Tuesday, March 16, 2010
After my nap
"Never be afraid of giving up your best, and God will give you his better." This quote was what I put in the yearbook as my senior quote. I find it both ironic and a little bittersweet that these words rang so true to me all those years ago. Ironic because it was so clear to me that God was calling me even then, and bittersweet because of the years that have passed with me running from this call, being afraid of doing exactly what the quote advises. Giving up my best...stepping into my role in God's plan...allowing myself to take my place as a daughter of the King. And now I am, and the difference is peace. The difference is hope. The difference is anticipation of what's to come rather than fear. I don't know what will come next, but I know that it is better than I can imagine and more than what I need. I know that no matter what I try to create, to force to fruition it will be nothing without Him instructing it for me. And finally, finally, I am ok with that. :)
Gold
St. Patrick's Day has never been a big deal to me. My family isn't Irish, and we don't drink green beer. I will, however, confess to longing as a child to find a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Three years ago, on March 17th the day took on meaning for me. I found my golden treasure that day, when my daughter Zoe Aurelia was born.
At three years old, my Zoebella is strong, smart, and passionate about life. She is confident in herself, in our love, and in her place in her world (which is small at her age, but growing larger all the time). This past weekend, we spent Saturday as a girl day...so much fun :) While we were eating lunch, she calmly declared "I don't care if people like me." She didn't say it in a rude or arrogant way...it was just a fact. She is sure of herself, and gives love freely...not to please others, but because she wants to give it. It's powerful stuff for this mama to witness. I will say that she continually opens my eyes to all the most wonderful and frustrating parts of being female. The struggles we face as women to balance our strength with our gentleness are apparent to me as I seek to help her find her way in this world. And all my insecurities in myself as a woman and a role-model are laid bare in my heart, as I try to show her a worthy example.
The Birth of Zoe Aurelia Taylor
There was nothing particularly special about the morning of March 16, 2007. It was a Friday, so I got the boys off to school. I was having some contractions, but at 40 weeks and 4 days pregnant, I had long since stopped paying attention to each little "twinge". I was in the frame of mind that I would give contractions my attention when they DEMANDED it. So, I passed the morning as usual, cleaning up, doing laundry, paying bills. By midmorning, I began noticing that the contractions were happening about every 15 minutes, a pattern was developing...still no big deal. By lunchtime, the contractions were slightly more insistent, and I noticed I was spotting--which definitely got my attention, since this had marked the start of the "real thing" for me with my other labors. So I called my midwife and my husband to let them know what was going on. Then, since it was lovely outside, I took a walk. I chatted with my friend, Kim, while I walked the circle at my parents house. Kim was also very pg, and she entertained me while I hoofed my big belly about a mile and a half, pausing in our conversation to breathe through the contractions. I kept telling her that I wasn't going to get my hopes up that it was real labor, and she would just say "mmmhhmmm, we'll see, they're pretty regular" ;) Matt came home from work a couple of hours early, and my sister Vicky picked the boys up from school and took them out with her for a little while to give me space. I remember feeling so excited to finally meet my daughter. I remember worrying that I would bleed too much, like I did after Gordon was born. I remember hoping that I would be able to juggle having 4 kids. I remember wondering what we would name this new person in our family.
Our sweet baby girl was no accident. We had always said we wanted 4 children, but following Gordon's birth, I was no longer confident that I could handle that many kids. Gordon's birth was a wonderful experience, but a terrifying one as well. I hemmorhaged after he was born, and had many difficulties with breastfeeding which led to post partum depression. Our Gordon is on the autism spectrum as well, and from birth he was much more intense than what I was used to. I remember thinking, "there's no way I can do this again". But as the years went by, I felt a deep longing in my heart. The constant sense that something, SOMEONE, was missing. So, in April of 2006 we decided to try to concieve one more time :) July 1st I took a pregnancy test and it was positive. I told no one...even Matt...I just held the news to myself...a treasure for me alone. I told Matt 3 days later when he cornered me and asked if there was something I needed to tell him. I said "I'm pregnant and we're having a girl." Still, we kept the news of my pregnancy secret for another 8 weeks from our boys and everyone else. I was sick, which is usual for me, and I wondered if I had made a mistake (haha). Everyone assumed that we wanted a girl, and in fact I did. We even read the book "How to Choose the Sex of Your Baby" and put the suggestions to use, but the truth is that I knew before we ever concieved that whether we had a boy or a girl, our family was missing someone. I was fine with another son, and knew that I would love either sex. On the day of the ultrasound, Matt wore a pink shirt to work...he said he was "thinking pink". This was a sign of support for my hope, because Matt had told me over and over again not to get my hopes up, that "Taylors don't make girls". I just said "we'll see." There is something so wonderful about seeing your baby on ultrasound--glimpsing into their secret little world--seeing them wiggle around in there and hearing the heartbeat. When the ultrasound tech said "It's a girl". I threw my arms up and said "YES!" then I burst into tears and said "I told you so" to Matt...haha. I was elated :) My daughter was coming to me....
