Maxwell's Birth Story

It's been a whole year since I gave birth to Maxwell, our second baby boy.  He is a total delight.  These past 52 weeks have flown by!  Which is why I am just getting around to writing his birth story!

This pregnancy was a lot different than my first.  Each was difficult in it's own way - I do not enjoy pregnancy and pregnancy does not seem to enjoy me.  This time around I didn't swell as much, I didn't gain as much weight, and I don't think that I cried as much this time.  However, I did get sick more and I had more pain early on which resulted in me wearing a support belt.  At times I would have to call in for back-up (of the Grandma variety) to help wrangle Mason because I just couldn't move (literally).  I even had to call Thomas one time because I was bent over unloading laundry and I couldn't stand straight up because I got some sort of a pinch nerve or something.  I had to crawl over to the couch and call Thomas at work, crying from the pain and laughing at the ridiculousness of it, telling him that he needed to come home because I was stuck and I had Mason to take care of.  Mason was very helpful throughout the pregnancy.  I was on bed rest for a couple of days somewhere around the middle because the pain was just too intense and I had mobility issues.

I thought that Maxwell was going to come early: 1) because of the pain, 2) because I had a lot of Braxton Hicks contractions throughout the pregnancy (which I didn't feel at all with Mason) and 3) because I had part of my mucus plug (sorry for TMI) fall out very early.  Alas, it was not meant to be.  I had said throughout my pregnancy that I needed to hold him in towards the end because his due date was less than three weeks from Mason's birthday.  Well, baby boy must have been listening - because we ended up having to evict him!

37 weeks

Around 38 weeks, I had started walking to get things moving.  I walked every day just doing circles around our block.  My neighbors would see me daily, "Still pregnant?"  Umm, yeah.  "How long are you going to do that?"  Until it works was my reply.  Well, it didn't.  We had an appointment set to get induced at 40w5d.  In the meantime, we were doing everything that we could to induce labor naturally.  But my tummy must have been just too cuddly for Maxwell, because he waited until our induction date.

During my weekly check-ups, I opted out of having my cervix checked because it was discouraging when I found out that I had not progressed from one week to the next with Mason.  Also, I figured that if a baby was about to come out of me, I didn't need to have my cervix checked to know it.  It wasn't until my 39 week appointment that I had them check me (I was 39w5d) because if something wasn't happening, then we needed to make a plan.  And since I knew when we conceived, I was comfortable knowing that he would be fully cooked.  On top of that, he was measuring about the same as Mason, and that is large!  When they checked me, I was only about 1cm dilated (pfft, that's nothing!) and about 50% effaced.  So, I allowed them to sweep my membranes to see if we could get something going within the next couple of days.  Spoiler alert: it didn't work.

In a way, being induced was nice since we had Mason to think of.  Grandma Sue came to stay with him and we were able to explain when we would be gone, what we would be doing, and when we would be back.

39 weeks

We checked in to the hospital at 6:30am.  A few hours later, after being checked by my doctor and still only being about 1cm dilated, they inserted citotech in order to soften my cervix.  They told me that I was having contractions before administering the citotech, but I hadn't felt them.  But after the medication was administered, I definitely could feel them!  I was more comfortable with my contractions standing, with Thomas to support me.  He helped me steady my breathing through the pain and being able to embrace my husband was just so much nicer than fighting through the discomfort on a bed.  After a while, we decided to watch some television shows to distract me from the pain and to help pass the time.  It was during this time that my water broke with a horrible gush- I started half-screaming, half-laughing, "Oh my gosh!!!  It's like I'm peeing!  It's still coming out!"  Thomas called for the nurse to let them know that my bag broke with me hollering in the background.  It was 11:30 a.m. now and I was dilated to 3cm.

Nurses kept coming in to see if I wanted an epidural, to which I always responded with a resounding "YES," but the anesthesiologist didn't come.  I swear that it took three times telling them that yes, I wanted the epidural before it was finally scheduled.  Two hours after my water broke, I finally had the epidural placed and I started to feel a lot more relaxed.  Problem was, since my water had already broken and the cushion of the fluid in my uterus had escaped, I was experiencing cord compression.  With every contraction, the cord was getting pinched between the walls of my uterus and Maxwell, which made his heart rate drop dramatically.  To help prevent this, I kept having to re-position myself.  But when I would move, so would the baby and the cord, and we would eventually have the same problem with each passing contraction.  To help alleviate this issue, an intrauterine monitor was placed and they attempted to put fluid back into me.  This did not work.

