Wesley's Birth Story Part 3: Happy Labor Day

(Continued from Part 1, and Part 2. Disclaimer: this is the labor and delivery part of the story, and while I have attempted to edit out the most gruesome details-- it's still a birth story. And childbirth is not pretty. So while I don't feel like this includes explicit details inappropriate for the public or even those with weak stomachs.. read at your own risk. Thanks!)

So here I was sitting in the hospital bed. They had hooked me up to the monitors. Baby was great, heart rate great, nice strong contractions coming about 3 minutes apart. They were not at all pleasant, but I was dealing. Concentration. Deep breaths. Focus on the end, Valerie. This is what you wanted.
This IS what I wanted. My husband looked at me like I was growing a third hand out of my forehead when I tried to explain it to him-- but even though I wasn't looking forward to the pain, and no one enjoys the pain, I wanted to experience the pain of labor. I wanted to experience my body doing labor on it's own-- because I didn't get to last time. And it was! It was doing labor splendidly on it's own!
As soon as the nurse saw contractions were that close together, she went ahead and checked my cervix. She told me an 8 or a 9 and 100% effaced. We were close.
An 8? or a 9? Last night I was crying because I was a three and not budging. Everything was going so quickly! She told me I was doing splendidly. She even complimented my calm as I slowly talked through contractions giving her all the info she needed to officially check me into the hospital. She went to put my IV in, and I asked her to wait until the contraction had passed, and she just kind of chuckled because she wouldn't have known I was having a contraction if I hadn't stopped her.
Don't get me wrong-- I wasn't breezing through those suckers. They hurt. They hurt like crap. They hurt like bad words I was screaming in my head that wouldn't be prudent to share on this family friendly blog. But I was in the zone. I was focused and feeling every second of this labor and feeling very in control of the situation-- which is funny because labor is pretty explicitly involuntary-- nonetheless. I was doing it. I was there.
Shortly after we got settled in Z asked do you want them to get your epidural? And I said-- no. I want to do this for a while. And the nurse kind of made a face-- "I don't think you have a while to do this. You are pretty much at your decision time, hun. Epidural now or not at all."
"I-- I want to do this for a while. I don't want the epidural right now, I'll tell you later when I am ready for it." And then I was in the zone for another contraction, and Zachary reluctantly repeated to the nurse who was shaking her head, "I guess she'll let you know when she is ready for it."
Now here's where things started getting fun.
If you read Sam's Birth Story you remember that I got all pukey when the pain got too intense at the end. I thought that was just a fluke and a reaction to the pitocin, but nope. Apparently, I'm a puker. You know what I hate? Puking. You know whats even worse? Puking with an audience.
All of a sudden the pain got intense and I yelled at Z, "I'm gonna puke! I need a thing!"
And he looked around for a 'thing' but came up with nothing, and grabbed a trashcan off the floor at the last possible moment before I started puking up that oatmeal. Mmmmm... oatmeal.
And then there were contractions, and puking, and more contractions and more puking and I was no longer in control of anything and I was crying and apologizing for crying and puking on everyone and the nurse came back in the room... oh boy.
She got me a clean gown and some clean sheets. Checked me again, 9 and 100% but my water had not broken, so I could still have an epidural, but once that water broke it was go-time.
"I'll let you know."
I got up to go to the bathroom, and a contraction hit and I couldn't stand or sit and I remember wanting to cry and wanting to scream and knowing that I was in so much pain neither was possible. I walked out of the bathroom and leaned on the bed, and said, "Okay, get me the epidural. I have felt all that I need to." And she said, okay, and hooked up my IV.
It was about 11:30. They finally got the epidural and I was trying to find a comfortable position when the back labor hit and I started puking again and contractions right on top of one another and why wasn't the epidural working for goodness sake??? Then a little alarm went off on the IV drip... and I was all, "Oh my gosh I'm dying! That's the heart rate saying I'm flatlining, my heart has stopped I'm dead I'm dead I'm dead." I was perhaps a little foggy and dramatic from the pain at this point, and the nurse came in and assured me I was in fact not dead at all, and my heart was fine, and that the epidural line was pinched in the case. She freed it and...
AHHHHHHHH! It was like choirs of baby angels singing to me as the instant, warm, tingling relief rushed down my legs. Then she got me some anti-puking meds, and more angels. Then I sat back in my bed and smiled. "Look how great this is going!" I giggled to my husband, who just rocked in his chair and shook his head at me.
About noon the Doctor came in and checked me. She said I was like a 9.5... there was just a little ledge up under the bulging bag that wasn't quite ready. She decided to break my water, then would come back in about a half hour and we would start pushing. Yay! Then she left.
"Wait-- wasn't she going to break my water?" I asked
"SHE DID" Z said. And the nurse laughed at me because I was completely unaware I was sitting on a soaked bed. Oh, HAY Epidural! Thanks for your services. My water breaking was the single most disturbing part of Sam's delivery. Didn't even know it had happened this go around.

