The Baby Story-Day 1

This morning I was all set to get my epidural, having been told during the night that I'd reached the magic number 3 and could get it before starting the pitocin. Dr. Cook was even in the hospital, having been called in for an emergency c-section. Unfortunately, my best case was not to be, as "they" decided that I should probably get to a 3+ or 4 before getting it. Come on?!! What is a plus? So, we geared up to try to get the show on the road and get to that magic number......4!

My Goals for this Birth

I went into this with only a couple expectations or goals. My nurse told me that some women come in with 5 page birth plans all drawn up, so I didn't feel too bad about my goals.

1. No crying. I was determined that because I was going to get my epidural in time, that this time I would not cry, I would tough it out and not cry at all. Another problem I had with Thomas was that during my hard labor and wait for the epidural doc to show up, I ruined my contacts and had to use my glasses. I hate my glasses and don't see as well with them. This time around I took a spare pair of contacts just in case, but again, my goal was to keep from crying and messing with my contacts.

2. Get my epidural in time to avoid crying. Again, this involves my contacts as well as the thought that I'd already experienced the unbelievable and unimaginable pain of hard labor, so there was no need to go through this again. Been there, done that.

By the time my nurse upped my pitocin to level 3, I was in "the zone". My nurse tried to keep me occupied with chatter, distraction and options of walking around my room or rocking in the chair, but I found myself thinking of Julia in her delivery of Sam. She was totally focused. No sound, no lights, nothing but intense concentration. Noise bothered me. The lights bothered me. The way the tv was positioned bothered me. John walking across the room almost sent me over the edge. Luckily, he quickly sat down next to me, assumed the position and didn't move again. I may just have opened my mouth at that moment, and I don't know if the words out of my mouth would have been kind or even rational. Unlike the labor of Thomas, I found myself holding it together with a huge amount of help by John, who calmly recognized my need for his support and held my hand as we watched the minute hand through each contraction. All I could do was stare at the clock and watch the hand as it made its way around towards relief from the pain. John says it was an hour. I say it was two. By the end, I did not meet Goal Number 1. I was in tears and could not imagine going through it for any additional length of time. Thankfully, by that time, I'd reached the magic number 4 and we waited for the epidural doc to make his appearance. Dr. Newell is the son of Dr. Newell who worked with Bruce in the early days here in Bellingham. All I know is that he was an angel and should make quadruple whatever they're paying him these days.
Things went very quickly once I had the pain meds. Unfortunately, and I didn't tell them "this" part, the stomach flu that Thomas and John both endured during the week began to make its appearance with me as well. All morning my nausea had been increasing, but shortly before beginning to push, as Cooper was ready to go, my stomach decided it had first priority and John went running for the bucket. The nurses rushed in, only to again find me in tears, crying, "How am I supposed to push when I'm throwing up?" all blubbery and distraught. I'm sure it was quite the sight, and I am thankful that John and I have been together this long or he'd probably run for the hills. It's one thing to watch your wife give birth OR throw up. It's quite another to watch your wife vomiting AND birthing at the same time! They gave me a quick break and then hurried things up to get pushing. Two pushes into it and I had to stop-to throw up! Ahhhhhh! It was awful! Just awful. They shut things down again and went out for a quick conference with Dr. Cook. In the brief lull in throwing up, Dr. Cook quickly breaks things down and says to me, "Let's get into launch position." I believe he even said at one point something about throwing up might speed the baby down and out! Okay, no time for jokes here, folks! Cooper was out with a few pushes, thankfully (he was just "hangin out" while I puked my guts out), and that was that for the drama! Dr. Cook told me that I was probably sick from a big drop in my blood pressure and stuff like that, but I don't know. John was sick on Sunday, Thomas was sick on Tuesday. I figure it only made sense that Thursday would be my day, and oh how I prayed that Cooper would somehow be spared.
Cooper came out so beautiful! With Thomas they took him away and cleaned him up before letting me at him, but this time they pulled Cooper out and pushed him directly into my arms. I think I was still a bit shocky at this point, and I remember feeling that I didn't know what to do with him. He was so tiny, so wet, so perfect and beautiful, but I wanted them to remind me what to do with him. By the time the parents came in, I think I had it together enough. Thomas came in with Bruce, but he wasn't too thrilled with all the activity, the machines, the strangeness of it all, and all too soon he needed to leave. I felt bad that they had to go so soon, when I know they probably wanted to stay and hang out a bit. I can't tell them all enough how grateful I am that I didn't have to worry one bit about Thomas while we were busy at the hospital. I knew he was happy and content with them. Physically I came through it pretty well, although I had the shakes so bad for a long time that I thought I'd shake right off the bed. Mountains of blankets did the trick eventually, and I felt more like myself. Again, it may have been an issue with the blood pressure, as I heard the nurses remark off to the side that they had to watch "it", whatever it was. They never addressed it directly to me, so "it" must have resolved itself with time. Unfortunately, due to over crowding, I had to leave the big birthing suite for a room upstairs a few short hours after giving birth. I still couldn't move my lower body, though, and while John was away tucking Thomas into bed for the night, I had to try to urinate for the nurses, pack up my bags and shower all with no feeling in my lower body. It was a nightmare process I hope to never repeat. You aren't left with any dignity after a hospital stay like this. John came back just as it was time to move, and we trekked upstairs to "the closet" or a tiny room that looked like a room from a bad horror movie with a mental hospital featured. I looked around and told John that we would not be staying more than the one night, even if it went against doctor's recommendations.
Cooper had a great night despite several times when he vomited. It broke my heart to see it, but the nurses assured me it was common for newborns to urp up all the fluids, etc. I just prayed the flu didn't hit him too hard, and by morning it had passed. I think we slept a bit here and there, but during the dark of night I prayed for strength for the coming day, knowing that all too soon I would go home with not only Thomas to take care of, but this precious baby boy that we'd fallen in love with months earlier. You think you love...until you see them face to face. And then it's like there was never a time when you didn't love them. God truly gives you that extra storage of love that you don't think you're capable of.