My Birth Story: Part 3

Missed Part 1 and Part 2 of my birth story? Check them out before reading this!

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Sunday, 6 a.m. to 7 a.m. I knew, vaguely, from the childbirth class that I was going through “transitional labour.” I remember wondering how quickly (or slowly) it was going to all pan out.
 

 

Sunday, 7 a.m. The nurse that had been with me all night was off. She commented that she’d hoped to be around for the birth. I’d hoped so, too, because then this would have been OVER BY NOW, GAAAAAH.

 

Sunday, 7:01 a.m. The new nurse arrived to take over. She was young-looking and immediately offered a popsicle. I eagerly accepted an orange one, thinking that the sugar might help take the edge off my hunger. At this point, I hadn’t eaten anything in more than 12 hours, and would have chewed off my own arm if I thought it was possible.

 

Sunday, 7:15 a.m. The popsicle was a mistake! The popsicle was a mistake!

 

Sunday, 7:16 a.m. I felt horrible. I felt like I was going to throw up and pass out and go to the bathroom all at the same time.

 

Sunday, 7:17 a.m. Darling Husband and the nurse helped me to the bathroom — dragging my IV poll and the epidural cart thingy along behind me.

 

Sunday, 7:18 a.m. Awfulness ensued (as partially described here). Imagine going to the bathroom without being able to control it (or totally feel it), while vomiting into a plastic thingy, while half-passing out as your husband basically holds you upright on the toilet and douses your forehead and neck with wet towels to keep you conscious. Oh, and while a stranger watches (the nurse whom you just met). I just scared at least four readers into never getting pregnant, I think.

 

Sunday, 7:50 a.m. Awfulness was finally over, and I was back in bed.
 

 

Sunday, 7:50 a.m. to 8:20 a.m. I was breathing hard through every contraction. They hurt, but nothing like the pain I’d felt before the epidural. I remember thinking that NO PAIN could ever compete with that, so everything now felt very manageable in comparison.
 

 

Sunday, 8:25 a.m. The nurse checked me again, and said the words I’d been waiting desperately to hear: “You’re at 10 cm … Why don’t we try pushing?”

 

Sunday, 8:26 a.m. I remember thinking, “Um … pushing? Sure, except there is no one in the room except ONE NURSE and Darling Husband. Where are the DOCTORS?”

 

Sunday, 8:27 a.m. Must have said something like that out loud, because the nurse explained that “pushing can take a while,” and that she would call the doctors in when I was close.

 

Sunday, 8:30 a.m. The nurse said to wait until I felt the urge to push, and then bear down as hard as I could. She grabbed one of my legs, and Darling Husband grabbed the other. I still couldn’t believe that I was going to push as hard as I could and there was NO ONE to catch the baby, should he come flying out.

 

Sunday, 8:31 a.m. When the next contraction began, I did feel an urge to push. I pushed as hard as I could, and the nurse encouraged me to make each push last as long as possible.

 

Sunday, 8:33 a.m. Pushed again. During each contraction, I was able to do two long pushes, and then a short burst of a push, before I’d fall back against the bed.

 

Sunday, 8:35 a.m. The nurse commended me on my pushing. Yeah! It felt great to be doing something right. Apparently the way to do it is by pretending you are going to the bathroom, and, uh, I’d definitely already proven I could do that …

 

Sunday, 8:37 a.m. OK, pushing gets tiring very fast.
 

 

Sunday, 9 a.m. Something strange was happening. I would feel the contraction, push like crazy, and stop pushing when the contraction ended. But in between contractions, I was feeling a horrible pain in the right side of my pelvis. It hurt way more than the contractions, and the pain continued right up until the next contraction arrived and I was pushing again. Basically, CONSTANT PAIN!

 

Sunday, 9:02 a.m. The nurse didn’t seem too concerned about the pain in one side of my pelvis. She said the baby might just be more shifted to that side.

 

Sunday, 9:10 a.m. I cried and moaned for the entire second half-hour of pushing. The pelvis pain in between contractions was unbearable, and during the contractions I was pushing so hard I was certain I’d faint or throw up again.

 

Sunday, 9:24 a.m. The details are hazy, but at some point, a resident OB came in to see how it was going. She was very pretty and young, and looked like Charlie on Friends. In my mind, I kept calling her the pretty black Barbie doll.