Not only did this not help with the variable deceleration in Maxwell's heart rate, but my constant re-positioning meant that my epidural was not being distributed appropriately.  One side of my body felt nothing, and the other side felt EVERYTHING!!  It was absolutely miserable.  I was in so much pain that I was shaking and having difficulty breathing.  They put me on oxygen and tried to get the anesthesiologist back in to see me and top me off with more medication.  Unfortunately, he was stuck in a surgery and couldn't get to me.  I waited almost two hours to get the relief that I desperately needed.  And it could not have come any later, because shortly thereafter, I was 10cm.

Pushing became a different kind of difficult.  Not because of the pain - but quite the opposite.  My second dose of medication for my epidural was so effective, that I felt nothing.  My lower half was completely and intensely numb.  My head felt a lot of pressure from my attempt to push and in between contractions (that I couldn't feel), I was getting ice chips and getting an oxygen mask put back on.  After a short period, I had to remove the mask and called for a bucket- I was going to be sick!!!  So here I was, pushing and vomiting the pathetic excuse of a lunch that I was given earlier (flavorless jello and hot water with a flavor packet).  It was terrible, but apparently not uncommon!  I couldn't feel if my body was responding to my brain telling it to push and I felt queasy from just having thrown up.  My head was pushing hard, but I didn't know if anything else was happening... but I guess something was!  After about 65 minutes of pushing, Maxwell James Bravo was born at 7:45 p.m. weighing 8 pounds, 12 ounces and 21 inches long.

Adventures in Cloth Diapering

Here is my follow up post to my personal breastfeeding story. Before Mason, I knew very little about diapering options.  Had you asked me three years ago, I wouldn't have even known that there were options outside of using disposables!  It wasn't until I read about cloth diapers on one of my favorite blogs (Young House Love) that I even knew that they still existed and how awesome of a solution they could be!

When we got pregnant, I talked to Thomas about exploring the option of using cloth diapers so that we could prevent emptying our bank account for disposables.  I knew what brand I would want to buy (Bum Genius) and the fact that I would be home with Mason for at least his first year (until we started him with twice weekly daycare), it seemed like an option that we should really explore.  It all came down to this: the baby shower.  I had several friends acquire so many diapers at showers that were thrown for them that they didn't even end up having to buy diapers for almost their entire first year!  I thought that if we could get that lucky with gifts that I wouldn't want to spend the extra dough on cloth diapers on top of that.  Well, while we did get many many generous gifts- diapers weren't really one of them.  We did get enough to cover our first few newborn months but it wasn't enough to make sticking to disposables worth it for us.  And so, we went with cloth.

I shopped around online to make sure that I got the best possible price.  I started out with buying a bundle of 12 velcro diapers for $215.  It's a hard hit on your bank account at first- but when you consider what you would be spending over time with disposables, it made it easier to swallow (hmm, maybe saying easier to handle would be less gross when talking about diapers).  Mason started out on disposables when he was a newborn and stayed in those until he was about 2-3 months and was finally chunky enough to fit the smallest size of the Bum Genius.  They do make newborn cloth diapers- but I didn't read as much positive things about those (regarding fit, clean up, etc) and we had gotten enough newborn size disposables to last us for a while.  After getting into the swing of things I bought another bundle of 6 snap diapers (which cost $110) thinking that I might like them more than the velcro which can wear out over time.


With the cloth diapers, all that we had to do was purchase the diapers (duh) totaling $325, a toilet sprayer (an attachment that hooks onto your toilet tank to spray out the #2's) for around $40 and a wet bag from Planet Wise for $19 (to store the dirty diapers before they go in the wash).  Since all that we were disposing of in the nursery were the dirty wipes, we just got a small trash can with a lid (we empty the trash nightly- so it doesn't get stinky in there).

Our extra expenses do include disposable diapers though.  I don't know about anybody else in their cloth diaper escapades but we experienced a lot more leaking when it came to overnight usage.  After a few mornings with a soaking wet baby, pajamas, and crib we switched to disposables at night.  I don't know- maybe our kid pees a lot.  But we made the switch to nightly disposables without much damage to our wallets.  After all, one disposable per night equals maybe, just maybe one small bag of diapers per month for about $10 (I shop until I get the best possible deal).

