My last pregnancy post was about Sciatica and how uncomfortable it made me. Shortly after that post, I felt baby boy shift. I honestly felt him make a big move, and somehow released the pressure off my sciatic nerve. Overnight, I was feeling no pain.
Hip. Hip. Hooray! I was so stinking happy. I could walk with ease, I slept better, and I was generally less cranky :)
I went to the doctor on Thursday, November 7th for my regular weekly check up. It was just days before my due date (the 11th) so I was hoping the doctor would say, "Oh! You're in labor and didn't know it! Lets go have this baby!"
Not so much.
Instead he said that although my cervix was "ripening" (awesome... I know), there was little progress being made by my body to have this baby. I was not dilated at all and barely effaced. I still don't really know what the "effaced" part means. I think thinning of something or other? But regardless, nothing was happening. I went home a little disappointed. But again, I was really quite comfortable for being 10 months pregnant. I wasn't overly tired or uncomfortable, and since my sciatic nerve wasn't bothering me anymore, I wasn't in any pain.
But I just wanted to meet my little man.
I left school on Friday with everything set for my long term sub. But I was planning on being at school Monday and she was coming one last time to observe me. I had been leaving pretty much every night with things ready to go because I knew if I was ready, I wouldn't go into labor, but if I was not ready, I most certainly would go into labor early. Report cards and conferences were done the previous week, so I was good to go.
I had experienced some Braxton Hicks contractions, but nothing that was painful, and nothing I could time.
Then Saturday night happened.
At about 9:30 I had a couple contractions. I remember thinking, hmmm... I bet these are contractions. And then I fell asleep.
I woke up again at 11:00 with more contractions. So naturally I started timing them on an app I had downloaded for just this occasion. My contractions were 6 minutes, then 4, then 5, then 3 minutes apart. Nothing longer than the initial 6 minutes apart. My doctor told me to call when my contractions were anything less than 10 minutes apart for an hour straight. So after a half hour of these contractions I decided to take a shower. I wasn't sure when I'd get another chance for a shower, so I wanted to be fresh and clean and having my expectant mother glow. I continued to time my contractions - which were getting more and more uncomfortable - and they were consistently 3 minutes apart. Like clockwork.
Oh - and also I felt like I was dying a slow and painful death. Contractions are a "swear word".
I woke up Dave and said those infamous words.... "It's time."
No, I didn't actually say that, though in hindsight, I wish it was what I said. That is so much cooler than shaking him awake with a pained look on my face saying, "I'm having contractions. I'm calling the doctor."
So then I called my doctor. He said it was time to come in. So I called my brother to come to our house and hang out while Kingston and Kyrie slept. David called his parents to come up. They live about an hour away, but would stay with our boys while David and I were in the hospital.
We left our house at around 12:30. My contractions were every three minutes and hurt more with each one. Our hospital was about 35-45 minutes away, but there were two closer options. David asked me time and time again if he should just go to one of those hospitals. He was afraid I wouldn't make it. He kept saying, "DON'T PUSH!" I had no urge to push, just a lot of pain. But he did NOT want me delivering in the car.
Imagine that.
I of course wanted my "own doctor" to deliver this baby, so we were going to make it to Grand Rapids.
If only we knew then that we wouldn't deliver our sweet boy for another 34 plus hours.
I thought I knew where to park, but I didn't. Dave was thrilled with my guessing. We went in the ER entrance because we couldn't find the maternity entrance. I was sure I knew where it was, also. David was equally thrilled with my preparedness.
Did I mention we didn't do any prenatal classes or even a tour of the hospital/maternity ward? Oops.
The ER worked wonders - though I didn't feel like the people behind the desk understood the urgency of my being IN LABOR. They were very laid back about it and I could have used a little more dramatic attention.
When we got to maternity triage (that is what I will call it since I don't know what it was) they hooked me up to the monitor and checked me out. Steady contractions, still 3 minutes apart. Dilated to 2 cm.
That's not much.