Late afternoon on March 16th, my midwife stopped by and checked me. After moving to roughly 9 minutes apart, the contractions were spacing out and were at about 15 minutes apart. We had dinner with Vicky and Craig and they took the boys to spend the night with them so that I could rest. Matt and I decided it was time to make my belly cast--before the belly was gone :). During the casting, the contractions picked up in intesity. The frequency was the same, but they were definitely stronger and meant business. Not a comfortable time to have to stand completely still...should've planned that a little better. We went to bed and slept fitfully until about 2:45am. We called our midwife and she came again to check me. I was about 4 cm dilated and having contractions about every 7 minutes. I got up and walked the halls some. I took a shower, but by morninglight the contractions were coming sporadically and I wasn't any more dilated. The midwife and her assistant, told me they would go so that we could rest and advised me to try to sleep. At about 6:45 I went back to bed and SLEPT (really slept) until about 12:30ish when I woke up both hungry and feeling more regular contractions. I declared that I was starving so Matt made me some food, then he had to talk me into eating the egg and cheese bagel I asked for--bless him for his patience! We had the windows open to the beautiful weather outside, and for some reason I just screamed when I had contractions. I don't know why, but it helped me to scream and cuss. So I did. By doing this I seriously freaked out my uncle and cousin, who had come out onto our property to drop some stuff off for my dad. They heard me yelling and came to check on me. My Uncle Alex stuck his head in the door and said, "Hey, we just wanted to come by and holler at you..." I responded "I might holler back." hahaha...
My sister, Jenifer, came over at some point, maybe around 3:00pm, and she got me up and walking outside. Bless her heart, I complained the whole time, but she stayed positive and had me doing lunges at the picnic table...changing my position to help the baby come down. "It HURTS" I would say and she'd say "I know, but it has to, to get the baby out". Around 4:15pm, I went inside and got into the tub...the water felt great, but the contractions were still strong and about every five minutes. I wanted to call the midwife to come back, but I didn't want her to drive over again for nothing, so I asked Matt to check me. He said I was about 8 cm and that my cervix was completely effaced. So we called her and she came. Once she got there, things just kept progressing...I lost track of time at some point. I remember being in the tub and wanting to push, but not needing to push. I remember sitting on the toilet and T (the midwife) checking me and saying that my bag of water was right there bulging...I remember reaching down and feeling that....a warm squishy balloon with a something hard inside when you pushed against it...my baby was so close. I remember Matt rubbing my back and holding me up and telling me how wonderfully I was doing, and putting a straw in my mouth for me to drink. I remember wondering if I should just go get an epidural at the hospital...why did I always have to be difficult (ha!). I remember wanting for it all to be over and wanting not to let go. I remember wondering if I would have the strength to push her out. At some point we moved to the bed and T told me it was fine if I wanted to try to push. I went with it, thinking maybe if I made myself push I would need to push. Hands and knees on the bed....nope! Squatting at the foot of the bed...nope! Sitting on the birthstool at the foot of the bed...um...yes....I needed to push....there was no stopping it. What felt like a very sudden and pronounced change happened, I am guessing that baby girl's head finally made it's way under my pubic bone, but I couldn't not push at that point. I bore down with everything I had in me. I heard Jenifer call Matt back (he walked out to get a coke in the kitchen just seconds before this happened)....then I felt her coming. The infamous bowling ball sensation as she passed through me. T asked me to reach down and touch the baby (something I said I wanted to do) and I just shook my head no once and pushed again. Just then she crowned and I remember thinking I would rip apart, but I didn't care I wanted her out. When her head came out, we could see she had her hand right up against her cheek. T checked for a cord around her neck and there it was..."ok, just a minute, I'm gonna slip the cord over her head. ok, nope she's just coming on through it then". With one more massive push....Bloop.....out she slid...pink, slippery and absolutely beautiful!!! I took her in my arms and said "Come here my beautiful girl"...I kept leaning down and kissing her...she was so perfect. It's funny when I watch the video of her birth, I see that she was all covered in goop and that's maybe a little yucky to other people, but in the moment all I saw was everything wonderful!!! Absolute JOY in that one moment of my life. Matt and Jenifer were there...hugging us, crying, laughing. It was wonderful. A few minutes later and the placenta came out. I had some significant bleeding, but nothing like with Gordon's birth. We snuggled in to nurse in bed and rest, and Matt brought me some homemade soup.
