Jude's Birth

Jude is now one week old and he's a good little boy. Here is how he came to us.

I woke up on November 19 around 7 am. My first sensation was that I was a little damp. I laid there for a minute or two trying to figure that out. I thought, "What is this... am I peeing?" After investigating I found a softball-sized wet spot on the sheet. I heard Jono getting ready to leave for work so I called his name. "Jono. Come here a minute. I'm wet." He came into the bedroom wide-eyed. "I think maybe my water broke," I said. My doctor had told me that one way to tell if you're leaking amniotic fluid is by its smell. It smelled sweet, which is how she had described it. I had also heard that some women gush when their water breaks and others trickle. Apparently I was a trickler.

We started getting excited and decided we should call the doctor in an hour if contractions hadn't started. Meanwhile we started packing our bags for the hospital. I felt very calm while this was happening, not wanting to jump ahead of myself. Maybe today was the day and maybe it wasn't -- I didn't know. At 8:30 I called the doctor's office and told the nurse what I thought had happened. She told us to come in at 10:00 so they could check me out.

We took the dog for a walk, packed the car, drove to Joel and Jessie's to drop off a key to our house so they could pick up Mona later, and stopped at The Schnitz for breakfast. We weren't in a huge hurry. Still no contractions.

By the time we arrived at the doctor's office, I noticed my trickle was turning into more of a gush. On the examining table the doctor knew my water had broke before she tested the fluid, but she held up the little blue strip of paper for me that confirmed it. She asked if we had our bags ready for a hospital stay and told us we should head in that direction.

We drove down to St. Mary's and headed to the ninth floor. They checked us in to a labor and delivery room at around 11 am. I put on one of those super-attractive hospital mu-mus and socks with the grippies on the bottom.

Then we waited.

We were told that if I didn't go into labor soon they would have to induce me because of the risk of infection. Once your water breaks the only barrier between your baby and the outside world has been removed. I was nervous about this possibility because it would increase my chances of having to take pain medication. Induction of labor makes contractions come fast and intense.

A nurse suggested I get into the whirlpool tub to try and get things going. I did, but half an hour later there was still nothing. We did a few laps in the hallways. By early afternoon my mom showed up and we sat around talking for awhile. They hooked me up to a machine that would monitor both my contractions and the baby's heartbeat. I was having small contractions once in awhile, but nothing to write home about. They were sporadic and I could easily carry on a conversation right through them. They told me my doctor had contacted someone who could administer Pitocin, a labor-inducing drug.

By mid-afternoon my dad came and the four of us sat around while the nurses went in and out checking my progress. My parents went to the cafeteria around 5pm to get Jono something to eat. While they were gone a contraction came that I actually needed to breathe deeply through. When my parents came back with Jono's food they said I had a look on my face that told them what was happening, so they headed to the waiting room. Jono's parents showed up soon after that and joined them there. They ended up spending a very long time in that little room and got into some shenanigans to keep themselves entertained (including disappearing from the room while my mom was in the bathroom so she would think the baby had been born and they'd left her behind. I'm told the look on her face was priceless.)

Meanwhile my contractions became stronger and more regular. For the next few hours I breathed through them and tried different labor positions while Jono rubbed my back and held my hand. I was back in the whirlpool once, on and off the bed, and I sat on the "birthing ball" for awhile. This stage is already foggy for me because of what came later.

At one point they came in to check my cervix and after hours of labor I was only 3-4 cm dilated. In came the on-call doctor. He said if I hadn't dilated further in the next 45 minutes they "strongly recommended" I be induced. We agreed because of the infection risk if labor took too long, and also I was already getting tired from the contractions and couldn't imagine having to go all night with them. About an hour later they checked me again and I'd gotten to 6/7 cm. My nurse and the doctor looked happy - I wouldn't need the Pitocin.

By now I was mainly focused on getting through contractions and didn't care who came in the room or what they were saying. I hardly had time to listen to a string of sentences from someone before another one would come. The breathing techniques were still helping and Jono was feeding me ice chips, but there were a few in there that I was pretty much whimpering through. I asked my nurse, "I don't want to commit to anything and I don't want an epidural, but do you having anything to take the edge off?" She explained my options, saying that both drugs would also go to the baby and make him lethargic. In childbirth class we learned that a lethargic baby is often given another drug after birth - a stimulant to help wake him up. I didn't like that in his last moments in the womb and first moments in the world he would be pumped up with drugs, so I decided not to take them.

Shortly after that a big whopping contraction took hold of me and I started having thoughts like, "Okay, who in their right MIND does this without an epidural?!" But I'd made my decision and wasn't going back on it. Plus labor was progressing so fast now that I doubt they would've had time to give me anything.

