He's here! It felt like I was WAY overdue, but turns out I was only 40 weeks and two days. Annie came at 38 weeks so I felt like I had reached "term" two weeks earlier. The last couple of weeks were pretty tough... I hadn't reached the point with her where I couldn't touch my toes or shave or felt completely spent at the end of the day but I did with Elliott! This might have something to do with the fact that I am the proud mommy of an especially active two year old...Annie would taunt me almost hourly with, "Go to the hospital? I wanna see Elliott. I wanna hold him." and "Mommy really big. Annie carry mommy to the baby doctor." The week he was born I felt I was in a bit of a dilemma. He was measuring small at about 37 weeks which my OB assured me was normal because he had dropped. However, OB nurses have seen it all and we worry. I wasn't comfortable waiting until past 41 weeks for him to come unless I could have an ultrasound to reassure me my fluid levels were still good and he was growing well. Since my OB doesn't do them until 41 weeks, I decided to schedule an induction. The induction was to be for Friday May 4th because my doctor wasn't on for the weekend or the monday after that and the next day she was on was my 41 week day and I was too nervous to go that long. Tuesday night of that week, I was sure I was going into labor when I woke up at about 2 am with a painful contraction, followed 8 minutes later by another. And another. And another. I got up and started moving around, then they got to be about 5 minutes apart. By 6am I told Michael to stay home from work and had called my parents to tell them I thought maybe this was it. When my parents arrived around 9, my contractions had spaced back out to 8 to 10 minutes apart and weren't as strong. Bummed, but sure they would come back, we went shopping and walking and trying to get things moving. When I figured out it was a no-go, I sent them home and tried to take a nap. All day, the contractions were anywhere from a half hour to an hour apart. Never gone, never really there either. SUPER disappointing! That night, same time, same place! Contractions. 8 to 10 minutes apart. I wouldn't be dummied this time into calling in the backup though... Like Chinese water torture, every time I shut my eyes and was almost asleep, in crept another contraction that woke me up and I had to breathe through, but didn't come close enough together to call my doctor. My mom came to the house to watch Annie for me and let me try to nap throughout the day and Michael's mom would be headed in to town about noon to watch Annie for the induction the next day.
Exhausted, I headed in for my regularly scheduled 40 week appointment Thursday morning. This time I was dilated to 4 and 75% effaced, which is a good start but I was not overly impressed considering how much contracting I had been doing! I had resigned myself to getting induced the next morning and went home to try and take a nap during my now 30-minute intervals between contractions. I slept for a good two hours while snuggling with Annie during her nap and got up feeling quite refreshed! I went downstairs to hang out with the Grandmas and back came those contractions. 8 minutes apart! I would stop talking with them and breathe through each one and my mom said to me, "Katie those were a lot closer than 8 minutes." I didn't believe her. It was about 4pm when she started timing them. Sure enough, 7 minutes apart. I was thinking, WOOPIE-DO! I have been doing that for two days now! Then the next half hour they were 5 to 6 minutes apart. And they hurt a little more. By 5pm (while Michael was stuck in horrible traffic of course) they had become 4 minutes apart and I had to lean over the counter because they were hurting enough to really catch my attention. My sweet mini-nurse (Annie) came to my aid with a band aid, which she stuck right on my belly where those contractions hurt. Funny girl! I thought maybe I should call the doctor, but was still half-expecting them to disappear. I finally called around 5:45 and we headed to the hospital around 6:15 when Michael got home.
My admit time was 6:43. I was waiting for the night shift nurse to come on and my contractions spaced out a little, but were quite painful so I didn't worry too much. I started filling out my consents and my admit computer-work (like the horrible patient that, as a nurse, I admittedly am!). I was relieved to know that Beth Milbee, an wonderful person and a really good nurse, was going to be caring for me. I didn't look like I was in bad shape (nor did I feel like I was) so we chatted and took our time, starting an IV and getting Elliott on the monitor. 20 minutes into the monitoring I knew I was ready to try something different. She checked me and I was dilated to 6! Most people are excited when they are dilated to six. I was scared. I was like, Uh oh. This might go fast. I "wanted" to do natural labor (or try it at least) but I had serious reservations. Yep, I teach the natural class. The reservations I had have don't have to do with the theory behind all of it, but with the 1% chance kind of things you see when you work at a big hospital delivering babies in high risk situations, one of which I had with my last delivery. (I will leave it at that because I don't want to scare anyone!) So I got in the tub after my monitoring was finished, and it felt awesome for about 2 minutes. Then it felt reeeeally bad. My contractions were coming so fast and so hard I couldn't really get ahold of myself. As soon as I would prepare my brain for what one felt like, the next would be much worse and I wasn't sure I wanted to do it anymore.