Big brother Sam and Grandpa killing time in the waiting room.

We waited the half hour and the doctor did not come back. After 45 mins the nurse checked me. Still not there. I needed to labor down for a while. Okay. I listened to some christmas music. I chatted with my husband. (I think he answered about 15 texts from my mom-- is he here yet? is he here yet? is he here yet?) I looked around facebook for a while. I was getting bored and anxious. I knew we were close, I was ready for my baby!

A little after 2:00 the nurse came in and checked me one last time. It's a 10!!! Time to push!
We did a few 'practice pushes', and she was all, oh yeah, this kid is going to get here soon. Rest a few contractions. Don't mind if I do, thanks.
And then the room started filling up, the L&D nurse, the doctor's assistant, the intern that popped in for the show, the nursery nurses.
"Hey it's a party!" I said. And they all looked at me like I was a loon. "A birthday party? Because my son is about to be born?" (crickets...) Tough crowd. Anyway...
The nurses from the nursery did take that moment to come over and view how ginormous my belly was, and make bets about the size of the kid inside. Oh, I see, you are comfortable gambling in my delivery room, but not laughing at the laboring woman's jokes.
And then we were pushing and pushing and everything is going great, and there's the head, it's halfway here, "Oh, crap, stop pushing, the Doctor is not here yet."
Cruelest thing ever. Do they do that to every woman or just me? Because it's happened twice now. And we were waiting waiting waiting for the doctor. She's on her way...
TELL. HER. TO. RUN.
I think it was about 3 minutes but it felt like at least an hour laying there wanting to push waiting for the doctor. I'm not really a screamer in delivery, not even a crier. But sitting there waiting for the doctor at the very most intense part of the delivery process was everything I could do to keep it together. I looked at my husband and said-- "This is not fun anymore." But my voice broke--betraying my attempt at light heartedness, and he just squeezed my hand, tried to be encouraging. I don't remember if he said anything in response, but I remember being overwhelmingly grateful he was there. My amazing husband. My strong, calm, patient, ROCK.
When the doctor slipped into the room, she barely got her gloves on and I was back in business one good push and BAM. There was his head. And push for the body and...
Baby cries!

Beautiful beautiful baby sounds. And my sweet, rolly, baby boy was laying on my chest and everyone gathered around us oohing and ahhing. Someone grabbed my camera and snapped this picture of Z cutting the cord.

Z cuts the cord
(See he's still in his work uniform? Classy!)

Then they wiped him off, and he snuggled down into my chest. His little cries ceased, and he snuggled into his mama whimpering like a little puppy dog. It was a beautiful and joyous moment. Pure perfection. A rush of adrenaline, joy, satisfaction, completeness.

It was 2:35. Just 7 hours after I woke with the first contraction that morning.

(Stay tuned for more details and pictures from Wesley's Birthday in part 4!)

Sam's Birth Story, Part III: Finally!

 *Please note: This is long. And possibly kinda boring. This record of the day is more for my own sake than for fascinating reading material. But I divided it up to make it easier to digest... and I tried to keep it free of the more graphic moments of labor and delivery, cuz let me tell you that stuff can get ugly. Even still, if you are likely to be offended by things of that nature: read at your own risk.

(Continued from Part I, and Part II...)

It was 9:05 when the nurse said we were ready to start pushing.
I am pretty sure I cheered and threw my hands in the air. The nurse laughed at me and said I wouldn't be cheering for long. She started prepping the room... pushed a button and lights and mirrors started unfolding out of the ceiling, it was crazy! Yes-- I said mirrors.
Initially I was all, Ew, mirrors, no thank you, I don't need to see that hot mess. But then when we were there and in the middle of it, my curiosity got the better of me. I told the nurse to leave it there...
She pulled the big stirrups out, and put my legs in there. I looked at my feet, and over at my husband, and said, "I'm so glad I got a pedicure last week."
The nurse laughed at me again-- "Really? You are thinking about your toenails right now?"
Well, not exclusively. But yeah. I had to stare at my feet in the air for the next who knows how long, and I am glad I had pretty, clean nails with silver sparkles on them. It was something non-messy to be thankful for at that very moment. Because let's not lie-- having a baby is messy business.

It was 9:05 p.m. when we started. I looked at Z and said "Remember how our baby is perfect and smarter than most, and an over achiever?" He just nodded, "Well, this is gonna go fast-- over-achiever style. I am going to push extra hard, and he'll be here in just a few minutes." He said, "okay." I was trying very hard to tap into the power of positive thinking... because I felt anything but positive about my ability to do this, but there was no turning back at this point.

