This post will have no pictures, because, well, I didn't think of putting the camera in the overnight hospital bag and as you will read in a bit, I wasn't really thinking about that when we left the house.
I would like to tell people that I was in labor for two weeks, or four, or since the Wednesday after Thanksgiving. Because that is when my Braxton Hicks started for real. Not just, "Wow, I think that maybe I'm having some practice contractions", but "Holy Cow! That was uncomfortable!" I was never really worried that something was happening, he is Wicks Baby #3 after all, but it did make for a few uncomfortable months.
And did you know that I was huge? Like people saying in early/mid December, "A Christmas baby, how nice!" Or, "Are you
sure you're not having twins? You may want them to check again". Seriously folks, don't you think that they "checked"?!
But it really started to become real on February 1st. A friend stopped by to drop off some boy clothes. I mentioned that both of the girls were about a week early and I wouldn't be surprised if Russell decided to make his appearance on February 22nd. She exclaimed, "Why, that's three weeks from today!" Are you kidding me?! I was thinking four more weeks. Three seemed so. much. closer.
My dad and Erik arrived here on February 13th so that Bob and Erik could go to Portland for All-Northwest. Dad came along so that he could be here to help me with the girls (nobody brushes hair like Grandpa Eddy!) and just in case Russell decided to make an early entrance. Well, Friday night I started having regular contractions. Like, 6 minute apart contractions. Talk about a panic attack. I had already packed my hospital bag, but put in all the last minute stuff just in case I ended up going to the hospital that night. But then I ended up going to sleep - and the contractions stopped.
It happened again that Sunday night. The contractions weren't as close together, but they were long and intense. I texted a few friends so that they were "on alert" and then after timing for SIX HOURS I ... went to sleep. And they stopped.
So now we were in a race against the clock to see if baby would be born before Grandpa left the next Sunday. After two weeks of fairly regular, fairly intense contractions everything just kind of petered out. Nothing. Crickets. Disappointed mama and disappointed Grandpa.
At that point it felt like I was
never going to have this baby. I had been having problems with my sciatic nerve through out my third trimester, but the 25th it completely seized up and I could hardly even walk anymore. Not so great with a two and a half year old who decided to really start to exert her independence. And time passes r e a l l y r e a l l y s l o o o w l y when you are spending most of your time in a recliner not doing anything. (Sounds great, right? But after a few days it gets old.)
I had an OB appointment on the 27th. One that I wasn't even planning on making it to anyway. As we pulled into the parking lot the OB was pulling out. To go deliver another baby. Seriously? (The redeeming factor was that that mom was at 42 (!!) weeks and had been induced that day.) So we rescheduled for Thursday morning.
Thursday that 28th dawned as any other morning of the last six months. Got up and got the kids ready to go. I had to get up early so that I could shower and eat before the kids got up. Because I had a dentist appointment at 9:00. (Another appointment that I wasn't planning on being available for.) I dropped Etta off at school and then took Mae to Grandpa Steve's house. Got my teeth cleaned and then Mae and I headed over to The Baby Doctor. She was there this time (thankfully!) and I got to meet with her. She stripped my membranes I believe (Google it if you are really interested) and we scheduled an induction for Friday morning. Nice to have an end in sight!
Mae and I went to the bank, went home and had lunch and went back to Beacon so that I could teach my last day of band. (Did I mention that I wasn't really planning on being teaching at this point in the month?!) Class went fine, but then I was just tired. Tired and in pain from my silly nerve. So I decided we were just going to hang out in Etta's class room for the rest of the day. I didn't want Mae to nap because the girls were going to be spending the night at Grandma and Grandpa's. Five minutes - FIVE MINUTES! - before school got out I was not allowing Mae to do exactly what she wanted and she decided to have The Ultimate Meltdown - including screaming, crying, and hitting and kicking me. I, at 40 weeks (minus 2 days) pregnant, with a severe pinched nerve, had to carry 28 pounds of kicking and screaming toddler out of the building. I got her wrestled into her seat, got in the driver's seat and promptly started crying. The wonderful secretary brought out all of my stuff and then brought Etta out to the car. Thank God for the little things.
I decided that I could not go home with two children and take care of them for the hour or so that it would take Bob to get home. We drove straight over to Steve and Cathy's and I planted myself in a recliner. Contractions had started by this time, but hey! I had been having contractions for
14 weeks two weeks and every time I started timing them they stopped after about an hour. Didn't want to jinx myself.
My labor coach was in Spokane for the day at an appointment of her own and was expecting to be back around six. Well, after a good appointment she texted and wondered if I thought she had time to go to Target. Again, nothing had ever developed for the last two weeks so I told her to enjoy herself and get some shopping done.
