Get Born! part 2

So once you've read ALL the books and websites about labor that there are, like I did, you will realize there are basically two opinions:
1) Write a birth plan! It's important to communicate in detail how you do or do not want your labor to proceed. Or
2) Don't write a birth plan! It never happens that way and the nurses will just laugh at you.

So I didn't write a birth plan, though I had a few loosely formed rules in my head, the gist of all them being that I wanted to do it as much on my own as possible. And it's a good thing I didn't write that down because, as it turns out, it really does never happen that way. And I hate being laughed at.

In my case the issue was that my water had broken but the contractions were not kicking into gear. The fetal monitors revealed that I was having some contractions (I couldn't feel anything), but they weren't doing much good. Once your water breaks, there is no longer a shield to keep bacterias and whatnot out of your baby baker. So, the nurses explained to "I-Don't-Need-No-Steenking-Drugs" me - in no uncertain terms - that the show needs to be moving on down the road. Thus....my "birth plan" was out the window and Pitocin, drill sergeant of contractions everywhere, was in the window, or IV, or whatever. For the time being though, I held off on the epidural, even though I remembered reading that drug-induced contractions got bad faster than when they came naturally.

I think I started the Pitocin around noon and for a while it was okay. I started to feel the contractions, like little twinges in my insides, every now and then. But after a while the twinges got worse and it seemed like they were non stop. I sat. I stood. I leaned against that dude that had caused all this trouble in the first place and drooled on his USC sweatshirt. Finally, around 4:30, as my guts were turning themselves inside out at a constant rate, I sheepishly sent said guy out to find the nurse to tell her I was ready for the big spine needle. And by 5:00, honestly you guys, I was napping peacefully. I hadn't even realized I was tired until the pain stopped, which it did, immediately after receiving the epidural. God bless my strong baby-making body. But God bless anesthesiologists who are good at their jobs too.

Get Born!

Let me just start by saying that I hope dumbness is not hereditary. Because on the day that Nubby came into this world, I was pretty dumb. I am, in fact, living proof that no matter how much you read about how to do something, you can still do it wrong. Because I read A LOT about the labor process and what would happen that day and how any sane person should act, and then I didn't do any of it.

When I got out of bed that morning about 7:30, I felt something run down my leg and I thought, "Huh. I wonder." And I went immediately to the bathroom (cause when you're pregnant, you're pretty much always either going to the bathroom and returning from it), kinda shuffling and trying to keep my legs together, but pretty much already knowing that my water had broken. I was there alone and I sort of stood in the middle of the bathroom in a fog wondering what to do (take note above where I mention reading eleventy-billion books/articles/pamphlets/cereal boxes entitled "What to do when you're in labor").

Did I call my doctor? No, because I actually had a doctor's appointment that morning at 8:30 for my weekly checkup. I was going to see him anyway, right, why bother with a phone call?

Did I call my husband, the father of the child now raising its tray table and beginning it's descent into the Charlotte Metro Area? No, because I knew he had an important meeting that morning at 9:00 which is why this was only the second of my doctor's appointments he was going to miss.

Did I get my already packed hospital bag just in case? No, I did not.

And why did I not do any of these things you ask. Because one phrase from all those things I had read was stuck in my head. "Once labor begins, YOU HAVE HOURS." I had hours, I thought. I hadn't even had any contractions yet, and all the books say prepare for many hours of laboring at home until the contractions get fast and furious. I'd go to the doctor and he'd tell me to go home and wait for the contractions to get bad, then me and my baby daddy would skip merrily off to the hospital together to meet our Nubby.

Instead this is what happened: I called no one. I fed the animals, I got dressed, I laid a towel on the seat of the car, and I drove to the doctor's office. That went sort of like this:

Doc: Holy crap, you're having a baby.
Me: Oh, okay then.
Doc: I'll call the hospital and tell them you're on your way.
Me: Now?
Doc: I said, YOU'RE HAVING A BABY.
Me: Can I go home first?
Doc: *heavy sigh*

So I left the doctor's office and called my loving husband who was in a carpool on the way to his Big Meeting on the other side of the world and told him I was off to have a baby. Then I did go home and get my bag and my laptop (my maternity leave hadn't officialy started yet and I was supposed to work that day) and then drove to the hospital (still no contractions by the way). I was incredibly calm that whole morning. Unflappable really. The only other time I've been so cool and collected was on my wedding day. Deciding what to make for dinner gives me the vapors, but major life-changing events - noooo problem.

