The Long and Unexpectedly Long of It

When we last convened here on ye olde bloge, Baby M made a sudden, dramatic arrival nine minutes after the doctor broke my water. Now here we are for the story of Baby F! Spoiler: it's by far the longest of the four. So stay a while and listen.

After having two punctual babies on their due dates I fully expected this one to be the same, on the 22nd. I was scheduled for an induction on the 23rd, just in case (hardly necessary, I said to myself). In the past I never had regular contractions before having the babies so on Saturday afternoon (the 21st) when I started having contractions I was not surprised. But they tapered off in the evening and I went to bed, rather disappointed. 

The next day, I tell you I did everything I could to get this baby moving out. I SO wanted him to have a Baggins birthday. But I could not will it to be, despite my best efforts, and I went to bed even more disappointed, with an appointment for the hospital at 6:45 AM. 

In the wee hours, contractions started up again. I timed them, but after an hour or two they tapered off and I fell asleep. So we left for the hospital as planned, me feeling rather terrible and crampy, and arrived right at 6:45. We got checked in and figured out the jigsaw puzzle aka hospital gown. Contractions had started again so I walked around the room until the nurses came in to check me out and wire me up. Honestly I can't remember if I was at a 3 or 4, but at least I didn't have to worry about them sending me home again!

The contraction monitors went on easily, and then the traditional IV rigmarole began. They started on my left arm and tried to get a vein in my wrist rather than hand (again with the wrist!). In went the needle but it didn't work. Now, I do not generally have a problem with needles or blood drawing but once in a while I do. This was one of those times. So I told them I was woozy and they waited a few minutes for me to recover my senses. They tried on the right wrist and fail again. They called in another nurse who has the magic touch--after I got over a second round of wooziness. She came in, commented on my deep veins and did the IV.

I was having pretty good contractions at this point, but baby did not like them and his heart rate dipped with every one. At this point the doctor arrived. It was Doctor B again, who delivered Mr C by c-section six years ago. And based on baby's heart rate, she said, I might be headed for another c-section. Bah! (Not the same Doctor B who delivered Baby A.)

Fortunately baby soon adjusted to the contractions and the heart rate stayed level. But even so, they wanted to get the epidural placed, just in case. Now, call me crazy, but I didn't really want one this time. I didn't have one with Baby M so I knew I could do it without. Based on Baby A's birth, I thought epidurals a) didn't always work b) worked TOO well c) made the whole process hours longer. I'd rather faster and briefly painful than drawn out and completely numb for hours after. 

Anyway, I agreed to getting one placed, because of that heart rate issue, but they agreed to put in the lowest dosage, which would likely wear off by pushing time. In comes Epidural Guy #1, Dr L. I sit there while he does his thing when he said, "I've hit some blood here." ("Duh!" thought I.) But apparently this meant he had to start over. Okay. Sure. Take 2, he got it done, and then tells me that because of that "blood" he hit, I might get a headache in the next day or two. I'll know if it's from that because it will be worse standing up and will go away when I lay down. If it does happen, he says, he can fix it by putting from blood from my arm into my back. Okay? Sure? At any rate, Dr. L left. 

(I promise I'm trying to make this short.)

Well! Soon after he left I felt really awful. The blood pressure monitor went off, the nurses came in and ask if I feel terrible. Yes. Apparently I had a reaction to the epidural so Dr. L came back and put some ephedrine in my IV. Blood pressure went back up, all good.

Ten minutes later, it went back down and I felt terrible again. The nurse asked if I felt terrible and I told her it's hard to distinguish one terrible from another. More ephedrine. This happened two more times (and once, randomly, later in the day) before I finally leveled off. 

Are you wondering how baby was doing at this point? Contractions were humming along, though not super consistently. The epidural kicked in but I could watch them on the monitor. Time went by. I had some juice (no solids for me! D:). I ate jello and watched that Halloween baking show on Food Network for a while until Drew couldn't take it anymore. (Honestly, neither could I. One girl complained about bundt cakes being SO old fashioned. What) He put on a movie, which I slept through. 

