I had a baby. A month ago.
It's been a month of portpartum "bliss" and on the one month mark of our second little person coming into the world, I now share with you the beginning...
In the end, I had to be induced. I really didn’t want to be. Oh well. Tuesday - February 7th at 6:30 a.m. Labor and Delivery called me to have me arrive at 8. I laughed and said we’d be there as soon as we could.
Eventually, we finally got everything loaded up, dropped Jenny off at boarding, took Aurelia to my mom and step-dad’s house, made a quick stop for coffee, and headed to the hospital. I think we officially arrived sometime after 10 a.m. They checked me in and checked me out, and was put on cervical ripeners (thank goodness I could take as a pill verses a suppository being shoved into my lady-bits, like last time). The ripeners worked, mostly, but by that night - breaking my water was put on the table.
By then, my contractions were becoming unbearable. Also, the thought of breaking my water meant: most likely Pitocin would be started (which I hated from last time), my contractions becoming so much more intense that an epidural would be needed (which I wanted to see if I could do without), and them checking my cervix without that wonderful protection/barrier to the baby (which could lead to infection). The doctors left to let us talk about it. Instead, an epic meltdown is probably a minimalistic account of what I actually had for around 45 minutes. I decided that since Pitocin was going to probably happen, and thus my contraction would suck that much more, I should first get my epidural - then break my water - then what will be, will be. I talked to the residents watching over me and advised my concerns, including the cervical checks and keeping them to a minimum. They were on board for the same, so onward.
They did the epidural, and while the set-up of it went better than last time, my body DID NOT like the drugs. I had some version of chills/shakes from that point forward, whenever the drugs were routinely dripped or if I needed that little blue button. Then they broke my water. And this is where everything went into a tailspin.
Pitocin was taken off the table. I was having contractions, they would be consistent and awesome, but then fade and come more randomly. Adding the Pitocin to make them consistent and awesome made the baby sad and go into distress. So, they pumped me with IV fluids and inserted a contraction monitor. Cervical invasion by then was up to two. Things were better, but they wanted to try Pitocin again and put a monitor on the baby. By this point, it’s somewhere in the wee-hours of the morning of Wednesday and fighting their interventions was a waste of whatever energy I had left. Let’s not talk about Nick and his lack of participation (hard to do when you’re sleeping). Cervical invasion was up to five. I knew things were not progressing to the speed the doctors wanted. They started dropping “baby in distress” more and “alternate birthing method”… as in a C-section…? Because there are only two ways for a baby to come out of me, unless someone didn’t educate me properly. I really wanted them to do what they could so I could have the baby naturally, so we did a lot of position changes, added the peanut ball, and I tried my best to not freak the fuck out.
Let me also say that by this time, I had two monitors inside my vagina, a catheter, an IV and epidural tube going on. I was also keeping my drug administration to a low because it made me feel even worse than I did already and I wanted to be able to feel the birth. But all of this did not prepare me for what came next. Basically, the doctor shoved her hand all the way up into my uterus to confirm the baby’s positioning and, I assume, to confirm we could continue with my vaginal birth plan. For the record: holy fuck. Ultimate cervical invasion was complete. However, it proved that I could continue. I felt the baby start to move further down and the pressure intensifying. I was sure I’d have the baby soon. Well, it took another hour or two, but eventually - I told Nick to call the nurse because I felt like it was time to make it go.
The whirlwind began. I felt the need to push, but the room wasn’t set yet. And then it was time, and I felt the same familiar pressure of the head coming down and out, but I was having a hard time pushing it out. Then I heard them say vacuum and advising me I really needed to push because the baby was in distress. I was not going to come that far and have more shit go down, so I push as hard as I could and finally, finally, finally felt the release of the baby sliding out. It was Wednesday the 8th at 5:49 a.m.
The baby started to cry right away. They brought it to my chest and asked who was going to cut the cord. But we didn’t know what the sex of the baby was! They were cleaning the baby off and Nick and I are both asking, “What is it!?” Right as the words left my lips, the towels move off the baby and I saw something bulging between the legs. I immediately thought, “Oh my god, a boy…?”. Then they say it: “It’s a boy!”
Nick cuts the cord and I deliver the placenta fine. While Nick followed the baby for all the measurements (20 inches long and weighed 7lb 15oz.), I became a practice vagina for sowing up postpartum tears (second degree, FYI). Eventually Nick and the baby came back, and we started the dreaded “what to name him” talk. I knew what I wanted his name to be. The minute I looked at him, I knew, but I wanted Nick to have his opinion heard first. “What do you think?” I asked him. “He looks like a Henry,” Nick said. I think it was at this point that I finally cried. The baby was here, in my arms, my little baby boy, and his name would be Henry, my Henry, at last.
And now, here we are! Henry has slipped into our lives, adding new sounds and joys, annoyances and amazements. While it has only been a month, it feels quite shorter and extremely longer. I will go into detail about the rest of my postpartum experience later, but for now... here he is:
Birthday:
One month:
the end.