It took us a few days to name her. For three days after her birth, we affectionately refered to her as "baby no-name". Matt and I both believe in looking at our children before naming them; looking them in the eye to see what fits. While I was pregnant with her I loved the name Ruby (I still do!), but when she was born it just didn't work. She was born on Sat. and on Mon. we sat down and made a list of about 20 names and "graded" them. We finally decided on Zoe Aurelia, and it's funny but at the beginning of my pregnancy we both liked Zoe then decided we didn't--but she was born and it WAS her name. And Aurelia is a name that I didn't like until she was born. Together her name means "golden life". She is that. Precious...Strong...Full of vitality.
Something funny: I always imagined how my daughter would look. Matt and I were both sure she would have olive skin (like me), dark hair and dark eyes. Then when I was in labor, Matt kept picking on me saying she was going to be a blond-haired, blue-eyed girl. He was right! Blonde hair, blue eyes and fair skin....it's a good thing she was born at home, so we know there was no mix up ;)
At three years old, my Zoebella is strong, smart, and passionate about life. She is confident in herself, in our love, and in her place in her world (which is small at her age, but growing larger all the time). This past weekend, we spent Saturday as a girl day...so much fun :) While we were eating lunch, she calmly declared "I don't care if people like me." She didn't say it in a rude or arrogant way...it was just a fact. She is sure of herself, and gives love freely...not to please others, but because she wants to give it. It's powerful stuff for this mama to witness. I will say that she continually opens my eyes to all the most wonderful and frustrating parts of being female. The struggles we face as women to balance our strength with our gentleness are apparent to me as I seek to help her find her way in this world. And all my insecurities in myself as a woman and a role-model are laid bare in my heart, as I try to show her a worthy example.
The Birth of Zoe Aurelia Taylor
There was nothing particularly special about the morning of March 16, 2007. It was a Friday, so I got the boys off to school. I was having some contractions, but at 40 weeks and 4 days pregnant, I had long since stopped paying attention to each little "twinge". I was in the frame of mind that I would give contractions my attention when they DEMANDED it. So, I passed the morning as usual, cleaning up, doing laundry, paying bills. By midmorning, I began noticing that the contractions were happening about every 15 minutes, a pattern was developing...still no big deal. By lunchtime, the contractions were slightly more insistent, and I noticed I was spotting--which definitely got my attention, since this had marked the start of the "real thing" for me with my other labors. So I called my midwife and my husband to let them know what was going on. Then, since it was lovely outside, I took a walk. I chatted with my friend, Kim, while I walked the circle at my parents house. Kim was also very pg, and she entertained me while I hoofed my big belly about a mile and a half, pausing in our conversation to breathe through the contractions. I kept telling her that I wasn't going to get my hopes up that it was real labor, and she would just say "mmmhhmmm, we'll see, they're pretty regular" ;) Matt came home from work a couple of hours early, and my sister Vicky picked the boys up from school and took them out with her for a little while to give me space. I remember feeling so excited to finally meet my daughter. I remember worrying that I would bleed too much, like I did after Gordon was born. I remember hoping that I would be able to juggle having 4 kids. I remember wondering what we would name this new person in our family.