So there I am at the hospital now and I walk up to the receptionist and smile charmingly at her, as is my wont, and say "Hi! I'm having a baby." She stares at me, unimpressed, "Next window." Okay anti-climactic for the win! So I head around the corner to the real receiving area and do the paperwork thing and then a nurse comes to fetch me. I'm not sure what I was expecting. Pom-poms maybe and a little song of welcome maybe. But L&D nurses are all business. I guess you have to be with something like 300 babies a month being churned out at my hospital.

You get asked a LOT of questions when you're having a baby. After I'd been dressed in the Hospital Gown of Shameful Butt Baring and hooked up to a score of monitors, my nurse started asking me questions. Questions questions questions. About every cold I'd ever had, every organ in my body, every quirk of my being, everything. And at the end, they had the gall to ask, "Is there any other medical information we should know?" So I said, "Well. I'm pregnant."

Week 37 and a half

Says the doctor this morning: "She doesn't seem to be in any kind of hurry to leave."

Week Thirty Seven

Congratulations to Nubby on attaining full terminess! As of this week a totally viable human being in her own right with no growing left to do in the remaining weeks save for packing on the chub. That means after this week, she will no longer be named Nubby, but Freeloader.

Official State of My Body Address: My feet are killing me. My hip hurts. My back hurts. My clothes don't fit and I can't fasten my bras due to the fact that there's a baby in my ribcage.

But, what are you gonna do? I just remind myself that it'll all be over in a couple weeks and will come with the greatest reward. Also, this is my last week working in the office, so after tomorrow, I don't even have to get dressed anymore till it's time to go to the hospital.

I feel like we're about as baby ready as we can be at this point, but that doesn't stop me from worrying and fretting over every detail. The nursery is complete (I really do mean to take some pictures) and the car seat is installed and inspected. I have a half packed bag in the closet and, since I figure that being at home with a new baby is a lot like being stuck in the aftermath of a hurricane, I have stocked the pantry with many extra dry goods. And still, despite evident and physical proof of all kinds of readiness, I cannot get over my overwhelming desire to SHOP. For BABY things. It's an evil industry propelled by pure, unadulterated cute. I have been to two consignment sales in the last two weekends and it's almost every day that I'm looking at some website or another for teeny tiny things that I'm sure I don't need. The only thing that really saves me is the fact that I am both miserly and bad at making up my mind. Still. No more shopping till after she gets here. I swear.

Totally gonna need one of these

Baby Mop from Chris Milk on Vimeo.

Week Thirty Two but not really

Do not adjust your page-a-day calendars. You have not gone back in time - this is just what I meant to write during week thirty two.

A couple weeks ago, my boy and I attended two classes at the hospital. One was an all day class on Prepared Childbirth. It basically walked us through what having a baby was like and all the things that would go on during on our hospital stay. In the middle of the day, we went through some breathing and relaxation techniques and "practice" contractions. It included many things we could do to get through contractions and labor in general without drugs. The other class we took was a talk of about 45 minutes given by an anesthesiologist and was about Pain Management. That is, it was mostly about the drugs we can avail ourselves of whilst delivering our bundles which, while little, are much bigger than their exit route and thus, some discomfort may occur. Or so I've heard.

Seriously though, this is something I've thought long and...well, seriously about. When I first found out I was pregnant I used to joke around while seated comfortably on the couch, "This right here is my pain threshold. If it hurts more than this, I shall be requiring an epidural." But that was mostly because drug jokes make for good comedy. In reality, I don't relish the idea of taking drugs at all. I don't like the idea of putting high fructose corn syrup in my body - especially while there's a baby in it. Why would I want to pump narcotics or paralyzing agents into myself - especially while there's a baby in me?

Now the anesthesiologist told us that something like 80% of the women in our hospital get an epidural and about 15% of those who don't are just because they go through labor so quickly there's no time. He tells us this, he says, so we won't feel disappointed or like we've failed when we decide to get the medicine. What I wonder is how many of those women who did get an epidural did so even after they planned not to. Because that's where I'm at right now.