In total we spent:
$325 on diapers
$40 on toilet sprayer
$19 for wet bag 
$99 for disposables (month 3-12)
Total: $483.00 (roughly)


Our main motivation for going the cloth route was solely for budgets sake.  We're not crazy green people- although we recycle and use some eco-friendly products we aren't super green or anything- which is why we opted out of using cloth wipes.  Disposable wipes aren't going to break the bank and the idea of the cloth wipes was just too yucky for us.  I draw the line at spraying poop into the toilet, thank you!

 With cloth diapers does come some extra laundry though.  Initially when I only had 12 diapers, I was washing every day and the load wasn't full.  I bought the extra diapers so that I wouldn't have to wash as frequently (maybe every 2-3 days) and so that when I did wash, it was a full load.  Despite the extra laundry we did not notice an increase in our water bill.  Once the baby comes into play, you're doing extra laundry anyhow.  Pre-baby I could get away with doing laundry every other week.  Now with the kid, we all have a lot more dirty laundry!  I'm lucky if I can go thru half of the week without three loads!

Another downside to the velcro diapers is how easy it is for Mason to pull it off- from outside of his clothes.  Since our boy has started walking, he has really gotten into the habit of pulling the velcro (especially on the the more worn out diapers) while he is fully clothed.  There have been multiple occasion where we go to change the boy and the diaper is just sort of hanging off of him.  So while the velcro diapers are easier to put on him when he's being squirmy (which is almost always), the snap diapers are more difficult for him to pull off of himself.  He has yet to yank one of the snap diapers off *knock on wood.

Now, here we are one year into our cloth diaper experience and I can definitely say that this will be something that we carry over with the next child- hopefully with the same diapers!  The snap diapers are all definitely in great shape to be used until Mason gets to potty training.  The velcro ones, while easier to get onto a very squirmy child, wear out easier.  At this point, I have only had one diaper that I have had to retire due to velcro losing it's velco-ness (that's totally a word).  So, I might have to buy more diapers for the next kid (and different fun colors should we have a girl next time around) but we're still way outside of the red when it comes to diaper expenses!

Overall, I calculated that we would have spent roughly $1,200 for disposable diapers alone in this last year!  That's a savings of over $700.  Yes, please!

389 Days

389 days.  Three.hundred.eighty.nine.days.  That is how long my breastfeeding journey was.  That's 2,680+ feedings = 30 days straight = 737+ hours = 44,271 minutes.  Yeah, I kept track.  Cause I'm cool like that.

I went in to the idea of breastfeeding very casually.  I was very we'll-see-how-it-goes about my whole pregnancy/parenting experience.  I just had general guidelines that I wanted to follow but didn't have any hard feelings if things deviated from the plan.  Because as much as I would like to think so, I'm not really in charge of the whole pregnancy-baby-breastfeeding thing.  My body and baby will do what they want to do.   Trust me, if I was in charge, I would have skipped over the whole gaining 70+ pounds, swelling like crazy, and stretch mark thing.  I was not the boss.  Motherhood was just my job and *toot my own horn here* I rock at it.

Initially, I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to successfully breastfeed.  I think that's a big reason why I didn't go into it with my heart set on it.  I prefer to go into things with low-expectations so that I'm only pleasantly surprised when things go my way.  Thomas calls it pessimism, I call it realistic.  What's more, both my mom and my sister had a very difficult time with breastfeeding and inevitably had to go with formula.  I was afraid that this was just something that Morris women had trouble with.  But when my little monster was born last year, I knew that I at least wanted to try breastfeeding for several reasons.

1) The whole- it's good for the baby thing.  With a doctor for a husband, it was a no-brainer for him that breastfeeding was a must.  And while I agreed with him, I also didn't see a problem with using formula.  After all, I was a formula fed baby and I'm healthy, educated, and happy.

2) I'm home anyway.  There are so many moms out there that do not have the luxury of being at home with their babies.  I am very lucky that I am a work-at-home-stay-at-home mom.  Until my boy was crawling he was being held in one arm while I typed away with the other.  I could take breaks whenever I needed to change a diaper, take a shower while he napped (which unfortunately was rare), and nurse whenever and however often the kid requested.  I know a lot of moms that nurse for a few months before switching to formula or go straight to formula because they go back to work.  I thought that if I could do it, I would be crazy not to try to take advantage of the opportunity.