Our sweet baby girl was no accident. We had always said we wanted 4 children, but following Gordon's birth, I was no longer confident that I could handle that many kids. Gordon's birth was a wonderful experience, but a terrifying one as well. I hemmorhaged after he was born, and had many difficulties with breastfeeding which led to post partum depression. Our Gordon is on the autism spectrum as well, and from birth he was much more intense than what I was used to. I remember thinking, "there's no way I can do this again". But as the years went by, I felt a deep longing in my heart. The constant sense that something, SOMEONE, was missing. So, in April of 2006 we decided to try to concieve one more time :) July 1st I took a pregnancy test and it was positive. I told no one...even Matt...I just held the news to myself...a treasure for me alone. I told Matt 3 days later when he cornered me and asked if there was something I needed to tell him. I said "I'm pregnant and we're having a girl." Still, we kept the news of my pregnancy secret for another 8 weeks from our boys and everyone else. I was sick, which is usual for me, and I wondered if I had made a mistake (haha). Everyone assumed that we wanted a girl, and in fact I did. We even read the book "How to Choose the Sex of Your Baby" and put the suggestions to use, but the truth is that I knew before we ever concieved that whether we had a boy or a girl, our family was missing someone. I was fine with another son, and knew that I would love either sex. On the day of the ultrasound, Matt wore a pink shirt to work...he said he was "thinking pink". This was a sign of support for my hope, because Matt had told me over and over again not to get my hopes up, that "Taylors don't make girls". I just said "we'll see." There is something so wonderful about seeing your baby on ultrasound--glimpsing into their secret little world--seeing them wiggle around in there and hearing the heartbeat. When the ultrasound tech said "It's a girl". I threw my arms up and said "YES!" then I burst into tears and said "I told you so" to Matt...haha. I was elated :) My daughter was coming to me....
Late afternoon on March 16th, my midwife stopped by and checked me. After moving to roughly 9 minutes apart, the contractions were spacing out and were at about 15 minutes apart. We had dinner with Vicky and Craig and they took the boys to spend the night with them so that I could rest. Matt and I decided it was time to make my belly cast--before the belly was gone :). During the casting, the contractions picked up in intesity. The frequency was the same, but they were definitely stronger and meant business. Not a comfortable time to have to stand completely still...should've planned that a little better. We went to bed and slept fitfully until about 2:45am. We called our midwife and she came again to check me. I was about 4 cm dilated and having contractions about every 7 minutes. I got up and walked the halls some. I took a shower, but by morninglight the contractions were coming sporadically and I wasn't any more dilated. The midwife and her assistant, told me they would go so that we could rest and advised me to try to sleep. At about 6:45 I went back to bed and SLEPT (really slept) until about 12:30ish when I woke up both hungry and feeling more regular contractions. I declared that I was starving so Matt made me some food, then he had to talk me into eating the egg and cheese bagel I asked for--bless him for his patience! We had the windows open to the beautiful weather outside, and for some reason I just screamed when I had contractions. I don't know why, but it helped me to scream and cuss. So I did. By doing this I seriously freaked out my uncle and cousin, who had come out onto our property to drop some stuff off for my dad. They heard me yelling and came to check on me. My Uncle Alex stuck his head in the door and said, "Hey, we just wanted to come by and holler at you..." I responded "I might holler back." hahaha...
My sister, Jenifer, came over at some point, maybe around 3:00pm, and she got me up and walking outside. Bless her heart, I complained the whole time, but she stayed positive and had me doing lunges at the picnic table...changing my position to help the baby come down. "It HURTS" I would say and she'd say "I know, but it has to, to get the baby out". Around 4:15pm, I went inside and got into the tub...the water felt great, but the contractions were still strong and about every five minutes. I wanted to call the midwife to come back, but I didn't want her to drive over again for nothing, so I asked Matt to check me. He said I was about 8 cm and that my cervix was completely effaced. So we called her and she came. Once she got there, things just kept progressing...I lost track of time at some point. I remember being in the tub and wanting to push, but not needing to push. I remember sitting on the toilet and T (the midwife) checking me and saying that my bag of water was right there bulging...I remember reaching