 

Sunday, 9:25 a.m. OH MY GOD! You wouldn’t believe who walked into the room after Pretty Black Barbie Doctor. It was Cute Medical Student! He was surprised to see me, and I was surprised and really happy to see him. After more than 12 hours of seeing strangers, he felt like an old friend from elementary school — even though I’d only met him once before.

 

Sunday, 9:26 a.m. I got checked by both Pretty Black Barbie Doctor and Cute Medical Student, and they basically said that I was not close. Not close to bringing in the doctors for delivery, and therefore not close to popping out this baby. I was devastated. They stayed in the room for a few minutes, giving me worried looks as I cried and moaned and writhed. I don’t think I’ve ever written the word “writhed” before, but it is a perfect description of the pain of childbirth.

 

Sunday, 9:29 a.m. They said that since I wasn’t close to delivering, and completely exhausted from the hour of pushing, they were going to give me an hour-long “break.” I was given some more drugs — Darling Husband and I can’t remember, but we think they just turned up the epidural, or turned it back on, or something. They said it should ease the pain for an hour, so I could build my strength up again. Ha!
 

 

Sunday, 9:30 a.m. to 10:30 a.m. “Break” time. At first, the pain was reduced. I could still feel every contraction, but they weren’t as sharp. The pelvis pain was still there, but not as strong.
 

 

Sunday, 10:31 a.m. I was ready to try pushing again. I was still starving and weak and hurting, but didn’t feel as nauseous or faint. The pain seemed to be a tiny bit better when I pushed, and I just wanted the whole thing over as soon as possible.

 

Sunday, 10:40 a.m. The first few pushes went well. I felt the same triumphant feeling I’d had earlier. I knew I was doing a good job pushing. I could feel the baby moving down, I thought. On one or two of the contractions, the nurse put her fingers up me and had me push against them. That seemed to help inspire me, because it felt like the baby was sliding out of me!
 

 

Sunday, 10:50 to 11:15 a.m. The pelvic pain was back to its unbearable state. The nausea was back. I felt like I had no energy and was going to black out at any second. I was sobbing and telling the nurse I couldn’t do it anymore. “The doctors aren’t even here!” I remember crying. “I know I’m not close, because you didn’t call them yet! I’m not close at all!”

 

Sunday, 11:16 a.m. The nurse suggested I get on all fours and try pushing that way. I mumbled something about how “I’d look like a cow,” but she kept mentioning it, so I finally agreed to try it.

 

Sunday, 11:17 a.m. Darling Husband and the nurse helped me into the position, which involved me grabbing the top of the hospital bed and facing the back wall.

 

Sunday, 11:18 a.m. When the next contraction came, I pushed as hard as I could. Then I heard a beeping noise coming from the heart monitor — from Baby Boy’s heart monitor! I looked at the machine that I’d been staring at all night, and saw his heart rate dropping fast. The nurse quickly had me roll to my left side, and we all watched as his heart rate crept back up. It was the first time he’d shown any signs of distress, and it was excruciating.

 

Sunday, 11:26 a.m. Pretty Black Barbie Doctor and Cute Medical Student came back into the room to check on me. I will never forget the sympathetic expression on Pretty Black Barbie Doctor‘s face when she checked me, and slowly said there hadn’t been any progress. NO PROGRESS after two hours of pushing (and an hour break in between). I was hysterical.

 

Sunday, 11:27 a.m. I started begging Pretty Black Barbie Doctor for a C-section. “He’s stuck in there, I know it!” I cried. “Pleeeeeease just do a C-section. I’m not afraid at all, and I know it’s going to come to that anyway. Please! Please!”

 

Sunday, 11:28 a.m. She said she is just a resident, and needed to check with the on-call OB. It’s their call, and typically they get women to push for three hours before attempting a C-section. I remember feeling horrified at the idea of another entire HOUR of pushing and pelvic pain.
 

 

Sunday, 11:30 a.m. Tears worked. The on-call OB said I could have a C-section! I was sobbing and thanking everyone, thrilled to be cut open if it meant the pain would end and Baby Boy would be here safely. Darling Husband looked terrified. It was only after I saw the expression on his face that I realized maybe this was more serious than I thought?
 

