We spent a good long time in recovery, which was surprisingly quiet. There was one other mom in the next bed, but they were speaking Italian, so we did feel like we were in our own little world. Nurse L. was great, but was run off her feet - since I have drug allergies, they couldn't use the normal painkiller they give to C-section patients, and the pharmacy was dragging its feet in getting my substitute. She kept checking on us, making sure that my spinal block hadn't worn off yet before the medication arrived. Finally, about an hour and a half later, it did, and we were ready to get on the road. I thanked her profusely as they were wheeling me out, and we were on our way.
We were interrupted for a second, though; security measures at the hospital require all newborns to be tagged with an ankle bracelet that locks down the doors when you get within 5 feet of them, until the baby is released from the main computer. Someone forgot to release N.'s ankle bracelet, and we held up traffic for about 7 minutes while they got someone to check him out of the computer. It was kind of funny, and it made me feel very secure (each baby and mom and dad are also given bracelets at the moment of birth with a unique code, which they check everytime they bring a baby to its parents) . So, after all that, off we went.
Like I had mentioned, before N.'s birth I'd never spent a night in the hospital. The most that had happened to me was a cortisol IV for a few hours to bring down an allergic reaction. So, Friday afternoon I found myself in a hospital bed with a newborn beside me in his bassinet, and I was unable to walk around, pick him up on my own, or even arrange my own pillows.
People who know me will vouch for the fact that I can be extremely, well, let's say relaxed. I don't want to say outright lazy, but I've been known to indulge when Hubby wants to do things for me. That being said, I don't like to be helpless. I enjoy knowing I could do things, but don't have to at the moment. So, being laid up in the hospital was really difficult for me.
The nurses and PCAs, though, were wonderful angels. After spending all of Friday in bed, they came in at about 5AM on Saturday morning and told me it was time for me to get up. They reassured me that, even though it was going to be hard, I could do it. I did believe them, somewhere deep down, but it was the most difficult thing I've ever had to do physically. Getting up to the washroom, which was 4 feet away from the bed, took me about 30 minutes. I made it eventually, and they were so encouraging the whole time. I also never once felt embarrassed, or undignified, even though I was pretty helpless.
After that, I collapsed back into bed. I've never been so grateful to lie down ;-)
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Saturday, May 3, 2008
The adventure begins.
N. is napping, just a little angel face in his crib, and rather than sleeping myself I thought I should start getting everything down before it evaporates into thin air.
I think a good place to pick up the story is at our 40 week appointment, which we had on Monday (the day before my due date). We ended up seeing another different OB in the practice, and I fell in love with her immediately. Which is strange, considering the conversation we ended up having. She wasn't the one that ordered the sizing ultrasound, but she'd conferenced with the OB that had, and we had to have a serious talk about what should be done.
N. was measuring +/-10lb, and there were no signs of labour as of 40 weeks. The OB wanted to make sure we understood the risks of labouring with a big baby, and what might happen. Beyond a long labour, there's also the chance of shoulder dystocia, which then often leaves only one option - breaking baby's collarbone to get him out. I can't remember the medical terms for the potential conditions resulting from the clavicle fracture, but we were weighing probabilities pretty carefully. Because it looked like his estimated weight could be over 5000g by the time I went into labour (the cutoff for non-gestational diabetics), I was offered the choice of a C-section, rather than starting labour and seeing what happened.
Hubby and I talked and talked about it, and in the end, we decided to schedule the section. The risks from a section were smaller than those from the possible dystocia and fracture, and tend to affect future pregnancies, whereas the risks of a normal delivery affected *this* baby. We felt that it was our responsibility as parents to ensure the safety of this baby, rather than put him at risk for the sake of future babies (which I hope there are many!). So, I told them to go ahead and schedule the section, which ended up being Friday morning.
Then, of course, the false labour contractions kept on coming. And coming. And I started to worry that I would go into labour *before* Friday. I kept off my feet, and obsessively tracked contractions, but fortunately by the time I woke up on Friday morning, I was still pregnant, so we hopped a cab and headed into the hospital.
I'd spent the majority of the week trying not to think too much about the surgery, because up until that point I'd never spent a night in the hospital in my entire life. I'd never put on a hospital gown and tried to maintain my dignity, never ridden on a gurney, never been hooked up to monitors, nothing. Then, all of a sudden, they're handing me a lovely hospital ensemble in light blue with back ties and telling me to climb up so they can start my IV. I was hooked up to monitors for both Baby N.'s heartrate, and my contractions, and they blew two bags of lactated ringers into me before I could even notice. I wanted to sleep, but I couldn't, so Mom and Hubby kept me distracted.