If you'll recall, one of the big reasons we induced was so we could be sure our doctor was there to deliver baby boy. She had been there all day, and for the past couple hours just hanging out waiting for us to be ready. (My husband reported after one trip for ice chips that she was sitting at the nurse's station chatting and snacking on potato chips. sigh. What I would have given for potato chips at that point... nothing but ice chips since 6:00 that morning.) Well after about 2 pushes my doctor comes into the room looking all apologetic. She was called to an emergency c-section. She would try to make it back in time for us, but if not she wanted to introduce us to her colleague who would deliver for us... I was in the zone, I didn't even understand what she was saying really. I still don't know the doctor's name she was trying to introduce us to.
Every contraction I pushed so hard. I was focused and determined, but my body wasn't keeping up with my resolve. The nurse suggested I rest through a couple, but I shook my head no. Z would spoon ice chips into my mouth... and I begged for a drink of water, but they wouldn't let me have any. I was sweating and dizzy and starting to get frustrated. (no longer cheering or appreciating toe nail polish) Z and the nurse kept encouraging me, "You are doing great! You are making great progress! That was a really good one!" I kept looking at the clock in front of me and seeing the hands move around the circle. I knew how much time had passed, even though it didn't feel like time was moving.
Finally the nurse said she could see his head. She said he had lots of hair! I tried to believe it, but I was so tired. 50 minutes had passed. This was supposed to go faster. Z stepped to the end of the bed to look, Yes, he assured me he had see his head as well. "You are doing so good, you are so close." I didn't see it, because I was so focused on my task, but Z later admitted to me that he got a little choked up at this point seeing baby's head and knowing we were so close to holding our baby boy.
The nurse told me just a few more pushes. And I was so tired and frustrated, and my body and my resolve were giving out. But I took another deep breath and gave it everything I had... and suddenly the nurse was saying Whoa! Stop! Stop pushing!
Stop? Stop pushing? Right now? Right here in the middle in the exact moment it is absolutely hardest to stop? 
"I can't!" I said, and I started crying as she explained that last push had pushed his head out, and they had to go get the doctor to deliver. I didn't want to wait for the doctor though! I was in the middle of it-- I knew this was the moment! The most important part! The hardest part, and I didn't want to stop and wait for the doctor!
I thought about the mirror for the first time and looked into it... I could see the top half of his head. The nurse was right. Lots of hair. I wanted to cry and scream and laugh all at the same time. I wanted to hold my baby NOW and I wanted to be done with this. It hurt so bad, and my body wanted to keep going and I was so mad, and all of a sudden in the middle of everything else a wave of nausea hit me. I asked for a drink of water, and the nurse said, "No, not yet."
"I think I am going to throw up!" I cried.

And I did.
And I felt his head slip out as I did. And I was apologizing and felt embarrassed that I had thrown up in front of everyone--of all things to feel at that very moment! But the doctor was finally in place, and she was laughing telling me it wasn't the first time someone had puked out a baby. I looked up in the mirror again and I could see his grey head, and his little face. He was such a strange looking creature.
But they were telling me to push again, and I didn't think I had it in me to push again. I told them I needed to rest first, and they said no, I can't rest at this point. I grabbed the bucket and puked maybe once or twice more. Then I took a deep breath and pushed one more time... and saw his body slip out.

I cried out victory and relief! And baby boy did the same! They put him on my belly. He was red and screaming--no longer grey--and I was laughing and crying. And Z kissed me on the forehead... then he got to do his dad duties and cut the umbilical cord. Much too soon they took baby boy over to clean him, weigh him, and do all that official stuff. It was just on the other side of the room-- a few feet away, but it felt like miles! Z was still standing by my side, holding my hand, and we were listening to baby boy cry watching from where we were. He was torn, and I said-- "HE NEEDS HIS DAD!" And he smiled and ran across the room where he stood staring at our perfect boy.

 "What's his name?"
Ah, the question we had been asked hundreds of times over the past month. And even today, every doctor and nurse had been trying to get it out of us all day. I looked at Z and smiled. We had been waiting a long time to share this information with the world, and even this last moment we were hesitating just a little... "SAMUEL!" I blurted out, "Samuel Ellis." And everyone oohed and ahhed their approval.

To be continued...

Sam's Birth Story, Part II: Longest day ever!

*Please note: This is long. And possibly kinda boring. This record of the day is more for my own sake than for fascinating reading material. But I divided it up to make it easier to digest... and I tried to keep it free of the more graphic moments of labor and delivery, cuz let me tell you that stuff can get ugly. Even still, if you are likely to be offended by things of that nature: read at your own risk.

