FIVE, yes five, years ago at this very moment, I was shocked, amazed, and utterly dumbfounded. While giving birth is an amazing thing; actually discovering that you, little old you, made this beautiful, wrinkled, sweet smelling creature softly sleeping on your chest is positively breathtaking. Even with the hustle and bustle of family and friends parading through my room to ooh and aww at the most beautiful child on the planet, I had this quiet sense of peace, joy, and jaw dropping amazement that he came out of my body.
Let's go back 2 days and five years ago. On the 23rd of February. At 9 AM, I was admitted into the hospital. Baby was being difficult. He was a bit late and doctors were worried about my polyhydraminous (too much water) and his size. So, they wanted to induce me. Being a first time mom, I just knew that meant I was going to get to meet my baby sooner than later. Or, so I thought. So, once I get up to my room and get settled, the nurses came in and hooked me up to all sorts of tubes and wires. A bunch of medicine was injected into an IV and pills were placed in unmentionable parts. About an hour later, I though I was dying. The pain was intense. And, it came about every 90 seconds, lasted for 90 seconds, and started all over again. "Get up and walk" was their solution. I thought they were joking. How can you walk when your legs feel like they have been rendered from your body by run away horses? Promises of the pain going away helped roll my rotund body out of the bed. And we walked. And walked. And walked. Did I mention how much we walked? This went on all day. With brief bouts of resting in between, nurses coming in and adding more of the evil pitocin to my IV drip, and intense agony on my part, we walked. And this was just the first day.
At midnight, I was exhausted. I sent Travis home to let the dogs out potty, grab a shower and a bite to eat. While he was gone, I decided to go potty myself. Rather than page one of the nurses, I decided I could do it on my own. But, I REALLY had to go. As I was sneaking out of bed and fighting with the millions of tubes to get my feet on the floor, cursing the tangles wires while my bladder thudded in agony, I felt a soft pop and then a strong WHOOSH! Yup, my water broke. All over the place. On the floor. On the bed. On the expensive machines they had me hooked up to. Living in fear of being electrocuted where I stood and having to pee so bad I briefly considered adding to the water all over the floor, I jammed my thumb into the nurse's call button as quickly as I could. She thought it was funny, my standing there, soaking wet, in a tangle of cords and tubes, desperately pleading with her to help me get to the bathroom. Maternity nurses should NOT be allowed to laugh. Smile and speak softly, yes. Laugh . . . never.
Once I was cleaned up, my bladder was empty, and I was back in bed, I was informed that my water breaking was a good thing. "Maybe we will start to see some progress now." At this point, I was only 4 cm. "Do you want to get up and walk?" Ummmmm. . . no. I have been walking and laboring all day. I am tired. I am going to sleep. She gave me a sleeping pill. I forgave her for laughing at me.
At 6 AM, I awoke to the nurse coming in to add even more pitocin to the drip and to check my progress. Still 4 cm. "Time to get up and walk! We need you to get moving. Let's get this baby out today!" She was very optimistic. She was very perky. I was slightly annoyed, since I don't do perky at 6 AM, and slightly intrigued at the thought of meeting my baby soon. By the end of the day, I wasn't really impressed with her perkiness, her optimism, and especially her giggle. So, I started to repeat the prior day's process. I walked. And walked. And walked some more. Travis was with me sometimes. Sometimes, my mother in law walked with me. Both rubbed my back and helped support me when I felt like the earth was swallowing me whole. It was slightly easier to walk this day, just because the pain was no longer in my legs and hips. Now, it was in my back. It radiated from my tailbone up to my shoulders, around to the front and downwards. It was intense. It was overwhelming. I didn't think my baby was ever going to be born. I didn't think I would survive his birth. I was a bit dramatic then.
By 1 in the afternoon, I was 7cm. Dissappointment filled me. Not only had I not progressed much, but I was exhausted. I demanded an epidural. I couldn't breathe with the pain, let alone through it. I was throwing up. A lot. Bryce wasn't loving it, either. His heart rates were all over the place. They decided I could have an epidural if I agreed to wear and oxygen mask. Fine. Whatever. As long as the pain goes away and I could sleep for a few hours. But, it was HOT. I was HOT. Oxygen masks aren't fun, especially when you are hot. Occasionally, I had to get on my hands and knees to help Bryce's heart rates stabilize. That's not easy when you are numb from the waist down. It's interesting. I am sure comical, even, if I hadn't been so worried.
My parents arrived at around 9 that night. I was pushing at this point. I was 9 cm "with just a lip" left. It had been so long, I was so tired. They increased the pitocin to the maximum they could. They took my epidural away (bastards). They stuck more tubes and devices into those unmentionable regions to help monitor the baby easier. He was not loving the whole being born process. His heart rates would drop astonishingly low. The doctors were worried. I could see their stress each time they silently watched the monitors. This stressed ME out. I threw up some more. And now, I had to push. So, I pushed. And I pushed. And I screamed, and I pushed. I will never be able to describe the intense pain I was in and how scared I was each time I paused between contractions and watched the monitors. His heart rates weren't stabilizing. It kept getting lower and lower. It went below 100. I was scared. They dipped below 60 and I was petrified. I pushed for what seemed forever. I pushed with all of my might as hard as I could. Travis could see the top of his head. The doctor told me Bryce was wedged into my pelvis at an akward angle. I needed to push harder. So, I did. I lost track of time and reality. I BEGGED the people around me to just take the baby out. No matter what it took, just take him out. No one listened to me. I PLEADED with my mom and my mother in law to make the doctors listen. Now, I was more than dramatic. I was hysterical. I knew it, but I couldn't control it. I had now labored for almost 48 hours and was EXHAUSTED and IN PAIN. I couldn't take it any more. I would never make a good torture victim.