At 8:45, they walked me into the OR to start the spinal block, and all of a sudden I was nervous. But, I had a terrific nurse, Nurse L., who was funny and kind and talked to me and looked me straight in the eye all the time, so I felt calmer. She held my shoulders and breathed with me while the anesthesiologist put the catheter in, and it was much better than I'd expected. I was still scared of the actual procedure, though; I've had serious dental work before where I was supposed to be both sedated AND frozen, but neither was true and the surgeon didn't bother to check. The anesthesiologist was thorough, and kind, and I guess pretty darn good at her job because all of a sudden I couldn't move my legs. I got oxygen, and they brought Hubby in, and we were ready to go.
I didn't feel much of anything until the demerol took effect, and then I was pretty sick for about 20 minutes. Hubby and the anesthesiologist were right there with cold cloths and basins and everything else a girl needs when she can't do anything but turn her head to the side. Fortunately that passed, and all I felt was pushing and tugging. I kept breathing, and trying not to think about what was happening to my innards on the other side of the drape. Then, they warned me that a lot of pressure and tugging was coming, and I swear it felt like I was in a plane going through the worst turbulence I've ever experienced; even so, I wasn't scared. Then, I heard some suction, a lusty cry, and they told me I had a son, a big healthy boy.
And I cried.
I looked at Hubby, he looked at me, and we were both just so happy that we didn't have to say anything.
They cleaned him up, brought him over, and we spent a few minutes with him while they started to put me back together. He had to spend about a half hour in the NICU because they were afraid of meconium aspiration, and he still had a bit of fluid in his lungs, but he met us back in recovery quick-smart. I couldn't believe I had this big, almost 10 lb bundle in my arms, when just a few hours earlier, he was in my belly kicking and squirming.
I have a son.
I think a good place to pick up the story is at our 40 week appointment, which we had on Monday (the day before my due date). We ended up seeing another different OB in the practice, and I fell in love with her immediately. Which is strange, considering the conversation we ended up having. She wasn't the one that ordered the sizing ultrasound, but she'd conferenced with the OB that had, and we had to have a serious talk about what should be done.
N. was measuring +/-10lb, and there were no signs of labour as of 40 weeks. The OB wanted to make sure we understood the risks of labouring with a big baby, and what might happen. Beyond a long labour, there's also the chance of shoulder dystocia, which then often leaves only one option - breaking baby's collarbone to get him out. I can't remember the medical terms for the potential conditions resulting from the clavicle fracture, but we were weighing probabilities pretty carefully. Because it looked like his estimated weight could be over 5000g by the time I went into labour (the cutoff for non-gestational diabetics), I was offered the choice of a C-section, rather than starting labour and seeing what happened.
Hubby and I talked and talked about it, and in the end, we decided to schedule the section. The risks from a section were smaller than those from the possible dystocia and fracture, and tend to affect future pregnancies, whereas the risks of a normal delivery affected *this* baby. We felt that it was our responsibility as parents to ensure the safety of this baby, rather than put him at risk for the sake of future babies (which I hope there are many!). So, I told them to go ahead and schedule the section, which ended up being Friday morning.
Then, of course, the false labour contractions kept on coming. And coming. And I started to worry that I would go into labour *before* Friday. I kept off my feet, and obsessively tracked contractions, but fortunately by the time I woke up on Friday morning, I was still pregnant, so we hopped a cab and headed into the hospital.
I'd spent the majority of the week trying not to think too much about the surgery, because up until that point I'd never spent a night in the hospital in my entire life. I'd never put on a hospital gown and tried to maintain my dignity, never ridden on a gurney, never been hooked up to monitors, nothing. Then, all of a sudden, they're handing me a lovely hospital ensemble in light blue with back ties and telling me to climb up so they can start my IV. I was hooked up to monitors for both Baby N.'s heartrate, and my contractions, and they blew two bags of lactated ringers into me before I could even notice. I wanted to sleep, but I couldn't, so Mom and Hubby kept me distracted.
At 8:45, they walked me into the OR to start the spinal block, and all of a sudden I was nervous. But, I had a terrific nurse, Nurse L., who was funny and kind and talked to me and looked me straight in the eye all the time, so I felt calmer. She held my shoulders and breathed with me while the anesthesiologist put the catheter in, and it was much better than I'd expected. I was still scared of the actual procedure, though; I've had serious dental work before where I was supposed to be both sedated AND frozen, but neither was true and the surgeon didn't bother to check. The anesthesiologist was thorough, and kind, and I guess pretty darn good at her job because all of a sudden I couldn't move my legs. I got oxygen, and they brought Hubby in, and we were ready to go.
