I have a birth story for miss Z, so I wanted to document the few fleeting details about my firstborn, before they are gone forever out of my head!
So, here it is... JP's story.
My pregnancy with him was fantastic! I didn't have morning sickness past the first trimester (it stopped at 13 weeks on the dot) and I didn't crave anything weird, but did eat everything sour in sight. Like, bag of sour patch kids with a 2 liter of lemonade...on a regular basis.
Which probably explains my weight gain... but anyway...
My OB took me off work at 36 weeks due to migraines. Once I could lay down as soon as I felt one coming on, they were completely manageable.
My sister was working at a nail place, so 15 days before my due date, I went to get a pedicure. Since I carry large anyway, I got asked several times if I was past my due date, or if I was carrying twins or triplets. Or both. And the owner of the nail place asked me very politely not to go into labor. Apparently she thought I had a choice in the matter.
So, I go in to see my baby sis and she gives me a 45 minute leg massage. It was absolute heaven! She told me later that she was using way more pressure than she usually did with me, but I wasn't sensitive. Usually I'm a total wimp about too much pressure on my legs, but I still remember that day it felt like nirvana.
After my husband got off of work, we went out to Waffle house for cheesy eggs... another favorite!
That night at 2:45am, I got up to use the restroom.
We lived in a teeny house where the bathroom was an afterthought, so I slept on the couch for my entire last trimester. Navigating the narrow, steep stairs were difficult enough during the day, forget about when I'm half awake.
So I waddle from the living room into the bathroom. After I finish peeing, I feel another squirt of fluid. Not a gush, just a teeny squirt. I sit there for a moment, absolutely dumbfounded. I then rush into the dining room where all my "mommy" books were and quickly try and look for a section labeled "How you know your water has broken" or something similar.
While rifling through the pages of "What to Expect When You're Expecting" , it happens again. I waddled upstairs to wake up my husband. I shoved him a few times and when he finally stirred a little, I said, "I know this is decidedly inconvenient, but my water just broke. I'm getting into the shower."
*half awake* "OK."
So we leisurely get showered and grab the bag and get to the hospital at around 4:45am (At this point, my daughter was 55 minutes old.) My contractions didn't even start until 5:15am or so, right when I was getting set up in a labor and delivery room. My mom showed up around that time.
I got the robe on, got the monitors hooked up, got my IV put in, and was sitting on the birthing ball when they started to get a little more intense.
I asked for an epidural, but all the anesthesiologists were in surgery. They gave me Nubane while we waited for someone to come and stick me. I fell asleep.
After I woke up, I was administered an epidural. I remember it didn't hurt even a little bit.
But, even in my drugged up state, I remember the Compunet guy (Who was really cute) gouged the crap out of my arm. After he left, I looked at my mom and husband and said, "It's a good thing he's cute... OW!"
Around noon or a little after, they told me it was time to start pushing. I really don't remember much more of my labor, other than getting sick in a paper, chipotle burrito-bowl looking thing, and my dr coming in to say she was going to have to help him along. Every time I had a contraction and pushed, he would come down a little, then go right back up.
They kept telling me to touch his head, and I didn't want to. They tried to get me to use the mirror, I didn't want to do that either. I was really out of it, but I don't think that if I had it to do over that I would set up that mirror. I'm not sure why...
Anyway, Dr. B used the vacuum to help him along. He was upside down, so he was hung on my pubic bone.
I remember the pressure of him coming out, and the Doc hanging out down there, waiting for the placenta. She kept saying that it was stubborn. I'm pretty sure I apologized.
There was also some talk of him having a condition called hypospadias. I will expound on that whole business at a later time.
She then stitched up my episiotomy. Yikes. I cannot stress how thankful I am that I did not have to mess with that business with the girl. For real.
I don't know if it was the epidural or episiotomy or what, but I almost passed out when I went to the bathroom after he was born. I remember the nurse yelling at me asking if I was ok. She ran over and helped me to the restroom, where she cleaned me off. I really liked her. I was bummed that she was no longer at the hospital when Z was born, not like it would have mattered.
I wish I would have tried to nurse him earlier. They asked if I wanted them to keep him in the nursery so I could sleep, and I said ok. They brought him back in when we got transferred to recovery. I then tried and tried to get him to latch on, with no success.
That evening, his blood sugar was super low, so the nurse brought in a bottle of formula and told me that either I could feed him or she would have to. I was heartbroken, but once he started latching and nursing, I felt a lot less guilty.
The last day, they told us that his bilirubin was a little high, but we would just need to take him to get tested.
The next few days were all dr's appointments and blood draws for him. The ped told us to continue to supplement with formula until his bili went down. At day 5, his bili spiked again, so back to the hospital we went. My grandmother pulled some strings for him to get into the NICU. The whole situation was nerve racking. He had an IV in his head and needed to stay under the lights for the majority of the time. Every 3 hours we needed to change him, take his temperature, and feed him for as long as possible. The first 2 days were horrible. I felt like everyone was man-handling me, trying to get the exhausted, jaundiced baby to latch on. He only wanted to sleep.
Saturday afternoon (We were admitted Thursday) I looked the nurse in the eye and said "This is how it's going to work. I'm going to try to get him to latch for 10 minutes. If he doesn't do it, he's getting formula. We'll work on the whole breast-feeding thing at home when I'm not freaked out and when he's not sensing me being freaked out."
Once that happened, he got moved to the graduate nursery, into the room with us, and discharged within a day.
I really wish that someone would have sat me down and told me how much quicker we could have gone home feeding him formula instead of being breast-feeding nazis, trying to avoid using formula at all.
I would have much preferred to be in the hospital less time, and at home with my baby.
