Charlie's Birth Story

October 4th- My Mom's birthday, naturally with my due date being so close and Mumbles having been a little early, we've all mused about the possibility of Charlie and Mom sharing birthdays. After all the nonsense with the insurance and a couple false alarms, I had pretty much resolved to stop thinking about it. The truth was, I wasn't ready to not be pregnant anymore. I loved being pregnant and I didn't feel miserable like a lot of women do toward the end. Of course I was excited to see and hold my baby but I knew I would miss feeling him kick and the sense that as long as he was in there, he would be safe and happy. Once he was out in the world, he'd feel cold and hunger and loneliness. There would be times when he'd cry and I wouldn't know immediately how to help him. I always hated when Mumbles cried. Still do.
At any rate, it was a Monday not much different than any other Monday. I snapped a quick picture of myself in the bathroom mirror before leaving for what would be another boring day at the office. While I was at work, I decided to re-read the amazing birth stories of a few women who'd shared them via Facebook. For whatever reason, the stories of two sisters stuck out in my mind, specifically, the fact that they both felt 'crampy' right before their labors began.
After dinner, Micha and I took the dogs on a long walk. Truthfully, most walks any further than a couple blocks were long considering my need to be in close proximity to a bathroom at all times. On our way back, I felt 'crampy'. Not wanting to read too much into it only to be another false alarm, I blew it off. I thought to myself 'I'm looking for it because I read Kim and Kristin's birth stories.' I didn't think much more about it and went to bed. I woke up the usual five times to go to the bathroom, each time feeling 'crampy' but again I thought to myself that it was just because my bladder was full.

October 5th- When my alarm went off at 5:30 am, I woke up still feeling crampy. The cramps always went away but I didn't want to drive all the way into to work, only to have to turn around. I sent my boss a text message saying it was too early to tell but I thought I might be in labor but that I would be in later if I wasn't. I woke Micha up and told him I thought I was really close. Mumbles got on her bus like usual. I called my Mom and gave her kind of the 'please stand by'. I timed three contractions and they were about eight minutes apart. I called my Mom back. She's about three hours from us and I wanted her to have plenty of time to get here. Micha made me a good, stick-to-your-ribs breakfast: Malt-O-Meal and two eggs and then ran me a warm bath. I soaked in the tub while he loaded the car, put more air in my exercise ball, installed the car seat and packed his own bag. I felt pretty good in the tub and then I got out. I got dressed and tried to make sure I had everything but the contractions felt like they were coming very quickly and they were definitely more painful. I'd get down on all fours or lean over my ball and breath through them. We decided we should time a couple more. They were about 5 to 6 minutes apart. Micha called the doctor's office and they told him we should go ahead and come in. Micha was ready to go, I however; did not want to leave my bedroom. I wanted to get back in my bath tub and stay there. Getting into the car for the 15 minute ride to the hospital was the last place I wanted to be. I started to feel overwhelmed and I told Micha it hurt too much and I wanted the epidural. He said he didn't blame me and let's get in the car to which I shook my head 'no'. We did finally make it to the car and out the drive way but we had to stop after a couple blocks because I was pretty sure I was going to throw up. The idea of puking terrified me. I was pretty sure it was going to hurt so I didn't. I knew I had to do something to get on top of my contractions so I started listening to one of my meditations on my iPhone. By the time we got to the interstate, I was starting to feel more in control.
We arrived at the hospital and a very nice but ill-informed volunteer wheeled me up to the 5th floor but sent Micha to patient registration (which we'd already done). I tried not to be rude but she kept talking to me and I was feeling less than social. We got to my room and my nurse Kerri was extremely helpful. She didn't bother me while I was contracting and kept telling me I was doing great. Poor Micha was running through the hospital getting forms for me to sign. It seemed like he was gone forever and I still had to be hooked up to the monitors for 15 to 20 minutes. I didn't want to lay down so I sat in the rocker but every contraction made me want to rip off the monitors and throw them in the toilet. I wanted to be on all fours or in the tub or anywhere but that damn chair. Micha asked Kerri how dilated I was and she said about 5 or 6 and my contractions where about 2 minutes apart. The phlebotomist came to take my blood and asked me about my name. I didn't answer. I didn't want to talk. I just wanted to listen to my relaxation meditation on my phone, which rang in the middle of a contraction. It was my best friend. I told Micha to deal with her. I was getting overwhelmed again and couldn't get on top of my contractions. I felt out of control. I was having these little contractions between contractions, making it impossible to get caught up. When Micha said I might not need the epidural after all, I said I wanted it. Kerri started IV fluids and my Mom arrived shortly after.