down and feeling that....a warm squishy balloon with a something hard inside when you pushed against it...my baby was so close. I remember Matt rubbing my back and holding me up and telling me how wonderfully I was doing, and putting a straw in my mouth for me to drink. I remember wondering if I should just go get an epidural at the hospital...why did I always have to be difficult (ha!). I remember wanting for it all to be over and wanting not to let go. I remember wondering if I would have the strength to push her out. At some point we moved to the bed and T told me it was fine if I wanted to try to push. I went with it, thinking maybe if I made myself push I would need to push. Hands and knees on the bed....nope! Squatting at the foot of the bed...nope! Sitting on the birthstool at the foot of the bed...um...yes....I needed to push....there was no stopping it. What felt like a very sudden and pronounced change happened, I am guessing that baby girl's head finally made it's way under my pubic bone, but I couldn't not push at that point. I bore down with everything I had in me. I heard Jenifer call Matt back (he walked out to get a coke in the kitchen just seconds before this happened)....then I felt her coming. The infamous bowling ball sensation as she passed through me. T asked me to reach down and touch the baby (something I said I wanted to do) and I just shook my head no once and pushed again. Just then she crowned and I remember thinking I would rip apart, but I didn't care I wanted her out. When her head came out, we could see she had her hand right up against her cheek. T checked for a cord around her neck and there it was..."ok, just a minute, I'm gonna slip the cord over her head. ok, nope she's just coming on through it then". With one more massive push....Bloop.....out she slid...pink, slippery and absolutely beautiful!!! I took her in my arms and said "Come here my beautiful girl"...I kept leaning down and kissing her...she was so perfect. It's funny when I watch the video of her birth, I see that she was all covered in goop and that's maybe a little yucky to other people, but in the moment all I saw was everything wonderful!!! Absolute JOY in that one moment of my life. Matt and Jenifer were there...hugging us, crying, laughing. It was wonderful. A few minutes later and the placenta came out. I had some significant bleeding, but nothing like with Gordon's birth. We snuggled in to nurse in bed and rest, and Matt brought me some homemade soup.
It took us a few days to name her. For three days after her birth, we affectionately refered to her as "baby no-name". Matt and I both believe in looking at our children before naming them; looking them in the eye to see what fits. While I was pregnant with her I loved the name Ruby (I still do!), but when she was born it just didn't work. She was born on Sat. and on Mon. we sat down and made a list of about 20 names and "graded" them. We finally decided on Zoe Aurelia, and it's funny but at the beginning of my pregnancy we both liked Zoe then decided we didn't--but she was born and it WAS her name. And Aurelia is a name that I didn't like until she was born. Together her name means "golden life". She is that. Precious...Strong...Full of vitality.
Something funny: I always imagined how my daughter would look. Matt and I were both sure she would have olive skin (like me), dark hair and dark eyes. Then when I was in labor, Matt kept picking on me saying she was going to be a blond-haired, blue-eyed girl. He was right! Blonde hair, blue eyes and fair skin....it's a good thing she was born at home, so we know there was no mix up ;)
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
One dozen
So today is my firstborn son's 12th birthday...one dozen years of being a mother. It has been such a joy to have this person in my life. Today, I am filled with pride when I see what a caring, intellegent, gentle soul he is. I pray for Nathan, that he will know the joy and peace of God's love, that he will be filled with purpose and hope, and that he will always know that he is loved.
Here is the story of his birth. Like everything else about being a mother, it was different than I imagined, and changed me for the better...
The Birth of Nathan Elias
When I think about the day Nathan was born, I remember how strange it was to know he was going to be born that day. Since I was 10 days "overdue" I had become used to wondering if each day would be the day. The staff at my OB's office had scheduled an induction for me two weeks before. They gave me a piece of paper that said if my baby had not been born, I was to report to SMHospital at 5:30am March 10, 1998. Enter through the ER and please do not eat or drink after midnight the night before. We went out to eat at Mozzerella's the night before. We called it "Our Pre-Birthday Birthday Party". When we got home, Matt and I cleaned the house, finished packing our bags for the hospital, and before I could go to sleep, I had Matt paint my toenails--an orangey-peach