In the end, I had to be induced. I really didn’t want to be. Oh well. Tuesday - February 7th at 6:30 a.m. Labor and Delivery called me to have me arrive at 8. I laughed and said we’d be there as soon as we could.
Eventually, we finally got everything loaded up, dropped Jenny off at boarding, took Aurelia to my mom and step-dad’s house, made a quick stop for coffee, and headed to the hospital. I think we officially arrived sometime after 10 a.m. They checked me in and checked me out, and was put on cervical ripeners (thank goodness I could take as a pill verses a suppository being shoved into my lady-bits, like last time). The ripeners worked, mostly, but by that night - breaking my water was put on the table.
By then, my contractions were becoming unbearable. Also, the thought of breaking my water meant: most likely Pitocin would be started (which I hated from last time), my contractions becoming so much more intense that an epidural would be needed (which I wanted to see if I could do without), and them checking my cervix without that wonderful protection/barrier to the baby (which could lead to infection). The doctors left to let us talk about it. Instead, an epic meltdown is probably a minimalistic account of what I actually had for around 45 minutes. I decided that since Pitocin was going to probably happen, and thus my contraction would suck that much more, I should first get my epidural - then break my water - then what will be, will be. I talked to the residents watching over me and advised my concerns, including the cervical checks and keeping them to a minimum. They were on board for the same, so onward.
They did the epidural, and while the set-up of it went better than last time, my body DID NOT like the drugs. I had some version of chills/shakes from that point forward, whenever the drugs were routinely dripped or if I needed that little blue button. Then they broke my water. And this is where everything went into a tailspin.
Pitocin was taken off the table. I was having contractions, they would be consistent and awesome, but then fade and come more randomly. Adding the Pitocin to make them consistent and awesome made the baby sad and go into distress. So, they pumped me with IV fluids and inserted a contraction monitor. Cervical invasion by then was up to two. Things were better, but they wanted to try Pitocin again and put a monitor on the baby. By this point, it’s somewhere in the wee-hours of the morning of Wednesday and fighting their interventions was a waste of whatever energy I had left. Let’s not talk about Nick and his lack of participation (hard to do when you’re sleeping). Cervical invasion was up to five. I knew things were not progressing to the speed the doctors wanted. They started dropping “baby in distress” more and “alternate birthing method”… as in a C-section…? Because there are only two ways for a baby to come out of me, unless someone didn’t educate me properly. I really wanted them to do what they could so I could have the baby naturally, so we did a lot of position changes, added the peanut ball, and I tried my best to not freak the fuck out.
Let me also say that by this time, I had two monitors inside my vagina, a catheter, an IV and epidural tube going on. I was also keeping my drug administration to a low because it made me feel even worse than I did already and I wanted to be able to feel the birth. But all of this did not prepare me for what came next. Basically, the doctor shoved her hand all the way up into my uterus to confirm the baby’s positioning and, I assume, to confirm we could continue with my vaginal birth plan. For the record: holy fuck. Ultimate cervical invasion was complete. However, it proved that I could continue. I felt the baby start to move further down and the pressure intensifying. I was sure I’d have the baby soon. Well, it took another hour or two, but eventually - I told Nick to call the nurse because I felt like it was time to make it go.
The whirlwind began. I felt the need to push, but the room wasn’t set yet. And then it was time, and I felt the same familiar pressure of the head coming down and out, but I was having a hard time pushing it out. Then I heard them say vacuum and advising me I really needed to push because the baby was in distress. I was not going to come that far and have more shit go down, so I push as hard as I could and finally, finally, finally felt the release of the baby sliding out. It was Wednesday the 8th at 5:49 a.m.
The baby started to cry right away. They brought it to my chest and asked who was going to cut the cord. But we didn’t know what the sex of the baby was! They were cleaning the baby off and Nick and I are both asking, “What is it!?” Right as the words left my lips, the towels move off the baby and I saw something bulging between the legs. I immediately thought, “Oh my god, a boy…?”. Then they say it: “It’s a boy!”
Nick cuts the cord and I deliver the placenta fine. While Nick followed the baby for all the measurements (20 inches long and weighed 7lb 15oz.), I became a practice vagina for sowing up postpartum tears (second degree, FYI). Eventually Nick and the baby came back, and we started the dreaded “what to name him” talk. I knew what I wanted his name to be. The minute I looked at him, I knew, but I wanted Nick to have his opinion heard first. “What do you think?” I asked him. “He looks like a Henry,” Nick said. I think it was at this point that I finally cried. The baby was here, in my arms, my little baby boy, and his name would be Henry, my Henry, at last.
And now, here we are! Henry has slipped into our lives, adding new sounds and joys, annoyances and amazements. While it has only been a month, it feels quite shorter and extremely longer. I will go into detail about the rest of my postpartum experience later, but for now... here he is:
Birthday:
One month:
the end.