doctor concurred, but also said that there was another thing that may be causing it, or might be working together with that. Apparently, the cartilage in the larynx may still be a bit too soft. Not common in overdue babies, but it could happen. It would fix itself in an hour or so, so there was really nothing to be overly concerned about. I prayed some more, left him in God's care (and the care of the nurses as he was in the nursery on the OHIO so they could monitor him constantly), and went to sleep... sort of.
3am they brought him back to me. Apparently he coughed up a lot of mucous and was sucking their fingers off. He was wide awake, and HUNGRY.
Everything was fine.
The next day, mom brought M to see me again. I missed her terribly all night (and my husband too... it was hard for me). She didn't want me to hold her, but she sat next to me, and we played with a ball, and she talked to me... I probably looked a bit better to her than the previous day. Sunday she still wouldn't let me hold her. I cried then. We had gone to church that morning as I had been released. I think I should have said 'no' to church. It was just too soon... too much too soon. And my daughter didn't want anything to do with me while we were there. We spent Mother's Day at my parents house. I napped while everyone watched a movie. SO much more comfortable than those beds at the hospital.
Tell me, why do they make those beds so very hard? I mean, it's hard enough to sit after giving birth, do you have to make the bed one step from being a wooden chair?
I digress...
Everything went well when we got home. M suddenly was ok with me again... I could give her a hug (finally!), and she actually looked at her baby brother and for the first time, said 'baby'. I thanked the Lord that things were ok.
It's been a week, now. I can hardly believe our little family is now four. M loves Bram. She has to see what's wrong whenever she hears him cry. The other morning, after I had gotten her up and was pulling her bedding off (boy did it need a wash), he started to fuss a little. Up until then, M had only seen him in the Moses Basket in the living room. I looked down and she was gone. He was still in our room. I grabbed him and brought him downstairs in time to see M staring into the living room, all confused. She lit up when she saw me with her baby brother, though. "Baby, baby?"
He sleeps well now, too. First night or two was hard... crying for food every hour for 4 hours or so before sleeping for 3. Now he sleeps for 4 hours at a time during the night. And his feedings don't last as long as M's did. It took her half an hour to an hour to fully feed each time. With him, 10 minutes tops. And burping... way easier. Within 20 minutes I can have him back in bed with full tummy and a fresh diaper.
As for me, I'm healing quite nicely, and a LOT faster than I did with M. Makes caring for both munchkins a lot easier. Although, I still crave adult conversation.
God is good. He is good indeed.
Glue the second set of rings over the first set, with the plastic sandwiched between them.
Using your white card stock, cut as many white circles with a 3 5/8 diameter as you wish. These are for the actual footprint/hand print. If you mess up doing the print, you can always cut more.