color that he had put in my stocking for Christmas. After a restless few hours, we woke up, got dressed and hit the road. It was still dark outside, and I remember saying to Matt, "I bet none of these other people are going to do something as exciting as what we are about to do."We arrived at the hospital around 5:45. After some paperwork we were sent to the maternity floor. It was around 6:30 and the nurse on call was about to leave because her shift was ending. She gave me a hospital gown--I went to the bathroom and put on the gown. When I came out, she began asking my admission questions--"Do you want an epidural?" I replied, "Not unless I have to have one. We've prepared, and I want to do it naturally." The nurse looked me square in the eyes and said, " You can do it. I will hurt, but you can do it. Take it one contraction at a time." I nodded like I understood, but I felt intimidated. Soon, another nurse came in--young!--she looked younger than me (and I was only 23). The new nurse set up my IV(she blew a vein in my left hand, first OUCH!) and started the pitocin. The MD came in, checked me (0 dilation) and said she'd be back in a little while.I remember being surprised to feel the contractions begin. They felt achey--not what I expected. Still, I was ok. I lost track of time, so I'll just try to remember WHAT happened not WHEN. The Dr. came back, checked me and said I was 2 cm. Then she broke my water with an amnihook. The water felt like I had peed myself and I apologized. The doc laughed and said, "So begins a quick weightloss program." I asked if I could go to the bathroom and she said, "No, trust me, you don't want to be walking around when those contractions hit."The next several hours are a blur. Once my water had been broken the contractions were much more intense. I felt like I had to pee, have diarhea, and throw up. I was scared. We had a lot of visitors--family and friends. I was embarrassed because I threw up in the middle of a sentence while talking to some friends. During this time Matt stayed bravely by my side, trying to help me breathe. Hee-hee-hoo. It was no good. I just felt desperate, and they kept increasing the pitocin. The doc checked me again around 11:30--I was 4cm--Still trying to breathe through it. I remember starting to scream during the peaks of the contractions. Matt said, "C'mon baby, breathe with me." I screamed, " I AM BREATHING! CAN'T YOU SEE I AM BREATHING?!! IF I'M TALKING, I'M BREATHING. I can't do this--I need SOMETHING!"I got a shot of Nubain. I felt dizzy but better. Sometime later the TV was turned on--Jeopardy was on.When the doc checked me again I was 6cm and hurting. I decided to get the epidural. I don't recall the epidural insertion hurting at all. After that I laid there. I was relieved not to be in pain, but I did struggle with nausea and shaking.Visitors came and went, at around 3:00 the nurses changed shifts again. I don't know when they put in the urinary catheter but they did. The doc checked me occassionally. I don't remember at what point during my labor it was, but at some point she stopped talking to me and began addressing the nurse only--"Tell the patient she's still 6 cm." Weird. I was laying right there next to her.At around 5:30 they decided the baby wasn't tolerating labor well and they needed to do a C-section. The doc said, " At least your bladder will still work right when you're old." They started prepping me for surgery. They upped the dose of meds in my epidural, and the nurse started to shave me. She wasn't being careful and she nicked my skin twice. It upset Matt (even though I couldn't feel it) and he told her he would do it himself. He did--very carefully. I remember crying telling Matt I was scared, what if something went wrong. We prayed and he kissed me--I think we both knew it had already gone wrong. The next thing I remember is the OR. I was cold. Nathan was born at 6:24pm March 10,1998. He weighed 8 pounds 15 ounces and was21 inches long. I remember hearing the baby cry and longing desperately to see him. He was across the room and I couldn't see him at all. I kept asking if he had hair. Matt was so excited, I could see him smiling and videotaping. I know Matt brought the baby over and we took a picture, but I don't remember seeing my son in the OR. Matt walked our son to the nursery. I puked while they sewed me up. When I got to a recovery room, I kept asking to see my baby. Finally they brought him to me. As I remember this moment, Matt placed Nathan into my arms. He was sleeping, but when I spoke he opened his eyes--they were so green and beautiful! I knew he knew who I was--that I was his mother.We had lots of visitors and I didn't get to nurse him until later that night. He breastfed until he was 10 months old. He was a happy baby. Our time together was blissful and his babyhood is a treasure I carry in my heart.
Here is the story of his birth. Like everything else about being a mother, it was different than I imagined, and changed me for the better...