My plan, right now (as I am sitting here comfortably) is to not have an epidural. I think this decision is largely informed by my pregnancy up to this point which has honestly been pretty darn easy. Sure I've found reason to complain, but having read the books and the websites describing all the terribleness that could've happened, I feel like I've been sailing up to this point (knock on wood or something - I don't want to jinx it). I feel like, as unlikely as conception and creation and the bearing of a child sounds from an objective standpoint, that my body really was designed for this purpose and God knew what he was doing. I feel strong and proud of my body for bearing up under these many changes and so what if my feet hurt? My doctor says everything is perfect so far.

So it is with these things in mind that I think "Why do I need drugs? This is what God gave me this strong body for." I feel capable and self-confident like I do about very few things in my life. And honestly, if I do decide to take some medicinal help, I have a feeling it will be more a failing of my mind than of my body. That's why I'm thankful for my husband who understands what is important to me and has some strength to lend.

All that being said though I recognize that while God gave us strong bodies, he also gave us good doctors and the smart scientists to invent things like epidurals and that drugs are not all from the devil. So if it becomes necessary for some reason, I will try not to feel too bad if they end up sticking some happy juice into my spine. But I'm going to try the funny breathing first.

Doctor Funny

A gynecologist had become fed up with malpractice insurance and HMO paperwork and was burned out. Hoping to try another career where skillful hands would be beneficial, he decided to become a mechanic.

He went to the local technical college, signed up for evening classes, attended diligently, and learned all he could. When the time for the practical exam approached, the gynecologist prepared carefully for weeks and completed the exam with tremendous skill. When the results came back, he was surprised to find that he had obtained a score of 150%.

Fearing an error, he called the instructor, saying, "I don't want to appear ungrateful for such an outstanding result, but I wonder if there is an error in the grade."

The instructor said, "During the exam, you took the engine apart perfectly, which was worth 50% of the total mark. "You put the engine back together again perfectly, which is also worth 50% of the mark."

After a pause, the instructor added, "And I gave you an extra 50% because you did it all through the muffler, which I've never seen done in my entire career."

Week Thirty Three

Being well into my third trimester now, I don't think much about being pregnant anymore. Yes, I'm still growing a person alright, and that's a miracle and everything, but I'm pretty much a pro at this point. Yaaawn. Yes, these days I expertly maneuver my giant belly around and pat the squirmy little critter when she starts a new game of "Hey mom, wanna see me poke your liver?". No, I don't think much about pregnancy these days. I finished the books, I passed the class, and I'm not too worried about the remainder of Nubby's days on the Inside. But, you're probably wondering, whatever will you worry about now? Oh please, I shall reply, there's always something for me to worry about and now it's all about when Nubby weasels her way to the Outside.

A baby on the inside is no problem. It's a cinch, even! But a baby on the outside? What in the heck am I supposed to do with one of those?? When you're pregnant and something is not right, the instructions are very clear: lie down, drink some fluids. When you're unpregnanted and something is not right, the water is much murkier: change diaper, fill with fluids, burp, swaddle, unswaddle, lullaby, do a dance...sacrifice a chicken?

Unfortunately the baby books aren't helping too much in this regard. I've been reading a book called On Becoming Babywise that someone recommended to us. But it just makes keeping your baby happy seem so complicated and it stressed me out a little and I had to put it aside for a while. I went back to reading Childproofing Your Dog and that's a lot easier to comprehend at this point. The dog is a known entity, even if I have my doubts about her childproof-ability.

Of course, according to an article I read this week (can't remember where) there's a lot of things that you will miss about pregnancy once you deliver your baby. So there's something else to worry about. They were things like being waited on and being able to take naps whenever you wanted. Who wouldn't miss that stuff? Some of them I was a little skeptical about though, like missing people smiling at you when you are out. This is totally true by the way: every time I go to the grocery store now, everyone just grins at me and it freaks me out a little. I don't think I'm going to miss drawing so much attention to myself. There were some things the article didn't mention that I know I'll miss though, like being able to wear elastic-waisted pants all the time!

Oh yeah, I finally heard back about my glucose test and it was fine. To celebrate I had a giant piece of cake!

And in other news, the nursery is now a lovely shade of green and ready for some furniture now. The coming of the Nubby is getting closer and getting harder to believe all the time.