How does it all end?! Continue reading PART 4 in my birth story … 

10 tips for surviving the newborn haze

10 tips for surviving the NEWBORN haze {Heather's Handmade Life}

When days are nights, nights are days, and you can’t stop crying (true story), you are literally in survival mode.

Three weeks into my new life as a mom, here is what I’ve learned about how to get through this newborn stage …

10 tips for surviving the NEWBORN haze {Heather's Handmade Life}
Clean teeth. Messy hair. (At least I had a clip, though.)

Brush your teeth every time you pee.

When you have a baby, I have realized, your days and nights are all one big blur of being awake/feeding/diapering. You don’t get an actual real night’s sleep, so there is no “morning” or “bedtime” to indicate that you should brush them. So I have been brushing my teeth, washing my face, applying moisturizer, brushing my hair, etc. during my brief pee-breaks — no matter what time it is. You really can’t say when you’ll get a chance again, so seize it! Groom!

Leave hairclips and elastics everywhere.

This probably only applies to girls like me, with long hair, but it’s very important. When you’re constantly picking up a baby and putting them over your shoulder, hairclips and elastics prevent your hair from sticking to your sweaty neck. Oh, and prevents it from getting puked on.

Leave water glasses everywhere.

I keep two glasses on the end table next to the couch (my primary nursing area, since, hello, it has a TV), one glass in the bedroom, and one glass in the nursery. Whenever I put the baby down for a nap, I immediately refill the glasses that have gotten low. Sure, the water is warm by the time I actually go to drink it, but it beats trying to fill the glasses while holding a crying, hungry baby.

10 tips for surviving the NEWBORN haze {Heather's Handmade Life}
Yeah, yeah. Well, I’m tired, too.

Stock up on easy-to-eat snacks.

Back when I was pregnant, I read all about the importance of having “easy-to-eat” snacks. But it’s only now that I truly understand the importance. Newborns are not conducive to eating meals. Actually, they are very selfish creatures and don’t like you to eat anything, if it inconveniences them in the slightest.

I’m by myself with Baby Boy most of the time, so Darling Husband has been great about leaving dozens of little baggies in the fridge for me — cheese and Triscuits, raw baby carrots and green beans, apple slices, grapes, buttered bran muffins, etc. It’s only just in the last few days (just before the three-week mark) that I’ve been able to microwave myself little meals here and there. So snacks = very important!

Buy a fan with a remote control.

I didn’t even know these existed until I stumbled upon one when I was heavily preggo. SO grateful that I bought it, because it is damn hot lately, and it’s great to be able to adjust the speed, angle, etc. while being parked on the couch with a baby attached to my ta-ta.

Make an “essentials basket.”

I thought of this myself, so I’m pretty proud of this idea. When you’re nursing a baby, you are literally pinned in one area for many, many, many hours of your life. Which means you can’t, like, get the things you need. In the first day or so at home, Darling Husband had dragged three end tables to my corner of the couch (I think I’ll call that corner “Basecamp,” since I’m spending most of my life there right now).

He covered the tables with everything I needed, which was great … but messy and scattered and gah it bothered me. So during the second day at home, I took a wicker fruit basket and piled it with all of my essentials: lipchap, moisturizer for me, baby lotion, breast pads, nipple cream, hairclips, elastics, baby nail file, baby no-scratch mitts, baby hairbrush and comb, remote controls for the TV and the fan, cell phone charger, etc. Instead of three tables littered with crap, I now just had to reach for the basket. Lifesaver!

How to survive the newborn haze {Heather's Handmade Life}
So. Much. Spitup.

Cover your primary nursing/feeding area with blankets.

It only took a few major spit-up-on-the-couch incidents before I wised up. Now my corner of the couch is covered with one or two large baby blankets, all the time. It doesn’t look great, but it means I just need to throw them in the wash and grab new ones — not spend 10 minutes sponging off my upholstery.

Keep a log of feeding times/sides and diapers.

Our hospital made us keep track of this while we were there, and suggested we keep tracking everything for the first few weeks –to make sure Baby Boy was eating enough, peeing and pooing enough, etc. We’ll probably stop logging soon, but in those first extremely sleep-deprived weeks, it was nice to be able to see it all written down.