I'd confined myself to the bed at this point because I needed to lie down and rest between each contraction. When one would come I would turn on my side and hold on for dear life to the side-rail on the bed. I remember going into a trance between them. I was having strange dream-like thoughts, like wishing I was everyone else in the room. I thought, "I know that nurse has crappy hours and has to work the night shift, but I'd give anything to just be her right now." Even before the pushing phase started I was exhausted. I kept my eyes closed because it helped me focus. When I'd feel one start to build I would grab Jono's hand, arm or neck and hold on tight. The ice chips were fantastic - the crunching sensation plus the cold liquid going down my throat were a huge relief. Jono had a cup full of them in his hand and he would spoon-feed me a cube immediately after a contraction would pass. Jono was such a good birthing coach. He kept telling me that I could do it, I was doing great, and I was his hero. He let me pull his hair.

Eventually, of course, I felt like pushing. I told my nurse and she and my doctor came in with the delivery table. Then the show really started. I was relieved to be able to push because it helped lessen the pressure from the contraction. They say the pushing phase is two steps forward, one step back, which gets discouraging when you feel like you're pushing your insides out. Which you are.

An hour later he still wasn't out. I would push and the doctor and nurse would say, "Good, good, good! That's exactly it!" But then he wouldn't come out. The pressure in my pelvis was enormous, and it was now accompanied by a strong burning sensation. I was feeling like it would never happen. I was convinced they would have to do an emergency c-section or get him out with forceps. I wondered what they would have to do to me if he just didn't come out... ever.

We decided to try the squatting bar, so they brought it in and put it over the bed. I used it through the next couple of contractions, but it took too much of my energy to get up each time to grab the bar and then lie back down again once it has passed. The doctor suggested I brace my legs on the bar instead. This helped, but still wasn't enough. Then my nurse, God bless her, said she had an idea that had worked for a lot of women. She grabbed a towel and stood at the end of the bed. When my next contraction came I braced my legs on the bar and grabbed the other end. The nurse and I then played tug-of-war with the towel while I pushed. I could tell this was working and I felt slightly encouraged. They told me they could see his head and asked if I wanted to touch it. I reached down half-heartedly. I was glad his head was there, but until it came all the way out I wasn't going to count on anything.

The pinnacle moment (pain-wise) came when he crowned during one contraction, but then it faded off before I could get him out. I was beside myself. Jono told me later I was thrashing on the bed and looking at him like, "DO SOMETHING." They told me his hand was up by his face and he was slightly twisted. Jono looked down and saw his little hand before anything else. He started saying "There he is Em, he's almost here!" over and over.

When the final contraction came I remember screaming and pushing with what seemed like the last bit of energy I would ever have for the rest of my life. Jono was giddy, I was in another world. I could tell when his head had come out and then his body. The doctor lifted him up and put him on my stomach. I couldn't believe it. There he was. His eyes were wide open and he was looking at me. It was the most unbelievable thing I've ever seen to have that little baby lifted onto me like that with his almond-shaped eyes wide open and his umbilical cord still attached. I quickly looked between his legs to make sure the ultrasound had been right (I was a little paranoid about this near the end of the pregnancy). Jono cut the cord. I felt like I was coming out of a fog. He cried a little bit and I nursed him for the first time.

The doctor delivered the placenta then and showed it to us. She described what everything was and how it had nourished little Jude. I had thought I would be really grossed out by this but I wasn't at all. She could've been holding up a new puppy and describing it to us instead of a placenta and I would've felt no different about it.

They took him off of my chest to weigh and measure him. Then they wrapped him a blanket, put a little hat on him and gave him back to me. I felt completely energized. I didn't think a second wind was possible after that, but it came. The long-suffering grandparents were invited in from the waiting room. They surrounded the bed and we were blinded by flash photography. It was cute :) They asked what his name was, and I told them. Jude is the first grandchild on all three sides. They all watched as he got his first bath, which he hated.

After awhile the parents went home and they wheeled us down to our post-partum room. It was 2:30 am when we finally went to sleep. We spent the next two days and nights in the hospital and it was wonderful. All of our nurses were great, and I spent the entire time in that big mu-mu. My only concerns were feeding Jude, sleeping and getting up to go to the bathroom. When I finally put some real clothes on to go home in on Saturday it felt very strange, and nice. Jude went home in his little bear suit and his scarf -- the one that matches Daddy's.

Jono is a proud proud papa, and he's been an amazing help to me over the past week. He is vacuuming upstairs as I write this.

Yes, I'm very lucky.