Bryce had finally had enough sometime around 11 that night. This is when things started getting super scary. Bryce's heart rate disappeared. I was on my hands and knees. They found it again, but it was VERY low. I was informed they had to get him out NOW. I agreed. I signed any and all waivers. I told them I wanted to stay awake. I needed to hear his first cry. I signed that waiver, too. I signed everything EXCEPT the form saying Trav could be in the room with me. I finally got that one signed as they wheeled me out of my room. There is a lot of paper work to have an emergency c-section when it is a real emergency. In the meantime, the pitocin was turned off. I had a spinal block placed. I got hugs and kisses from everyone. I was asked to get on my hands and knees again. I felt like I was imploding slowly. Once I was in the OR, I had doctors and nurses all over me. Draping me, hooking me up to more machines and tubes, shaving everything it seemed, poking me. There wasn't enough time to get completely numb without knocking me out. Bryce needed out NOW. I had signed the waiver saying I wanted to be awake. I insisted on being awake. I felt the first cuts. Sometime after that, the spinal block began working. There was a lot of suctioning. There was a lot of blood and fluids filling the tanks by my head. The anesthesiologist told Travis to stand up and watch his son being born. My eyes were glued to his face. I felt an intense amount of pressure. It felt like they were pulling every organ inside of me out. I finally felt relief as I heard a very wet, but very loud wail. Travis was crying and whispering to me how beautiful our baby was. He went over to the bassinet. He followed him everywhere, per my instructions. I was a new mom. I was scared. I wanted to make sure he was ok, and I made sure Trav stayed with him the whole time. It was 220 in the morning. From the first contraction to his birth, I had labored for 40 intense hours. And it was worth every moment of agony and pain. HE was worth it all. He was beautiful and perfect.
Five years later, he is still beautiful and perfect. He makes me laugh every day. He is brilliant. His sense of humor astounds me while it amuses me. He is sensitive and kind. He is caring and polite. He is sassy and independent. He is a treasure to have and I thank God each night for sending him to me. He is, and forever will be, my Love Bug.
Happy Birthday, Buggie. I love you to the moon and back, forever and ever. Thank you for being you and being in my life.
Love, mama
Let's go back 2 days and five years ago. On the 23rd of February. At 9 AM, I was admitted into the hospital. Baby was being difficult. He was a bit late and doctors were worried about my polyhydraminous (too much water) and his size. So, they wanted to induce me. Being a first time mom, I just knew that meant I was going to get to meet my baby sooner than later. Or, so I thought. So, once I get up to my room and get settled, the nurses came in and hooked me up to all sorts of tubes and wires. A bunch of medicine was injected into an IV and pills were placed in unmentionable parts. About an hour later, I though I was dying. The pain was intense. And, it came about every 90 seconds, lasted for 90 seconds, and started all over again. "Get up and walk" was their solution. I thought they were joking. How can you walk when your legs feel like they have been rendered from your body by run away horses? Promises of the pain going away helped roll my rotund body out of the bed. And we walked. And walked. And walked. Did I mention how much we walked? This went on all day. With brief bouts of resting in between, nurses coming in and adding more of the evil pitocin to my IV drip, and intense agony on my part, we walked. And this was just the first day.
At midnight, I was exhausted. I sent Travis home to let the dogs out potty, grab a shower and a bite to eat. While he was gone, I decided to go potty myself. Rather than page one of the nurses, I decided I could do it on my own. But, I REALLY had to go. As I was sneaking out of bed and fighting with the millions of tubes to get my feet on the floor, cursing the tangles wires while my bladder thudded in agony, I felt a soft pop and then a strong WHOOSH! Yup, my water broke. All over the place. On the floor. On the bed. On the expensive machines they had me hooked up to. Living in fear of being electrocuted where I stood and having to pee so bad I briefly considered adding to the water all over the floor, I jammed my thumb into the nurse's call button as quickly as I could. She thought it was funny, my standing there, soaking wet, in a tangle of cords and tubes, desperately pleading with her to help me get to the bathroom. Maternity nurses should NOT be allowed to laugh. Smile and speak softly, yes. Laugh . . . never.
Once I was cleaned up, my bladder was empty, and I was back in bed, I was informed that my water breaking was a good thing. "Maybe we will start to see some progress now." At this point, I was only 4 cm. "Do you want to get up and walk?" Ummmmm. . . no. I have been walking and laboring all day. I am tired. I am going to sleep. She gave me a sleeping pill. I forgave her for laughing at me.