Doctor B came back around noon. Baby's heart rate had started dipping again. They decided to switch to internal monitors for contractions and Baby's heart, which is a process as comfortable as you would imagine. At this point I was at a 6 and she decided to break my water. I was very excited for this and hoped for a quick resolution after, a la Baby M. The nurse commented several times on how there was just a LOT of fluid, and Dr B predicted a baby by 2 o'clock. 

So, lots of liquid. Zero contractions. Everything just stopped completely. The nurses came back with a plan to start a small dose of pitocin to get them going again. Okay. Sure. The pitocin worked but they weren't very strong. They bumped up the pitocin, but Baby's heart rate started dipping again, and some dips were pretty low (I could see them on the monitor). The c-section was definitely looking like a possibility. They put me on oxygen for a while to see if it would help. Did it? Who knows. 

Enter the Peanut Ball. The what? (That's what I said.) Turns out the Peanut Ball is like a yoga ball, but it's shaped like a peanut. It goes between your legs and basically just holds your hips open to help encourage the baby to move down. Okay. Sure. So I was laying on the bed on my side with this enormous ball between my legs. For an hour I dozed in and out, while one leg went completely numb and the other went completely un-numb. 

The nurse came in and asked how I was doing. I complained a bit about being uncomfortable so she helped me roll to my other side, which was basically all she could do. She also upped the pitocin again because even though Baby's heart rate was still dipping, it didn't dip as much as before, and contractions were still not super strong or regular. I was at a 6.5 now, which she called progress and I called THAT'S IT? But the strategy here was make this happen sooner than later, despite neither my body nor Baby being very motivated, apparently. 

I dozed in and out for another hour but the epidural was pretty worn off now (except for that one leg). Contractions woke me up and I started feeling like I could use a trip to the bathroom. And the peanut ball was really getting uncomfortable. 

So, the nurse returned with a new plan--her last plan before a C section. The umbilical cord, they thought, might be the culprit behind the heart rate dips so they were going to put fluid back IN and hope that would make the cord shift. I asked her if I could go to the bathroom and she was like a bloodhound on a scent, asking how long I'd felt like that (10-15 minutes). 

Now, if you've had a baby or read birth stories, you probably know where this is going. The thought did cross my mind too, but with Baby M, that pressure was SO strong I couldn't have stopped it if I'd tried. This time it felt so mild by comparison I didn't think it could possibly be the same cause. Also an hour before I'd not even hit a 7 and progress had been slow. My hopes were too low to consider the alternative.

Anyway, she did a check before they tried the fluid injection and what do you know, I'm at a 10 and there's a baby's head RIGHT THERE, just waiting to come out. They called for Doctor B, and Things started to happen. (My numb leg had the feeling back, in case you wondered.) Doctor B asked me how big the other babies were (all 8+) and predicted the same this time.

(Did I mention that both Doctor B and the nurse had trainees with them? Along with a few extra nurses. [Also Drew] There were a lot of people watching this happen. No dignity for the birthing.)

So that pressure really kicked in then and I'm like can I push yet?! Well, you know what happens then. I'm not sure how many pushes it took--maybe three minutes worth. But it didn't take long and out Baby came. Drew got to announce the gender, and the reveal did not surprise me in the slightest. (It was a pretty unsurprising surprise baby, ha) 

I don't know why he disliked contractions, but he was perfectly healthy and well. 8 pounds, six ounces (second heaviest!), 20.5 inches. A little snugglebun right from the start. 

Normally I would end the birth story here. You know, at the end of the birthing. But the trouble was not over! (For me. Baby F has thrived.)