3) Saving mucho dinero.  Despite what many people may think- we do not have a lot of money.  Being married to a doctor does not equal having an awesome bank account- especially when said doctor is a resident and comes with student loans.  Like, a lot of them.  Don't get me wrong, we're not living like we did in college anymore.  We don't eat ramen every night and have crates for furniture (although we probably would if it were up to Thomas),  but we have a very strict budget.  With a mortgage, car payment (newly acquired for the need for a mommy-mobile), student loans, putting money in savings, etc we didn't have a lot of room in our budget for $70+ week for formula.  I could have made it work- but my stubborn self wasn't sure that I wanted to.  Saving money was probably the biggest perk for me which is why we also opted for cloth diapers (more on that here).

Luckily, when the little sprout came- there were no major problems.  I did experience a few initial frustrating nights in the hospital.  After all, I was a beginner and so was Mason.  He got 'frenzied' which resulted in lots of tears and frustration- on both sides.  Fortunately for us, after my milk came in after about a week, we were both pros.

Along with breastfeeding full-time came other issues: engorgment, clogged ducts, limiting my time to myself, having to excuse myself to feed the kid in private, etc.  I spent lots of nights in a hot bath trying to alleviate pain from clogged ducts- those were not my favorite but were a common occurrence, especially when the boy was going thru a growth spurt.  I also had a kid that was easily distracted.  He demanded a quiet space free of covers which meant that I always had to nurse in private at home or excuse myself so that I could nurse in the backseat of our car.  I saw a woman at Target the other day who had a baby strapped to her chest nursing while she was shopping.  I was so jealous!  When Mase wanted to eat, I had to stop everything that I was doing and maybe get back to it later.

Other perks of breastfeeding:

1) I was allowed to eat!  I didn't have any pressure to get back to my pre-baby body.  While I did hit over 212 pounds (I stopped weighing myself after that), I didn't have anyone pushing me to lose the weight except for myself and even I just sort of went with it.  Breastfeeding meant no extreme diets because I needed to get in enough calories to make quality milk.  What's awesome, is that even though I wasn't being super careful about what I was eating- I was still losing.  It took me almost 10 months to get back to my pre-pregnancy weight- but I believe that '9 months on -  9 months off' is a healthy guideline that worked for me.

2) Bonding time.  I loved our time together.  I had a special spot in our bedroom that became our designated eating space.  I had my big comfy chair, a Boppy, and that was it.  Mason could eat and I could relax.  That was really my only time in my day where I could unwind.

Now that our breastfeeding journey is over- a whole new world has opened up for us.  While I will miss having those moments with my boy, I am so very grateful that I was able to do it. 

Mason - Year 1

You were born two days before your due date on the 2nd of May in 2012- but your Dad and I were ready to meet you!  You weighed 8 pounds, 5 ounces and were 20.5" long. 

You had dark brown hair when you were first born (I won the bet with your dad, who thought you would be blonde) but the older you got, the lighter your hair became.  Your eyes, however, stayed very blue.  I love your blue eyes.  You looked very much like me when you were super little but are looking more and more like your dad as time passes. 

Here is a little bit about the different parts of your life right now.

Me- Your Mommy:

I was meant to be your mommy.  I am so very lucky.  I get to spend every day with you and hug you and kiss you whenever I want.  My job let me work from home, so you didn't have to go into daycare.  Up until you started crawling around, I would hold you in one arm and work on the computer with the other.  You were always so content just having a little play area to yourself while I worked away at my desk. 

I was so attached to you when you were born that I cried when I had to leave the room.  I couldn't even leave the house without you until you were over 4 months old!  You are my little boy!  When you get upset, I can sing to you or put on some music and it calms you. 

You didn't like bottles or pacifiers, but before you even knew how to suck your own thumb, you would find mine!

 You have been very patient with me always taking your picture.  Every week I make you put on your white onesie and lay on a piece of fabric so that I can document your growth.  You are a great little subject.

 You like when I chase you around the house.  You squeal and run away.  Inevitably I catch up to you and you start laughing.  You like when I pretend to gobble you up and let you run away again- even though you know I will just catch you again.  You like to be scared and we love hearing your delighted screams!