Needless to say, I learned a lot from the experience.
So, here it is... JP's story.
My pregnancy with him was fantastic! I didn't have morning sickness past the first trimester (it stopped at 13 weeks on the dot) and I didn't crave anything weird, but did eat everything sour in sight. Like, bag of sour patch kids with a 2 liter of lemonade...on a regular basis.
Which probably explains my weight gain... but anyway...
My OB took me off work at 36 weeks due to migraines. Once I could lay down as soon as I felt one coming on, they were completely manageable.
My sister was working at a nail place, so 15 days before my due date, I went to get a pedicure. Since I carry large anyway, I got asked several times if I was past my due date, or if I was carrying twins or triplets. Or both. And the owner of the nail place asked me very politely not to go into labor. Apparently she thought I had a choice in the matter.
So, I go in to see my baby sis and she gives me a 45 minute leg massage. It was absolute heaven! She told me later that she was using way more pressure than she usually did with me, but I wasn't sensitive. Usually I'm a total wimp about too much pressure on my legs, but I still remember that day it felt like nirvana.
After my husband got off of work, we went out to Waffle house for cheesy eggs... another favorite!
That night at 2:45am, I got up to use the restroom.
We lived in a teeny house where the bathroom was an afterthought, so I slept on the couch for my entire last trimester. Navigating the narrow, steep stairs were difficult enough during the day, forget about when I'm half awake.
So I waddle from the living room into the bathroom. After I finish peeing, I feel another squirt of fluid. Not a gush, just a teeny squirt. I sit there for a moment, absolutely dumbfounded. I then rush into the dining room where all my "mommy" books were and quickly try and look for a section labeled "How you know your water has broken" or something similar.
While rifling through the pages of "What to Expect When You're Expecting" , it happens again. I waddled upstairs to wake up my husband. I shoved him a few times and when he finally stirred a little, I said, "I know this is decidedly inconvenient, but my water just broke. I'm getting into the shower."
*half awake* "OK."
So we leisurely get showered and grab the bag and get to the hospital at around 4:45am (At this point, my daughter was 55 minutes old.) My contractions didn't even start until 5:15am or so, right when I was getting set up in a labor and delivery room. My mom showed up around that time.
I got the robe on, got the monitors hooked up, got my IV put in, and was sitting on the birthing ball when they started to get a little more intense.
I asked for an epidural, but all the anesthesiologists were in surgery. They gave me Nubane while we waited for someone to come and stick me. I fell asleep.
After I woke up, I was administered an epidural. I remember it didn't hurt even a little bit.
But, even in my drugged up state, I remember the Compunet guy (Who was really cute) gouged the crap out of my arm. After he left, I looked at my mom and husband and said, "It's a good thing he's cute... OW!"
Around noon or a little after, they told me it was time to start pushing. I really don't remember much more of my labor, other than getting sick in a paper, chipotle burrito-bowl looking thing, and my dr coming in to say she was going to have to help him along. Every time I had a contraction and pushed, he would come down a little, then go right back up.
They kept telling me to touch his head, and I didn't want to. They tried to get me to use the mirror, I didn't want to do that either. I was really out of it, but I don't think that if I had it to do over that I would set up that mirror. I'm not sure why...
Anyway, Dr. B used the vacuum to help him along. He was upside down, so he was hung on my pubic bone.
I remember the pressure of him coming out, and the Doc hanging out down there, waiting for the placenta. She kept saying that it was stubborn. I'm pretty sure I apologized.
There was also some talk of him having a condition called hypospadias. I will expound on that whole business at a later time.
She then stitched up my episiotomy. Yikes. I cannot stress how thankful I am that I did not have to mess with that business with the girl. For real.
I don't know if it was the epidural or episiotomy or what, but I almost passed out when I went to the bathroom after he was born. I remember the nurse yelling at me asking if I was ok. She ran over and helped me to the restroom, where she cleaned me off. I really liked her. I was bummed that she was no longer at the hospital when Z was born, not like it would have mattered.
I wish I would have tried to nurse him earlier. They asked if I wanted them to keep him in the nursery so I could sleep, and I said ok. They brought him back in when we got transferred to recovery. I then tried and tried to get him to latch on, with no success.
That evening, his blood sugar was super low, so the nurse brought in a bottle of formula and told me that either I could feed him or she would have to. I was heartbroken, but once he started latching and nursing, I felt a lot less guilty.
The last day, they told us that his bilirubin was a little high, but we would just need to take him to get tested.
The next few days were all dr's appointments and blood draws for him. The ped told us to continue to supplement with formula until his bili went down. At day 5, his bili spiked again, so back to the hospital we went. My grandmother pulled some strings for him to get into the NICU. The whole situation was nerve racking. He had an IV in his head and needed to stay under the lights for the majority of the time. Every 3 hours we needed to change him, take his temperature, and feed him for as long as possible. The first 2 days were horrible. I felt like everyone was man-handling me, trying to get the exhausted, jaundiced baby to latch on. He only wanted to sleep.
Saturday afternoon (We were admitted Thursday) I looked the nurse in the eye and said "This is how it's going to work. I'm going to try to get him to latch for 10 minutes. If he doesn't do it, he's getting formula. We'll work on the whole breast-feeding thing at home when I'm not freaked out and when he's not sensing me being freaked out."
Once that happened, he got moved to the graduate nursery, into the room with us, and discharged within a day.
I really wish that someone would have sat me down and told me how much quicker we could have gone home feeding him formula instead of being breast-feeding nazis, trying to avoid using formula at all.
I would have much preferred to be in the hospital less time, and at home with my baby.
Needless to say, I learned a lot from the experience.
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