Week Twenty Nine

So I never did hear the results of that glucose test last week. I did try to call and get the results, but it's pretty much impossible to just call and talk to someone at that doctor's office. I left a message for what seemed to be the right person, but I never heard back. I'm going to operate on the assumption that everything must be fine or I would've heard. I guess I'll find out for certain at next week's appointment (they're every two weeks now).

Nothing monumental has happened this week, but I have constant physical and mental reminders that things are breezing right along whether I want them to or not. My body, which at first seemed to be rather peppy about this whole growing a new creature thing, has started to grumble. I suspect my feet and ankles are swelling slightly, based on the lines my socks are leaving and the semi-snugness of my shoes. My allergies are extra sensitive and I have a constant low level, but noticeable, amount of head congestion. Fun fact: your body produces a lot of extra mucus during pregnancy!

But these are very minor things and I really am thankful for how smoothly things have gone physically so far. Of course that can't stop me from worrying about everything. My worrying is impenetrable! I can worry through any amount of goodness that might lead a sane person to relax. Currently my worry is that the Nubby is not quite as violent as she should be. Yes, that's right, on blogs and websites that I frequent, women are always talking about how crazy the kicks of their babies are. I have read anecdotes of vigorous kickers breaking their mother's ribs for crying out loud. But the Nubby's movements and kicks don't bother me at all. In fact, until I started worrying about them, I thought they were just adorable. Not jarring in the least, the delicate little flutter kicks of a polite young lady. But now what am I to think? Is she not developing muscularly the way she should? Does she not have the proper levels of energy?

And in proper moody pregnancy style, when I am not worrying, I am excited. Excited about setting up the nursery and excited about my baby shower this weekend. And just excited in general about meeting the little critter I've been hauling around for seven months now.

Here's a funny from fitpregnancy.com. It was originally published in 2007 so I just changed the date.

Owner's Manual

A product information guide and limited warranty for new parents

By Christian Thom

CONGRATULATIONS!

You are the proud owner of a 2009 model child. Your offspring has been issued a Social Security number (SSN) for registration purposes. Please present this number when product needs servicing. To identify make and model, locate adapter between lower appendages. If adapter is female (XX), you have a beautiful baby girl. If adapter is male (XY), a bouncing baby boy is yours.
NOTE: A complimentary head protector covers the XY model's adapter. Removal is at the owner's discretion.
WARNING FOR OWNERS OF XX MODEL! Beautiful is a relative term.
WARNING FOR OWNERS OF XY MODEL! Do not attempt to actually bounce baby.

PACKAGING
Baby comes wrapped in protective coating. Do not sign for delivery if this layer is missing or appears to have been tampered with. All extraneous material, including placenta, is not reusable and must be properly disposed of. A fuel line (UBC) connects model to host unit. Only a licensed representative should disconnect cord. Product should operate as a cordless unit for the duration of its lifetime. Batteries should not be inserted into baby.

WARNINGS!

Do Not use baby to block heating or cooling vents.
Do Not store foreign objects in baby's openings.
Do Not attempt to fold or compress baby into small spaces.

HELPFUL HINTS

• Gently jiggling baby in an up/down motion and patting on spine can remove air bubbles.
• For the first six months, power source can be sustained with FDA-approved formula (not included) or unpasteurized calcium and vitamin D source provided by mother unit.
• When programming and communicating with baby, exaggerating and articulating language with movement, as when talking with a foreigner, is recommended.
• Baby will not become self-cleaning for at least two years. It is recommended that porous surfaces be wiped at least twice a day and whenever leakage occurs. Unit may be lubricated using baby lotion, diaper cream or other nontoxic solvent.

TROUBLESHOOTING
Problem Baby won't shut down.
Try producing melodic and somniferous sound waves and repositioning unit using a pendulum motion.
Problem Baby leaks and discharges.
Try changing vacuum-sealed disposal bag (not included).
Problem Baby is not desired make or model.
Try living with this common problem. Do not try to change gender of model by attaching or removing X or Y parts.
Problem Baby does not resemble father unit.
Try calling local service center for confirmation of compatible programming code. Or skip previous step and get over it.