(Continued from Part I)
...We arrived at the hospital at 6:45 AM. They were ready for us when we arrived and took us right over to a room. The labor and delivery rooms at the hospital are huge, and it seemed weirdly too big and quiet when we got in there. I had Z open the blinds on all the windows, and the sun was rising... it felt better with the windows open. (It was a beautiful sunny day, and as the day progressed, sunlight would stream in the window and it felt bright and hopeful. Every time the nurse came in, she offered to close the blinds so the sun wouldn't shine so brightly in our eyes, and I declined. I wanted the sunlight in my eyes. It was nice.)

I got dressed in the ultra-sexy hospital gown, and our nurse, Leah, came in and started the IV. Then we went over a bunch of medical history-- boring stuff. She attached me to the monitors. We could hear baby boy's heartbeat!! It was reassuring, and made me anxious to get started on the 'work' I had to do today.  At 7:30 AM they started the pitocin, and then she left the room and Z and I just kinda looked at each other. Sooo... now what?
Now we wait.
Z turned on the TV for a while. I tried to sleep-- but I couldn't, I was too excited. I flipped through a magazine. I told Z to turn off the TV and we turned on some music. I got bored with the music and he turned the TV back on. The nurse came in, checked everything, turned up the pitocin, and left again. Only an hour had passed.
We went through a few more hours the same way... me being restless and frustrated and not really progressing and nothing to do but wait. finally around 10:00 I called my mom. "Where are you? Get here soon, we are bored!"
My mom and in-laws arrived at the hospital shortly after that and we all sat around chatting and giggling. Z had discovered the machine that tracked my contractions and would report to everyone-- "Another contraction, this is a big one!" I know, I'm the one having them. (check out the fancy machine to Z's left that tracks contractions... ooooh...)

The nurse would come in and check with me-- How are you feeling?
"A little uncomfortable"
"A little uncomfortable is not going to cut it..." and she would up the pitocin.
At 1:00 my doctor came in and said they were going to break my water to see if that would make my labor progress any. Z shuffled the family out of the room, and the doctor went about her business...
Let me just tell you, in case you have never experienced it... water breaking = grossest. feeling. EVER.
I was horrified as it happened and horrified that my husband was in there when it happened. Gross.
Once they got that mess cleaned up my family came back in the room to hang out-- but it was not fun anymore. Immediately after breaking my water the next contraction (rated by my husband as a 'very small' one) hurt like crap. I was all, oh, dang... game face. I breathed calmly through the next couple contractions. Each one got more intense. I was trying not to panic, and everyone else was trying to maintain the light-hearted demeanor from just moment ago, but i couldn't handle people talking anymore... I told the nurse to go ahead and get the anesthesiologist, and Z suggested to the family that maybe they should go get some lunch...
He sensed that things had taken a turn for me, and he was really sweetly protective of me. I love him for that.
It was about an hour before the anesthesiologist got there, and it was not a fun hour. My contractions picked up in intensity and frequency. Zachary was there holding me, talking to me, breathing with me-- he was amazing really. I wanted so bad to tel him how much I loved him for it... but I was too preoccupied with the pain to get it out.
I know what you are thinking. I am such a wus for requesting pain meds, and requesting them so soon-- but my Dr told me the kid wouldn't likely be born until midnight that night, and the only thing I could think was-- There is no way in hell I am doing this for ten hours.
The worst of the contractions came as the epidural guy got there, and they are all talking to me about consent forms and other stuff and I was like GET THE DRUGS IN ME THEN WE WILL CHAT ABOUT STUPID STUFF. The awesome thing about epidurals is they are pretty much instantaneous relief. One moment I was beside myself in pain, and the next I sat back in my bed, sighed, and said to my husband, "Epidurals are my favorite!"

So the family came back in at some point, and I slept some and the next few hours were uneventful, but ridiculously slow. Z would occasionally update everyone on how big my contractions were. The nurse would occasionally come in and check on me. I think I texted my sister and my best friend a couple times...
About 7:30 stuff started getting intense. Even though the epidural was handling the pain, my body was having a harder time dealing with the intense contractions at this point, and I was shaking uncontrollably and starting to get uncomfortable. My mom was super worried about me, but I was fine. I knew we were getting close. Z knew, too. I had him send the family away again, and he sat beside me just holding my hand.
I don't remember if we talked at all. I remember I was looking at my husband and thinking this would be the last moment ever that we were just the two of us. And I loved him so much.
The nurse came in and checked me several times,
"Getting close, dilated to a 9.5"
"So much closer... just a little bit on one side"
"You are almost there, if you feel like you want to start pushing, try not too, okay? Not yet."
The epidural was wearing off and I would squirm with every contraction trying not to do what my body wanted to. Z would look me in the eye after each one. "Are you okay?"
Yes.
"Do you want me to get the nurse?"
Not yet.
I held off for almost an hour. It was the longest hour ever. Then I finally knew I couldn't do it anymore, and sent Z after the nurse. She came in and checked me one last time at 9:00 pm and finally said, "Okay, you are ready. Lets have a baby."

To be continued...