On Saturday, the morning was uneventful and my contractions were practically nonexistent. I dealt with my impatience by cleaning vigorously (as any pregnant woman would). I could almost feel that the house was in a state where I could relax from doing anything besides taking care of the baby.
Around 2:30, we were headed to a relative's birthday party. That's when I noticed my contractions seemed closer than before and they were decently strong. I began keeping track and the pattern appeared to be an average of four minutes apart. At the party, I ate the food and talked to other people, but all the while I was watching the clock and counting. When we approached an hour of monitoring them and saw there had been no decrease, I informed David that it was time to go to the hospital. Consequently, we were able to leave Lucy with the in-laws since they were also at the party. So we left for home where I gathered last minute items and called the hospital to let them know we were coming. I also took time to put a bag together for Lucy so David's parents could pick it up later.
On the way to the hospital, I began to grow frustrated because my contractions seemed to be getting weaker and further apart. I was worried I had called a false alarm and I really didn't want them to send me home. When we arrived, they set me up to the monitor, and eventually my contractions grew regular again but at five minutes and not at the same strength. So they suggested I walk around the halls. After a few rounds, it did the trick and they finally decided to admit me.
I kept myself occupied by crocheting a blanket that I had started earlier that day for someone else. However I had to stop when they inserted the IV in my hand because the hook kept getting caught in the tubes.
At one point, the nurse came in and commented on how good my contractions were and that some of the nurses thought I had been given pitocin because of how strong they were.
I felt pretty good about how I was managing the pain up to this point. It makes a difference when your contractions put you into labor rather than your water breaking, because you actually want them to get stronger so that there's no question as to whether or not you're in labor. When my water broke, there was no doubt the pregnancy was over. So my attitude towards the contractions wasn't as welcoming then and it made it harder to handle the pain.
Even so, I knew I wasn't taking the natural route. So I requested an epidural as soon as I had decided I had had enough. I expected to have an easier time receiving it since things had gone so well with Lucy. The only difference was they no longer allowed anyone else in the room while they administered it, which meant David had to leave. I don't know why that changed, but I decided to just deal with it and say bye to David until they were done.
The nurse offered her hand for me to hold while David was gone and they were sticking in the needle. As he stuck me however, he made contact with a few nerves, and it sent a big spasm down my left leg. Obviously, this caused me to jump, which isn't so good when you're supposed to remain completely still. He tried again, but the first jab he had made left me shivering and shaking all over, and my eyes were tearing up really bad. When it was all done, my left leg and right arm seemed to be going numb faster than anything else. I knew right away that this epidural was not going to work the same as it did with Lucy. I almost wondered if it was even worth it when I had been handling the pain so well.
Later on, I mentioned to the nurse that I could still feel quite a bit, mostly down below. She assured me that I should still feel a little bit so that I would know when to push. I didn't remember feeling as much with Lucy, but I accepted her answer.
The nurse checked me several times but I seemed to be stuck at 6, and my water hadn't broken yet. They later gave me pitocin since the epidural seemed to be slowing down my contractions. I tried to get some sleep since it was the middle of the night, but the pressure I was feeling made it difficult. I don't know that I slept all that much.
Around 6:30, the pressure suddenly became more than I could handle. Luckily the nurse was in the room for me to tell her, "It feels like he's right there. Are you sure I'm at a 6?" She checked me again and immediately called a team together. There wasn't even time to call my doctor, but they were lucky enough to grab another doctor who had just come out of a c-section.
In less than a minute, the room was filled and I was set to push. It was one of those moments where you are wondering where the terrible screaming is coming from only to realize it's coming from you. I knew the epidural was not doing it's job, because in no way should I have been feeling that much. When I wasn't screaming, I was begging them to break my water to relieve the pressure. I felt as though I was going thru a natural birth with all the good the epidural was doing. Even worse than the pressure was the burning I felt, especially since there hadn't even been time for me to get higher than a 6 before they had me start pushing. I had never before been faced with the dilemma of not wanting to push so as to not make the pain worse than it already was. And yet I also wanted it to end which meant pushing.
All the while, I was screaming and the nurses kept getting close up to my face to tell me to stop screaming and breathe. Tried it. Didn't work. Preferred screaming. Suddenly it was over, and I gradually became aware that there was a baby on top of me. I didn't even notice right away that the nurses were laughing because he happened to be whizzing right then and there, as if his entrance hadn't been memorable enough. I held him while the doctor stitched me up because there was a tear.
I can't help but compare both my deliveries. With my first one, my delivery was more relaxed and enjoyable. There was a greater sense of euphoria when it was over and when they handed Lucy to me. This second delivery was beyond intense, and I couldn't honestly say I enjoyed it. I still feel amazed by the whole thing, but I think I'm mainly in awe of the women who had been doing it this way since the world began, and I now felt I could count myself among them. At the same time, my mind was so caught up in recovering from the pain when it was over that I could hardly pay attention to what I was looking forward to the most--seeing my baby for the first time. It was like the moment passed me by and I had missed it. At this point, I don't know what I will do the next time around. Will I spare myself from the incredible pain and ask for the epidural, or did my experience with the needle traumatize me enough to not want to go through it again, especially since it may or may not work? Even now, my left foot is still numb six weeks later and I wonder how long it will be before it recovers completely, but at least I can walk with no problem.
Now, enough about me and more about Paul.
He weighed 7 lbs on the dot and was about 19.4" long, born at 6:38 am.
For some reason, he seemed smaller than Lucy was when she was born, but maybe I just couldn't imagine Lucy ever being that small. But I did see similarities between the two.
Lucy.
Paul.
David's parents were kind enough to bring Lucy by to see her new brother. Her first response upon seeing me holding him was to cry and raise her arms for me to pick her up. Can't say I wasn't expecting that kind of reaction, but she also hadn't seen me for a while. Luckily it didn't last and she was soon fascinated with baby Paul.
First family photo.
They had to keep us three days again because Paul lost quite a bit of weight during his stay. I did my best to stay on top of feeding, even to ask for an SNS kit which allows me to supplement and nurse at the same time, but they were also concerned about his jaundice, in case you didn't notice his yellowish hue in the pictures above. I tried to appreciate the extra time I had to recover, especially since my left leg was still in bad shape. In fact, it could barely sustain me those first few days. The day I left was the first time I felt confident enough to stand and hold the baby at the same time, let alone walk without fear of tripping.
Now that we're home, Paul continues to gain weight and his eyes and skin no longer appear yellow. He has a mild cry, which doesn't grate as much on my ears. So I'm able to maintain my sanity when I can't hold him because of having so much to do. He's very easy to manage except for when it's time for bed, which unfortunately means sleeping with me so that I'm not sleepwalking the next day. Figures.
Lucy's jealousy is at a manageable level and she is often rubbing his head and saying "baby" over and over. She's always asking to hold him, but we have to watch out for her employing the anaconda squeeze once we try to take him away from her. Also she has grown a stronger attachment to her dolls and I often catch her imitating me when she plays with them. She'll buckle them in the carseat and the swing, place them in the crib, and wrap them up in a blanket. I even catch her pulling out my diaper pad so she can put Paul's diapers on them, using wipes and everything. The cutest thing is watching her talk sweetly to them and follow up all her questions with "okay" (that is they sound like questions, because full sentences are a little beyond her capabilities at this time). However, it is a little unnerving to have her imitate me so much and I feel motivated to watch myself more closely to see what kind of example I'm setting.
Bottom line is Paul is doing well and we're all making progress in adjusting to two. The plus side is it isn't as much of an adjustment as I had expected.
