An edited re-post of a Facebook "note" in honor of Owen's first birthday today. If you don't love reading birth stories, you might want to skip this post. :)
Monday morning, Nov. 15, a week before due date, I went to my midwife appointment as usual. About half an hour after we got home (10:30am-ish), I started having some infrequent pain in my lower abdomen, well underneath my belly. It didn't feel anything like I remembered, contractions-wise, so I rather ignored it for a while until my lower back started to ache, too. Isaac kept asking if we should call the midwife, but I kept insisting that we weren't to call until I had contractions 5 minutes apart, and that I'd be better off just taking a nap -- which I did, except for the contractions which continued to come every 15-20 minutes. When I got up (2:15pm-ish), we called the midwife, who said exactly what I expected: at 20 minutes apart, they're not doing anything. Drink a glass of water and they'll probably go away.
So, I drank two glasses of water . . . and within about half an hour, contractions (much more recognizable now) were 5 minutes apart and getting closer. This time we called the midwife on call at the hospital (Stacy), who suggested I take a shower and slowly make my way there. That shower was the best idea ever, as the water felt fantastic on my now-throbbing lower back, and I felt much more clean and prepared than when labor started at 9:30pm with Levi! The grandparents were called, Oma came to play with Levi, and off we went.
The next several hours were fairly uneventful. Arrive at hospital, curse the busy triage desk, get to labor/delivery room, find out I'm 5cm dilated (6:30pm), curse the extra 20 minutes of fetal monitoring, and then finally: free to get back in the shower! At some point during all of that, Isaac went to update the grandparents, and I found myself (pathetically) imagining what my Facebook status would be: "Christy Gould would like to donate 10 minutes of back labor to every person who told her that her second labor would be shorter than the first." I stayed in the shower for about an hour, stayed on my knees in bed for a while, and eventually found that I could rest better just laying down as long as Isaac kept constant pressure on my lower back. Meanwhile, Stacy periodically repositioned my legs and hips, trying to get my sunny-side-up boy to flip over. And Jenny, my labor nurse, was absolutely fantastic, and literally held the monitor to my belly whenever she needed to check something, so that I didn't have to sit in any one position to put the belt on. She didn't leave my side the entire time. I told Isaac several times towards the end that "I don't want to do this anymore," and I distinctly remember hearing Jenny mention to Stacy that I was getting tired, and they both really stepped it up to encourage me to the end. Without that, I wonder how quickly I would have started asking for drugs! Yay for those two women (which is particularly ironic, since Stacy also delivered Levi, and she kinda drove me nuts that time).
Anyway, the urge to push in me is a primal instinct not to be messed with, and by about 8cm I was fighting like crazy. Stacy got me up on all fours in a last effort to get the boy to flip over, and it worked! (Mostly -- she said he still came out "a little crooked.") I didn't expect to stay that way, but before I knew it, I was announcing quite firmly that I was pushing no matter what. I waited for the usual "you need to hang on just a little bit more," but it never came, and then Stacy was calling Isaac back from the head of the bed to see his baby's head. We were both a bit surprised! Who knew you could deliver a baby on hands and knees?! (Probably lots of you. But I didn't.)
Owen was not blue at all, like Levi had been, so he got cuddled up with me from the start and didn't have to go to the warmer until quite a bit later, when his fingers started to turn blue. We're still struggling to keep his hands warm, the tiny thing! Four days into it, he's nursing well and sleeping one long stretch at night (4ish hours) and endures Levi's poking quite stoically. I haven't tried to DO anything yet, of course, but so far just existing with both boys feels right at home. Yay. :)
One year later, being at home with both boys still feels right at home, though I like to think we're doing more than just "existing!" (With an exhausting first trimester happening right now, however, we're practically back to mere existence.) Owen is a charming almost-toddler who loves cuddling stuffed animals and driving cars on the floor and chasing after anything Levi might have in his hand at any given time. We're so excited to celebrate him this afternoon!
Monday morning, Nov. 15, a week before due date, I went to my midwife appointment as usual. About half an hour after we got home (10:30am-ish), I started having some infrequent pain in my lower abdomen, well underneath my belly. It didn't feel anything like I remembered, contractions-wise, so I rather ignored it for a while until my lower back started to ache, too. Isaac kept asking if we should call the midwife, but I kept insisting that we weren't to call until I had contractions 5 minutes apart, and that I'd be better off just taking a nap -- which I did, except for the contractions which continued to come every 15-20 minutes. When I got up (2:15pm-ish), we called the midwife, who said exactly what I expected: at 20 minutes apart, they're not doing anything. Drink a glass of water and they'll probably go away.
So, I drank two glasses of water . . . and within about half an hour, contractions (much more recognizable now) were 5 minutes apart and getting closer. This time we called the midwife on call at the hospital (Stacy), who suggested I take a shower and slowly make my way there. That shower was the best idea ever, as the water felt fantastic on my now-throbbing lower back, and I felt much more clean and prepared than when labor started at 9:30pm with Levi! The grandparents were called, Oma came to play with Levi, and off we went.
The next several hours were fairly uneventful. Arrive at hospital, curse the busy triage desk, get to labor/delivery room, find out I'm 5cm dilated (6:30pm), curse the extra 20 minutes of fetal monitoring, and then finally: free to get back in the shower! At some point during all of that, Isaac went to update the grandparents, and I found myself (pathetically) imagining what my Facebook status would be: "Christy Gould would like to donate 10 minutes of back labor to every person who told her that her second labor would be shorter than the first." I stayed in the shower for about an hour, stayed on my knees in bed for a while, and eventually found that I could rest better just laying down as long as Isaac kept constant pressure on my lower back. Meanwhile, Stacy periodically repositioned my legs and hips, trying to get my sunny-side-up boy to flip over. And Jenny, my labor nurse, was absolutely fantastic, and literally held the monitor to my belly whenever she needed to check something, so that I didn't have to sit in any one position to put the belt on. She didn't leave my side the entire time. I told Isaac several times towards the end that "I don't want to do this anymore," and I distinctly remember hearing Jenny mention to Stacy that I was getting tired, and they both really stepped it up to encourage me to the end. Without that, I wonder how quickly I would have started asking for drugs! Yay for those two women (which is particularly ironic, since Stacy also delivered Levi, and she kinda drove me nuts that time).
Anyway, the urge to push in me is a primal instinct not to be messed with, and by about 8cm I was fighting like crazy. Stacy got me up on all fours in a last effort to get the boy to flip over, and it worked! (Mostly -- she said he still came out "a little crooked.") I didn't expect to stay that way, but before I knew it, I was announcing quite firmly that I was pushing no matter what. I waited for the usual "you need to hang on just a little bit more," but it never came, and then Stacy was calling Isaac back from the head of the bed to see his baby's head. We were both a bit surprised! Who knew you could deliver a baby on hands and knees?! (Probably lots of you. But I didn't.)
Owen was not blue at all, like Levi had been, so he got cuddled up with me from the start and didn't have to go to the warmer until quite a bit later, when his fingers started to turn blue. We're still struggling to keep his hands warm, the tiny thing! Four days into it, he's nursing well and sleeping one long stretch at night (4ish hours) and endures Levi's poking quite stoically. I haven't tried to DO anything yet, of course, but so far just existing with both boys feels right at home. Yay. :)
One year later, being at home with both boys still feels right at home, though I like to think we're doing more than just "existing!" (With an exhausting first trimester happening right now, however, we're practically back to mere existence.) Owen is a charming almost-toddler who loves cuddling stuffed animals and driving cars on the floor and chasing after anything Levi might have in his hand at any given time. We're so excited to celebrate him this afternoon!
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