I Had A Baby
As was foretold by the prophecy (okay by me), you would know I had given birth when I didn't write a blog post. Well, I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl on August 16, and you'll note my last blog post was on August 11. You'll also notice, I'm sure, that I gave birth one day before I was due, and thank HEAVENS for that.
To be honest, I don't really know where to start with this. I suppose I might as well go in the order of events, but these past three weeks have been so eventful, and my writing opportunities few and far between (it's difficult to type while holding a baby). But I shall endeavor to go on, so here is the story of how my first pregnancy ended and baby Diana was born.
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It was the evening of Monday, August 15, and I had made a really yummy kielbasa and tomato sauce pasta for dinner. Isaiah got home from work in a normal amount of time, and we were eating dinner before heading out to the grocery store for this week's groceries. I wasn't feeling very hungry, so I didn't eat much. I'd been having Braxton-Hick's contractions off and on all day, so I might have also been slightly irritable (I don't remember, you'd have to ask Isaiah). Isaiah offered to do the groceries by himself this week, but I had it in my head that walking around the grocery store would help induce my labor so I was determined to go.
Off we went! We didn't want to get a lot of fresh produce that week because my due date was in two days, and the last thing we wanted was to head off to the hospital with tons of produce in our fridge and then come home to have to throw it away because we hadn't used it up in time. Isaiah wanted some candy, and we decided to get some M&Ms. The rest of our shopping proceeded normally.
Home once more, we unloaded our groceries and put them away, then settled down with some ice cream (topped with M&Ms) and Star Trek: DS9. I found that I wasn't particularly hungry for ice cream either, and couldn't finish my bowl. Isaiah didn't want to finish mine, so we put it in the freezer for me to finish later. After a bit, I was tired, so I showered and we went to bed.
As I tried to fall asleep, I was distracted with thoughts about labor, and I found myself feeling a new emotion regarding labor I hadn't really felt before. I felt scared. I didn't want to do it. I didn't know I'd be going into labor that night, but I knew it would be hard and painful and that afterwards I'd be stuck recovering from it while trying to take care of a newborn baby. I tried to push those thoughts out of my head, and fell asleep.
I woke up about 3am, with a particularly strong contraction and my routine need to pee. I headed back to bed and tried to fall back asleep, but was woken up by another contraction. Then another. I started timing them, and sure enough, they were lasting one minute and coming every five minutes. I woke up Isaiah and informed him if they kept up, we'd be heading to the hospital soon. After about a half hour of timing, they had gotten stronger, and my mother (whom Isaiah had been texting during this) informed us we needed to head out now. (I had already made that decision before she texted us this, but we informed Isaiah about the same time.) Isaiah asked if he could take a quick shower before we headed to the hospital. The hospital bag still needed a few things packed before we could go, so I graciously allowed him to shower, and proceeded to attempt to pack the hospital bag between contractions. When Isaiah got out (about 10 minutes later) I still hadn't finished packing, so he finished, and we headed out into the quiet night to the hospital.
We reached the hospital, and were given directions to head up the elevator to the floor we needed to be on. There was a heart-stopping minute in the elevator when it stopped, and we couldn't figure out why or how to open the doors to get off. I was ready to cry, and I'm sure Isaiah felt panicked as well, but it started moving again and we hurried off as fast as we could.
Once we were where we were supposed to be, the nurses gave me a jar to pee in and a hospital gown to change into. I knew I was a goodly way into labor at this point, and trying to figure out how the hospital gown worked with contractions making me have to hold onto the wall of the bathroom wasn't the best situation for me, mentally. I really struggled. Once I finally figured it out, they got me hooked up to a machine so they could tell how my labor was progressing before I actually got my own delivery room. The nurse asked if I was planning on having an epidural. I replied that I was. She noted that I was already very dilated, almost a 5, and that they'd get me all set up as soon as they could. Another lady came in to do paperwork and register me. I found it annoying, and even more so once we had finished filling out everything on her computer and then the page crashed, making us have to go through the whole thing AGAIN.
The contractions kept coming. The bed was uncomfortable and I really didn't like the placement of the straps on my abdomen. I did a fair amount of yelling each time a contraction came, and Isaiah and the other nurse attempted to remind me to breathe. I was not happy.
They finally had a room all set up for me. I was unstrapped and then informed that we'd walk over to the room. I didn't like that. Walking was the last thing I wanted to do. But, I had to, so I shuffled over across the floor and down the hallway in my hospital gown, trying to reach the room before my next contraction started.
Once I was inside the room and in my new bed, the first thing I noticed was how much more comfortable this bed was than the bed they had previously been monitoring me in. This was a nice bed. The nurse told us that the anesthesiologist would be here soon to give me my epidural, to which everyone responded happily.