At 6 AM, I awoke to the nurse coming in to add even more pitocin to the drip and to check my progress. Still 4 cm. "Time to get up and walk! We need you to get moving. Let's get this baby out today!" She was very optimistic. She was very perky. I was slightly annoyed, since I don't do perky at 6 AM, and slightly intrigued at the thought of meeting my baby soon. By the end of the day, I wasn't really impressed with her perkiness, her optimism, and especially her giggle. So, I started to repeat the prior day's process. I walked. And walked. And walked some more. Travis was with me sometimes. Sometimes, my mother in law walked with me. Both rubbed my back and helped support me when I felt like the earth was swallowing me whole. It was slightly easier to walk this day, just because the pain was no longer in my legs and hips. Now, it was in my back. It radiated from my tailbone up to my shoulders, around to the front and downwards. It was intense. It was overwhelming. I didn't think my baby was ever going to be born. I didn't think I would survive his birth. I was a bit dramatic then.
By 1 in the afternoon, I was 7cm. Dissappointment filled me. Not only had I not progressed much, but I was exhausted. I demanded an epidural. I couldn't breathe with the pain, let alone through it. I was throwing up. A lot. Bryce wasn't loving it, either. His heart rates were all over the place. They decided I could have an epidural if I agreed to wear and oxygen mask. Fine. Whatever. As long as the pain goes away and I could sleep for a few hours. But, it was HOT. I was HOT. Oxygen masks aren't fun, especially when you are hot. Occasionally, I had to get on my hands and knees to help Bryce's heart rates stabilize. That's not easy when you are numb from the waist down. It's interesting. I am sure comical, even, if I hadn't been so worried.
My parents arrived at around 9 that night. I was pushing at this point. I was 9 cm "with just a lip" left. It had been so long, I was so tired. They increased the pitocin to the maximum they could. They took my epidural away (bastards). They stuck more tubes and devices into those unmentionable regions to help monitor the baby easier. He was not loving the whole being born process. His heart rates would drop astonishingly low. The doctors were worried. I could see their stress each time they silently watched the monitors. This stressed ME out. I threw up some more. And now, I had to push. So, I pushed. And I pushed. And I screamed, and I pushed. I will never be able to describe the intense pain I was in and how scared I was each time I paused between contractions and watched the monitors. His heart rates weren't stabilizing. It kept getting lower and lower. It went below 100. I was scared. They dipped below 60 and I was petrified. I pushed for what seemed forever. I pushed with all of my might as hard as I could. Travis could see the top of his head. The doctor told me Bryce was wedged into my pelvis at an akward angle. I needed to push harder. So, I did. I lost track of time and reality. I BEGGED the people around me to just take the baby out. No matter what it took, just take him out. No one listened to me. I PLEADED with my mom and my mother in law to make the doctors listen. Now, I was more than dramatic. I was hysterical. I knew it, but I couldn't control it. I had now labored for almost 48 hours and was EXHAUSTED and IN PAIN. I couldn't take it any more. I would never make a good torture victim.
Bryce had finally had enough sometime around 11 that night. This is when things started getting super scary. Bryce's heart rate disappeared. I was on my hands and knees. They found it again, but it was VERY low. I was informed they had to get him out NOW. I agreed. I signed any and all waivers. I told them I wanted to stay awake. I needed to hear his first cry. I signed that waiver, too. I signed everything EXCEPT the form saying Trav could be in the room with me. I finally got that one signed as they wheeled me out of my room. There is a lot of paper work to have an emergency c-section when it is a real emergency. In the meantime, the pitocin was turned off. I had a spinal block placed. I got hugs and kisses from everyone. I was asked to get on my hands and knees again. I felt like I was imploding slowly. Once I was in the OR, I had doctors and nurses all over me. Draping me, hooking me up to more machines and tubes, shaving everything it seemed, poking me. There wasn't enough time to get completely numb without knocking me out. Bryce needed out NOW. I had signed the waiver saying I wanted to be awake. I insisted on being awake. I felt the first cuts. Sometime after that, the spinal block began working. There was a lot of suctioning. There was a lot of blood and fluids filling the tanks by my head. The anesthesiologist told Travis to stand up and watch his son being born. My eyes were glued to his face. I felt an intense amount of pressure. It felt like they were pulling every organ inside of me out. I finally felt relief as I heard a very wet, but very loud wail. Travis was crying and whispering to me how beautiful our baby was. He went over to the bassinet. He followed him everywhere, per my instructions. I was a new mom. I was scared. I wanted to make sure he was ok, and I made sure Trav stayed with him the whole time. It was 220 in the morning. From the first contraction to his birth, I had labored for 40 intense hours. And it was worth every moment of agony and pain. HE was worth it all. He was beautiful and perfect.
Five years later, he is still beautiful and perfect. He makes me laugh every day. He is brilliant. His sense of humor astounds me while it amuses me. He is sensitive and kind. He is caring and polite. He is sassy and independent. He is a treasure to have and I thank God each night for sending him to me. He is, and forever will be, my Love Bug.
Happy Birthday, Buggie. I love you to the moon and back, forever and ever. Thank you for being you and being in my life.
Love, mama
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I'm in tears. You rock.
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