 Your Daddy:

Your daddy loves you so much.  He works very hard to give us the nice life that we have.  I'm thankful for the sacrifices that he makes for us.  He works very long hours to provide for us even though he would much rather be home with us.  When you were first born, he couldn't keep his eyes off of you.  You are our little miracle. 

I like to catch you guys napping together.  It is one of the sweetest moments that I have ever experienced between the two of you.

Since I get to spend all day with you, Daddy takes care of your bedtime routine.  He works very hard so that he doesn't miss your bath time.  That is Daddy time.  He plays with your toys in the tub and blows bubbles for you to play with .  After your bath is story time.  You love to touch the books.

When we go out, Daddy takes charge!  He straps you in the baby bjorn and walks around with pride.  You are Daddy's little boy.

You also like to walk around on Daddy's shoulders.  Your favorite thing to do with him is to be on his shoulders while he runs around.  You throw your hands in the air and wave them around while yelling with excitement.  It's so much fun to watch you!  Sometimes you even bend around to see Daddy's face as if to say, "Hello!"

You two are so important to me.  You love your Daddy and your Daddy loves you!

Your Kitty Siblings:
Your kitty brothers and sisters love you very much... especially now that you have started dropping food on the floor!   You give them a bunch of new comfortable places to sleep and keep them alert with you always following them around!  I frequently have to take Misty and Rascal off of your changing table.  They think it's just another cat bed.  Asha and Xerox love to hide under your crib.  Your dad and I have had to sneak in there several times in the middle of the night because we accidentally locked them in there with you and they are screaming to get out.

When you first came home, Misty liked to watch you.  She seemed interested and protective of you.  She likes you more than she likes your Daddy!  She knows that you are her family.

 

Asha is Asha.  She will let me plop you on top of her and she won't move a muscle.  She is our little sloth.  If you try to get to her, she'll just grunt.  She might eventually move if you bother her enough, but she is forgetful and will come wandering back into the room 30 seconds after she leaves.

 

Xerox likes to join us while you are eating.  If you are still or sleeping on your Boppy, he will try to even climb on top of you to sleep.  For most of your life so far, this cat has been much heavier than you.  When I feed you a snack or meal in your highchair, Xerox is the first to come out and say hello.  He knows that you will drop food for him!

 

Rascal runs away from you when you chase him around the house.  He used to find sanctuary on top of the cat tree in the living room, but since you have mastered climbing that too there is no safe zone!  You laugh hysterically when he hisses at you for pulling his tail.  He has never hurt you though... not yet anyway!

All About You!

Now, you are a rambunctious little boy.  You climb on everything and get into everything!

When we take you to the park, you are more interested in looking at the trees than playing on the playground.  You love music, bright colors, and being tossed in the air.

You are a mover!  You liked your activity center so much, that I caught you trying to get into it to the point of getting stuck and hurting yourself.  I had to hide it from you!  You could really move in that thing!  You would charge full speed across the tile floors and slide your heels in order to stop.

 

You like to drum on things.  You don't even need tools- you use your hands.  You drum your hands on the couch, the floor, the cabinets, dining room chairs, anything that you can get to.

You like the water.  Now that you can really splash in the tub, that is about all that you do in there!  The whole bathroom is soaking wet by the time that you are done in there!

You are a great eater.  Your favorite things are spaghetti squash and pasta.  You like to share with the kitties by dropping food on the floor and even like to share with your Dad and I.  You aren't a fan of melon but you will never pass up a chance to snack on oranges or cherry fruit cocktail.

The house is in constant disarray- always covered in books, stuffed animals, blocks, sippy cups and sticky floors- but I wouldn't have it any other way.  You are our greatest accomplishment and we look forward to the gentleman that you will grow to be.  You have been such a joy in our lives.  We can't image a life without you. 

Mason's Birth Story

Alright- it’s been eight weeks since I’ve given birth to my son and I think it’s about time to write down what actually happened when I went into labor before I forget some of the details!  Luckily for us though, I packed a pad of paper and a pen so that Thomas could take notes throughout the process so that I could remember my progression or anything major that happened along the way.

