Birth story

**Woah. It's amazing how fast 8 weeks can fly by, in the tired happy blur that is life with a new baby. Quick update is that we are doing great. He is growing so big and just started sleeping a 5-hour stretch at night, which means that I'M finally getting a little more sleep. No one told me that when you decide to breastfeed, ALL YOU DO is breastfeed. It is seriously ridiculous how little I get done in a day. I started writing up his birth story a few weeks ago and wanted to share before even more time passed. (Yeah, I didn't INTEND to stop blogging!) It's not complete, but who knows when I'll get 2 hands free sitting at the computer again, so here goes...**
 

We went in for our 40-week appointment the Monday after our due date, and everything down below was still locked up tight. So we went back on Wednesday for an ultrasound to check his amniotic fluid levels and growth. I knew from the tech that fluid levels were good, but didn’t know his weight estimate til I met with my OB who entered the exam room with a serious look on her face. 10 lb 1 oz. Say what?? Little chunker was measuring over 10 pounds and apparently when converted to grams crossed the threshold of when c-section is medically an option. She began to talk about options and alternatives and risks, and I felt myself getting emotional and overwhelmed – all of a sudden, it was FINALLY getting real, and I realized that I was expected to make some decisions. I didn’t have much preconceived notion of how I wanted this birth to go down (denial!), and said so, adding through my tears “I just want him to get here safe.” I guess my worst case scenario in my mind was laboring for 20 hours and THEN having a c-section, and this was looking like a pretty real possibility if they tried to induce me. My doctor said as much, and I love that she acknowledged our rough history in wanting to make sure everything went as smoothly as possible. And so it was decided: c-section city for this sister. My doctor was scheduled for the hospital the next day, and assured me she would figure out a way for me to get on her schedule. By the time I left the office we had a tentative plan for the next day.

I left the office and made a tearful call to Mr. B. and my mom. For some reason I could not stop crying the rest of the day, completely overwhelmed with a mix of excitement and worry. I went to the grocery store and finished packing my hospital bag and wrapped up a few last loose ends at work. I tried to go to bed early (“better sleep now while you can…”) but we both had a restless night. But by the next morning my emotions had calmed and I felt focused and excited and ready. My BIL arrived to drive us to the hospital and we snapped a few last pics of the belly and us leaving the house. We checked in at triage, were sent up to our floor to check in again. Our L&D nurse fetched us, and turns out that she was a good friend of our SILs twin sister, also a L&D nurse at the hospital who called ahead to let her know we were coming. It was such a pleasant surprise, having this friendly face who we knew would take good care of us. We were put in a small private room near the operating rooms and began the process of getting an IV, hooking up monitors, and a series of visits from residents, anesthesiologists, etc. We got word that my mom and dad had arrived, and our nurse was sweet enough to allow my mom to hang out with us before and after surgery, even though technically should only have been Mr. B.

My OB came by shortly before Go Time. She explained generally what would happen, and added something to the effect, “This is a really weird kind of surgery – your husband is there and a baby is being born. It’s a birthday party and we celebrate it, keeping the mood light in there.” And then we were off: I was led out of the pre-op room alone to walk to the OR, leaving my mom and Mr. B. behind, sent off with hugs and kisses. For the first time that day, I felt myself start to lose it with emotion, but somehow managed to pull myself together. As my doctor and nurse walked me down the hall, we picked up members of the operating team along the way, all cheerily introducing themselves and offering congratulations. The OR room was a surreal clutter of machines and people, all chatting and bustling about, cheering as each new staff member entered the room like some big reunion, reassuring me that “you got the A-team.” They had me sit on the edge of the bed to get the spinal block, as a nurse sitting at a computer is asking me what bands I like. I notice she has Pandora up on her computer screen and somehow manage to have a coherent thought and spit out “Wilco?” That got cheers from the staff and my OB starts talking about how she saw their show that summer, and I share that Mr. B. was at that same show, and how we both saw them at a different show a few weeks prior. All this as they are now laying me down, strapping down both my arms like Jesus on the cross, and shaving my nether regions and putting in the catheter. Next thing I know the sheet is going up and Mr. B. is there, and things are happening. I don’t know how to describe the pulling and pushing and pressure – not painful, just bizarre. In what seemed like a few short minutes, I hear my doctor exclaim “He’s beautiful!” and after what seemed like an eternity later I hear the cries. The amazing, beautiful, unbelievable cries of our baby, entering the world, safe and sound. I burst into tears, sobbing and heaving so badly it occurs to me that they won’t be able to do their job correctly down below. The nurse is calling to me “Look over here, can you see??” and I turn my head and see our boy emerge from behind the sheet, a full head of dark hair and screaming his head off. This stranger who just came out of me. My little boy. My son. Wow.

***

Immediately after little guy made his appearance, I felt super nauseated. Which means in our first family photos, I am making the weirdest smile of happiness/pukiness and you can see the yellow barf bucket next to my head. What keepers. Mr. B. was a flurry of taking pictures and holding baby and chatting with the doctors and nurses, while I got stitched up and focused on calming the spinning room. Once ready, they wheeled us back to our recovery room, my OB just to my left helping to pull the bed with a huge smile on her face, my little boy in my own arms as they wheeled us along, and I think, “Wow, what a beautiful moment, I hope I don’t ruin it by puking on my baby.” Once in the room, we got down to business with some skin time, and I just held him tight and took it all in. Later my dad would say seeing a picture my husband took of us then, that was the one that made him tear up.

In good time little guy rooted around and latched right on like a champ, and from then on I finally got why people refer to breastfeeding as being so “natural.” Because, you know, it’s weird, um, someone sucking on my boob. But when this little creature knows what to do and it’s what he needs? Well, then he shall have it.

By about 6:30p we were sent up to our post-partum room where we would stay for the next 5 days. Right away we had a flood of visitors, our family who had been camped out at the hospital all afternoon in a show of support and excitement. My mom and dad, my brother and SIL, Mr. B’s mom and several siblings. I was exhausted and sore and delirious from the pain meds, but it was such a happy blur of pride, introducing him to everyone, so much love all at one time.

Mr. B. stayed with me in the hospital, passing quiet days of feeding and burping and diaper changes, and watching 30 Rock on the i.Pad, saying cute things like “I think he loves us.” I spent hours just holding him, staring at him, learning all his little features – the long toes, the dark hair on his ears and shoulders earning him his Monkey nickname. But C-section recovery is no joke, I tell ya. Oh the indignities, needing my husband to help me on and off the toilet, at one point begging him to help sponge bath me since I had such terrible night sweats. And the bloat, good lord the bloat – I blew up like a balloon with gas, my belly almost bigger than when I came in. So lovely. And then by Tuesday it was time to go home, and we dressed up little guy in the cutest little sleeper and headed out into the cold, and into our home and lives forever.

We love you so much, buddy. You are so worth everything it took to get you here, and more. I hope to be the best mama I can for you.