1 cm

I had another appointment this morning. Still gaining a pound or two a week on average. After examining me my doctor said I have a "favorable cervix". On the phone after the appointment Jono said, "I knew that. That's why I married you." Ha ha. All that means really is that I'm ready to go and if I needed to be induced for any reason, I could be. I'm about 90% effaced, 1 centimeter dilated, and I'm due one week from today.

We are still running around finishing up last-minute tasks around the house and making sure we have everything for Gordito. We made a rather unsuccessful trip to a couple of stores last night for a few last things. We brought home a diaper pail that it turns out only works with disposable liners, a wonky hamper that needs to be returned, and a dog bed for Mona that is too small to contain her super-fuzzy body. *Sigh*. I really don't like shopping. And whenever we go to Babies R Us I feel like the Will Ferrell character in the movie Old School...

Frank: I told my wife I wouldn't drink tonight. Besides, I got a big day tomorrow. You guys have a great time.

College Student: A big day? Doing what?

Frank: Well, um, actually a pretty nice little Saturday. We're going to go to Home Depot. Yeah, buy some wallpaper, maybe get some flooring, stuff like that. Maybe Bed, Bath, & Beyond, I don't know, I don't know if we'll have enough time.

Anyway, my mom has been asking me if the doctor ever says anything about how big she thinks Gordito is. I asked her today and she said he seems kind of long and possibly about 7 pounds at the moment. Pretty average overall. She commented again on how often he likes to stick his butt out. Then she gave me some tips on how to get labor started. We'll give these a test drive and see if they work :)

1/2 cm

I had my weekly appointment again this morning. Cervix is tilted forward, 1/2 cm dilated. Woot!

Last time the doctor tapped his head through the cervical wall, but this time there was just enough space so that she could actually reach in and touch him. So weird. I'm 38 weeks with two weeks to go.

Today (don't forget)

A couple of my milestone doctor appointments seem to have lined up nicely with big moments in politics. Today is Election Day in America, and to kick it off I was in my doctor's office getting a pelvic exam. It was my first since the initial appointment to confirm that I was pregnant, so I was excited to know if there was any progress being made.

As of today I am 60% "effaced", meaning the cervix is beginning to thin in preparation for birth. It is usually firm like the tip of your nose, but mine now feels like the skin on your cheek. It's also in the middle stages of tipping forward, which is something it needs to do before the baby can be born. I haven't started to dilate yet, but there are definite steps in that direction.

He has been head-down for a few months now, and during the exam she said, "Oh yeah, his head is right there." She gave him a few taps on the top of his little noggin and told me that he has probably dropped because of how low he is sitting, but he hasn't yet "engaged". To me this makes him sound like a rocket ship about to launch, which I guess isn't too far off. From now on I get to go in every week to see how close I am to having him.

She told me that no matter what the signs, there is really no telling when exactly he will come. "You can be at the stage you're at now and go into labor tonight, or you could still be three or four weeks away," she said.

Wow, well that's easy to prepare for then. I'll just stay tuned with the rest of you :)

On Your Mark, Don't Get Upset, GO

I used to think that was the right thing to say before a race when I was little. It kind of applies now.

We had our final Preparing for Childbirth class last night and got to watch video footage of a birth. There have been a few other times when we've been shown certain phases of the process, but this last one was pretty comprehensive, starting with the first labor pains and ending with the baby coming out and being placed on it's mother's chest.

I have a hard time not bawling through birth footage. Or feeling like I need to run out of the room. I forget to breathe.

Again, the mixed feelings. One second I'm afraid and want to say, "No thanks. I'll take the stork-dropping-it-off option." But then the baby comes out all curled up with its little eyes open and I'm so happy for the people in the video after all that struggle and wish it was me who was done with the whole thing.

I guess now we're considered ready to give birth. Our instructor's last line to us was, "Alright then, go out and have your babies!"

Riiiight.

32 weeks / 8 months

Pic 1: Hmmm.
Pic 2: Hey Mona, are you ready for this? Wait...am I?
Pic 3: Mona with knitted brow, expressing her feelings for both of us.

Holy cow. I'm eight months pregnant. As you can see, pretty ripe for the picking at this point.

I'm supposed to gain about a pound a week from now on until he comes. Half of each pound goes straight to him.

I have two months to go, which sounds confusing. Aren't women supposed to be pregnant for nine months? I'm no math whiz, but 8 + 1 = 9 and 8 + 2 = 10. What they don't tell you about pregnancy is that it's nine full months, or 40 weeks -- you're pregnant through the end of that ninth month -- so really you've just about hit ten months by the time the kid arrives.

