Birth Story #4!!!

Where to start?

(I should have started writing this over a week ago, but you all know how THAT goes when you're home with a new baby....)

Saturday the 10th my son was sick with a fever all day.  He lay on the couch pathetically while I gave him doses of the 4-hour fever-reducer after the initial dose of the 6-hour fever-reducer ended in a higher fever and the memory that the 6-hour fever-recucer does ABSOLUTELY NOTHING for my poor child.  *sigh*

My husband and oldest were at her swim meet where she DID finally qualify for districts (funny story, that--I should post about that on my other blog).

I was on the couch reading and watching TV with my pathetic son feeling "funny" and having a few random Braxton-Hicks contractions and thinking to the baby, "NOT today!  Wait for K to get better and for M to qualify!"  Oh...and I was most obviously coming down with a COLD.  Ugh.

Now if M did not qualify, she had another meet to go to on Sunday.  DH and I just had this "feeling" I was going to go into labor by Sunday.  We had a few alternate plans set in case he was at the meet with M and put absolutely NO pressure on her to Get 'er DONE.  :-)  So when I got the word on Saturday afternoon that M qualified, I breathed a sigh of relief and changed my thought patterns to the baby to, "OK, kid.  You can come out any time now!"

Sunday morning I got up a little late feeling like crap from the cold that was definitely making it's presence known.  K's temp was at 100.2 the first time we checked and then 99.7 the second--perfect!  The kids and I went about our normal Sunday routine of slowly getting breakfast and getting a start on the day.  And then around 9:00 or so, I started having contractions.

I only timed a few and noticed that they were around four minutes apart but weren't too strong.  So, I went into "Panic-Nesting Mode" and started picking up around the house and getting the kids ready for the drop-off to the neighbors'.  I stopped timing and did the dishes, cleaned up the bathroom, and put the kids' toothbrushes and hair brushes in their overnight bag.  I nagged the kids into their clothes and shoes.

My contractions seemed to slow down while I was scurrying around the house.  I finally woke up DH and told him that I was having random contractions, but they weren't regular or very strong yet.  And then I started a load of laundry.  DH got up and started working on our downstairs bathroom.  He even made a quick run to Big Home Store to buy the new toilet.  Later he and the now not-so-sick boy and DD#2 spent a while outside shooting hoops and enjoying the beautiful spring-like weather.

I finally sat down again and started timing again, and the contractions were definitely NOT regular.  This surprised me as I'd never experienced this many irregular contractions previously.  I took a break to eat lunch and call my parents.  Around 2:00, I noticed that my contractions were getting somewhat regular again, so I started timing again.  And then I finally got a tiny amount of bloody show.  Oh!

Now, in making preparations for the possibility of labor on Sunday, DH and I discovered that our neighbor did have Sunday afternoon plans.  Her daughter's school rented out an afternoon viewing of The Lorax.  And now here it is about 2:30, I'm starting to get regular (although still not so hurty) contractions--great.  I tired texting her first.  No answer.  Then I tried to call her.  No answer.  THEN I tried her husband's phone.  Bah!  Left a voice mail.  Then she finally calls back.  Yep, she's at the movies (She purposely left her phone ON and IN HER HANDS just in case, and apparently her phone did not get any reception at the theatre!).  She says that she thinks that they've only got about a half hour left of the movie.  No problem here since I still have to call the doctor's answering service, and I know it'll take about 20 minutes for a callback--and my contraction are still not too painful.  I tell her to finish the movie, and then we'd bring the kids over.  Then I finally place the call to the answering service.

(Why, yes, I made sure I had someone to care for the kids before I called the doctor.  AND???  LOL)

The doctor calls back (the fun Indian doctor) and by this time I can confidently say that I've been having regular contractions around 45 minutes or so.  I get her blessing to come on in.  "OK," I tell her, "but it will probably be another 20 minutes or so as I'm waiting for my babysitter to get home."

