Will's birth story

Tap the brakes, 2016! I needed to squeeze in a post before 2015 ended, but that turned into one giant whirlwind and never happened. I will try to backtrack eventually, but Will tends to require at least one hand at almost all times (I have not mastered hands-free nursing yet- give me time), and while I have drafted 8 zillion blog posts in my head since his birth, I haven't had the time or second hand to put them in the computer.

I do want to get his birth story down though before I forget everything about it. Spoiler alert- it's not terribly exciting. I mean, except the end, where I get a perfectly squishy baby. But you already knew that part.

On the 25th of December, I woke up relieved that I survived another night pregnant. I really REALLY wanted to make it through Christmas morning and have a "normal" holiday with the kids before their little worlds were, once again, turned upside down. And that happened! Wahoo! We opened presents, made a birthday waffle stack, sang happy birthday to Jesus, and visited with some of Steve's family.

Happy birthday, Jesus!

after mass on Christmas Day

becoming increasingly more jolly with each passing minute

The rest of the day was pretty lazy. Steve's aunt dropped by, the kids played, we watched a Christmas movie, and then.... what was that? A contraction? Ok, that was definitely a contraction. But how can I be sure? It's been a minute since I've had one. And by a minute, I do mean almost four years. But then five minutes later (actual five minutes later), I felt it again. I started to panic a bit, because I never listened to my Hypnobabies CDs this time! I couldn't get my itunes to sync from my computer to my phone and honestly, I am one of THEE most technologically illiterate people of my generation, so I did what any other lazy pregnant person would do and just figured I'd wing it whenever the time came. Well. The time came and I was freaking slightly. Started reminding myself of all the Hypnobabies buzzwords to try and trick my brain into thinking I'd listened to them and therefore, granting me an easy, pain-free labor.

We got a text from Steve's mom that we were kinda late for Christmas dinner and I embarrassingly texted back that I was timing contractions and they were kinda irregular, but definitely happening, so we would be skipping, sorry.... After dinner, my in-laws came and picked up Sam and Molly (and Odie) to spend the night at their house in case this ended up being for real. Steve and I watched Christmas Vacation while I timed a few more random contractions. Then.... nothing. Womp womp.

We went to bed and I prayed to the labor and delivery gods that they would grant me one more night of uninterrupted sleep before D-Day... I promise to appreciate it 100% more knowing it's my last... Please please please?

I got up at 3am to go pee and apparently that signaled to my body that I was up and very well-rested, ready to go... After not being able to get very comfortable in bed, I went downstairs to time contractions and sit on the bouncy ball Steve blew up for me the night before. Labor is so boring. Especially at 3am. I cut up some fudge, cleaned the kitchen, folded a bit of laundry, and bounced around. I checked FB and messaged anyone who even appeared to be awake. Talk to me! Tell me it's for real this time! Because I will be so embarrassed if it's not and I'm down here timing contractions like a fool!

Steve eventually came down, told me his stomach hurt (I'll admit I was not the most sympathetic), and fell asleep on the couch. After a few contractions started to space themselves out from 1 minute to 8 (yes, EIGHT) minutes, I got really bored and angry and laid down on the couch too and fell asleep. I felt a few contractions but was able to sleep through them mostly. At that point, they were just pissing me off. I know contractions 8 minutes apart mean that you're nowhere near the finish line. And I was counting on a super short labor this time. We were already creeping up on the 8 hour mark. Molly's birth was completely finished by hour eight! This was supposed to be faster! Argh.....

Finally, after waking up and still feeling random contractions (too pissed to even time them- stupid, pointless contractions!), I called the doctor. It wasn't a doctor from the practice I go to- they were on a holiday schedule and another clinic was covering for my doctors. So I talk to this OB and said that I'd been having these random contractions since 3am and I'm starting to wonder if maybe baby isn't head down and that's why nothing consistent is happening? I also haven't felt a ton of movement and I'd like to come in and get checked just to be sure everything is ok. She sounded a little annoyed and said I didn't even sound like I was in labor, so there was no need to come in yet. "Come in when you feel like you're closer."

Me: "Well, I just would really like to be checked because these are definitely contractions, but I just think there has to be a reason they aren't feeling too productive."
OB: "Is this your first baby?"
Me, annoyed now: "No. This is my third." (which is only going to make this entire scenario more embarrassing for me when I get sent back home for not being in actual labor)
OB: "You just don't sound like you're in active labor. You can come if you want to though...." (said in a tone like, I'm just gonna send your stubborn ass home, so don't even waste your time....)
Me: "Ok, we'll see you soon!"

After arriving at the hospital (drive was uneventful, although I'm sure Steve would like me to credit him with some sort of expert driving- thanks for driving, Steve!), I met my nurse, MJ who immediately won me over. She was very no-nonsense and totally advocated for me instead of treating me like just another patient who needed to be told what to do. This skinny male resident came in to ask me all the same questions that MJ asked me and then informed me that my BP was elevated (135/87 - not outrageous, in my opinion? Let's remember that I'm allegedly in labor.) so they were going to be closely monitoring me for a condition I might have heard of before? It's called pre-eclampsia and it can be dangerous for both me and baby yadda yadda.. I must have been giving off some serious idiot vibes that day. Maybe it was the sweatpants. Anyways, after dealing with his questions and biology lecture, he finally checked me. Five centimeters! I get to stay! Take THAT, Doubting Doctor on the phone!

At least one of us was comfortable.

