I Had a Baby

Today was his original due date, but Thomas Raymond was eager to join the party a few weeks early on February 25th. He was a whopping (ha) 6 lbs and 10 ounces and 18.75 inches long. He's my teeny guy,and after a short and scary NICU stay he is healthy and happy. Well, hard to tell if a newborn is happy or not, but he  doesn't cry much and smiles a lot...although, they say that is gas.

His birth story is nothing like I had envisioned or hoped for. I had planned on an all-natural birth with as little interventions as possible, but with the onset of gestational diabetes and a nasty little condition called cholestasis I knew the chances of that were getting smaller. Anyway, on the 24th I had a midwife appointment in the morning and was dilated 2cm--which apparently is no big deal in your last weeks, it meant I could go into labor that day or in three weeks. She wanted to do some fetal monitoring and bloodwork, so my appointment ran over and I missed my 11am class but made it to my 1pm design class. After that class I was wiped out but decided to stay in my office and get everything graded and all my ducks in a row on the off  chance I went into labor or had to be induced the next week because of cholestasis.

I finished with that, put all my folders in a row on my desk with sticky notes for my substitutes, picked up my husband from work and went home. We laid down for a nap around 5pm and at 6:20pm I woke up needing to pee--at 37 weeks, I was peeing every 1-2 hours. After I was done, but before I stood up, my water broke right into the toilet! I was shocked by elated. The wait was suddenly over!

We called the midwife, who asked us to come into labor and delivery at 10pm for monitoring. In the meantime I finished packing our hospital bags and getting the baby's stuff ready, thinking we'd be home by Saturday.

At the hospitals my contractions started coming on, very slowly. The midwife told us to "get some rest" and if I wasn't contracting more steadily by 6am they'd put me on Pitocin. Well hell, I didn't want that NOR could I sleep, so on the nurse's advice we walked the halls. After a few hours of walking up and down the third floor hallways, hanging onto my husband during contractions, my contractions began to slow. At 6am they put in the IV and started the Pitocin drip. I was nervous and disappointed.

The Pitocin contractions started off like my natural contractions, but they upped the dosage every 15 minutes until they were coming every 2-3 minutes a part. I felt like I was being ripped apart from the inside. My breathing techniques weren't enough, so I started "ooooh"ing through the contractions. Then that wasn't enough and I got louder. I recall contorting in the bed (I was often on my side because the baby was facing one hip and stuck, this position was to try to encourage him to turn and it was the most painful). I remember crying and screaming, but telling myself that all the pain must mean we were getting closer.

Ha. I only ever got to 6cm and Thomas was still very high, stuck on my pelvis.

So, at 2pm (8 hours of hell later) they tell me that they need to turn the Pitocin all the way up and offer me the epidural. I took it. I was giddy with happiness afterwards, I had gone from feeling the worst pain in my life to intermittent pressure in my bottom. It was wonderful.

They crank up the Pitocin to the highest level and I am in and out of sleep for the next four hours. At that point I had been in labor for 24 hours, I wasn't progressing and despite pumping me full of drugs (or because?) my labor is stalling again and Thomas hasn't budged. With the fear of infection and in trying to avoid an epidural fever, which is a ticket to a NICU stay and no rooming in, the midwife calls in an OBGYN and they decide to go for a c-section.

My epidural is now upped so that I'm completely numb and I'm transferred to the operating room. Mike sits by my head and strokes my head and holds my hand. I hear lots of joviality, sucking noises, clicking metal noises and feel a little bit of pressure (like I'm passing gas, actually) and suddenly I hear a squall. 20 short minutes from decided on a c-section to first cry.

They cleaned him up and brought him around so I could see and hold him. His big gray eyes roamed around the operating room, not focusing on anything, his beautiful rosebud mouth worked at the air. He was, of course, the most gorgeous baby I had ever seen. Still is. Of course.

He breastfed right away in the recovery room, latching on and eating for half an hour. It seemed like everything was finally falling into place! Until he began spitting up that night--a lot. He spat up everything he had eaten until he was spitting up green bile. The third green bile spit up and they took him away to the NICU. I was alone when they came to say goodbye, Mike was running an errand, and seeing him in that plastic box almost killed me. Later, with a tube down his nose and all over wires, he looked even tinier. HE was happy, but Mike and I were upset and crying at the sight of him. He more than me because I was seriously doped up on Vicodin.

After a few days they determine that he's fine and we are released together on Monday evening.

And here he is the next day!

So far he is all Daddy: his eyes, mouth, earlobes. He has my cheekbones, and the nose is as yet undetermined, but he is definitely a Switzer.