I do a last-minute check of my hospital bag and the kids' overnight bag, and before we've even had a spare thought, we see the neighbor pull in across the street.  I gather up the kids to take them over, but my neighbor made a beeline to MY house and grabbed them herself.  We all walk out the door together, I give the kids a hug and a kiss, and then DH and I are on our way.

Whew!

We finally got to the hospital just before 5:00.  In triage, I strip down and get my gown on and then get belted in to the monitor.  DH and I notice that the place seems absolutely EMPTY.  All of our other experiences, triage was always packed full of laboring mothers.  The nurse reassures us, "Oh, they're here all right, we're just good about hiding them!"  After getting the baby's heart rate timed for 20 minutes and after MORE waiting, my doctor finally comes in and checks me.  I'm only at three centimeters.  What?  Really?  Huh.  The doctor tells me that I will definitely be admitted today ("This is your fourth time, I know YOU know when you're in labor!"), but she wants me to walk the halls for an hour first to progress a little more.  So, for the first time, DH and I have to pace the halls to get my labor more advanced.  Huh.

For that hour, we go back and forth over baby names.  He's still debating over Darcy and Elliot.  Or...maybe something else.  He's considering spelling Darcy like D'arcy.  He's still suggesting other names we've discussed.  Meanwhile, my contractions are definitely getting stronger.  We stop at one point when we see the doc and have a really amusing conversation with her.  So, my contractions are stronger, but I'm still able to talk and laugh, for the most part.

At 6:30, we're back in triage waiting for someone to check on me.  After what seems forever, a resident finally comes in and yes, I've advanced.  I'm at four centimeters, and it's time to "officially" admit me.  The one nurse had read over my previous births and says, "I assume you don't want an epidural, right?"  Nope, the jacuzzi is MY form of pain medication.  But again, I will NOT say no to meds if I feel it gets to that point that I feel I can't handle it.

They put an IV put in my arm "just in case" I need meds later, or I bleed too much during delivery and need a quick transfusion (ugh...really?).  The one nurse started my bath in the room and had it ready for me before we even got there.  I get in immediately.  I am still slow-breathing through my contractions and now the warm water is helping me out, too.  DH takes his position in front of the TV but with a view to me, and we settle in for the Main Event.

It seems to me I was in that tub forever.  I know the nurse checked the baby's heart rate once and a few other people came in to talk to DH while I was in there, but I couldn't hear since the tub was so loud.  I kept having to fill the tub as the water was leaking out and when the level went down, the sprayers would start shooting water all over the floor.

After a while, I started feeling that familiar nauseous/faint feeling during contractions that tells me that it's time to get out of the tub.  I was a bit surprised because even though it seemed I'd been in the tub for a while, I also knew that we hadn't been in the hospital too long.  I was also starting to get some pain in my lower back  (oh no!  not back labor again!).  Could I really be heading into transition so soon?  I stayed in the tub for a while longer, but the nausea and dizziness kept coming, so I finally got out and got in the bed. 

I'd only been out a few minutes when the nurse came in again to check on me.  I was still doing slow breathing at this point.  I asked her if someone could come and check me.  She starts going on and on about how if I really wanted it, they could, but you know, some women get really disappointed if they have a certain number in mind and then they get checked, and they haven't progressed as much as they wanted.  I tell her, "I'm someone who wants to know how much longer I have to go!  So, yes, I really DO want to be checked."  While the nurse and I are having this discussion, the doctor shows up and says, "Sure!  I'll check you!"  (I know the nurse meant well, but SERIOUSLY!) 

So, guess what?  I'm at seven centimeters. The doc tells me that the baby's head is still WAY up there, though, so she decides to go ahead and break my water in the hopes that it will get the baby to come down.  The doc and the nurse inspect my water diligently and finally decide that no, there is no meconium in there (yay!). 