Immediately I inquire as to what the epidural options are. I'm told I have to get this bag of fluid pumped into my arm first. Ugh. I take a pic and text it to my nurse friend from Korea. I said something like, "The doc said this bag only takes 20 minutes to get in me and then I'll be feeling fine with an epidural in my spine!" She texted back, "Well. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but according to the settings on that machine, it looks like you've got about an hour's worth of fluids to get in...." Sonuva nutcracker! MJ came back in to check things out and rearranged my arms to help speed up the fluid drip process. I told her things were starting to get slightly uncomfortable. "Can't wait for that juice!" She looked me up and down and said, "I'm gonna go ahead and call anesthesia. You are probably already a 9 or 10." Don't you talk like that to me, MJ. It's only been an hour. It took me 8 hours to get to 5cm. We've got some time. I just didn't listen to my Hypnobabies CDs and so I am feeling much more weak sauce this go-round. But sure, go ahead and call the guy because the sooner we get this numbing sensation going and I can sit down, the better.

Rail-thin Resident comes back in with MJ and asks if I'd like for him to break my water. MJ, standing next to him, looks at me and says, "Yeah, I don't advise doing that. It's gonna hurt like crazy and I think you're doing pretty good on your own." Yeah! You tell him, MJ! Do not touch my water. At this point, I clearly find skinny men who have never experienced childbirth to be highly annoying.

Anesthesiologist comes in and does his magic. I don't even remember an ounce of pain, despite them wanting me to. "You're going to feel a sharp pinch and then a LOT of pressure. Just lean on MJ." Don't tell me what I'm going to feel! Now I'm waiting to feel it! Luckily I didn't feel any of that. Dude was a magician. I laid down in the bed. Time to rest for a minute. Ahhh tingly toes. That feels nice.

MJ leaves the room and Steve and I are just marveling at how I can go from being completely upright and dancing through contractions, to horizontal and feeling not much at all. Just as I started to soak in that feeling, I started feeling another feeling.

"Uh. Steve? You wanna go get MJ? I can't tell if my water is fixin to break, or if a head is gonna pop outta my hooha here in a sec, but I can feel that something is about to fall out. I think it's just my water. Just tell her it's probably my water."

Steve hustles out and MJ comes back in and checks me. She is all business now. Uh oh. "You're complete. That is baby's head. It appears your water already broke. (Me: When? Where? 3am? Is that what was going on?) You're lucky you got that epidural in when you did!" No. No no no. Can we wait a little while longer? You see, I kinda wanted to get a bit of a break in before we do this whole baby thing. Maybe take a nap. Sneak a drink. Eat the pediatric nurse's fudge. Enjoy the view. Watch some tv.

But before there is any time to make my case, the Doubting Doctor and the Rail-thin Resident came in and started breaking down the bed and counting gauze and throwing my legs up into stirrups. "Ok! When you feel the next contraction, you can push!"

Me: I can't feel much of anything, remember? That's why I'm lying here so calmly with a human head wedged in my birth canal. You just tell me when to push and I'll do as instructed.

Them: Uh, ok. Push?

A few pushes later and after Doubting Doctor put on her best soccer mom fake cheer, Will was born! Apparently he pooped himself on the way out. Probably started second-guessing whether or not there was any fudge on the outside. Steve cut the cord and then they laid him on my chest and I loved him- poop and all. Let's face it, I was gushing all sorts of strange bodily fluids by that point anyway, so who am I to judge?

I arrived at the hospital at 11:30, got the epidural at 1:15, and Will burst onto the scene at 1:59. So apparently those last 5cm go pretty fast. And for the record (the record I want to shove down Doubting Doctor's throat), I never "sounded" like I was in active labor. Maybe some people just aren't screamers? Next time (if there is a next time), I will try to be a little more dramatic/theatrical on the phone to plead my case. Whatever it takes to be taken seriously in the medical community.

Will did great though. His 84th percentile head was not warped on the way out and even my "high" BP didn't affect him... He latched on almost immediately and nursed (or ... something?) for an hour. None of my children have ever latched or successfully breastfed, so this was a new and very strange feeling. Epidural wore off, I was moved to a recovery room (with not as much of a view), and Will was brought in after having his assessments done in the nursery. The next latch was not so pain free and easy. I was inquiring as to whether they make epidurals for nipples because I needed one STAT.

Sadly, I was only given a stool softener and an extra strength ibuprofen. Womp womp.

Despite the intense boob pain, I am happy to report that it seems that I can semi-safely say that breastfeeding is going well. I mean, I'm measuring success in terms of wet and dirty diapers and the milk entering Will's body. As for it being a comfortable, natural, bonding experience, my boobs will have to plead the fifth. I won't lie- I've looked longingly at my pump more than once. In a moment of weakness, I even asked Steve to sterilize all the parts so I could pump. My milk came in and Will would not. wake. up. I was dying. Upon opening up my pump (which, if you remember, accompanied us to Korea and sat unused in a non-climate-controlled room for 2+ years), Steve found that all the pump parts were participating in some sort of fungi growth contest and even boiling water was not going to help them. Tears. Eventually Will woke up and saved me from what could only be described as an imminent milksplosion. (Steve went out and bought a manual pump for me the next day for emergencies. Sadly, there is already a small freezer stash. Old dairy cow habits die hard.) Will has proven that he can't follow basic Dairy Queen rules, like "kitchen is closed" and loudly demands to be fed every 40 minutes from the hours of 1am until the big kids wake up, at which point, I just give up and start chugging coffee. Takes a lot of restraint not to pinch his little sleeping cheeks when he immediately passes out at 8am.

So there you have it. All that I can remember at this point about Will's birth and his eating situation.

Final stats:
William Slade (named after Steve's grandfather and mine, both of whom passed away while we were in Korea)
8lbs 11oz
21.5 inches
born December 26, at 1:59pm

first family photo! looks about right.

first black tar diaper change

sweet big sis!

survived the first week!

the biggest reward for all the boob pain

he cannot even