Fast forward to the 25th, discharge day. Remember Dr. L's warning about a headache from that blood he hit? Well, it arrived that morning and it was painful. I had to sit up to feed the Baby so my head hurt. I laid down and then my neck hurt even worse than my head. Dr. L was not on that day so Epidural Guy #2, Dr. C, came to check on me. Truth be told he seemed a little skeptical because I was sitting up, but suggested that I walk around to see if it got better or worse. Worse, and he would do a blood patch to fix it. (The alternative was waiting a week or so for it to get better on its own) Dr. C left and the nurse brought me a Coke (which is supposed to help) and an ice pack for my neck. 

The ice pack helped, the Coke didn't but I got up to walk the hall. I made it around once and tried to go again but my head was killing me. If I'd kept going I'm pretty sure I would have barfed or passed out. Both? So I laid back down in my bed and cried for a while instead. I decided to do the blood patch. Dr. C came between C sections and did the blood patch in about 15 minutes. Basically he put a needle in that same hole Dr. L made, then drew blood from my arm and put that blood in my back. What this does, I had no idea (at the time). What I do know is that I am NEVER HAVING ANOTHER EPIDURAL. 

(No wooziness with this blood draw, fortunately.)

Anyway. I had to lay on my back for an hour to let the blood sit or whatever. After that I felt much better and we were finally discharged! (Baby F was a champ, not making a peep despite a long wait for a meal)

Fast forward two days! I woke up in the morning to take Baby for a bilirubin check/blood draw at the hospital. Guess what? My headache came back. I did my best to lay flat in every chair at the hospital and then cried all the way home. I could have gone back for another blood patch, but why? I was pretty over needles in my back. (Did I mention that what Dr. L used to clean my back left a big rash?) So I spent the next three days lying on my bed. Baby F and I became adept at reclined nursing and I watched another season of Bake Off. SO BORED. 

Finally it started to go away after those three days. I had a few more days of dizzy spells and regular headaches. I also had ample time to look up what blood patches are and what actually happened. Dr. L did (made? caused? hit?) a wet tap--a term no one said at the hospital--which basically means he accidentally caused a leak of spinal fluid. This loss of fluid, Dr. C explained, makes your brain sag when you're upright, which causes the pain. Which is called a spinal headache--another term no one said. I'm annoyed about the thing happening in the first place, annoyed in the second because it seemed like no one actually explained what happened. The blood patch helps to stop the leak of fluid until your body makes more. That, at least, is my basic understanding of it.

It was a frustrating process, since from the neck down my recovery was really easy. And after a lonnnnnnnnnnnnng nine months I'd been looking forward to just, you know, not feeling awful anymore. And instead I just felt a different kind of awful. And then I felt a DIFFERENT kind of awful the NEXT week when I got a stomach bug. Sigh. 

But look at this cute baby I made, who was (and is!) healthy and happy and cute through the whole process:

It's so fascinating to me how mysterious babies are before they're born. What do they look like? Who are they? What appendage is that poking my ribs? Will they have hair? And then they're born and I always think, oh, it's you! It was you all along in there. 

 

And you do have hair.

The Long and Unexpectedly Short of It

When we last left off, the Poppy was born VBAC style on her due date, accompanied by two epidurals, some hours and a lot of discomfort.  When #3 was on the way, we planned another VBAC. His original due date was June 22nd, but that was moved up to the 16th, due to his measuring ahead.  But I wondered to myself--does the baby know the due date is moved?  

On Wednesday the 14th the doctor stripped the membranes. On the 15th I felt pretty terrible, mostly because of the 14th.  Luckily my mom was here and she kept everyone amused while I flopped around the house.  As with the Poppy, I had had contractions now and then for the last few weeks, but nothing consistent and nothing more than annoying. Around 5:00 I noticed they were getting more painful and at 7:00 I started timing them.  We put people to bed, then sat around until 9:30 or so.  Then off we went to the hospital and I cried most of the way because hormones?      

We arrived and I got checked at 9:45 and was at a 3 (of 10), which was...exactly where I was at my appointment the day before.  Sigh.  So the nurse said she'd check me in an hour and if anything changed then they'd admit me.  (Exactly what happened with the Poppy, if you recall [which you probably don't because why])  As with the Poppy, I threw up dinner, just shy of the 10:45 recheck time.  I think the nurse took pity on me at that point and said she could check whenever I was ready.  

