Tuesday, October 7, 2014

9 Weeks

Nine weeks have gone by since welcoming my little Boogieloo (now more commonly known as Booga) into this world. I have not written...I have not shared my precious little man with this part of my world.


Well, after spending 10 days bonding as a family, 2-ish more weeks with my mom and dad here, getting into a routine after they left to have it change just a few days later when my oldest started Kindergarten, and it changing yet again a week after that when my husband moved to Portland, Oregon to start his new job....I'm just getting into a routine again.

So last I wrote, I had 5 more weeks left. Doctors and nurses didn't think I'd make it to 37 weeks, so when I didn't deliver until 38 weeks and 5 days, they were all shocked!

We had a couple more false labors. My prayers were answered with nothing labor related on my middle child's birthday. I was so happy they wouldn't be sharing a birthdate! However the next day I went to the bathroom because I felt odd, I was in there for awhile and when I finished up, I thought I felt Zane's head. Freaked me out to no end! Low and behold, it was not the head. I was only 4cm dilated still.

I was checked 2 times with a normal exam, then they wanted to do an exam with those stupid speculum things to make sure my water hadn't ruptured at all. Well, the first time the speculum was too big, he tried repositioning it, then he had the nurse go get one from a different floor so it was the right size. So then I had one put in me a third time, on top of 3 regular checks, one of which hurt me so bad I started to cry. Then after the last time with the speculum, that doctor swept my membranes and said "Well, with how much has happened to you today, hopefully it will move things along."

Move things along it did. The next morning at 6AM I woke up and went to the bathroom then laid back down. I started feeling a little sick to my stomach and decided to go to the bathroom again and possibly get into the shower. As I rolled over I felt a little trickle. I uttered (a little loudly) "aw sh*t!" and my husband (from our bedroom...I slept on the couch the last 2-3 months of the pregnancy) asked "What?" And as I rolled the rest of the way off the couch I replied "I either just peed a little or my water just broke." (Mind you, he was getting ready for work) When I landed on my knees on the floor, the flood gates opened and I said (again, a little louder than I should've) "Oh sh*t, oh sh*t, oh sh*t....yeah...my water broke...ummmmmm....." and then I hear my daughter "Mommy! Your water balloon broke?!?!?" "Yes hunny, mommy's water balloon broke." "Alaric! Mommy's water balloon broke! Zane is coming to meet us!" Both kids flew out of their bedrooms and I'm still "Ummmmm"-ing and trying to figure out how to get up off the floor without making more of a mess. I have them go get dressed then call my husband to help me get up and get towels so we can start cleaning up the mess.

When everyone was ready and Labor and Delivery was called, we started heading out (I had called and texted two friends to see if we could drop the kids off with them to no avail...Josh called our pastor and his wife and she finally got back to us first). I called our pastor and his wife to let them know our kids would be over soon. I then called my mom and dad who were on their way to Washington (from Michigan) in the car to let them know it was the real deal this time (we had called the day before too and I guess my dad said after I hung up "She's not having him today...it will be tomorrow. Jon and Stevie are 4 years 2 day apart, Alaric and Zane will be too.") Then I texted my friend Diane and let her know that I may need her to meet us at the hospital because we were stuck in traffic and I didn't know if I would even make it to the hospital. I then called her a few minutes later and told her "Yeah, you need to meet us there." 

We arrived at the hospital around 7:15AM, just over an hour after my water broke. I was definitely having contractions (that was a first!) and I felt ready to push. They got me checked out, took the samples they needed to make sure my water broke, they checked me again just 15 minutes later and admitted me. Diane came in to see me while they were doing all this and I was smiling, laughing and talking until a contraction hit but I went right back to normal after it passed. She couldn't believe how I was. Kids were taken to our pastor's house, I was walked over to my delivery room (that was brutal!) around 7:45AM and I was left to labor until the IV had to be put in.

I did have a friend with me at the beginning while being admitted. A lady from our church was working at that point and it was nice to have her there with me. Josh was in the room after Diane took the kids too, but he was helpless because I basically told him to leave me alone. He did as I wished though...he is a good husband. I also had my midwife there...that is something rare in a military hospital. I was just lucky enough that she was on call. She was also my midwife with Caralyn which is why I was so happy to have her there...I've bonded with her through these two pregnancies.

So around 8AM they checked me again. I was at an 8. The pain was unreal, the urge to push just kept getting harder to ignore. I got off the bed and stood for two or three contractions. The first one I had just gotten up and Commander Larson (my midwife) had to practically hold me up. She got my arms around her neck and we rocked together while I cried and whined about needing to push. Then we got me into the shower/tub so I could have the water just splash down toward my legs/feet. That didn't last long because when I had another contraction, I almost dropped because of the pain. I just wanted to be in my bed and pushing.

They got me back to my bed, I had them check me again and I was at a 9, almost a 10. I was whining,  I was crying, all I wanted to do was push. One more contraction and they let me push. I pushed for probably 20 minutes, maybe less...in my mind, it felt like I had pushed for an hour and that was most definitely not the case as from me being checked at 8 to the birth of Zane, it was about 30 minutes.

I forgot how bad the burning is while pushing a baby out of that little hole was. Of course, my baby had a pretty big head (and still does!). The rest of the pain didn't matter (of course the contractions were bad as I couldn't even have a pain killer by the time I got there after my water broke...and that was my birth plan...an IV pain med that would've equaled an extra strength tylenol or two).

At 8:31AM, everything was right with the world again. Zane arrived safely and healthy....blue, but safe and healthy. He was put on my chest, all the goop was suctioned out of his mouth and he started crying. Everything was done on top of me. They didn't want to take him off me at all for at least an hour.

Then the fun started. I started trying to deliver the placenta but it wouldn't budge. After about 45 minutes of this they decided it needed to be manually removed. Zane was taken from me, weighed and measured (8lbs 1.3oz, 20 1/8") and left with Josh to do the first feeding and to watch over everything else that needed to be done. I was carted off to the OR for a spinal and D&C. They decided to stitch me up since I was on the table too (had the placenta delivered naturally there wouldn't have been stitches).

I was told by the anesthesiologist I was a trooper because even after having the woozy medicine given to me in my room, I still sat up and was "the stillest patient I've ever had" while getting my spinal. And...he got it in on the first try. Had I known he was THAT good, I probably could've and would've gotten an epidural. No regrets though. I had asked then changed my mind almost immediately because I knew I was strong enough to do it without meds (I was forced to with Alaric).

So...there you have it...the birth story of Zane, which is totally not what this post was going to be, but that's what it turned into.