Little Edson is two weeks old today. To celebrate, I'm finally blogging his birth story.
The Monday before, I had a bout of nesting that led to a more serious cleaning than had happened in weeks (months?). I deep cleaned the kitchen and washed/disinfected a slew of baby toys. That night I felt restless, more physically uncomfortable than usual. David went to bed early hoping to get rid of his head cold. I stayed awake, kneeling on the floor, draped over the coffee table and decidedly not sleepy. Eventually, I went to bed and woke up to contractions at 12:30.
They were already intense - I was anticipating hours and hours of early labor. I don't know if I slept through it, but these contractions were already five minutes apart. I was determined to not get sent home from the hospital and I wanted David to sleep as much as possible because he was so sick. I held it together for a few hours, but I had to get out of bed to cope. By 3:30, I had accidentally awakened David with the squeaky floor boards and yoga ball. I started timing the contractions shortly thereafter, and they were already 2-2:15 minutes apart and 45-60 seconds long. So we called our super-doula, Ruth, and got to the hospital around 4:30.
My mom and I have an inside joke that we can't go anywhere without running into one of David's acquaintances. This trip, it was the ER attendant who opened the door and tried to put me in a wheelchair (I was having a contraction and didn't want to sit down). Thankfully, they kept the chitchat to a minimum, and I was wheeled up quickly. I was at 4-5cm and 70% effaced at that point ( I think - this is all kind of fuzzy). The nurses asked question after question. I remember thinking,"Why can't everyone just stop talking to me? Can't they see I'm busy?" After a while, I just stopped answering.
Future mothers, when it's your turn, I highly recommend finding a hospital with a big tub. The warm water is fantastic. It all went downhill after I got out. At some point, the good Dr. broke my water. My coping measures weren't working, and I was checked again at 7-8 cm, but with a lopsided cervix (Has anyone heard of that? I sure hadn't), so I had to labor on my side on the bed. I hated that bed more than I've hated anything else. Ever. In the world. Lying down made everything feel exponentially worse, and it took a great deal of self-control to stay down instead of getting up and leaving. My brain was all doped up on hormones, so I don't remember the details except for the fact of pain and wondering if it was too late for drugs. Labor in media is mostly loud screaming and angry invectives against the men in the room. I was quieter than I anticipated - it was way too much effort to say the rude things that popped into my head. The meanest I got was responding to David's well-meaning, "Relax your shoulders," with a "YOU relax your shoulders."
After two hours of transition, I felt like I needed to push. Something. From an unknown location in my body. It was the most important thing my body has ever done and there was no way to prepare for it - push what from where? How do you do this never having done it before? Pushing was absolutely the most frustrating part. I felt like it wasn't working, I wasn't doing it right. Finally, they had me haul myself up on the squat bar every contraction. At this point, I finally felt things moving. Ruth encouraged me to feel his head, which helped my emotions and gave me more determination. Crowning was painful. The name ring of fire is apt, except it maybe implies a smaller object (a ring) than a grapefruit-sized head coming out. I finally pushed his head and body out in one determined push (the sooner to end the burning pain), and there he was. There really was a baby in there, and he looked huge (he wasn't - totally a normal-sized baby). I was amazed that such an enormous thing was in my not-THAT-big belly and pushed out of, er, somewhere that's pretty small too.
But he wasn't breathing right, so they whisked him to the table and surrounded him with nurses. I felt I should be scared, but wasn't. He cried pretty quick. I held him for a couple minutes before they took him to the NICU to make sure everything was ok. David went with him. I was sad they took him away, but I still wasn't afraid (hormone-high? Those hormones are powerful). Even when David came back with no baby and with a doctor, I still felt unnaturally calm. The summary: Crusher had gone without oxygen during delivery and they were concerned about organ damage. The standard procedure had a very long list of risks, including being in the NICU for 72 hours. They weren't sure if it was necessary or not. We decided to keep him with us. And with us he's stayed.
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| Edson Roland Sloan, 7lbs 5 oz and 20" |
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| Proud dad and his happy son. |
David is a natural. And in love. It's precious to see my already big-hearted husband's heart grow even more. And one look at Edson's precious face makes my heart melt and eases any irritation at being woken up at all hours for mealtime.