The whole business of when you become pregnant is also complicated as far as calculations go. For the first two to three weeks after conception, no one is sure whether they are pregnant or not because it's too early for the pregnancy test to detect the hormone your body starts releasing. So, when I told someone who had already had a baby that I was four weeks along (many moons ago it seems), she gave me a look and said, "Did you just find out yesterday, or what?" When I explained we'd known for a couple of weeks and gave her some specific dates, she gently informed me that I was actually six weeks pregnant. When the doctor calculates your due date, you're "pregnant" two weeks before you really are according to the chart they use.

Puh-leeaase.

Now that I'm past 30 weeks, my mental state is changing. I’m thinking more about how the birth might go and all the potential scenarios. When I think about it I get alternating waves of excitement, terror and determination. It's not like I have a choice at this point - that's the scary part. Sometimes I feel like this is the most important, mind-boggling thing I will ever do. You can hire anybody to do just about anything, but no one else can get him out into the world for me.*

*Well, technically they can (by c-section), but still, without my body as his temporary home he wouldn't have gotten this far.

The Pregnant Olympics

We had our first childbirth class on Monday night. The most fascinating thing we learned is that a pregnant woman burns 18 to 20,000 calories while giving birth. When we got home we asked Joel how many he thought a person burns while running a marathon. "Not that many, I don't think," he said.

Our instructor told us, "Ladies...this is your Olympic event."

Aaaaaaaaahhh!!!

The Plan, Stan

As I grow ever larger, our extended family members have started to ask about our birth plan. (As if this is something we might want to think about.)

I've heard a variety of different opinions. My dad has taken the hardest line, which I find very sweet. (I like that he cares.) He says he thinks I should get an epidural no matter what. He made the point that people get pain relief for surgeries and so forth, so why not childbirth? It's a good point, but I think there is a difference between surgery and normal childbirth. Like most people, I have an ideal scenario for how this all might happen.

Now to state the obvious. Under regular circumstances childbirth is a natural process that a vast number of women have gone though since the beginning of time. Many births need no medical intervention and go just fine with the help of a midwife. I've even heard of something called free-birthing, where a woman gives birth by herself or only with her husband. I love that term. I've heard of free-balling, free-falling and free-boobing, but free-birthing was new to me. It sounds so reckless, like giving birth on horseback. Extremes aside, a natural birth without complications is an amazing thing in my mind, and that's what I want. Whether I'll get it is yet to be seen.

Ideally I will be able to deliver vaginally (sorry boys) without any strong pain medication. I want access to all of those birthing accessories that they say make the pain manageable. I want to try it, kind of like I tried skydiving, but with the anticipation that this will require a lot more personal sacrifice and something way cooler at the end.

I know my naivete must be hilarious to those of you who have gone through childbirth before, but I have this romantic notion of how thousands of women before me have done it this way, so I can too. Practically speaking, I want to feel like I'm in control of what's going on and to feel my contractions enough to be able to know when to push. I don't want someone else to tell me what is happening because I'm numb from the waist down and can't feel what's going on. And as ridiculous as this sounds coming from the mouth of a woman who has never done it before, I'm viewing this experience as I would a marathon (ironically I would never run one of those), where I presume the relief and sense of accomplishment is that much sweeter after all the pain.

Okay, so they don't give out medals for childbirth -- this birth plan would be for me, not so that everyone can say, "Oh, way to go there Em - having a baby just like everybody else." As far as others are concerned, no one other than you and your family members care how you give birth, as long as you get the baby out.

I'm trying to be mentally ready for anything. I've heard many stories of women who went into it with the same intentions I have, and ended up getting an epidural for various reasons: back labor and a lack of progression over a period of many, many hours being the most common.

So let me say that if I do end up having this sort of labor, I'm not going to martyr myself like Joan of Arc and leave my son motherless and my husband without a wife. An epidural can relax your muscles so that you can make progress. If the choice becomes that or a C-section, I'll gladly choose the former. A vaginal birth is my ultimate goal, with or without the big needle. I've heard many women breathe "God bless the epidural" after going through an experience like the ones above.

We will be having him in a hospital for a few reasons: the first being that this is where my doctor delivers. I checked into local midwives, but our insurance doesn't cover them. (The lady I talked to at Blue Care Network said, "Midwife?!" to me like I wanted to invite some character from Little House on the Prairie into the birthing room.) Secondly I want to be close to whatever we'll need in case something goes wrong. And lastly, who needs to deal with that mess at home? Not me. I respect and admire anyone who chooses a home birth (a close friend of mine did it - way to go Mal!), but as far as I'm concerned the nurses can take care of that and I'll love them for it.

So, that is our birth plan, but as they say, "We make plans. God laughs." I know two people who have had toxemia and HELLP syndrome. When this happens a C-section is usually the best option because the baby needs to get out of there quickly. In this case you need to scrap your birth plan completely.

No matter how he gets here, he's coming. I'll be his mom, and Jono will be his dad, and that's that.