At long last, the lovely anesthesiologist's assistant showed up, and my husband and mother-in-law were kicked out so I could receive my epidural.
After I received my epidural I felt like a human being again. I smiled when I saw my husband again. There was no more pain. It was great. We FaceTimed my mother and little sister in Hawaii, both of whom had decided to forego going to bed when they found out I was in labor. I slept through the rest of my labor until the nurse woke me and informed me that I was completely dilated, and it was time for me to start pushing.
My delivery nurse had changed from the one I had before I took my nap. My nurse now was a solidly steady black woman named Renee, who had helped many women give birth to their babies over the years. And so it was, with Isaiah on one side of me pushing one of my legs, and Renee pushing the other one, that I began the process of pushing.
Pushing was much harder than I had originally imagined. Honestly, I'd never actually imagined the process of pushing before. Everything I'd ever read focused mostly on getting through the contractions, and thanks to my epidural, I'd slept through the hardest part of them. Nothing had ever focused on how hard pushing was. It's not a gentle or dainty process, as Renee scolded me after my first few pushes. "You can't be dainty with these pushes, girl," she told me. "You gotta push HARD or else that baby's not gonna come out." Everyone does it, she also assured me. "They start out pushing really soft and then they figure it out."
We pushed for about a half an hour, and then Renee felt around and we determined that although I was ready to push, the baby needed some more time to get down into position, and hopefully get her head facing the right way to push against my cervix. Also, since the epidural was working too well, I couldn't feel any contractions or urge to push, so we gave me some Pitocin to help move that along. So, I got some Pitocin in me, and laid down on my side, and napped for another hour.
Time moved along, and Renee determined that everything was ready. We informed the doctor that I'd be pushing, and the baby would be on her way soon. Her head was still at an odd angle, but that wouldn't be too much of a problem. Most first babies did it. We heard the news that the doctor would be a few minutes till she got in, so Renee told me to take my time. In her words, "I've never had to catch a baby before, and I've no intention of doing it now. She'll come when she's ready, so just take your time."
We started the process of pushing again, and began making slow progress. For every inch we moved her down the birth canal, she pushed back. There was no being still with this baby. She was either moving forward or backward. Finally, after a lot of pushing, the doctor (she'd showed up by now) and everyone else down there could see her head. I was informed that she'd be out soon, and was asked if I wanted to feel the top of my baby's head.
I declined. I was busy enough trying to get her out, I would have rather just waited until she was all out and then I could rest and enjoy her. So I didn't feel her head, and I continued my mighty grunting pushes (okay but pushing really does take every single part of your body to work right) and... she wasn't really making any progress. Her head was there, but she was still facing the wrong way. She was very, very slowly making her way out, and Renee assured me I was doing everything right. We just needed the rest of her head to get through. Isaiah and Sandy assured me that it would surely only be just a few more pushes, I mean, I'd gotten so much head out already. Surely she was almost through?
I don't know how long that lasted, but I did slowly come to realize that my family and the doctor were lying to me each time they said she was almost out. She was not almost out. If she was almost out, she would have been out by now, because they said she was almost out what felt like half an hour ago! Her head was still there!
I was tired! I had been pushing for a long time (I didn't know how long I had been pushing at the time, but it felt like a long time.) and it felt like we were making no progress. (We were making okay progress, just not as much as we expected.) I didn't want to push anymore. I wanted to be done already. I wondered how long I would have to keep pushing before I would have to get a c-section because she wasn't coming out. I didn't voice that thought. But Renee, my beautiful kindly rock, my drill sergeant, my authority figure in the room, forced me to keep going. Every time she ordered me to push, I pushed, and when she asked if I could give one more push, I gave her all I could muster.
Finally, finally, finally, after what I was informed was two long hour of difficult pushing, my baby relented and came out. The doctor caught her as she slid out and plopped her straight on my chest, surprising me and everyone else in the room. (Surprise! She's here.) I was done! The doctor kept doing stuff like making sure the placenta came out, massaging me to slow down the bleeding, giving me stitches, all that jazz. I, on the other hand, cooed over my slimy baby girl who was sitting on my chest. She wasn't crying. She wasn't really doing much of anything. She was a little tired, I think, from being forcibly expelled from my body. She didn't look like a lizard. She was just a slimy little baby, and the slimy part was fixed after she got cleaned up. She was beautiful, and she was all mine. I nursed her and then she got cleaned up and wrapped in a blanket and then we had a little bundle! Much joy abounded.
So there it is! The story of how Diana was born, and my pregnancy ended. It only took me a month to write it.
