Some of you may have heard, either via Poop and Boogies, or otherwise, that Maxfield suffered quite a fall/injury over the weekend. He is fine, but he spent a couple of days in the hospital with a broken femur. That cursed swingset (shaking my fist)! Unfortunately, since the break was high, he is in a spica (body) cast, and, at the moment at least, is bedridden, and can’t even really sit upright. Despite the fact that he has been through way more than any five year old should have to endure over the past few days, I think he is handling it better than me! While his smiles haven’t really returned yet, he seems fairly content most of the time. I am feeling a bit overwhelmed, but surprisingly thankful overall. I will post more later, but any thoughts/prayers for his quick recovery are certainly appreciated!
Four months later, I’m finally going to attempt to post this. Yes, today is Jackson’s 4 month birthday. No, I still haven’t mailed out the birth announcements. To say I’m a little behind would be… well, let’s just say I’m a little behind. I hope I can remember the details at this point. If not, I’ll just make up something wildly entertaining, and you’ll never know the difference.
So, it’s true what they say (for me, at least) that when your pregnancy goes past it’s due date, each hour that you’re not in labor seems like an eternity. I think that after everything I’d ever read or been told about the third pregnancy going early, labor being shorter, etc. it made the wait even worse. In addition to that, I’d had some “signs” over the weekend that labor was supposedly going to hit any day (remember my threat to use the term “mucous plug” as much as possible? Suffice it to say I used it a lot that weekend). Plus, I went into labor exactly on my due date for both Max & Wyatt, so of course I would this time, too, right? Wrong.
I have always suffered from on again, off again insomnia, and pregnancy only exacerbated this. So, given my current anxious state, and periods of hacking cough due to the bout of sickness that had cursed everyone in our home, I didn’t think much of it when I awoke at 2:30 a.m. on the morning of Jan. 6th, coughing and stressing that there was still no baby. Business as usual. I flipped on the TV to settle into whatever infomercial was going to make me the next bazillionaire or explaining more than I’d ever want to know about the state of my colon. If I was lucky, I’d drift back to sleep by 5 a.m.
On this particular morning, however, my cough was keeping me up, and Wyatt, too, since he wandered into our room around 4 a.m. We both lay there, cuddling, and exchanging coughs back and forth, hack for hack, for a good 45 minutes or so. It was at this point that something was different… Very different.
“Um, Bill”, I said.
“Yeah?” he answered, in a crackly, sleep-thickened mumble.
“Either I just peed myself, or my water just broke”.
I honestly couldn’t tell. Not that I’d been prone to bladder control issues, but one never knows… I got up to use the bathroom, no extreme “wetness” anywhere. Ok, maybe a false alarm. I laid back down. A few moments later: cough….. gush. And again: cough… gush. Cough… gush. You get the idea.
Finally! I thought, I won’t have to be induced after all.
Famous last words.
Allow me to digress for a moment. The reason I have a problem with inductions is this: with Max, my water broke, and then nothing. We had rushed to the hospital. No shower. No goodbyes. One quick call the the doctor, and off we went. Then we got there, and…… nothing. My labor never started, and I had to be put on a pitocin drip. The thing about pitocin is, you wait for hours with extremely minor contractions, which tricks you into thinking you’re some sort of labor superstar, that you must have such a high tolerance for pain, that you basically kick ass when it comes to birthin’ babies. No epidural for me, thanks, I ROCK! Then, out of nowhere….. WHAMMO! They come fast and HARD, with little to no warning.
So…. we waited for something to happen. We waited, and waited, and waited. Since we had left so early in the morning, I didn’t get a chance to eat very much. Just a cup of coffee and some toast, really. I didn’t expect this would be an all day event, so I wasn’t that worried. Hours, later, however, hunger set in, and it seemed like every commercial that came on the TV was for Friday’s or Hot Pockets. Heck, even the Beggin’ Strips were starting to make me salivate a little. Bill went to ask if I could have a little something to eat. They gave me Jello. Air-flavored Jello. And ice. Bon Appetit!
Finally, after laying in the birthing suite for 4+ hours, and absolutely nothing happening, they decided to put my on the drip. I actually didn’t mind so much at this point, because I was so anxious to get things started. Plus, the sounds of the woman literally screaming in the suite adjacent to mine was starting to put me on edge. Unfortunately, the other thing about pitocin, it takes a lllloooonnnngggg time to make any progress. With Wyatt, I walked into the hospital at 5 cm, not even convinced I was in labor. With Jackson, I was begging for my epidural, yet they were telling me I was only 3cm. We were in for a long day.
Oh, sweet epidural, you were my friend. After two not so great experiences with epidural, this time around, it couldn’t have been better. Mind you, after hours of it being administered, I was still only 5 cm, but I was a comfortable (except for the hunger) 5 cm. Finally the doc came in to check me & said, “I’m going to break your forewaters”.
“Excuse me? I have forewaters? What the heck is that? Bill, did you know I had forewaters?”
News to me, but I guess just because it was my third time ’round doesn’t mean I’ve heard it all. So with forewaters now properly ruptured, the little head could start moving further down the birth canal and hopefully get things moving a little faster. The other thing I learned? Apparently, with pitocin, 5 is the magic number. The doctor & nurse seemed to know this, but they didn’t exactly let me in on the secret until after the fact. Once you hit 5cm, things start moving faster…. a LOT faster. All of a sudden, it was like the epidural stopped working. I voiced my discomfort to the nurse, who then had the doc check me.
“You’re going to be ready to push soon”, he said.
“Oh no I’m not”, I thought. I didn’t feel like pushing in the least bit. A lot of pain, but no pressure. Next thing I know, the doc is slipping on his hazmat suit and telling me I can push whenever I felt the need. I truly thought he did not know what the heck he was talking about. After all these hours, things at this point had gone so fast, and I felt absolutely no inclination to push. It just didn’t feel like pushing would accomplish anything but wear me out more than I already was.
But, push I did, and, lo and behold, 4 minutes later, I was looking at a scrunched up little face with a set of lungs that revealed he was *slightly* more surprised than I was at what just happened.
Once again, a totally surreal experience. And such a privilege. Just like that, all the months of anticipation were over. He was here. And he was perfect. And he was screaming bloody hell. And I was loving it.