Birth Story: The Novel

Let's go back to the beginning for Max...

Our son was born February 21st @ 3:41PM. He was a healthy 6 pounds, 10 ounces and 20 inches long. Little man has tons of dark hair upon his head and even has blonde highlighted tips! (He must have been channeling the highlights Mom resisted getting for all the months of pregnancy). His APGAR score is high...already scoring at top of the class right from the start. Life is wonderful.

*****

Long Version:

By the end of my pregnancy, I felt kiddo drop down into my pelvis 3 weeks before he actually arrived. It was a concerted effort not to waddle like a duck. I said the fated words..."the one thing this kid could do to throw me off is to come in February." My predicted due date was March 15th and daily I kept thinking that it would be a miracle if I made it to March. It was a struggle to keep putting my feet up all the time to try and keep the puff of my kankles down to a non-super hero level of crazy.

Early February 21st/Sunday morning rolled around and I rolled my big old planet self out of orbit and out of bed to pee. I took just a few steps towards the bathroom door and I had a GUSH! Eeeep! I stopped for a brief moment to panic and then with closed knees scuttered into the master bath. Poking my head out the door I yelled to Curtis...What time is it baby? He reported it was 7:40...and I let him know, well it is actually time to go to the hospital. During the ride to the hospital I calmly called relatives and let them know my water had broken and Max would be making is big debut soon. [Jinx]

After some shenanigans of checking into the hospital, I was gowned up and was ready to meet my son. We were supposed to go for a tour of the hospital this very weekend...mon-o-man did we get one! I walked all around the halls of the hospital with Curtis by my side to try and make the labor progress naturally. I did lunges up and down the public halls because I "felt the need to do so." I hate lunges, so ya knew something was loco with me. In addition to the fact that I wanted to try for a natural birth!

Just like the whole pregnancy I always expected the worst and hoped for the best. This way I wouldn't be disappointed when things didn't go as planned. Sure enough, the nurses weren't excited about my progress since my water had already broken. So I got stabbed with antibiotics and was forced to walk around the hospital in a smaller circle with my IV on a pole. The nurse who tried to find a vein in two different places and kept rolling my veins multiple times was shocked at my calm. Later she vouched for my high pain tolerance when I was passed off to the next shift of nurses.

That shift came and went. So did multiple bags of pitocin to try and increase my contractions from a clockwork 2.5 minutes to something of a more rapid pace. No go. Now we are up to somewhere around 9PM and they tell me that they have super-saturated my body with pitocin and are going to take me off those meds to try and let my body do its natural thing. Fantastic. Oh yeah and they tell me to try and get some sleep. Yah, I'm still having intense contractions, thanks.

Bonus they do let me eat something. The driest turkey sandwich ever, but it was delicious. They even put a little vanilla pudding on my tray...oh heaven! Up until this point (over the last 13 hours) I was allowed ice, water, jello (the vitamin enriched kind from the hospital) and the occasional popsicle. I drank so much water because somewhere along the line I was told it could help reduce a tear. Between the saline IV and the water I was peeing gallons. And that isn't much of an exaggeration, they were measuring my output. Every hour I would set off my tummy monitors when they would shift off baby's heartbeat as I sat down and go pee in the bathroom with my ever-present IV pole. Those things (disks with a plastic spike sticking out of them, strapped to your prego belly with a tensioned elastic strap) gouged into my skin so deep I am surprised they moved.

Okay, more contractions. I paced my room, I sat on the exercise ball, I rocked in the rocking chair within the delivery room...more contractions. Intense contractions were fuzzed out by imagining myself on the ocean, my little innertube floating on top of the waves, I was breathing through them and using the monitors to visualize the strong tide. Curtis took a nap...I stayed bleary eyed for a while longer. Somewhere in there I did catch a few zzzz's.

Monday morning I needed his help. PUSH on those pressure points we learned in Lamaze class!!!! My contractions were back on crack...aka pitocin and now rating a solid 7 out of 10 on my pain scale and continuing to intensify. Curtis tried to keep up, but I realized that if I kept him at this pace his thumbs would fall off from pushing that spot behind my knees and eventually I would yell at him for it not helping. Okay, almost 5am...22 hours of natural child birth was enough for me. The anesthesiologist that knew my surgical history was getting off shift and I trusted him. The nurse pushed another bag of fluid through my IV.

The epidural came with the most pain I have ever felt fully awake. The pressure of the needle dropping into my spine made me nauseous as he rooted around to assure he had the right drop point. Oh good gawd I squeezed Curtis' hand tight and on the other side of me, the nurse's 2 fingers that she loaned me for support. (Can you tell she learned this lesson before?). After agonizing and breathless moments of trying to communicate back to the anesthesiologist which side of my body he was retching the needle to and fro...left and right....sweet serenity he let the drugs drop in!

They let me lay back down and I passed out shortly after that ordeal. I woke up chatty and feeling relief. And just like my original dream about Max, I thought...why was I going to do this naturally?!? The drugs were my saving grace as I figured I was going to end up having a Cesarean. More hours passed. Now it was even later Monday morning and I had to get baby boy to turn, he was sunny side up. Great. I obediently followed all instructions the 3rd shift of nurses gave me. Okay, mission accomplished.

Finally, I am dilated enough to push. A good 3 HOURS of pushing and the medical staff called it. Baby is stuck. Stuck?!? Yeah. Hm, okay c-section it is...I wait in line for surgery. I bump a scheduled set of twins, a v-back bumps me...I am now 3rd in line for surgery. My doctor has shown up and lets me know it is time.

32 hours later, Curtis is being overly reassuring as he sits near my head behind the sheet in the operating room. I am nervous, things are taking a bit longer then anticipated. The mood in the operating room is intense. The doctor uses his whole body pressure to tork the kiddo out of me. I feel...a pull up on my body that lifts my center up from the operating table. Then I waited, where was the sound? ....It was only a few seconds...it felt like an eternity. Mew. One sweet little cry out. Aaaah, the relief and the tears...my child is born...he's really here now!

I instantly pass out again from exhaustion and woke up after a bit to hear more intense, sweet crying as Max found his voice. The nurses wrapped up baby and bring him over to let me kiss him. I was instantly in love. Our son Max.

The doctors began repairing me and Curtis sweetly kissed me. He was sticking to our plan and going off with kiddo and the nurses to make sure we kept our baby safe. No need to stay with me, after all, I wasn't going anywhere and there was no mistaking my identity. After a severe pain in my shoulder and more drugs knocking me out...I woke up in the recovery room. My son was in the hospital bassinet on one side of me and my wonderful husband on the other.

Life is beautiful.