Once I was inside the room and in my new bed, the first thing I noticed was how much more comfortable this bed was than the bed they had previously been monitoring me in. This was a nice bed. The nurse told us that the anesthesiologist would be here soon to give me my epidural, to which everyone responded happily.
At long last, the lovely anesthesiologist's assistant showed up, and my husband and mother-in-law were kicked out so I could receive my epidural.
After I received my epidural I felt like a human being again. I smiled when I saw my husband again. There was no more pain. It was great. We FaceTimed my mother and little sister in Hawaii, both of whom had decided to forego going to bed when they found out I was in labor. I slept through the rest of my labor until the nurse woke me and informed me that I was completely dilated, and it was time for me to start pushing.
My delivery nurse had changed from the one I had before I took my nap. My nurse now was a solidly steady black woman named Renee, who had helped many women give birth to their babies over the years. And so it was, with Isaiah on one side of me pushing one of my legs, and Renee pushing the other one, that I began the process of pushing.
Pushing was much harder than I had originally imagined. Honestly, I'd never actually imagined the process of pushing before. Everything I'd ever read focused mostly on getting through the contractions, and thanks to my epidural, I'd slept through the hardest part of them. Nothing had ever focused on how hard pushing was. It's not a gentle or dainty process, as Renee scolded me after my first few pushes. "You can't be dainty with these pushes, girl," she told me. "You gotta push HARD or else that baby's not gonna come out." Everyone does it, she also assured me. "They start out pushing really soft and then they figure it out."
We pushed for about a half an hour, and then Renee felt around and we determined that although I was ready to push, the baby needed some more time to get down into position, and hopefully get her head facing the right way to push against my cervix. Also, since the epidural was working too well, I couldn't feel any contractions or urge to push, so we gave me some Pitocin to help move that along. So, I got some Pitocin in me, and laid down on my side, and napped for another hour.
Time moved along, and Renee determined that everything was ready. We informed the doctor that I'd be pushing, and the baby would be on her way soon. Her head was still at an odd angle, but that wouldn't be too much of a problem. Most first babies did it. We heard the news that the doctor would be a few minutes till she got in, so Renee told me to take my time. In her words, "I've never had to catch a baby before, and I've no intention of doing it now. She'll come when she's ready, so just take your time."
We started the process of pushing again, and began making slow progress. For every inch we moved her down the birth canal, she pushed back. There was no being still with this baby. She was either moving forward or backward. Finally, after a lot of pushing, the doctor (she'd showed up by now) and everyone else down there could see her head. I was informed that she'd be out soon, and was asked if I wanted to feel the top of my baby's head.
I declined. I was busy enough trying to get her out, I would have rather just waited until she was all out and then I could rest and enjoy her. So I didn't feel her head, and I continued my mighty grunting pushes (okay but pushing really does take every single part of your body to work right) and... she wasn't really making any progress. Her head was there, but she was still facing the wrong way. She was very, very slowly making her way out, and Renee assured me I was doing everything right. We just needed the rest of her head to get through. Isaiah and Sandy assured me that it would surely only be just a few more pushes, I mean, I'd gotten so much head out already. Surely she was almost through?
I don't know how long that lasted, but I did slowly come to realize that my family and the doctor were lying to me each time they said she was almost out. She was not almost out. If she was almost out, she would have been out by now, because they said she was almost out what felt like half an hour ago! Her head was still there!
I was tired! I had been pushing for a long time (I didn't know how long I had been pushing at the time, but it felt like a long time.) and it felt like we were making no progress. (We were making okay progress, just not as much as we expected.) I didn't want to push anymore. I wanted to be done already. I wondered how long I would have to keep pushing before I would have to get a c-section because she wasn't coming out. I didn't voice that thought. But Renee, my beautiful kindly rock, my drill sergeant, my authority figure in the room, forced me to keep going. Every time she ordered me to push, I pushed, and when she asked if I could give one more push, I gave her all I could muster.
Finally, finally, finally, after what I was informed was two long hour of difficult pushing, my baby relented and came out. The doctor caught her as she slid out and plopped her straight on my chest, surprising me and everyone else in the room. (Surprise! She's here.) I was done! The doctor kept doing stuff like making sure the placenta came out, massaging me to slow down the bleeding, giving me stitches, all that jazz. I, on the other hand, cooed over my slimy baby girl who was sitting on my chest. She wasn't crying. She wasn't really doing much of anything. She was a little tired, I think, from being forcibly expelled from my body. She didn't look like a lizard. She was just a slimy little baby, and the slimy part was fixed after she got cleaned up. She was beautiful, and she was all mine. I nursed her and then she got cleaned up and wrapped in a blanket and then we had a little bundle! Much joy abounded.
So there it is! The story of how Diana was born, and my pregnancy ended. It only took me a month to write it.
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