I walked back and forth in the room until 11:15, the nurse came back and I was at a 5!  A 5!  Do you know how many hours it took to get to a 5 with the Poppy?  Actually, I myself do not know, but it was a lot longer.  Anyway, so I finally got admitted and a new team of nurses came in at 11:30 to put in my IV, which had to be done before I could get the epidural.  Even though I was planning for an epidural (as per my doctor's recommendation for a VBAC), I was really hoping to be more calm until that epidural came.  Not that I was a crazy person with the Poppy but, this being the second time around, I wanted to manage myself better.

The one nurse--I will call him Guy Nurse, because he was a guy--spent LITERALLY 20 minutes deciding where to place the IV.  He didn't want to put it in my hand because he thought that was "mean" so he finally put it in my wrist.  Except that didn't work so he put it in my hand after all.  Except that didn't work either and he had to take it out and blood sprayed all over.  Needless to say, I considered stabbing HIM with the needle many times. 

The other nurse--I will call her Lady Nurse, because she was a lady--put an IV in my other hand in about 30 seconds.  The lesson here is that it is MUCH more mean to take 20+ minutes making two failed attempts at an IV than it is to just put it in my dang hand.  But I suppose my irritation distracted me a bit from the contractions, HA.  Was that his plan all along??  

So, the time is now just shy of midnight.  The epidural guy is right next door, the IV is in, the doctor is coming and will break my water after the epidural is done.  The doctor arrives before the epidural guy (official job title) and decides to just go ahead and break my water.  The guy better hurry with the epidural, he says, because I'm at an 8.  An 8!  Hurray!  And also ow.  

About 30 seconds after breaking my water, the ow changed to an OW and I said, "Oh my gosh, oh my gosh!  The baby is coming right now!"  I have a read a LOT of birth stories and people always talk about the sudden need to push--now I know what they mean.  At first everyone was like "...no, it's okay, just relax..." but they quickly changed their minds.  Baby was riding the tidal wave right out the door.  

The epidural guy arrived about a minute later and offered to try anyway, at least just a local injection.  The nurses told me to skip it, as it clearly wouldn't take long, and they were right.  Nine minutes after the water breakage (an hour after being admitted) and baby was out, exactly on his (new) due date.  

(I guess he got the memo after all.)

8 pounds, 2 ounces and 20 inches of little baby perfection.

By the way, those nine minutes were super painful.  Just really awful.  I've had three babies now (!) and each of them arrived in such different ways and times (Miss A was certainly the slowpoke at being born).  But they have all been so worth it--worth the c section recovery, worth the two epidurals, worth the nine minutes.  

Happy you're here, little one. 

(And not just because I'm now heartburn freeeeeeeeeeeee!)

2/24

Another year has come and gone, and my what a difference a year has made for this little fellow.  

(Please ignore me and my, like, one week postpartum appearance.)

He's walking, talking and conversating.  He has likes and dislikes, asks for things and parrots like a, you know, parrot.  It's so fun to look back at how little and babyish he used to be, but it's also hard to remember when I see him playing hide and seek games with his car before falling asleep.

Sometimes he gives me pedicures.

Watching the trash truck.

He likes a lot of things but most of his favorite things have one thing in common: wheels. Airplanes, bikes, motorcycles, vacuums, lawnmowers, cars, trucks, tractors, diggers, trains--he loves them all.  Thanks to his generous cousin Jack, he has cars and trucks a'plenty and rarely does he go to bed without one.  

Hey now, those socks are too small!  And for a girl.

Having a Godzilla moment.

Other favorite things include books (especially David Wiesner lately), Kitty, cheese, "treeeeeats?", the Baby Einstein On the Go video, dinosaurs, stickers, nursery and jumping on the trampoline.  (Also various items of clothing that will turn up several times in these post.)