The Birth of Nathan Elias
When I think about the day Nathan was born, I remember how strange it was to know he was going to be born that day. Since I was 10 days "overdue" I had become used to wondering if each day would be the day. The staff at my OB's office had scheduled an induction for me two weeks before. They gave me a piece of paper that said if my baby had not been born, I was to report to SMHospital at 5:30am March 10, 1998. Enter through the ER and please do not eat or drink after midnight the night before. We went out to eat at Mozzerella's the night before. We called it "Our Pre-Birthday Birthday Party". When we got home, Matt and I cleaned the house, finished packing our bags for the hospital, and before I could go to sleep, I had Matt paint my toenails--an orangey-peach color that he had put in my stocking for Christmas. After a restless few hours, we woke up, got dressed and hit the road. It was still dark outside, and I remember saying to Matt, "I bet none of these other people are going to do something as exciting as what we are about to do."We arrived at the hospital around 5:45. After some paperwork we were sent to the maternity floor. It was around 6:30 and the nurse on call was about to leave because her shift was ending. She gave me a hospital gown--I went to the bathroom and put on the gown. When I came out, she began asking my admission questions--"Do you want an epidural?" I replied, "Not unless I have to have one. We've prepared, and I want to do it naturally." The nurse looked me square in the eyes and said, " You can do it. I will hurt, but you can do it. Take it one contraction at a time." I nodded like I understood, but I felt intimidated. Soon, another nurse came in--young!--she looked younger than me (and I was only 23). The new nurse set up my IV(she blew a vein in my left hand, first OUCH!) and started the pitocin. The MD came in, checked me (0 dilation) and said she'd be back in a little while.I remember being surprised to feel the contractions begin. They felt achey--not what I expected. Still, I was ok. I lost track of time, so I'll just try to remember WHAT happened not WHEN. The Dr. came back, checked me and said I was 2 cm. Then she broke my water with an amnihook. The water felt like I had peed myself and I apologized. The doc laughed and said, "So begins a quick weightloss program." I asked if I could go to the bathroom and she said, "No, trust me, you don't want to be walking around when those contractions hit."The next several hours are a blur. Once my water had been broken the contractions were much more intense. I felt like I had to pee, have diarhea, and throw up. I was scared. We had a lot of visitors--family and friends. I was embarrassed because I threw up in the middle of a sentence while talking to some friends. During this time Matt stayed bravely by my side, trying to help me breathe. Hee-hee-hoo. It was no good. I just felt desperate, and they kept increasing the pitocin. The doc checked me again around 11:30--I was 4cm--Still trying to breathe through it. I remember starting to scream during the peaks of the contractions. Matt said, "C'mon baby, breathe with me." I screamed, " I AM BREATHING! CAN'T YOU SEE I AM BREATHING?!! IF I'M TALKING, I'M BREATHING. I can't do this--I need SOMETHING!"I got a shot of Nubain. I felt dizzy but better. Sometime later the TV was turned on--Jeopardy was on.When the doc checked me again I was 6cm and hurting. I decided to get the epidural. I don't recall the epidural insertion hurting at all. After that I laid there. I was relieved not to be in pain, but I did struggle with nausea and shaking.Visitors came and went, at around 3:00 the nurses changed shifts again. I don't know when they put in the urinary catheter but they did. The doc checked me occassionally. I don't remember at what point during my labor it was, but at some point she stopped talking to me and began addressing the nurse only--"Tell the patient she's still 6 cm." Weird. I was laying right there next to her.At around 5:30 they decided the baby wasn't tolerating labor well and they needed to do a C-section. The doc said, " At least your bladder will still work right when you're old." They started prepping me for surgery. They upped the dose of meds in my epidural, and the nurse started to shave me. She wasn't being careful and she nicked my skin twice. It upset Matt (even though I couldn't feel it) and he told her he would do it himself. He did--very carefully. I remember crying telling Matt I was scared, what if something went wrong. We prayed and he kissed me--I think we both knew it had already gone wrong. The next thing I remember is the OR. I was cold. Nathan was born at 6:24pm March 10,1998. He weighed 8 pounds 15 ounces and was21 inches long. I remember hearing the baby cry and longing desperately to see him. He was across the room and I couldn't see him at all. I kept asking if he had hair. Matt was so excited, I could see him smiling and videotaping. I know Matt brought the baby over and we took a picture, but I don't remember seeing my son in the OR. Matt walked our son to the nursery. I puked while they sewed me up. When I got to a recovery room, I kept asking to see my baby. Finally they brought him to me. As I remember this moment, Matt placed Nathan into my arms. He was sleeping, but when I spoke he opened his eyes--they were so green and beautiful! I knew he knew who I was--that I was his mother.We had lots of visitors and I didn't get to nurse him until later that night. He breastfed until he was 10 months old. He was a happy baby. Our time together was blissful and his babyhood is a treasure I carry in my heart.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)