I didn't feel much of anything until the demerol took effect, and then I was pretty sick for about 20 minutes. Hubby and the anesthesiologist were right there with cold cloths and basins and everything else a girl needs when she can't do anything but turn her head to the side. Fortunately that passed, and all I felt was pushing and tugging. I kept breathing, and trying not to think about what was happening to my innards on the other side of the drape. Then, they warned me that a lot of pressure and tugging was coming, and I swear it felt like I was in a plane going through the worst turbulence I've ever experienced; even so, I wasn't scared. Then, I heard some suction, a lusty cry, and they told me I had a son, a big healthy boy.
And I cried.
I looked at Hubby, he looked at me, and we were both just so happy that we didn't have to say anything.
They cleaned him up, brought him over, and we spent a few minutes with him while they started to put me back together. He had to spend about a half hour in the NICU because they were afraid of meconium aspiration, and he still had a bit of fluid in his lungs, but he met us back in recovery quick-smart. I couldn't believe I had this big, almost 10 lb bundle in my arms, when just a few hours earlier, he was in my belly kicking and squirming.
I have a son.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Baby!
Baby N. was born on April 25th, 10:14AM by C section, and weighed in at a whopping 9 lb, 11oz. We're doing great, and will post more once things settle in. The birth story is still fresh in my mind, and I'd like to get it down soon, before I turn into a complete sleep deprived bowl of mush. XOXO
Saturday, April 19, 2008
The baby that ate Manhattan
Mom is nearly here - she's due to land in 45 minutes, and Hubby is waiting for her at the airport. I'm just hanging out, trying to rest, and waiting. So far, the Braxton-Hicks have been happening every day, but nothing approaching regular. Hopefully they'll wait at least another day, so I can have just a little time with Mom before the chaos sets in.
I don't want Bean to wait too long, though, because it would seem that:
THIS BABY IS BIG.
The latest OB that I saw (who wasn't my favourite, if I'm to be truthful), ordered a sizing ultrasound, because she felt I was measuring really big for my dates. Now, I know that sizing ultrasounds are fairly inaccurate, and even moreso the closer to term one gets, but it was still interesting.
Bean is measuring 10lb, +/- 15% (which means a range of 8.5lb to 11.5lb).
HOLY CRAP.
I'm trying not to panic too much, because it is just an estimate. Plus, one of Mom's friends has a new granddaughter, who entered the world three weeks ago at 10lb 3oz with no drugs and only 33 minutes of labour. I'm also told that bigger babies tend to eat better and sleep better sooner ;-)
Either way, the ultrasound was fun, because we got to see lots and lots of movement, detailed pics of the heart and the digestive tract, and little hands and feet. Hubby was enthralled, and it was almost more fun to watch him watching the screen.
The official due date is Tuesday, and I'm hoping to be able to check into the hospital during a weekday... that's not too much to ask, is it?
I don't want Bean to wait too long, though, because it would seem that:
THIS BABY IS BIG.
The latest OB that I saw (who wasn't my favourite, if I'm to be truthful), ordered a sizing ultrasound, because she felt I was measuring really big for my dates. Now, I know that sizing ultrasounds are fairly inaccurate, and even moreso the closer to term one gets, but it was still interesting.
Bean is measuring 10lb, +/- 15% (which means a range of 8.5lb to 11.5lb).
HOLY CRAP.
I'm trying not to panic too much, because it is just an estimate. Plus, one of Mom's friends has a new granddaughter, who entered the world three weeks ago at 10lb 3oz with no drugs and only 33 minutes of labour. I'm also told that bigger babies tend to eat better and sleep better sooner ;-)
Either way, the ultrasound was fun, because we got to see lots and lots of movement, detailed pics of the heart and the digestive tract, and little hands and feet. Hubby was enthralled, and it was almost more fun to watch him watching the screen.
The official due date is Tuesday, and I'm hoping to be able to check into the hospital during a weekday... that's not too much to ask, is it?
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Give us this day, our daily contractions.
Well, I'm pretty sure they're still false labour, but this baby is getting quite the workout. What used to happen once every few days is now happening numerous times daily.
