Well, it's been a quick minute since I've written - except not really that quick. More like one of those minutes when you're waiting to see if your screaming baby will fall asleep before you go back in there and let him know that the world isn't ending and that goodness does exist. those minutes are even longer than microwave minutes. We haven't done much of what we usually do in the summer. We didn't camp once, go on any road trips, take a single picture with my nice camera, canoe across any bodies of water, swim more than once, or make a cute documentation video. But man did we have our biggest adventure yet. And while I would like to acknowledge that Harry has been along for the adventure as much as I have, I think that my physical exertion beats his out. Just a tad.
While I was pregnant I loved reading birth stories. I was desperate to try to learn from as many experiences as possible so I could anticipate everything and anything. There's no way to completely prepare for labor and delivery, but that didn't stop me from reading all the tips on Pinterest about what to bring, what to ask, who to contact first, and generally how to make the whole thing more like a trip to the spa rather than a 20 hour long menstrual cramp for the record it's usually more intense than a menstrual cramp. And now that I've been through it here are my two cents: my favorite things to have at the hospital were my nice body wash, lotion, and lip balm. Maybe a pair of comfortable sweats and socks. Other than that... forget the robe, down pillows, full face of makeup, and extra 3 outfits for baby.
And now it is my turn to wax wise in the ways of birth. Gather round young chicks, and listen to my tale.
Friday morning I started the day off with a prayer. I was 4 days overdue and OVER IT. So the prayer was less like the kind the teach you to say in Sunday School, and more of a demand that it be over. Tears were shed. But that wasn't unusual at the time, or any time in my life. I spent the remainder of the day sending angry texts to Harry at work "everything hurts!" "I'm losing my mind!" "I would rather die than be pregnant one more day!" "Answer me!!! I'm carrying YOUR child!", eating cottage cheese straight from the container, and wearing as few clothes as possible. The weather in Minneapolis that weekend was about 102 degrees with 90% humidity. It was death.
Harry came home from work around 4p. I'm sure he was delighted at the idea of spending the weekend with his overly pregnant, emotional, angry wife. He was probably praying for it to be over as hard as I was. Fortunately both our prayers were heard when, at almost exactly 4p, I got my first contraction.
It was strange. I didn't know exactly whether it was a contraction or not. I mean, how was I supposed to know that's what it was and not just bad gas from our Olive Garden the previous night? I hesitantly told Harry that I thought I had had one, and he immediately jumped to action counting minutes, taking down times and finding the standard deviation of the contractions we did meet in a stats class, so that's appropriate. This continued for about 6 hours. We watched a movie with Cate Blanchett while I sat on a towel in case my water broke. Glamour.
My sister called and talked me through a handful of contractions while discussing with Harry whether the contractions were close enough to constitute going to the hospital. They decided that they were and while Harry called the hospital I did the dishes, made the bed, took a shower, and shaved my legs. Considering how distraught I was that morning, I felt surprising calm during the whole thing once it started. I was practical. I wanted to bring the baby home to a clean apartment, so I cleaned. Harry's teased me about that since.
Well, 10:30p rolled around and we headed out. I had labored for about 6.5 hours at home and was dilated to a 5 when we arrived at the hospital. I got my epidural around midnight and climbed in to the bed I'd be living in for the next 13 hours holla atcha catheter.
Thanks to that epidural, I was able to ride out the contractions without too much pain. Given, it didn't take very well in the right side of my body, so I spent those 13 hours on my side to help the elixir seep its way through my body. There was a small misunderstanding with the epidural. I was told that in case the pain got to be too much, I could administer myself an extra dose of the pain med with a click of a button, but no more frequently than every 15 minutes. Somehow I understood this to be "click the button every 15 minutes or your epidural will stop working." So I religiously clicked the button for more epidural every 15 minutes because there was no way I was going to let that thing run out. Finally, towards the end of my labor, the nurse came in to ask if everything was alright- I had pressed the epidural button 21 times. Usually people press it maybe 4 or 5 times. Moral of that story? 1. Don't let me self-administer drugs and 2. I had a great labor experience.
The hours ticked by. We pretended to sleep on uncomfortable beds and in a very bright room because we couldn't figure out how to turn the TV off I swear we are 77 years old, I threw up a couple of times, and I started to lose my mind because I just wanted to be able to MOVE. Finally, 10a Saturday morning the nurse told me I should try to start pushing.
I panicked. I gripped Harry's hand and told him I couldn't do it. I couldn't push a baby out of me. It was physically impossible. I couldn't be a mom. I couldn't do this because as soon as I did everything would change and I wouldn't have my life anymore. I told him I was so scared.
I don't know what really happened, but one minute I was panicking, and the next I was taking a deep breath and accepting what I had to do. So I did it. I pushed about 5 or 6 times when suddenly the nurse told me to stop and not push again until they could get the doctor in the room. I closed my eyes to gather myself, and when I opened them again there were about 9 more people surrounding me than there were before one to deliver my baby, one to learn how to deliver a baby, one to wipe my brow, one to hold my juice straw to my lips, one to give me a facial. The doctor took one look at me and then said, "Alright, looks like we're about to have a baby. I need you to give me one good push." So I did.
And just like that Hans was born. They quickly put him on my chest and I was stunned. And then immediately in love. I had always doubted that I would have that bonding experience that other moms had spoken of, but I did. I was amazed at how strong and sweet and brave this little baby was, and that he was ours, and will be forever.
This moment.
We can't get enough of him.
peace and hans