My parents showed up and I was kind of a mess at that point. Beth was super patient with me! She reminded me that this was what the tub was supposed to do and I was "textbook" for advancing my labor in the warm water. I felt my water break and that was when I started to lose it. I thought, "oh no. It's too late for an epidural now! This is going to happen!" I knew even if I got an epidural right then (which was not going to happen as I was sitting in water), it probably wouldn't set up in time anyway, but this didn't stop me from I begging for it. Turns out the CRNA was in the operating room doing a c-section anyway and couldn't come. No OB nurse wants to discover that they are a "yeller", but that is what I was. I was quickly losing my mind and my groans escalated into a scream at the peak of some of my contractions and I would cry, "I can't do this! I don't want to! Where's my epidural! Get me out of this tub!!" I was praying to pass out. When I could barely lift my leg over the tub, I knew this was almost over. I hobbled to the bathroom where I had a contraction that was HORRID. I didn't know if I should stand up or sit down or lean over or squat. I tried all of the above and each one made me feel a little pushy, so I would say, "no no no no!" and move again. I got in the bed and a couple contractions later(I think? I can't really remember), I really felt like I had to push. Michael was right there, said all the right things and was truly awesome even though an alien had inhabited his wife's body. Beth had already called another nurse to get my doctor headed to the hospital, but it was too late. He was coming! The doctor around the corner came in and barely got gloves on and out he came, one good push later. Instantly I felt fine. Super weird! Will I do it again should we decide (or should God bless us with a surprise) to have a third? Nope. Not on purpose. I am glad I tried it. One more check on the bucket list. (PS I will run five more marathons over doing that last thirty minutes again! That was tough!) Elliott was born at 8:42 pm weighting 6 lbs 10 oz, one minute shy of two hours after I arrived to the hospital. Speedy little guy!
In the middle of the night I got the bad news that Elliott was Direct Coombs positive. This rare interaction occurs when my blood sees his as foreign and attacks it, causing his billirubin levels to rise quickly(you may also know it as jaundice). By 8am, we had an order to put him in the NICU under lights to help his numbers come down. I rushed to get Annie to the hospital so she could see him.
Annie was sooo excited to meet him. She put her face on his and gave him a big hug and kiss saying, "Elliott! I am so happy to see you!" (Two going on twenty?) The next few days were a blurr of every two to three hour feedings in the NICU and brief, heart-wrenching visits from Annie, who didn't get what was going on and would need to be pulled from my arms screaming "mommy!" at the end of visits.
Elliott was discharged home Sunday afternoon. It is awesome to have my little family together! Annie loooves her little brother. She asks to hold him or help with the diaper constantly. I play a lot of defense as she kisses him so much sometimes he has a hard time getting a breath in! I am feeling super blessed!
Woah I forgot what life was like with a newborn! Elliott, luckily, is a better sleeper than Annie was, but not by a whole lot. Last night I felt like I was on the bus-no, driving the bus- to crazytown. I haven't slept a lot (which is a song I've sung before... oh yes it's all coming back!) in many days in spite of my sweet husband helping as much as a man who is not lactating is able to. I tried for several hours to get Elliott to sleep but by 10:15 I brought him down to my awesome husband as I ran out of ideas to make him happy and was beginning to feel deliriously tired. My loving husband took him, crying and inconsolable, to let me sleep for a good hour. At 11:15 I tried to feed him, but that was not what he wanted. He ate anyway of course, being the good boy that he is, and then threw it up because it was too much. I don't remember what time it was when I hit the wall, but there came a point when we were BOTH crying. Again, my knight in shining armor took him out of the room just as I was trying to reason with my three-week-old, "Elliott! Stop crying! Go to sleep! You can't do this every night!". (Watch me, mom.) And finally I got 3 hours of sleep IN A ROW! YAY! The next thing I remember is Annie waking up. At 7 a.m. AAHHH!
It's funny (or maybe sad) how I never ever remember to call on my God to help me in times like this. And yet, He takes care of me in my disobedient and ungrateful state. I prayed and prayed to have children and was soo happy when I discovered I was expecting for both Annie and Elliott's pregnancies. Then, when God gave me what I so desperately wanted, I was (am)ungrateful and losing my patience. With a baby! I don't want to wish this time away... babies are sooo precious and so impressionable. I want both of my children to enjoy me and I them. I want to look back on this time and remember playing silly games in the living room and snuggling with my sweet baby boy while he coos. I am acutely aware that many many aching women want nothing more than to experience these sleepless nights and temper tantrums with a couple of kids. Every mother of grown children who tears up when they see my precious kids out with me reminds me that they grow up too fast. And then I remember it was only two short years ago that Annie was teeny tiny and unable to so much as roll over without my help.