WARRANTY AND LIMITATIONS OF LIABILITY
WARRANTY FOR FULL RETURN WILL TERMINATE AT THE END OF ONE YEAR, AFTER WHICH TIME RESALE AND RELOCATION BECOME DIFFICULT. OWNER IS RESPONSIBLE FOR INDIRECT, SPECIAL, INCIDENTAL AND CONSEQUENTIAL DAMAGES CAUSED BY THE ABOVE MENTIONED UNDER ANY LEGAL AUTHORITY, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO DAMAGE TO PUBLIC AND/OR PRIVATE PROPERTY, HAVOC WREAKED ON MARRIAGE, AND LOST PROFITS, YOUTH, HAIR, LEISURE TIME AND SANITY. OWNER WILL COVER ALL COSTS OF DAMAGE TO AND MAINTANANCE OF DATA PROGRAMMED AND STORED IN SYSTEM OF PROCESSOR UNTIL EXPIRATION DATE OF EIGHTEEN (18) YEARS DESPITE PRODUCT'S INDIVIDUAL CLAIMS OF AUTONOMY.

Week Twenty Eight - Perfect in Every Way

Okay, I'm really writing this during week twenty nine, but I had good stuff to say about twenty-eight, I just kept putting it off (hoping to get test results back to report on).

I did go to the doctor last week and we got to meet with our favorite doctor yet. Instead of just coming in, listening to the heart beat, then leaving again with only a few how-do-ya-do's left in his wake, he came in and SAT DOWN. Then he proceeded to tell me what was happening to me and the baby that week, the things that would be happening soon and the things I needed to start looking out for. Exactly the information I had been trying to wrangle out the last guy, I just wasn't sure what I was supposed to be asking. He then proceeded to tell me my pregnancy was perfect in every way. Such a gentleman! My uterus is apparently exactly the right size, down to the inch. The Nubby's heartbeat is just right. My weight gain is right where it should be for me to have gained the standard 25-30 pounds by week 40 (yikes!). From here on out, my precious little daughter will be causing me to gain a pound every week, bless her heart.

I did have to take that dreaded Glucose Challenge Test last week too. When we first got there, they gave me a little bottle of fruit punch flavored super sugar water that I had to drink in less than five minutes, then mark the time. It really WAS super sweet, and almost so similar to Hawaiian Punch that I'm pretty sure I'll never be able to drink that stuff again. Exactly an hour later they drew some blood and shipped it off somewhere to figure out how my body handled that much sugar. I can tell you how my body handled that much sugar, about 30 minutes after I got home, I literally passed out at the keyboard while I was trying to work. Super sugar high=super sugar crash.

Week...er... Twenty-Seven...

Time flies when it's December. The Nubby had her first (and last) Christmas in utero and she thought it was just grand. She especially liked all the tasty and sugar-laden foods that I consumed solely for her enjoyment. Yep, all for her.

In the lapse between this post and the last we have visited the doctor, but it was another quick in and out deal. We heard her little heartbeat, which seems to have settled itself for now in the 160s (bpm), and were on our way again. My next visit sounds like it's going to be the longest one yet because I have to take a Glucose Challenge Test to test for signs of gestational diabetes. This involves drinking an incredibly sugary drink and then waiting for an hour to have my blood tested to see how my body handles it. Only something like 5% of all pregnant women get this type of diabetes but I'm still so nervous about this particular test. Maybe because the results have been in my hands all along - unlike most other tests - and I'm scared I haven't done right by my baby. As of next Tuesday we'll know.

As for the Nubby, well she's got her own thing going on. This week she has been incredibly active during the day, distracting me from my work by squirming around all cute like. Though I'm not longer amazed at having a baby inside me I am still rather amazed that I can have a being the size of an eggplant in my body and I can only tell it's there when it's moving. You would think if there was a little two pound critter in you with limbs and bones and whatnot, you'd be able to feel its shape against your kidneys and it's wriggly little toes on your spleen all the time. Not so. Not yet anyway.

And though we've yet to meet this little girl or see more of her than a smudgy blotch on the ultrasound, her funny little habits have already earned her a personality in the eyes of her dad and I. She's a bossy little contrarian who demands to be fed but refuses to submit to our whims. She will happily pound away at the walls of my belly until her dad puts his hand there and she will immediately stop, no matter how much we plead for just one more cute little kick. I tell him he must have hands of amazing comforting abilities and that this will come in super handy when she is actually here and in a fuss. But if she truly is a contrary little booger like we suspect, then that probably won't be the case either.

PS - You see that shirt down there in the last post? I got it for Christmas from my sis. It's funny and I dig it.