These contractions are visible - Hubby says my belly gets more compact and protrudes (like it wasn't protruding to begin with. Ha.). They last quite a while, sometimes 10 or 15 minutes. And, the most fun part is that when they finally release, often I get a boot from Bean, as if to say, "Hey, that wasn't very nice! Trying to sleep in here!"
I know that this means nothing in terms of true labour starting, but I'm hoping they're the harbinger of something. I figure since they more or less started up out of the blue, maybe they're a sign that everything is gearing up for the "really big shew" (a la Ed Sullivan).
Mom's starting to get worried about the possibility of my going early, and how she should deal with that. Hubby's boss was really matter-of-fact about it - "Pay the fee, change the ticket, and don't worry about it!"; that was pretty much my reaction, too. A last minute change is a last minute change, whether or not she decides in her own head now that she'll switch her ticket if need be. I'm trying to be zen about the whole thing - I would really like her to be at the hospital with me for the extra support, but even more importantly, I want her here when we're home for those first few weeks. If I go early and she waits, that means more days with her here *after* Bean is born, rather than lots of days of her keeping her very pregnant daughter occupied and not jumping off cliffs because of being past due date ;-)
I did tell her that if I go early and she's not here, I'll likely be calling her all hours of the day and night, so she won't get any sleep either. I don't know how much Dad will like that, but that's tough ;-)
Whoops, there goes another one. Maybe this one will pass before I have to pack up and go home. Bean seems to be trying his/her damndest to push his/her feet through this one.
These contractions are visible - Hubby says my belly gets more compact and protrudes (like it wasn't protruding to begin with. Ha.). They last quite a while, sometimes 10 or 15 minutes. And, the most fun part is that when they finally release, often I get a boot from Bean, as if to say, "Hey, that wasn't very nice! Trying to sleep in here!"
I know that this means nothing in terms of true labour starting, but I'm hoping they're the harbinger of something. I figure since they more or less started up out of the blue, maybe they're a sign that everything is gearing up for the "really big shew" (a la Ed Sullivan).
Mom's starting to get worried about the possibility of my going early, and how she should deal with that. Hubby's boss was really matter-of-fact about it - "Pay the fee, change the ticket, and don't worry about it!"; that was pretty much my reaction, too. A last minute change is a last minute change, whether or not she decides in her own head now that she'll switch her ticket if need be. I'm trying to be zen about the whole thing - I would really like her to be at the hospital with me for the extra support, but even more importantly, I want her here when we're home for those first few weeks. If I go early and she waits, that means more days with her here *after* Bean is born, rather than lots of days of her keeping her very pregnant daughter occupied and not jumping off cliffs because of being past due date ;-)
I did tell her that if I go early and she's not here, I'll likely be calling her all hours of the day and night, so she won't get any sleep either. I don't know how much Dad will like that, but that's tough ;-)
Whoops, there goes another one. Maybe this one will pass before I have to pack up and go home. Bean seems to be trying his/her damndest to push his/her feet through this one.
Monday, April 7, 2008
38 down, 2 to go
Stats from the OB appt this morning:
Bean grew one more cm (I don't remember the actual measurement).
I put on 1 lb.
Blood pressure was 112/72, but that was interesting. I had a new person take my vitals at the very beginning, and I didn't entirely trust her technique - she said 120/80, and during the appointment, the midwife found that suspicious (since my diastolic is always 70 or less).
The Braxton Hicks are still happening (had a 10 minute run with one last night), but they're still pain-free. I didn't get checked this week, so I don't know if I'm dilated any further, but we'll see next Tuesday at our next appointment.
We had a bit of a re-arranging party last night - I was looking around the room and realized that the crib wasn't in the most efficient space, and Hubby (bless his heart) was willing to start moving furniture at 10pm (don't worry, it all slides pretty silently, so our downstairs neighbors weren't disturbed). Now the room is much more open, and it's easier to walk around. I'm hoping that these urges to do major moving and cleaning are few and far between. In fact, I'd be happy if last night was it ;-)
Other than that, I'm just trying to psych myself up to keep on working for the next two weeks. It's really wearing with the lack of sleep, but I know I'll feel proud of myself for sticking it out. That, and the fact that every additional day I work on this end means another day of leave I get to take on the other end!
Bean grew one more cm (I don't remember the actual measurement).
I put on 1 lb.
Blood pressure was 112/72, but that was interesting. I had a new person take my vitals at the very beginning, and I didn't entirely trust her technique - she said 120/80, and during the appointment, the midwife found that suspicious (since my diastolic is always 70 or less).