Once I had the epidural, I had to stay in bed. I watched Breakfast at Tiffany's with no sound, and chatted with my Mom and Micha. It took quite awhile for Charlie to get himself in just the right spot which actually turned out to be good because Dr. MacFarlane was with another patient (maybe an emergency?) He did come in to check me and when he did my water broke. It was still quite some time before it was time to start pushing. Kerri helped me get Charlie down most of the way and then called Dr MacFarlane...and got his voice mail! I could tell Micha was starting to get nervous but Mom and I stayed calm and it wasn't long and the Doctor arrived. I honestly don't remember his presence there, just the sound of my mother's voice encouraging me to either push or breath and the song on my iPhone (I'd left one of my ear buds in). Charlie arrived to "I Can't Help Falling in Love" as sung by Micheal Buble, which I think is totally appropriate. Then I heard her say she could see his head so I reached down to feel, no hair (and I had all that heartburn!) I probably only pushed for half an hour. Time does something funny when you are in labor. It either stands still or it flies by. It seemed like my Mom got to the hospital amazingly quickly while it seemed like Micha was gone for ever. Pushing seemed to take just a few moments. I hadn't had enough of the epidural to make me completely numb. I still felt my contractions and I still felt Charlie moving through me, it just didn't register as pain, just a sensation. I could see his head and I knew it wasn't the right color but I just kept focusing on what my Mom was saying and then he was out. He was blue from the umbilical cord being wrapped around him but they put him on my abdomen and started rubbing him with a towel. He looked surprised and then he let out a cry. After a couple minutes I heard the nurse say "I like that color much better." Charlie had 'pinked' up and looked perfect. I looked up at Micha and he was fighting back tears (my Mom and sister had a bet over whether or not he would cry). I watched while they clamped the cord and showed Micha what to do. Dr. MacFarlane stitched me up, told us we did great and congratulated us and left. The nurses went shortly after that and then it was just us for a little while. I'm sure there was other stuff going on in the world at 5:02 pm on October 5th but I wouldn't have known it.

The Meltdown

In yesterdays post, Are we there yet?, I talked about my stupid insurance company, with their stupid deductible and all the stupid people who think it's just as simple as making the baby come before the end of the month. A few hours after posting, I thought I might have been leaking amnio fluid. I tried not to get excited about it and for 45 minutes, tried to figure out whether I was just peeing my pants, a drop at a time or if it was in fact my water. Finally, I decided to just go to my doctor's office and have them do the test. I knew if I didn't Micha and I would just be freaking out all night. Turns out, I was just peeing myself. Awesome. This baby is not coming until October and I get to be wet the entire rest of time. And that was it, I completely lost it. I started bawling, sobbing loudly, in the car, driving down I35 all the way home. I scared Micha when I finally pulled in the drive, still sobbing. Was I really that upset about peeing myself? No, I've been peeing myself for weeks now the only difference is I can't really feel it anymore. Was I upset that I wasn't going into labor and thought I soon would be? No, I'm actually torn between being excited to be so close to holding Charlie and being sad that I won't be pregnant anymore. I was just tired of thinking about it. I was tired of hearing all day long things like "Clocks ticking" and "Wouldn't that be better than paying an extra $1000?" (when referring to the affects of Castor Oil and/or Pitocin). For starters, I am not going to issue an ultimatum to my baby, "Either come out on your own before midnight Sept 30th or I will make you come out!" I'm not evicting Charlie from my uterus. Secondly, unless you've actually had Pitocin, then shut the hell up! It's not like getting an IV of antibiotics. It's miserably painful- more so than natural, unmedicated labor. And yes, I could have an epidural, and like last time the headache that accompanied it for the week following delivery. An unrelenting headache and a newborn baby, between the two of which, a new Mom will never sleep. Sounds like a real party. Induction isn't even on the table anyway. My doctor won't do it and I think it's great that he feels strongly enough about letting babies arrive in their own time, not to allow patients who might be tired or uncomfortable to just decide they don't want to be pregnant anymore and force the baby out.