Now I had warned the doctor earlier that with my previous births I went into transition almost immediately after my water being broken (always at eight centimeters).  The doctor tells me to get gravity working for me to get the head down, and if I go into transition I can try to push past a couple of centimeters.  So I decide to get on my hands and knees on the bed.

The contractions are getting more intense, and the nurse and doctor are pretty impressed with me.  "Wow.  Look at how strong she is!"  The nurse tells me that it's possible that the baby may be posterior with that back pain, but hopefully the new position will shift her right around.  I'm moaning to DH, "NEVER AGAIN."  (I *still* don't see what he found so funny about that.  heh.)  The doctor steps out (WHY do they do this?  WHY?), and the nurse helps put pressure on my aching back, and then DH takes over.  I also recall saying quite a few times, "NOTHING should hurt this badly!"  I tell DH that if it keeps up, I may even consider asking for something to help take the edge off.  He just looks at me with first surprise and then amusement.  (Listen, buddy, this is my fourth and FINAL time, I'm thinking I DESERVE something at this point!)  I DID say out loud once, "You know, this is all YOUR fault!"

It does not take long, and I am surprised by my body actually starting to PUSH during a contraction.  I'm so taken aback.  I finally get the message out to the nurse, "PRESSURE!" as I start unwillingly bearing down.  She tries to flip me onto my back while she pages the doctor back into the room.  Then...the chaos begins.

The doctor and the nurse are trying to get me to lift my butt so that they can get the birthing blanket down, but my body has quite taken over my brain, and it was all I could do to get my hiney up in the air for them.  I do recall ONCE trying to switch to a different breathing method, but my body refused the request and just KEPT pushing.  And I...the brave woman who had birthed three children au natural...completely started to PANIC.  Every time anyone talked to me, no matter what they said, I would yell out, "I CAN'T!  I CAN'T!"  Because my brain wasn't listening.  My body wasn't listening.  No matter what anyone said, the baby was coming out NOW.

After a lot of yelling by everybody, I finally focus enough to hear the nurse tell me, "You are having your baby NOW!"  She and resident finally get me to get my legs back into position.  My husband is trying to get my attention by grabbing my hand and yelling, "You know you can do this!"  And then the nurse coaches me through one really, really good push.  And then, just moments later, I feel as if my whole body explodes, and THERE SHE IS. 

"Holy crap!  THAT WAS FAST!"

(The doctor broke my water at 8:20; the baby was born at 8:36!!)

I look over, and I see the tiniest little baby girl ever!  DH gets to cut the cord.  The baby goes over to the ped nurses who says she's having just a slight difficulty breathing, but that's probably because she came out so fast and swallowed a bit of amniotic fluid, otherwise, she's perfect.  Our new little (nameless!) peanut weighs 6 pounds, 4 ounces and is 19 inches long (even smaller than our first!).

I deliver the placenta.  The doctor and the resident look me over and at first say I have nothing but a really slight tear that they are not going to repair.  But then they look a little deeper, and oh, yes, I have a few tears on the INSIDE.  Oh...well, that's new!  In order to do the repair, the doctor has to put in a catheter.  She says that the one tear is really close to my urethra, and she is putting in the catheter for her own guidance to make sure she doesn't stitch the urethra closed.  "Yes, please don't do that!"

While they are repairing me, I get to hold the baby and start to nurse her.  Oh!  What a peanut!  She has the head full of dark hair and DH's pointy nose and yes, she has his long, long eyelashes.

DH and I spend the next two hours debating her name some more.  DH refuses to post anything on FB until the name is decided.  Eventually, DH decides to go with Sophia--because, really, it just flows with Loretta so well.  So, Sophia Loretta it is!

(But even now, when I look at her, she just doesn't really look like a Sophia to me!  Maybe a Sophie.  DH doesn't want her to be called Sophie, but really, I don't think I'll be able to help it.)

And now, my brother has a niece who shares his birthday.  That's kind of nice, isn't it?

(Will try to post about recovery--and maybe put up some more pictures--soon....)