First I want to say, that the end of my pregnancy was tough.  My weight had ballooned and the swelling I was experiencing was out of control and very painful!  The majority of my weight gain (if not all of it) in the last five weeks was water weight… it was crazy.  I had been putting on weight faster than anybody wanted (especially me) and was told that I may produce a bigger baby and was warned that this could lead to shoulder dystocia or the complete inability to have a vaginal delivery.  As much as this worried me (I mean, who wants to deliver a giant baby?) I couldn’t really curb my weight gain at the end.  In the last month alone I put on about 25 pounds.  When I first got pregnant I weighed in at 156.  It was higher than I wanted… plus Thomas and I had gone on vacation… and who doesn’t put on weight when they vacation?  Anyway, by my 39 week check-up I weighed in at 212 pounds!!!  My personal goal was to keep it under 200… but that was abandoned as soon as my legs and feet started to look like the fat space people in Wall-E.

(my 37 week photo- before the bulk of my swelling occurred) 

Anyway, moving on.  Starting at my 37 week check-up, I started getting my cervix checked for any progression.  I was excited when at 37 weeks, I was -3 station, 50% effaced and 1cm dilated.  Now, I knew that I could walk around like that for weeks.  But at the same time it made me happy that the ball had started rolling.  I tried to walk and move around to keep things progressing… as much as my swelling and discomfort would allow but was completely discouraged when at my 38 week check-up, I had made no progress.  The ball had apparently stopped rolling.  I was already so uncomfortable at this point that I was crying uncontrollably in the doctor’s office to the point where my OB gave me a hug.  I was so crushed!  I wanted my giant baby to come out already!  I felt guilty that my main motivation to go into labor was not to meet our little miracle… but to put an end to the swollen feet, my inability to wear regular shoes or even maternity clothes, the fact that I couldn’t stop from sweating despite being in air conditioning all day, and the fact that I had gotten so big that I didn’t recognize myself anymore when I looked in the mirror.  Even my lips were swollen!  I spent every evening trying to cover my body as I got ready for bed so that Thomas couldn’t see how gross I felt that I had gotten and I then proceeded to cry myself to sleep.  Even getting into bed was like running a marathon.  I couldn’t get in bed without getting winded, couldn’t move without grunting to shift my weight, and couldn’t get comfortable if my life depended on it.

It was after my 38 week check-up that I decided that if I was given the option I did not want to be checked for progression anymore.  Thankfully my OB understood how I was feeling and although she checked me she didn’t let me know if any changes had occurred… she just let me know that things were all good.  My swelling was always mentioned but my doctor said that my blood pressure was okay so there wasn’t any need to worry about pre-eclampsia: my blood pressure was elevated (but not high) and I had shown no excess protein in my urine.  I got orders to get my feet elevated (nearly impossible when you are smuggling several watermelons in your gut), to sit in my still cold pool, and to wrap my legs.  And although I spent nearly every day in my pool, the pain and the swelling didn’t go away.

It was at 39 weeks and 5 days that I had had it with everything.  I was in too much pain and too emotionally weak to handle much of anything.  I could barely walk because I was in so much pain- pain from the swelling, pain from the weight, pain from moving.  Everything hurt.  I was tired of being pregnant, I was tired of talking about being pregnant, I was tired of friends and family asking me if I was still pregnant.  I wanted to crawl into a hole and wait it out alone.  When Thomas got home we talked about him going on family medical leave until I went into labor because I couldn’t get around on my own anymore without crying in pain.  I had also decided that I would be spending the remainder of my pregnant nights sleeping on the couch because my body just couldn’t make the journey all the way to the top of our mattress. 

That night, after Thomas had fallen asleep I was starting to feel more pain than I had been in the rest of the day.  I figured that maybe my body had just had it or that even walking around the house had been too much for me.  The pain was low and only on my left side but it felt like someone was giving an Indian burn to my muscles.  Maybe this was Braxton Hicks?  I hadn’t experienced them throughout the pregnancy and these didn’t seem to fit the description of what regular contractions should feel like, so I went online to confirm that they were, in fact, Braxton Hicks.  Instead, what I read was that this could possibly be labor pains.  I woke up Thomas at around 10 p.m. just to say, “I’m not really sure… but I might be having contractions.”  I got a pad of paper and the stopwatch on my phone ready to time them.  They were erratic and inconsistent.  Sometimes I would cramp up for 90 seconds, sometimes I would feel short, sharp pains, sometimes I felt nothing unless the baby moved.  I started to feel bad that I had woken Thomas up for nothing, but the pain started to intensify around 11:30 and regulated at around 12-15 minutes apart.  It was at this point that we decided that this was the real deal and I started to freak out!  I didn’t think that I could handle more pain and the breathing methods that we learned seemed like a pile of hooey at this point.  THIS HURT!  I started saying, “I can’t do this… what was I thinking,“ knowing even then that I would feel horribly guilty for these thoughts and expressing them to Thomas later.

