Thursday, April 25, 2013

All the gory details (feel free to skip over this if you don't like gory details)

So after 40 weeks and 3 days, I finally had a baby!  Just about the only thing that I knew about childbirth was that you can't really predict how it's going to go down, so trying to plan for it seemed awfully silly to me.  Unfortunately,  you kinda can't help but make some assumptions, and just about every one I made ended up being wrong.  Like I sorta assumed I would labor quickly, after all, everyone else in my family did, how unfair would it be if I was the only one who didn't?  And I assumed it would all go smoothly without any major complications, because we all always assume that.  I do anyway.  It's too scary and stressful to assume otherwise.  I assumed that I would do the whole skin-to-skin thing right after giving birth, because I'd read about how great it is for you and the baby (especially the baby), and it's something my hospital really pushes.  I assumed I'd donate the cord blood, because I'm a nice person like that.  Even filled out the 15 page form and everything!

Yeah, none of that happened.

I already talked about how I was a little overdue going into labor anyway, but I didn't go too far, and I didn't need an induction, so that was good.  It all started at about 9pm on Sunday.  My head had literally just hit the pillow when I started getting...  wet.  Gross.  So I grab a towel, get Joe, and off we go!  When we got to the hospital they laughed when I said that my water had broke, and all gave each other knowing looks and told me "yeah....  you're the fourth tonight!" I thought that meant that they were super busy, but then when the Doc checked me he was like "Oh!  This is a real one!" so I guess they'd been having false alarms all night.  By this point my contractions had started.  They were very uncomfortable, but not super bad.  Until they told me that I was still only a centimeter dilated.  I was admitted, whisked into the l&d room, and decided to go ahead with the epidural because they were getting to the point where they were right on top of each other, and I was sooo not looking forward to several more hours of that.

So things keep going.  Joe and I tried to doze off when we could. Talked when we felt more awake. Nurses and Doc's came and went.  By 5:30 I was finally 9 cm!  Woo!  The epidrual was starting to wear off, and they offered to give me some more, and I say yes, so they call for the anesthesiologist.  But one of the Doc's thought something looked a little weird.  And then suddenly, Doctors!  Nurses!  Techs! Everyone!  Rushes into my room and checks machines and stares at me (well, a part of me) very intently and argues and orders drugs and suddenly I'm getting a shot in the arm because my contractions are happening so quickly that baby's heart rate wasn't able to recover, and was getting very low, so they needed to stop the labor from progressing so he could rest.  Not that they told me any of this at the time, mind you.  I'm just laying there wondering what the hell is going on and getting more and more scared as the minutes go by.  It wasn't until everyone but my regular nurse had left that she was able to talk to me.  And of course, explain that I can't get more pain meds because of the other shot they'd given me.


It starts to get a little fuzzy after that. Much pain.  Followed by more.  Followed by feeling like someone had shot an arrow through my hip and back and it got stuck there.  Followed by the most unfair thing ever- throwing up while having a contraction.  That was when I started crying.  I hate throwing up under the best of circumstances, but while my insides are twisting and there's a giant stick jammed in my back? Nope, not doing that.  I swear to God, if I could've talked I would've said something to the effect of "I give up, I'm not doing this anymore," despite how impossible that is.  It's probably a good thing that I wasn't able to say that, because I'm pretty sure I would've decked the nurse (or Joe) for telling me that giving up wasn't really an option at that point.

Finally by 11 I was able to start pushing!  Woo!  By this point I'd been at the hospital for 13 hours, and had been at 9 cm for 6.  So I start to push.  And I keep pushing.  And they keep saying positive, helpful things to me while I was pushing, and then telling me how he wasn't moving when the contractions subsided.  After....  uh...  an hour?  An hour and a half?  A midwife comes in to check on me and despite the fact that 3 other doctors and a few nurses had checked and said all was fine, she notices that the baby's facing the wrong way- sideways, instead of facing my spine.  So she turns him and finally at 1:...  13?  16?  I feel like I should know that.  1:16 I think, he was born.  Yay!

Yeah, I so didn't care.  All the pain meds had worn off, I was beyond exhausted, there was something said about meconium and the cord and there were pediatricians there and all I wanted was the anesthesiologist to come back and give me meds.  At one point I think they did actually offer to let me hold him and I, very polity I'm sure, declined.  After I got my meds though, I looked over and saw the look on Joe's face while he was watching them cleaning him up and felt a lot better.  It wasn't until later that I learned that the cord was wrapped around his neck during the delivery.  Some things might be better left unsaid, especially to an already freaking out and exhausted woman who only cares about getting through this horrible ordeal.