The nurse threw me in the whirlpool tub (didn't know they did that...) and said I should stay there for an hour and she'd check me again. I thought I would love that because I love baths and hot tubs alike. But it was miserable. The water did nothing for my pain, and it was awkward being in the tub while Dave just hung out with me. I couldn't really talk because I was crying every three minutes and I know Dave was bored out of his mind because he couldn't really do anything to ease my pain, especially while I sat in a tub. When I got out, the nurse checked me again and I was only dilated to 3 cm.
She said she would call the doctor, and that she thought he would "probably" want me admitted. At this point I began to freak out because if he didn't admit me, it meant I would go home, and there was no way I could survive this pain at home. Which I know is melodramatic, but honestly, I think they would have had to DRAG me to the car to go home. Luckily, my doctor said "admit her".
At this point, time and the Earth stood still. Everything sort of blurs into everything else. From the time I was in maternity triage until the time Ezra was born was 34 hours. It took me FOREVER to dilate, even though my contractions were steadily strong and 3 minutes apart. I got an epidural, which I thought was a VERY uncomfortable process that lead to quite a bit of pain relief. My nurses shifted my position a lot to try to get things moving.
I was at 7 cm for 1 million hours. I don't even know how long. And the nurse could see little man when she checked me. Told me he had lots of hair! He was head down, but he was facing the wrong direction (and diagonal). So he was sort of stuck behind my pelvic bone somehow. I was given pitocen at one point to help me dilate. Didn't really seem to help. The doctor broke my water. Also did very little to move things along. Then at one point my nurse said she was going to call my doctor and she wouldn't be surprised if at this point he wanted to do a C section. It had been about 24 hours and I still wasn't dilated to 10 cm. She said it would not be unreasonable for him to suggest that.
I was really disappointed because I didn't want a C section, or the recovery from a C section. But my doctor said lets keep waiting! (LOVE my doctor, by the way). My heart rate and baby's heart rate were both safe, so he said let's give him more time.
EVENTUALLY.... it was time to push. I made it to 10 centimeters. And boy did I ever push. For a good three hours I tried to bring this boy into the world, and again, (BIG SHOCKER HERE....) nothing was really happening.
My doctor came in and said he would give me 30 more minutes of pushing. Then, if we wanted, he would try the vacuum to get little man out. We had a discussion about the risks and he mentioned that he would give it a solid effort, but not force it. A C-section might just be the route at that point. So I pushed my heart out for 30 minutes with no progress and so my doctor came in and said let's do this thang!
No, he didn't say that, but again, I wish he did. We did the vacuum - in which 100 bazillion people entered the room. Apparently when you use the vacuum the need to have the neonatal nurses prepared. They were in there, the doctor, my nurse, and some other guy that was "learning to be a doctor". I know what these are called, but at this moment in time I can't think of what he's called. So it was a full house ready to welcome little Ezra. I pushed and pushed and felt like nobody was telling me what has happening. I didn't know if he was coming or if we were headed for a C-section. The doctor just kept asking for another big push, and it seemed like things were moving along...
After what felt like another eternity, between my pushing and the good doctor's help, my sweet Ezra boy came into the world. He was placed on my chest and my heart exploded with love.
It was the most incredible high I've ever experienced. The nurses cleaned him up and snuggled him onto my chest and we fell in love. He looked just like a mini Dave to me. He was so handsome and perfect and his little cry sounded so familiar even though it was the first time I heard it.
Becoming a mother all over again has once again been one of the hardest and most rewarding and amazing experiences of my life. Every day things happen that I want to write about, but I'm sure I'll never get half of them documented on this blog. Look how long it took me to blog about Ezra's birth?! Being a mom to three under three presents itself with a whole new set of challenges and ridiculousness. I'm learning more about myself as a mom every day and falling in love with my children in new ways. I hope to be able to share as much of it with the world as I can, and to document it here for myself and my littles as well!
Sleep is crazy. I'm surrounded in diapers. Kingston and Kyrie adore their brother. And I rarely make it in the shower before Dave gets home from work. And by rarely, I mean once. I successfully showered one time when I was home alone with the three boys. Kingston and Kyrie were napping and Ezra cried for the last 5 minutes of it, but it was a win! But I guess it was also a fail because I hated those five minutes of hair rinsing during crying. So I've resigned to showering in the evenings. Which is fine and dandy. Just leaves for super awesome bed head.