At his two year check up he was 29.8 lbs (72%) and 35 inches (66%).  In more exciting news (to him), I finally let him have a sucker at the end of the appointment.  Though in MORE exciting news (to him), the nurse gave him a car sticker.  

"Cheeeeese."  (Yes, those are Drew's running shorts.)

"Mi-mi-mi MOUse?"

Other recent developments: he is learning his letters!  I'm just amazed at how much he absorbed from looking at the alphabet page in a Richard Scarry book the last few months.  Now he will pick out letters in books or signs or boxes or anything (especially Ds and Ws).  He's also getting the hang of numbers and counting up to 5, sometimes in order (ha!).  I don't know how smart the average toddler is or how he compares, but that seems pretty smart to me and really, does anyone else's opinion matter?  Hahaha.

(No.)

This bed is just right.

Homemade play doh = infinitely more successful than homemade finger paints.

(Still wearing those shorts.)

Earning his keep!

Anyway, he is just a lovely, delightful boy who sometimes throws ridiculous tantrums but is usually happy and sweet.  He adores his little sister, his daddy and me.  Mostly me.  As he should!  Just kidding, he adores everyone in his family a great deal.  We adore him too.  

Because come on, how could we not?

Lawn Care

One of the reasons we bought this house was for the backyard.  There's so many acres!  Or a third of one anyway.  So we hired a local boy to help Drew with the upkeep.

Have I mentioned that he loves lawnmowers?  I don't think there's any doubt that it was the highlight of his birthday.  

And he doesn't even know it makes bubbles!

All About the Birthdays

Here is a life lesson for you, internet: when you have two birthdays on back to back days, you eat a lot of cake that week.  This year, yea verily, the third of year of mine and CAG's joined up birthdays, was no exception.  In fact, we ate even more cake than last year.  But I am not one to complain about an abundance of cake.  Here's how we spent birthday week this year...

I woke up to this little fellow wearing one of my presents: 

It says "Enjoy Firefly" a la Coca Cola and you can see the whole design here.  Too bad the dumb company sent a mens XL shirt instead of a womens medium like Drewbles ordered.  We got a refund but they don't make it anymore :(  

At least it looks pretty cute on the small fry.  And let's be honest, it will come in handy the next time there's a bun in my oven.

That night we all went to get cupcakes from Cravings, and I resisted the urge to get like five.  Only one!  Be impressed.  

I got chocolate mousse something rather and yes, it was delicious.

Boo Boo got a dirt cup cake bite (and my shirt again). Drewbles got the white chocolate caramel.

After bedtime we left the littles with Drew's parents and went to get ice cream.  Nothing like cake and ice cream on one's birthday, right?

Story time: in my way back teenage years I read this trilogy called Scared to Death.  Think Fear Street but BETTER.  Sadly, my library only had the first and third books and I was never able to read the second one.  Until now!  Because Drew got them all for me!  I am really excited about this and I'm SURE they will be just as good as I remember...

...right?

Anyway, let's get to the really fun stuff with Mr. C's birthday the next day.  I shall tell it in pictures.

Dinosaur museum!

Presents!

(He LOVES this train.)

(Also loves this train whistle.  Still waiting for him to be impressed with his super hero gear.)

(Unpictured: the beloved lawnmower.  He loves it so much it deserves its own post.)

Treat!

(He immediately shoved the whole strawberry in his mouth, leaves and all.)

Pictures just because!

On Saturday we had a couple of his little friends over for a playdate party and had, yes, more cake.  

(You are not going to see this little party on Pinterest and I am TOTALLY OKAY with that.)

(Still loving his snow boots.)

(Baby wore her party dress.)

Last but not least, the next day I made MY birthday cake--a triple lemon chiffon cake from, where else, Sky High.  That book never lets me down.  Friends and family came to help us eat it and a good time was had by all.

 

Now we're back to a cake-less life, and I can't help but be a little bummed that all the birthdays in our house are over.  Mid-summer cake perhaps?  

One of the best presents was this art Drewbles made for me:

:D