He's fine now though.  :)  And I'm feeling much better.  Well, sorta.  He didn't sleep at all last night, which meant that I didn't sleep at all last night (Joe was able to get a little bit of rest downstairs while I was up with baby because we need one of us to be able to drive to the Doc's appt today), so I made myself some coffee.  And NOW he sleeps.  All peaceful and quiet.  And even though I'm still exhausted, I can't sleep with fresh caffeine in my system.

And that's why I wrote this big long blog.

You're welcome.

Thursday, April 18, 2013

I can't believe I'm still pregnant!

Ok, first of all, FU to blogger to making it so freaking hard for me to get to this page, just because I made a new email account with my "new" last name. The one I've had for over a year.  For some stupid reason, I can't figure out how to add myself (as the new address) as a contributer to the blog.  And as I was writing that, it just signed me out of my "new" email address (that I've been using for several months, text me or something if you want it but don't have it) and automatically signed me into my old one.  *bangs head into wall*  I might just give up on this blog and start a whole new one.

Also- mac people- is there any way to right click with the mouse pad on the computer?  I got the actual mouse set up to right click, but then it died, so I only have the touch pad mouse thingie, and being able to right click is very helpful when writing cuz then I can fix spelling errors easily.  So, you know, sorry for all the errors in this one, I may go back and fix them, but I may not.  I'm sure you wont think of less me.

Today is April 18, 2013.  It is supposed to mark the end of my pregnancy.  It's only 10:30, so it still could.  There's still plenty of time for today to be my son's birthday.  The thing is though, it somehow never really occurred to me that I'd still be pregnant today.  I mean sure, I said that I knew I could be late going into labor.  Rationally, I knew that the whole "due date" thing is just the middle of the time when babies normally come, so it's not like it's some hard and fast rule.  I knew that lots of people go into labor a few days, or even weeks after this day.  And yet, in the back of my mind, I always knew that none of those silly little "facts" were relevant and that I'd give birth early!  That by today not only would I already have a baby, I'd probably already be home.  It still scares me too that everytime I look in the mirror, I swear my stomach is bigger.  He can't seriously still be gaining weight, can he?  At my last 5 or so doctor's appointments either the doctor or the nurse has commented on how I'm "all belly," and really, I feel like I am.  Not just how they meant it (one went on to clarify that my pregnant body looks pretty much like a normal, not pregnant body, except for the belly and the baby and not much else is different), but like I'm seriously all belly.  There's nothing else.  Just this giant stomach with this squirming and kicking and hiccuping person inside of it.

So I've been walking a lot.  Even when I'm not walking around the block, or to go "check the mail" for the 5th time, despite the fact that I got the mail the first time, I'm pacing.  I'm wandering around the house.  I'm investigating every leaf on my cilantro and basil plants (and cursing the existance of white flies, which technically, btw, aren't even flies, and are immune to even the strongest pesticides, and really like to kill all my plants because they're evil bastards and I hate them) and talking to the lizards that live around our house.  I'm drinking a ton of water, because that's what you're supposed to do, and the bathrooms are upstairs, so that makes me have to walk up and down the stairs a few dozen times a day, and I figure, that's good for me, right?  Loosen up my pelvis or something?  Everyone says that he'll come when he's ready, but that seems silly to me.  It's not him who we're waiting for, it's my uterus!  So it's my fault that I'm still pregnant!  Ugh.

I also feel like I've become really, really boring.  For the last several months my life has been all about waiting for this new life to be born, and not much else.  It's been over a year since I've had a job.  I don't see myself getting one anytime soon either.  I'd like to go back to work, I feel like I'll go crazy if I don't, but we'll see.  Right now, living here, it's not really an option.  I'm kinda hoping that once I have a baby, I wont want to work so badly.  I do have a friend here with a toddler (15 months, that counts as a toddler, right?), but lately it's kinda too hard to hang out with her, since it's so hard for me to move, or be more than 10 feet away from the bathroom at any given time.  And I can't really go anywhere, because I need to be ready to go to the hospital on a moments notice.  Well, probably not a moment's notice, I'll probably have several hours of notice, but I'd rather spend those hours at home with my husband and my cats and my comfy couch and bed.

I can say with a fair amount of certainty that though, that the next time I update this (or give up and make a new blog), I'll be a mother.  Which is such a scary thought....  Maybe it's ok that he's taking his time...