Wednesday, February 22, 2006

Birthday boy

This morning at 6:49 my baby boy officially turned 4 years old. I can hardly believe it. In honor of his birthday, I will share his birth story.

Most first-time expectant moms will ask their friends or other moms “How will I know I’m really in labor?” The number one answer I received was “Trust me, you’ll just know.” I had my aha moment on the morning of Thursday, February 21, 2002 at 9:00am when I woke up to pains that were decidedly different than the contractions one normally has throughout a pregnancy. I tried to relax and take it easy most of the day, but I did manage to get a few things done around the house. Then I made sure my bag was packed for the hospital, and took a shower and shaved my legs (because really, who wants to show off hairy legs in those stirrups at the hospital?) and waited for my husband to get home from work. He came home early in the afternoon when the contractions were still very manageable, but getting a little harder, so we started keeping a log of how many minutes passed from one contraction to the next. We were told not to go to the hospital until the contractions were 5 minutes apart so we were waiting for that magic number to appear. The only problem was my contractions never regulated that way. We would jump from 5 to 10 to 4 to 8 to 3 minutes apart. Around 10:00pm they were starting to get more intense and painful, but still not regulated, so I called the hospital and spoke to the nurse on duty who told me to take a bath and then try to get some sleep because it would be a while. The bitch… I took a bath and all that did was make them more intense and we saw a few 2 minute intervals interspersed among the 8’s and 6’s and 10’s. When I could absolutely take it no more, I told my husband, “Let’s go. I want some drugs.”

We arrived at the hospital at 1:00am and as soon as the nurse hooked up the monitor around my waist, my water broke. Yes! No way they would send me back home now! She checked me and I believe I was at a 7, so she asked me if I was ready for an epidural. “Absolutely!” Along with the epidural I also received a lovely IV of magnesium sulfate because my blood pressure went sky high. The next 5 ¾ hours were relatively pain free, although my epidural wasn’t quite working the way it was supposed to. I wasn’t in pain, but I could still feel the contractions and I could feel when I needed to pee. I didn’t really mind at all, but the nurse kept calling the anesthesiologist back to my room to push various substances into the epidural IV. Towards the end I was so stoned it’s not even funny (seriously, my aunt took a picture so I could fully appreciate it later). Then there were the scary little episodes where the baby’s heart beat would go way down, and the doctor asked me if our number one goal was a healthy baby (I’m assuming she was preparing me for a c-section). She checked me one more time and said, “I think I feel an ear.” I thought, “That’s good. I want my baby to have ears.” Then she explained that the baby was looking sideways in the birth canal and could not come out that way. She wanted to page one of her colleagues who was excellent at turning babies. No problem – if that would save me from a c-section, by all means try it. He got there at probably 6:45am, did the episiotomy, grabbed the giant salad tongs, pushed my baby backwards, turned him a ¼ turn, and then delivered his head and stepped back and let my doctor do the rest. Oddly enough, I have no memory of this because whatever drug the anesthesiologist had just given me had me completely stoned, but my husband tells me it was extremely quick. I do remember them saying, “It’s a boy” and I remember a nurse telling us his APGAR scores were 9 and 9, but due to being up for almost 24 hours and being stoned, most of the actual delivery is a complete blur. However, I do remember with extreme clarity the moment they put him on my stomach. I would love to say that I had that magical moment where I was weeping and felt an overwhelming love for my newborn, but honestly, all I could think of at the time was “Ewww, he’s all bloody and icky.” Again, I was tired and stoned. After he had a bath and was given back to me (and the medication started wearing off), the love poured out, along with my first healthy dose of mother’s guilt.

My husband was completely wonderful through the entire delivery experience. He took great care of me through the labor and delivery portion, he gave Braden his first bath and weighed him (6 lbs, 3 oz), he changed all the diapers in the hospital and amazed me with how loving and tender he was towards both of us.

And that is Braden’s birth story. Happy birthday, big boy! We love you!!!


Anonymous Sleeping Mommy said...

Happy Birthday Braden! Our boys are pretty close together. Jason turned four back in August. This is a fun age--mostly. ;)

12:43 PM  
Blogger KatyaR said...

Happy Birthday to my favorite Power Ranger! I love you!

Auntie K

7:29 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home