Thomas tried his best to calm me, to let me know that I was strong and we could do this together.  As he got our bags and house situated for our absence, I took a shower to calm myself and to help ease some pain.

As far as a birthing plan goes, I had never really planned anything out.  Nothing was set in stone anyway.  I felt sort of go-with-the-flow about it all.  I knew that my body and my baby weren’t going to follow the plan had I laid one out so I figured it would be best for us if we just sort of have a general plan but wouldn’t become disenchanted with the experience should we have to deviate from it. I knew that I wanted to walk around to help labor progress, I wasn’t for or against an epidural… I would just see how I tolerated the pain and cross that bridge when we came to it, I did not want an episiotomy, and I wanted my water to break on its own.  I also wanted them to give the baby to me immediately upon his arrival and to allow Thomas to cut the cord.

By 3 a.m. we were being triaged at the hospital and got confirmation that I was in labor.  I had progressed to 3 cm, -2 station, and was 80% effaced.  By 4:30 a.m. we were officially admitted.  My contractions were every two to four minutes at this point and would remain this way for the remainder of my labor.  Unfortunately, when they took my blood pressure it was too high to permit me to walk around the hospital.  That was a big blow.  Paired with my swelling (which was at an all-time high) they were afraid that I was at risk for pre-eclampsia.  

 (my ENORMOUS feet in the hospital)

 My blood pressure was high enough that I was put on fluids thru an I.V. which also eliminated my desire to use the jet tubs in the birthing suites.  Once I got two bags of fluids in I was given an epidural to help lower my blood pressure.  This was also something that I had originally intended to hold off on until I was further along in labor.  Because of my blood pressure, my swelling, and the pre-eclampsia risk they wanted to play it safe.  Playing it safe also meant that I was constantly hooked up to a blood pressure cuff which took my blood pressure every twenty minutes or so and alerted the nurses if it was too high (it always was). 

I have to admit, once I got the epidural I was like a whole different person.  I had been in such pain for so long in the last leg of my pregnancy that this truly felt like a miracle.  After it kicked in I was able to sleep for the first time in what seemed like forever.  I hadn’t gotten any good sleep for months!  I only woke up occasionally when the nurse would come in to see how we were doing or if I rolled over the cord from the blood pressure cuff and it set off an alarm.

 

(me sleeping...)

I was progressing nicely.  By 7 a.m. I was 4 cm, 11 a.m. I was 7 cm.  It was at this point that with my increasing blood pressure that we started on Pitocin on the lowest dose to help progress quicker.  As of this point my water was still intact.  The nurses kept mentioning that they might want to break it for me which I was against.  Luckily for us, my doctor was on the same page as I was and wanted the bag to break on its own.  I just have to say here that I love my doctor.  I didn’t have to voice any opposition to the nursing staff because my doctor did it for me.  She very much understood (and seemed to practice) my go with the flow attitude and let the pieces fall into place on their own.  The Pitocin and epidural may have been more necessary for my pain and blood pressure but had I chosen against it I know that my doctor would have been another advocate for me to guarantee that this was an experience that me and my body was in control of.

By 3 p.m. I think I had caught up on the sleep that had eluded me the past several months and had stopped the Pitocin.  I could feel my water bulging and the nursing staff repeatedly referred to it as a “bag of steel.”  Every so often I would have to roll from one side to the other just to get comfortable and I remember feeling as if I needed to move very gently because I felt so fragile.  I didn’t want to squeeze my legs together or bear down.  It was just a very strange sensation.  I was 9 cm and -1 station when my bag finally broke with a very audible gush at 3:20 p.m. as I lay on my left side.  It felt like a relief and came as a surprise!  I wasn’t moving or doing anything to make it rupture, it was just time for it to happen!  To have been dilated all the way to 9 cm with my bag literally bulging out of me was a very awkward feeling!  