My doctor did offer up a couple suggestions but most of the options are about as appealing as the ass end of a skunk. There's the old wives tale about sex, which actually has some scientific basis and is the only attractive option. Micha really likes this suggestion, although maybe not in conjunction with some of the other methods. The most effective, in the doc's opinion, is Castor Oil. Castor Oil is not only not very palatable, it also works by causing diarrhea. Lovely. The other is what is called 'sweeping the membranes'. Now, let me preface the explanation of what this is with a little statement about my doc. When he does my exams, he is extremely 'kind'. I'm 31 years old and this is my second pregnancy so I can guesstimate that I've had approximately 20 or so vaginal exams in my lifetime and he, by far, is the best. Very quick and virtually no discomfort. This is important, particularly during pregnancy, because when you already have something essentially the weight of a bowling ball sitting on top of your cervix, the last thing you want is some guy with gorilla hands feeling around up there. 'Sweeping the membranes' is when the practitioner goes in with his fingers and pulls the membrane away from the uterus around the opening of the cervix. In order to accomplish this, he would have to push his fingers through the cervix. Sound painful? By all accounts, it is. Plus, there's not much evidence that sweeping the membranes works and there's the small risk of accidentally rupturing the membrane, at which point the clock really does start ticking due to the increased risk of infection.  Fenugreek and Evening Primrose Oil have also been used to get labor started but little is known about their efficacy and Fenugreek can cause diarrhea and Primrose Oil is thought to lengthen labor time.

So I can have a painful, invasive vaginal procedure while having the shits with a suppository stuck up my woo hoo ditty, and that might start my labor but it will be longer than if I had just waited. (Notice I didn't mention having sex because, let's face it, with all that going on there's no way sex is happening.) The best part is, the baby may still not be ready before midnight on September 30th, making my last few weeks of pregnancy miserable for no good reason. Where do I sign up?! I wish the money wasn't a consideration for us, but that just isn't our lot. There are somethings that are just not worth the worry though and somethings that are totally worth the wait.

Week 38- Are we there yet?

I am a planner. It's my nature. From the moment I open my eyes in the morning, I start planning my steps, even on my days off. Don't get me wrong I plan for stuff like fun and naps, but it's typically after the work has been done. And I don't get bent competely out of shape when things don't go exactly according to my plan because I plan for them not to. Naturally, when I found out I was pregnant, I started planning. What kind of birth did I want? Who will be there? Who will take care of Mumbles? How will we pay for it? And my personal favorite, when do we decorate the nursery?! Knowing that the final month of pregnancy can be chaotic, emotional and physically very draining, I really wanted to have everything ready/done by the time September rolled around. I wanted to spend as much time with Mumbles and Micha as I could and I wanted to relax and focus on taking care of myself. The house is clean, the nursery is done (mostly), the freezer is stocked and Mumbles will be taken care of by my new, but very dear friend. The financial arrangements were made and fullfilled months ago. So far, so good right? Then, less than 4 weeks to my EDD, my boss sends out an email stating that as of October 1st, our insurance policy will change and our new deductible will be $1,000 more than what we were already paying so if we've met our deductible and we still have any needs, we should take care of them before Sept 30th. Wonderful. An extra $1,000 when I only have 2 weeks of paid leave (I'll be on leave for between 5 and 9 weeks, depending on when Charlie decides to arrive), Christmas is right around the corner and even when I do return to work, it will only be part-time until after the New Year. Even more upsetting is everyone's purposed solution to my dilemma- "Just go get induced." Seriously?! WTF?! Even the stupid woman from the agency that is supposed to be trying to get us the best rates for insurance suggested that maybe my doctor would induce me. No, for the record, he won't because it's unethical to induce labor if it isn't medically neccessary. Not to mention that trying to make a baby come before he and Mom are ready is essentially like trying to shove a person through a small window...that is closed. It doesn't work. It puts undue stress on baby and Mom and will more than likely end up in c-section. So basically instead of relaxing and taking care of myself, I find myself obsessing about when the baby will come and hoping it's before midnight on Sept 30th.