The Braxton Hicks are still happening (had a 10 minute run with one last night), but they're still pain-free. I didn't get checked this week, so I don't know if I'm dilated any further, but we'll see next Tuesday at our next appointment.
We had a bit of a re-arranging party last night - I was looking around the room and realized that the crib wasn't in the most efficient space, and Hubby (bless his heart) was willing to start moving furniture at 10pm (don't worry, it all slides pretty silently, so our downstairs neighbors weren't disturbed). Now the room is much more open, and it's easier to walk around. I'm hoping that these urges to do major moving and cleaning are few and far between. In fact, I'd be happy if last night was it ;-)
Other than that, I'm just trying to psych myself up to keep on working for the next two weeks. It's really wearing with the lack of sleep, but I know I'll feel proud of myself for sticking it out. That, and the fact that every additional day I work on this end means another day of leave I get to take on the other end!
Saturday, April 5, 2008
On taking things for granted.
Since the age of 15, exactly once each year I get a monster head and chest cold, often with a sinus infection. Usually I'm laid up for a week, which made things difficult in undergrad; I never wanted to miss class. In grad school, I worked in a lab where it was OK to take a couple of days off to recouperate, but it often still hung on for four or five days.
The worst part of these episodes, though, has always been getting enough sleep. Being propped up on pillows is never comfortable, and only works when my bed is in a corner. With each and every cold, about halfway through I always think to myself, "I'll never ever take a good night's sleep for granted again." That usually lasts about six weeks, and then I don't think about it again until the next time I'm sick.
Now, though, I'm pretty sure I'll never take it for granted again. I haven't slept for more than 90 minutes at a time since last August, and to tell you the truth I'm not entirely ungrateful. I've been able to function at work for the past few months relatively unchanged, and it's pretty good practice for once Bean comes. I'm just looking forward to getting 60 minutes of sleep at a time that's relatively pain-free.
I have both friends and family members who suffer from ailments that involve chronic pain, and while I can't say that I'm anywhere near their level, I've had a taste of it, and they will always have my support and respect for living their lives with dignity. With this pregnancy (which I will admit has been relatively uneventful), I've developed a lot of hip/pelvic/leg pain, and it's really starting to wear me down. Each time I wake up at night, sharp pain works its way from my waist to my knees, and holds on until I get up and walk around. It's more that pain than a constant need to go to the bathroom that's interrupting my sleep, and I can only guess that it's from carrying nearly all of my pregnancy weight out front. I can honestly say I would give up chocolate for a year if I could re-gain the ability to wake up, roll over in bed, and go back to sleep painlessly.
I know that the last time I spent a lazy Saturday in bed, which was about 6 months ago, was likely my last for a few years, and I'm OK with that. I know it'll eventually happen again, and I'm pretty sure that I'll appreciate it wholeheartedly next time :-)
The worst part of these episodes, though, has always been getting enough sleep. Being propped up on pillows is never comfortable, and only works when my bed is in a corner. With each and every cold, about halfway through I always think to myself, "I'll never ever take a good night's sleep for granted again." That usually lasts about six weeks, and then I don't think about it again until the next time I'm sick.
Now, though, I'm pretty sure I'll never take it for granted again. I haven't slept for more than 90 minutes at a time since last August, and to tell you the truth I'm not entirely ungrateful. I've been able to function at work for the past few months relatively unchanged, and it's pretty good practice for once Bean comes. I'm just looking forward to getting 60 minutes of sleep at a time that's relatively pain-free.
I have both friends and family members who suffer from ailments that involve chronic pain, and while I can't say that I'm anywhere near their level, I've had a taste of it, and they will always have my support and respect for living their lives with dignity. With this pregnancy (which I will admit has been relatively uneventful), I've developed a lot of hip/pelvic/leg pain, and it's really starting to wear me down. Each time I wake up at night, sharp pain works its way from my waist to my knees, and holds on until I get up and walk around. It's more that pain than a constant need to go to the bathroom that's interrupting my sleep, and I can only guess that it's from carrying nearly all of my pregnancy weight out front. I can honestly say I would give up chocolate for a year if I could re-gain the ability to wake up, roll over in bed, and go back to sleep painlessly.
I know that the last time I spent a lazy Saturday in bed, which was about 6 months ago, was likely my last for a few years, and I'm OK with that. I know it'll eventually happen again, and I'm pretty sure that I'll appreciate it wholeheartedly next time :-)
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