I would literally wake up to him crying, and have NO FREAKING IDEA how long we’d been asleep, when he’d last eaten, what side, what day it was, what my name was, etc. Being able to look at the sheet and see that, oh, I fed him five minutes ago so he’s probably not hungry, allowed me to try comforting him first, before blindly popping the boob in his mouth.

Wear as few clothes as possible.

This goes in the spit-up category. Luckily, it’s June now (and very hot), so I have been wearing underwear and a nursing bra — and usually nothing else. When I have company, I add yoga pants and a tank top. But, really, that is just more items to get coated in spit-up. Less is more.

Laundry = laundry. Just do it.

Don’t get hung up on needing to wash the baby’s stuff separately from the regular laundry. Trust me, I was the queen of washing Baby Boy’s stuff separately before he was born. Now? If he’s spit up on his two best swaddle blankets, and both of my nursing bras, there’s no way I’m doing two separate loads. I throw it all in together, and use the baby-specific detergent. I’ve figured out that it’s better to do one load (sometimes two) every day, that is a combo of my stuff/Darling Husband’s stuff/baby stuff than to try to break it up.

xo
10 tips for surviving the NEWBORN haze {Heather's Handmade Life}

You know you are a mommy when …

… three hours of straight sleep seems like a 10-hour snooze.

Five bodily fluids to expect during labour/delivery

When I was in the hospital having Baby Boy, I remember thinking of a line from an old episode of Roseanne. Dan was sick with the flu, and he said, “I’ve got bad stuff coming out every hole in my body.” That is exactly what having a baby is like. Bad stuff out of every hole (with the exception of your sweet babe).
This is super-graphic, but I would have wanted to read this stuff beforehand, so I’m offering it up to all of the preggos out there. Read it, so you are not horrified at every new fluid like I was! …
  1. Amniotic fluid. Remember how I described my “water” breaking? And, you know, how instead of the “water” I was expecting, I had yellowish slop? Not embarrassing when it was confined to a pad/my underwear/my pants/the beach towel on the seat of the car, but definitely a little embarrassing when it was slopping all over the hospital floor, and I was trying to mop it up.
  2. Vomit. I threw up once during labour (after eating an orange popsicle), and once during the emergency C-section (that part of the birth story is coming soon). Well, technically, it was eight times in quick succession during the C-section. Throwing up while you are strapped to a table like Jesus is not cool. You can just turn your head to one side and hope to get it in the basin.
  3. Poo. Yes, poo. This actually happened in two different ways. First it was while on the toilet. Doesn’t sound so bad? Well, it was considering I was surrounded by Darling Husband and my nurse, and I was also throwing up at the same time, and moaning that I was going to black out. Oh yeah, and I couldn’t control it coming out (or really feel it). I could just keep wiping helplessly, and hope it would stop soon. Lovely, huh? After that, one of my worst fears about pushing was pooing, and it happened. Luckily, the nurses were quick to whisk away the little pad-thing and replace it. And when you are in that much pain, it is true that you really don’t care anymore.
  4. Pee. After all is said and done (and the baby was out), I looked down and saw a tube of pee leading to a plastic bag of pee. Oh, a catheter. Great. The embarrassing part came when the nurse on duty had to take the bag and empty it into a bedpan — right there, while I watched.
  5. Blood. While I was lying in the recovery room, unable to move from the waist down, I got to watch a nurse yank down my underwear, change my pad, and yank my underwear back up. Then they did it again, in my room, throughout the afternoon and evening. That must be how babies feel when you diaper them. Then, exactly 12 hours after my C-section, a nurse came in to get me out of bed for the first time. The second both my feet hit the floor, a little gush of blood splashed onto the tile. I took a tentative step, and a HUGE amount of blood began puddling around me. It was like something out of a horror movie, I told the nurse. It ran down my legs and soaked my ankle socks, and I literally left a bloody trail all the way to the bathroom.

It came true …

Remember this time last year? This post? This wish?

I am so grateful to be celebrating Darling Husband’s very first Father’s Day today. Grateful for our happy, healthy baby boy. Grateful to have such a caring, helpful co-parent. Grateful to have such a wonderful role model for our little man. Grateful to have a man like Darling Husband as my partner in life.
Happy Father’s Day!