Week 36- Just a little emotional vomit...

I've had a stressful week. My Dad was in ICU overnight, my insurance company has essentially asked me to bend over and grab my ankles, I peed myself, I still hate my job and Micha has started traveling, the first week of which is always so hard for me. I decided to allow myself last night to mope and feel sorry for myself and cry and just be very small version of a train wreck, maybe with model trains instead of life-sized ones. I couldn't sleep because of the storm, which was odd because a storm is usually like a shot of tranquilizer in the ass. I would love to sleep. A deep sleep that is uninterrupted by the immediate need to pee no less than five times every night.

Anyway, while I was lying awake, I thought about the conversation I had with my Dad. He'd been in ICU overnight but was going to be ok and they were moving him to a regular room. He got all emotional and started saying that he'd gotten cheated out of raising me and I'd gotten cheated out of having him as a Dad and that if we hadn't been we might be different people. I hate when he says stuff like that. No one cheated him more than he did, but even still I don't feel cheated and I don't want to be different. Is it so hard to believe that despite everything that I am happy? I have Mumbles, who is amazing. Sometime between watching music videos and texting her friends she has time to think about the beginning of existence. She's beautiful and sensitive. I have Micha, who is perfect for me. He makes me laugh, he supports me and he has no problem with me being stubborn and hard-headed at times. He's smart and, as my Grandma has said, he's hot. I have a beautiful home, plenty of food, I get to enjoy shopping and friends and most of my close relatives are around for me to spend time with. Sure, I hate my job, but I have one and even that it something these days. So would I trade one minute of pain or sadness in my entire life if it meant that I wouldn't be exactly where I am right now? Absolutely not! All of the things that really matter are all of the things that make me happiest, the rest is just filler. No, I was not cheated nor do I want to be different. When I look back at what could've been, I know it couldn't be any better than this.

Week 35- How about a cup of shut the hell up?

Ok so let's say, just hypothetically, that someone you know, could be anyone, is going into the hospital for surgery. Let's say it's the first time this person is ever going through such an experience. Would you A) Reassure them and tell them positive and uplifting stories or B) Tell them every horror story you can possibly think of in which something has gone horribly wrong and resulted in death, near death, mutilation or, at the very least, an unsatisfactory ending? Most of us who are sane, rational people, considerate of the feelings of those around us would choose A. The same thing applies to preggos!

Don't get me wrong, I know that there are women out there who have harrowing stories about traumatic births. Births that did not go the way they had envisioned and that years later they still mourn. Imagine if for nine months you planned and dreamed of your perfect wedding and then on the big day a team of jack asses waltzed in, told you that you weren't doing it right and started running the show. Sure at the end of the day you might still be married to your soul mate but you were made to feel miserable and inadequate or drugged so what should've been a profound experience winds up a hazy memory, confusing and painful. I completely understand the need for women who experience this kind of pain to share their stories. I even appreciate them doing so because it teaches other women that, no matter what kind of birth experience they want to have, they have to find their voice and make their wishes known. It helps those women who felt alone feel less so and it gives them hope that their future birth experiences can and will be different.

That being said, please refrain from telling your story of vaginally birthing a 12 lb baby and nearly dying due to hemorrhaging to a pregnant woman, especially if it's her first pregnancy. Please don't share how your sister-in-law wound up on the surgery table after 37 hours of labor or how your grandmother died in childbirth. There is an appropriate time and place and there are many women who would love to hear these birth stories, but at 35 weeks, I am not one of them. Right now, all I want to hear are positive, awesome birth stories and things like "I was only in active labor for a couple hours" and "It didn't hurt that bad." I'm not turning a blind eye to women who have different stories. I know they are out there. I know they mourned and, for some, still mourn and I want to hear their stories too but not until after. And whatever you do, don't tell those stories to our partners. They often times freak out even more so than we do.