So far the mailman, UPS guy and a girl scout have enjoyed my pjs and I'm okay with it. My kids are clean (ish), fed, and happy. And so am I. Life is amazing. Hard, messy, a little loud. But amazing.
Hip. Hip. Hooray! I was so stinking happy. I could walk with ease, I slept better, and I was generally less cranky :)
I went to the doctor on Thursday, November 7th for my regular weekly check up. It was just days before my due date (the 11th) so I was hoping the doctor would say, "Oh! You're in labor and didn't know it! Lets go have this baby!"
Not so much.
Instead he said that although my cervix was "ripening" (awesome... I know), there was little progress being made by my body to have this baby. I was not dilated at all and barely effaced. I still don't really know what the "effaced" part means. I think thinning of something or other? But regardless, nothing was happening. I went home a little disappointed. But again, I was really quite comfortable for being 10 months pregnant. I wasn't overly tired or uncomfortable, and since my sciatic nerve wasn't bothering me anymore, I wasn't in any pain.
But I just wanted to meet my little man.
I left school on Friday with everything set for my long term sub. But I was planning on being at school Monday and she was coming one last time to observe me. I had been leaving pretty much every night with things ready to go because I knew if I was ready, I wouldn't go into labor, but if I was not ready, I most certainly would go into labor early. Report cards and conferences were done the previous week, so I was good to go.
I had experienced some Braxton Hicks contractions, but nothing that was painful, and nothing I could time.
Then Saturday night happened.
At about 9:30 I had a couple contractions. I remember thinking, hmmm... I bet these are contractions. And then I fell asleep.
I woke up again at 11:00 with more contractions. So naturally I started timing them on an app I had downloaded for just this occasion. My contractions were 6 minutes, then 4, then 5, then 3 minutes apart. Nothing longer than the initial 6 minutes apart. My doctor told me to call when my contractions were anything less than 10 minutes apart for an hour straight. So after a half hour of these contractions I decided to take a shower. I wasn't sure when I'd get another chance for a shower, so I wanted to be fresh and clean and having my expectant mother glow. I continued to time my contractions - which were getting more and more uncomfortable - and they were consistently 3 minutes apart. Like clockwork.
Oh - and also I felt like I was dying a slow and painful death. Contractions are a "swear word".
I woke up Dave and said those infamous words.... "It's time."
No, I didn't actually say that, though in hindsight, I wish it was what I said. That is so much cooler than shaking him awake with a pained look on my face saying, "I'm having contractions. I'm calling the doctor."
So then I called my doctor. He said it was time to come in. So I called my brother to come to our house and hang out while Kingston and Kyrie slept. David called his parents to come up. They live about an hour away, but would stay with our boys while David and I were in the hospital.
We left our house at around 12:30. My contractions were every three minutes and hurt more with each one. Our hospital was about 35-45 minutes away, but there were two closer options. David asked me time and time again if he should just go to one of those hospitals. He was afraid I wouldn't make it. He kept saying, "DON'T PUSH!" I had no urge to push, just a lot of pain. But he did NOT want me delivering in the car.
Imagine that.
I of course wanted my "own doctor" to deliver this baby, so we were going to make it to Grand Rapids.
If only we knew then that we wouldn't deliver our sweet boy for another 34 plus hours.
I thought I knew where to park, but I didn't. Dave was thrilled with my guessing. We went in the ER entrance because we couldn't find the maternity entrance. I was sure I knew where it was, also. David was equally thrilled with my preparedness.
Did I mention we didn't do any prenatal classes or even a tour of the hospital/maternity ward? Oops.
The ER worked wonders - though I didn't feel like the people behind the desk understood the urgency of my being IN LABOR. They were very laid back about it and I could have used a little more dramatic attention.
When we got to maternity triage (that is what I will call it since I don't know what it was) they hooked me up to the monitor and checked me out. Steady contractions, still 3 minutes apart. Dilated to 2 cm.