 (my contractions earlier on)

At 6:30 p.m. it was decided that I could start practicing pushing.  We decided to lower my epidural enough so that I could feel my contractions again.  I guess we sort of used it as a vacation from the contractions but lowered it when it was really time to get serious.  I wasn’t in a lot of pain, but I could feel the cramping again and the build-up to each contraction so that I knew when I should help my body along by pushing.  I held my legs back as Thomas assisted by pushing back my left leg.  This was all just to sort of get in the motions- to figure out what worked, what didn’t, and what made me most comfortable.

By 7 p.m. it was 100% go time!  We had established that Thomas would help by pushing back my left leg and the nurse would push back my right.  Now, when I started pushing, the baby’s heart rate decreased with each contraction.  As the uterus contracts to push the baby out a lower heart rate is normal.  However, there was a loss of variability with his heart rate which can be an early sign of distress coupled with the timing of the contractions.  The deceleration of his heart rate was not a definite sign but Thomas could tell that the nurses were concerned.  As for me, I was completely unaware of what else was happening in the room- I was concentrating!

When my doctor came in a short time later she was filled in with the situation by the nurses and Thomas said he could tell that they were probably going to have a “we may need to explore the possibility of a caesarian” conversation with me based on what they told her.  I had only been pushing for about 10 minutes (and only every other contraction) when she came in.  Lucky for me, when she checked me I was much further along than she had anticipated which meant that no other medical intervention was necessary.  Yay!

I started to push for every contraction which was one right on top of the other.  I was already exhausted and wondered how I would be able to continue doing this for hours.  There was only Thomas, my doctor, and one nurse in the room with us.  I appreciated that I didn’t have a huge audience.  I wanted this to be something for just Thomas and me.  Both Thomas and the nurse were counting thru each contraction… but honestly I wasn’t paying much attention.  I tried to at first but it was difficult to keep with their timing because I became so tired with each push.  I remember telling them to “count faster!” but I just did what I could and stopped when I couldn’t do it anymore.  We developed a rhythm of when I stopped pushing Thomas would hand me my cup of ice chips.  I was hot and extremely thirsty!  I hadn’t eaten in almost 24 hours but I wasn’t even hungry, only thirsty!  When I would stop to rest I would shove as big of a spoonful of ice in my mouth as I could to hold me over until the next time.  On top of my dehydration I didn’t feel like I was making any progress, despite the cheerleading of my doctor.  Every contraction she said, “You’re doing so great!  He’s right there!”  I started to think she was lying to me!  Aside from my contractions I felt nothing.  I didn’t feel him coming down the birth canal or anything to suggest progress was being made.

I didn’t believe that I was pushing hard enough and started to think I was going to be in this room forever when I finally felt something to signify that maybe my doctor wasn’t lying to me!  I felt his head… down there.  Good Lord, something was coming out of me!!  But, I couldn’t make it through pushing his head out all the way without taking a rest when it was only partially out.  Before, I thought that my bulging bag was an awkward feeling.  I didn’t think that anymore!  Having a head partially emerging from you is an awkward feeling!  This was no time to rest… so I pushed more.  While I was pushing all of the feeling went away.  My mom had told me that once the head is out, the most uncomfortable part is passing the shoulders and then the rest of the baby sort of “slides out.”  So I was anticipating another awkward moment when there’s just a baby head hanging out of me.  I was thinking about this while I was still trying to get his head the rest of the way out but before I could even get to the uncomfortable in-between-the-head- and-shoulders part, my doctor was putting my baby boy on me.  I had pushed the rest of him out all at once!  I had a son!

It was a very surreal feeling having a baby placed on your chest.  I can’t really explain what I was doing but the nurse told me, “Breathe!”  I think I had started to hyperventilate- I had a baby!  Thomas and I were parents!  I looked to Thomas for a kiss but he couldn’t take his eyes off of our little boy.  We waited with baited breath to hear those first screams of life- but they didn’t come.  Our son was healthy… but silent!  He just looked around, taking in his new surroundings as we rubbed him down to get him warm (and maybe even agitate him enough to get some sort of squeal).  But we got nothing.  He didn’t cry- he was just mellow. 

Mason Morris Bravo was born at 8:09 p.m. after a little more than an hour of pushing.  He weighed in at 8 pounces, 5 ounces and was 20.5” long.  We love him.