We ate dinner and my contractions were getting more noticeable. At 6:15 I decided that
maybe I should start timing them. You know, just in case. They were strong but not regular. 7, 8, and 9 minutes apart. I that order. Again and again. At 7:00 Bob started helping get the girls ready for bed and by 7:30 we were working on leaving. We decided to just take one car (he had driven up after us) because I wasn't sure that I would be able to drive through the contractions I was having. We figured we'd be able to go home and hang out for awhile and relax until the contractions were more regular and closer together. We left there around 7:45 (I think).
From their house to our house - usually a 10 to 15 minute drive - the contractions started coming 5 minutes a part and were getting STRONG. As in, we neared our house and I said, "I think we need to go to the hospital NOW!" I texted Tina and told her we were going straight to the hospital. She had just gotten home and wanted to know if I wanted her to meet us now. "No, when the contractions are closer together I'll let you know."
Bob went in and got my bag and we were off. From our house to the hospital is one mile. Between here and there the contractions were 3 minutes apart. Seriously, that had to be wrong, I was thinking. I texted Tina when we got there, "I'll let you know when we get settled."
I waddled in, contracting, pinched nerve, the works. I must have been quite a sight. No Pink Lady volunteers with wheel chairs at this time of night.
We made it to the third floor and said, "I didn't call, but I think I'm about to have a baby!" They got me right in - the same room that I had both girls! - and we went to work. The nurse decided to check me right away so that we knew what we were looking at. A six. I was already to a six. Had Bob call Tina - enough messing around with texting - and started to get my mind set.
The next bit is kind of a blur. They were going to order the epidural, but I had to get a full blood panel - with results - before they could even CALL him. And the phlebotomists were - I'm not kidding - 17 and 18 years old. Okay, maybe not, but they sure looked like it. When you are having intense contractions, back labor because apparently he was face up, having the "in-training" girl say things like, "How much am I supposed to put in this vial?" are not things that you want to hear. And then she couldn't even get my hospital blood bracelet snapped. Seriously?!
Things went speeding by. I was finally hooked up to the IV, in my gown, blood work drawn, ready for my drugs. Decided it would be a good time to use the bathroom. Thankfully Tina is an OB nurse, so I had a nurse there the entire time. She quickly unhooked me from everything and took me to the bathroom. I promptly got the shakes. She figured I was probably dilated to a seven. So the other nurse decided to check me again. "Actually, you're at a nine! Let's get the doctor in here."
What?! Where are my drugs?! I seriously was yelling (okay, maybe screaming) this at that point. "Let's just focus on your breathing" both nurses said. Um, no. I want to be focusing on my drugs!
I pretty much only remember seeing the insides of my eyelids at this point. I remember Tina saying something about "being in a zone" at this point, but whatever. I was just surviving. I wouldn't even let Bob touch me through this whole labor and delivery. The last two I needed him right there. This time I needed him in the chair.
At one point when the doctor came in he mentioned that my blood results came back great. GREAT! WHAT IS THAT GOING TO DO FOR ME NOW?!?!?! And he said he needed to break my water. Um, no. Don't touch me. I don't care!
I did get nitrous gas at some point. While it didn't take the pain away I didn't care quite so much. Actually, after my first "hit" I said, "Wow! I am SO high right now!" It became my life line.
I had three contractions in a row when I knew that he was there. THERE. Right THERE. Ready to come out. And on the fourth contraction I re-enacted The Exorcist and rose up out of the bed and managed to say, "I . Need . To . Push . NOW!" And my body promptly started pushing. On it's own. Nothing of my doing.
No one was ready. But I had no control. Thankfully, after that contraction everyone GOT ready and I was able to push on the next contraction. During that contraction I managed to get his head out. (Unmedicated it felt like the size of a basketball. I had no idea how it was even possible for him to fit...) The doctor said, "Okay, one more push!" But I was done. Done. And I said so. But at that point you really have no choice. The next contraction started and Tina and the nurse each took one leg, scooped around my back and ... accordianed ... me. "Just give us ONE push!" I don't know how I did it, but I found enough to give it one more go and there he was.
And all of the pain was gone. And he was there. It was incredible.
On a whim, (and because of stories of Annie and Karey), I had decided to read "The Bradley Method" natural child birth book. Because I wanted to know what hippie things it had to say. (No offense Annie and Karey!!) All I can say is, thank you. Thank you for mentioning it. Thank you for recommending it. Because it saved my bacon. I knew everything to expect and that everything was going how it was supposed to go.
The nurse called the birth time as 10:12 p.m. She said, "Well, from the time you walked into the room until he was born was 1 hour and 50 minutes". Not exactly how I thought it was going to go, but it all worked out. Steve was even able to come down and see Russell right away because he was watching the Gonzaga came. Go Zags!
Bob left at midnight to get some rest and I got to cuddled that baby all night long.
Perfection.