That's not much.
The nurse threw me in the whirlpool tub (didn't know they did that...) and said I should stay there for an hour and she'd check me again. I thought I would love that because I love baths and hot tubs alike. But it was miserable. The water did nothing for my pain, and it was awkward being in the tub while Dave just hung out with me. I couldn't really talk because I was crying every three minutes and I know Dave was bored out of his mind because he couldn't really do anything to ease my pain, especially while I sat in a tub. When I got out, the nurse checked me again and I was only dilated to 3 cm.
She said she would call the doctor, and that she thought he would "probably" want me admitted. At this point I began to freak out because if he didn't admit me, it meant I would go home, and there was no way I could survive this pain at home. Which I know is melodramatic, but honestly, I think they would have had to DRAG me to the car to go home. Luckily, my doctor said "admit her".
At this point, time and the Earth stood still. Everything sort of blurs into everything else. From the time I was in maternity triage until the time Ezra was born was 34 hours. It took me FOREVER to dilate, even though my contractions were steadily strong and 3 minutes apart. I got an epidural, which I thought was a VERY uncomfortable process that lead to quite a bit of pain relief. My nurses shifted my position a lot to try to get things moving.
I was at 7 cm for 1 million hours. I don't even know how long. And the nurse could see little man when she checked me. Told me he had lots of hair! He was head down, but he was facing the wrong direction (and diagonal). So he was sort of stuck behind my pelvic bone somehow. I was given pitocen at one point to help me dilate. Didn't really seem to help. The doctor broke my water. Also did very little to move things along. Then at one point my nurse said she was going to call my doctor and she wouldn't be surprised if at this point he wanted to do a C section. It had been about 24 hours and I still wasn't dilated to 10 cm. She said it would not be unreasonable for him to suggest that.
 |
| Me. After hour 100 of labor. |
 |
| My Labor Coach taking a snooze. |
My doctor came in and said he would give me 30 more minutes of pushing. Then, if we wanted, he would try the vacuum to get little man out. We had a discussion about the risks and he mentioned that he would give it a solid effort, but not force it. A C-section might just be the route at that point. So I pushed my heart out for 30 minutes with no progress and so my doctor came in and said let's do this thang!
No, he didn't say that, but again, I wish he did. We did the vacuum - in which 100 bazillion people entered the room. Apparently when you use the vacuum the need to have the neonatal nurses prepared. They were in there, the doctor, my nurse, and some other guy that was "learning to be a doctor". I know what these are called, but at this moment in time I can't think of what he's called. So it was a full house ready to welcome little Ezra. I pushed and pushed and felt like nobody was telling me what has happening. I didn't know if he was coming or if we were headed for a C-section. The doctor just kept asking for another big push, and it seemed like things were moving along...
After what felt like another eternity, between my pushing and the good doctor's help, my sweet Ezra boy came into the world. He was placed on my chest and my heart exploded with love.
 |
| Heart Exploding. |
It was the most incredible high I've ever experienced. The nurses cleaned him up and snuggled him onto my chest and we fell in love. He looked just like a mini Dave to me. He was so handsome and perfect and his little cry sounded so familiar even though it was the first time I heard it.
 |
| Look at his little face!! Ah! So precious. |
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| Mommy and Ezra |
 |
| Brand New Baby Perfection. |
Sleep is crazy. I'm surrounded in diapers. Kingston and Kyrie adore their brother. And I rarely make it in the shower before Dave gets home from work. And by rarely, I mean once. I successfully showered one time when I was home alone with the three boys. Kingston and Kyrie were napping and Ezra cried for the last 5 minutes of it, but it was a win! But I guess it was also a fail because I hated those five minutes of hair rinsing during crying. So I've resigned to showering in the evenings. Which is fine and dandy. Just leaves for super awesome bed head.
So far the mailman, UPS guy and a girl scout have enjoyed my pjs and I'm okay with it. My kids are clean (ish), fed, and happy. And so am I. Life is amazing. Hard, messy, a little loud. But amazing.
