A Very Different Birth Story

A few of you may remember my birth story with Baby #1. That was a very different story than this one. But the principle that different people want (and deserve) different amounts of story remains the same. Here goes:

1. Short and sweet. For the mailman and the other people who might ask but don’t know you very well. 

The baby’s great. I’m not a human incubator anymore, so I’m great. 

2. The touchy-feely version. For friends and anyone who needs to be warned that plans are crap. 

# 2 was way more comfortable on the inside than I wanted him to be, so the doctor agreed to induce labor at 41 weeks. I drove myself, Husband, and #1 to the hospital at the designated time after stopping for Starbucks (the cashier asked how my day was and I replied with “great! On my way to the hospital to have a baby!” Unfortunately, he didn’t respond with “wow! Your drink is on the house!” Oh well. I tried.). I checked in at the hospital with “I’m here to have a baby!” Not in labor. Casual and joking around with the L&D staff. So that was weird, and not how I’d ever expected to start the birthing process. Pitocin, contractions, blah blah blah. Husband and I had agreed that my mom would come stay with me in the evening when he took #1 home for bed (we live 45+ minutes from the hospital). The contractions started getting stronger, so I told the nurses that I wanted the epidural exactly when Husband got back around 10 (he’s my safety net when it comes to all things needles). We didn’t make it that far. I called the nurse when my water broke, asked for the epidural ASAP, and ten minutes later my body was telling me it was time. We barely made it until the doctor was in the room, let alone Husband. But #2 is great, they left the cord long so Husband could ceremoniously cut it when he got there 8 minutes later, and I’m recovering from the shock of how that all went down. 

3. The gory details. You’ve been warned. 

Remember the touchy-feely version? Husband and #1 left at 8:15 to go home. The contractions started getting worse shortly thereafter, and around 9:15, I asked the nurses for Fentanyl to take the edge off until Husband was back and I was ready for the epidural (have I mentioned that I really don’t do well with needles?). My water broke at 9:30 (I’m told; I didn’t check the clock). The first nurse, the one who wanted to wait for the doctor, told me to blow like I was blowing out a candle. The next nurse who got there told me I was hyperventilating and needed to cut that shit out. Then the doctor showed up and told me that if I felt like I needed to push, to go ahead and push. (You know how in movies, women in labor say they feel like they have to push? It’s true. The closest thing I can compare it to is vomiting: you feel the need building up even though you don’t want it to and your body takes over and you don’t have a choice. It’s the weirdest damn thing.) Fun fact: on the 0-10 pain scale, 9 is whimpering and 10 is primeval screaming. I’m pretty sure I scared my mom (sorry, Mom!). There is so much you don’t feel when you get the epidural. You don’t really want to feel it. Don’t wait. Get the epidural. 

Well, that’s all, folks. My IVs are out. I got the all-clear from the nurse to pee without supervision. Everyone else is asleep. Thinking over this second (and final) birthing adventure was enough to kick my adrenaline back up enough for the shaking to start again, which is why I’m writing this story at 4am next to a sleeping baby instead of trying to get more than the hour of sleep I’ve gotten so far tonight. 

Birth Story

This may take me a while to type because I'm using my left hand and holding a sleeping baby with my right. My sleeping baby. Before I tell you how we got here, I want to mention that I wholeheartedly believe in having several versions of your birth story ready to go. The same level of detail is not agreeable to everyone you've ever met. 

1: The short and sweet version.  This is the version you tell the mailman, the UPS guy (the good one, not the one who couldn't find your house), and other acquaintances. 

Shortly after getting in bed on Wednesday night, I started having contractions. Hubby and I drove to the hospital and 16 hours later, the doctor put our new Baby Boy on my chest. 

Actually, there's probably an even shorter version that would work for casual acquaintances: finally had the baby! He's healthy, I'm healthy, and we're all figuring this out!

2: The touchy-feely version. If your friends haven't asked for intimate details about your cervix, DO NOT tell them. They don't want to know. In my case, this was actually a fairly small number of people. I guess I'm lucky the UPS guy didn't mention it. 

After several weeks of me being ready (especially once our due date came and went without Baby Boy), I finally went into labor on Wednesday night. Hubby drove me to the hospital in the middle of the night, which was great because a) no traffic and b) a fox crossed the road in front of us, and we'd agreed early on that we wanted a fox-themed nursery, so that was neat. Maybe we should do a Yeti theme if we decide to go for baby #2... Anyhoo, back to the story. After awhile in the hospital without much progress, I decided I was ready to stop being in pain. I was shaking from adrenaline and trying not to cry by the time the cute anasthesiologist got the epidural set up and my left leg turned into pudding from the drugs. Once I was able to calm down, we waited for awhile. When the nurse came in to check on me in the afternoon, she said "push" and I started trying to push even though I couldn't feel a damn thing. I'm glad I got the epidural even though it wasn't part of my birth plan, because it allowed me to relax enough to stop (inadvertently) fighting what my body was trying to do. Once I pushed out Baby Boy and Hubby cut the cord (which was the main thing on his birth plan, along with raiding the hospital's hubby snack area), someone put the little boy on my chest and said "here's your baby" and I said "holy shit."

3: The juicy version. This one you share with your closest family, friends, and anyone who works in the medical field. Medical peeps love hearing all the gory details. (Warning: gory details ahead. Read at your own peril.)

Hubby and I got in bed Wednesday night, and I had my first contraction at 10:41. We left for the hospital at midnight, when they were 9 minutes apart and we were sure it was baby time. By the time we got to the hospital, the contractions were 5 minutes apart and my cervix was 4cm dilated. The doc came in and broke my water to help move things along. I alternated between laboring on a birth ball in the shower (which felt awesome except for the terrible water pressure... highly recommend) and in various positions on the bed. Hubby slept for a couple hours. By the time the nursing staff switched out for the day crew, I was still only at 6cm and ready for drugs. I wanted to avoid an epidural, based on what I'd read about its effect on labor and recovery times, but whatever they pushed through my IV was bad. It made me dizzy and loopy and didn't touch the pain. So that sucked. And once it wore off, I said yes to the terrifying epidural (have I mentioned I don't do well with needles?). Then we waited. Not being able to feel much of anything, I took a nap, which helped a lot. At 3:30, the nurse decided it was time to check my hooha again. She poked around and called to Hubby: "do you want to see the head?" Then she told me to push once, for shits and giggles. Then we waited for the doc to finish another delivery. When she finally showed up, we did several more rounds of pushing until I somehow pushed out a baby at 4:07 Thursday afternoon. And I didn't feel a damn thing. Hubby cut the cord, just like he'd wanted to. Then the baby nurses sucked a bunch of goo out of baby's lungs. Then someone put him on my chest and said "here's your baby" and I said "holy shit."