Well, I am officially part of the “Mom Club.” Baby T (Teagan) is here! The first consistent question has been her “stats” (Born June 27 @ 9:05 am; 6 pounds, 4 ounces; 18.5 inches) and the second is to know her “birth story.” I didn’t know this was a thing—and apparently, it is. So, here you go!
I had a good pregnancy. Sure, I was tired the first trimester and dealt with a ton of emotional “stuff” (read the entire Blog if you’re keen on details). But, I continued to stay active (thanks to the community of support I have at the gym) and chose to build her by increasing the volume of healthy food I already ate. I didn’t use pregnancy as an excuse to eat junk food or to become a sloth, and honestly, don’t understand this mindset. Growing a human is a big responsibility! Around week 36, I got really uncomfortable. I lost sight of my feet, lost my breath doing simple things (like rolling over) and had to pee all the time. I decided to obsessively recalculate her due date using a variety of dates to get something sooner and I did! By using conception date, it bumped up to June 18 (according to my doctor it was June 21 or June 24 {they had two, one by last period and the other as a function of her size in the ultrasound}). Note: This was a colossal waste of time. Babies come when they are ready. On June 18 at 12:04 am, I started having contractions that I thought were strong. They lasted about 4 hours and then stopped. Of course I assumed that something was wrong. I had been vomiting a lot and figured that I had broke the baby. I moved my doctor’s appointment to Monday and luckily, she was still healthy and just not ready to come out. By Tuesday, I had to stop going to the gym. I couldn’t handle any more “where is the baby?” conversations. By Friday, I stopped going to yoga, same deal. On Saturday, S’s parents came to town to “meet the baby.” Instead, we went to lunch and in general, I felt like a big, fat failure. Saturday night (June 24), the contractions started again. Again, I thought they were strong and they lasted all night. I had a few hours of reprieve Sunday afternoon and then they ramped back up. Once they were 5 minutes apart for an hour, we knew it was time to go. We left the house around midnight (after Mr. Casual made himself a coffee and brushed his teeth) and got there fast. My check confirmed that I was not dilated, at all. Our choices were to walk the halls for an hour to try to stimulate ye olde uterus, or to go home. Shuffling the long halls of a sleeping hospital is truly surreal. I was grateful to be there for something that would eventually be joyous. Not tonight. We left with an Ambien. Monday was rough. Contractions started around 11 am. But, this time, I was ready. I had my Contraction Management System “CMS” perfected in some delusion that I could control this. Basically, as soon as one started, I would walk downstairs, outside and around the garage and then land in the kitchen, bend over the counter and shake my booty until it went away. It made the pain a ton more manageable—until it didn’t. Once the contractions were 5 minutes apart for an hour, we went back to the hospital. No deal. I was not dialated, at all. They gave me a shot of Demerol and we went home. During the drive, I decided that I was an idiot and clearly did not understand my body. S didn’t agree. But, did agree that he should just plan “business as usual” on Tuesday and go to work. Heck, he should take my car AND go home and have a few drinks (he stopped drinking since I didn't want any “altered states” in the delivery room. That and “no TV” were my only L + D rules). I dropped in to bed as soon as I started slurring (Demerol is real) and slept for a solid 3 hours until the contractions started back up. I didn’t wake S up, just activated “CMS.” I rolled through this for 2 hours and was getting zero breaks and then “pop!” my water broke. Thank God. We headed back to the hospital and arrived by 5 am. I was still not dilated, but, they had to admit us (I tested positive for GBS and those are the rules). I was put on a drip of something that did not numb the pain and did guarantee that I did not give a fuck about it—until I did. The doctor came in and I was at 8 cm. Score. By now, I was all in for an Epidural. My plan was to have a natural birth and after 2 days of contractions I had surrendered that idea. The nurse went to get the Anesthesiologist and I was next up. The truth in giving birth is that you don’t get to make plans. Baby T was ready. “You’re not getting an Epidural, I need you to start to push. Breathe in and out, then breathe in and push for 10 seconds. I need you to do this 3 times with each contraction. I will tell you when to start.” Stated my super-calm Nurse. She woke up S and by the time he splashed his face and brushed his teeth, he almost missed it! I take direction well. By round 3, the baby was crowning and the Doctor and a second Nurse were in position. “Damn! I am going to braid this baby’s hair right now.” Laughed the Doctor. “Do you want to see her come out?” I did not. I pushed for 2 more rounds and voila! They slid a baby on to my chest. It was all very fast (under 20-minutes). And she was ours! Next, I delivered the placenta (which I did want to see). For the record, it’s rad. I delivered at Scripps Encinitas. They let you keep the baby with you for the first 2 hours. It’s amazing. She’s tiny, healthy and strong. Time somewhat stopped as we admired our little miracle. At some point, they moved us to a recovery room and taught us to swaddle, breast feed and bathe her. S’s brother, Sarah and Jenny came to celebrate with us. We ate sushi and relaxed into our first sleepless night.
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I am:A creative thinker/problem solver/hustler. . . future mother. Archives
December 2021
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