Week 34- Dear Charlie

I can't wait for you to get here! I think about you all the time. I want to see you and hold you and smell you. I think you'll have blue eyes but I wonder what color your hair will be? Sometimes I imagine rocking you in your room or lying down with you to watch you sleep. You'll be long and thin, I'm sure, with long slender hands and fingers. Your Dad can teach you to play guitar or maybe we'll have piano lessons. Will some part of you remember the conversations we have during my daily commute? When we talk about 90's alternative rock and 'Axl Rose Syndrome' being the reason so many of my favorite bands have not enjoyed the lingering success of one of my all time favorite bands, Pearl Jam. Do you know that whenever I hear the song Just Breathe, I think about your Dad and how much I love him and that Amongst the Waves will always be your song?
It seems you move more than Mumbles did and with more force. She is my quiet and delicate girl. I suspect you'll be a perfect contrast to her. In fact, your beginning is already vastly different than hers. I feel as though I planned for you but Mumbles was planned for me. She changed my life and you are here because my life was changed. I hope you will grow up seeing just how truely amazing your big sister is. Your Dad is just as remarkable. He's smart and he works hard. I feel certain that you will always be able to look to him and see just what a father and partner should be. I know he worries about you all the time and is as anxious to hold you as I am. I wonder if you will remember a little game called 'Hey Baby' and how excited he gets when you 'do something cool'!

Of all the things that I think are the most important for you to know before you get here and throughout your life the most important is this: You have a big, crazy family who loves you and will always love you more than is even imaginable. Like my Grandma used to tell me "I love you to the moon and back".

Week 31- Are you gonna cry about it?

Thus far, I have not had any of the roller coaster-esque mood swings that women often seem to be afflicted with during not only pregnancy but ovulation, pre-menses or just whenever we need a good excuse to be bitchy. Imagine my surprise when I cried no less than 15 times Friday. Okay, that might be a bit of exaggeration and a couple of times it was merely a welling of the eyes. Still, it isn't like me to get sappy over a wall decal but there I was cruising the Target website, looking for stuff to decorate Charlie's room. Normally, I'm not a fan of wall decals, particularly words, but this one was the God Bless the Moon poem that my Grandma used to say to me at night. "I see the moon; the moon sees me. God bless the moon and God bless me." It's simple and cute and seeing it there over a staged crib in a random photo studio made my eyes well up. I put it on my registry immediately, forgetting completely the fact that the walls in Charlie's room are going to be light blue, (very light blue as Micha is painting them as I type) and the decal itself is white. Oh well.

We have finally started on Charlie's room after finishing up some other home improvement projects we'd started earlier in the summer. We went to an antique mall in Ottawa and found a couple of old 45's I'm going to frame and hang on the wall and Micha found a toy Swiss plane that we'll hang from the ceiling. I love this part. If I was better at art, I'd go to design school. Decorating the new house has been so much fun and it's kept me sane on the uber slow days at work.

Saturday night we went to the county fair. Mumbles hung with her friends and rode the rides while Micha and I walked around looked at the animals and the 4-H projects and ate funnel cake. I'm not exactly a 'health nut' but I eat pretty good. Lots of veggies, lean meats and not to many refined carbs. I am human though and funnel cake is one of those once a year treats that no one should leave this life, without first having tried. Two hours after eating said fried, doughy, sugary treat, I was awake with heartburn, thus ruining my funnel cake experience for the year.

I've started noticing Charlie's responses to certain things, like riding in the car, or the sound of his Dad's or Sister's voices. During our trip to Ottawa, I could feel a sort of rythmic waving motion across my belly which I've notice a few times since then (althought never while the DJ is talking or during a commercial, so maybe it's the music?). If he hears his Dad or his Sister talking to him, he wakes up and kicks around and if I laugh (which I do a lot at my house) he responds a few seconds later with a little rumble.