And a Boy Makes Four!

The last photo of my pregnant belly, taken 2 days before birth.

Morrison’s Birth Story According to Mom

Written 4-10-13

Date of Birth: 4-4-13
Original Due Date: 4-24-13
Weeks Pregnant: 37 weeks 1 day
Weight: 6 lbs 7 oz
Length: 18.5 in

7:15 pm on Wednesday April 3, 2013

While my husband was whipping up a great meal for us on Wednesday night, I was surfing the web. He mentioned that we had no bowls clean to eat our stir-fry in, so I bent down to put away my computer (to go wash out some bowls), and I felt a strange pop.

I thought maybe it was just my little man kicking, but it was strange that I could also hear the pop. As I stood, I realized my water had broken. I got out of the bathroom, and said to Roger, "umm...that was weird." He responded with "weird how...?" I explained what had happened.

He and I had talked a lot about this moment, and it was happening! I was so shocked, surprised, nervous, and excited. Roger was cautious. He was trying to calm me down. He suggested we sit down and have a little dinner before we panic. I thought that was an ok idea, since I still had a few doubts.

I had about 3 bites of dinner, which was too bad because it was a delicious stir-fry, one of my favorite dinners Roger makes. At that point I realized I needed to change clothes. Roger suggested we get the car packed up and head to the hospital. 

 I changed, got my last few items put on our hospital stack, and went downstairs. I did the dishes. I just needed a menial task to calm myself down... and I wanted to come home to the clean house that I had worked so hard on all week.

By that point, Roger had packed the car, and we were ready. We both sat down on the couch and realized what a huge moment this was. Our son was coming! We took a few minutes to pet and hug and talk with Grunty (Mia the dog)- the fourth I know many of you wondered about. Then headed out the door.

The car ride there was quiet. I think we were both trying to process how our lives would be forever changed in such a wonderful way. I was also trying to calm my own fears of labor. The contractions still hadn't started, and I was nervous about how I would fair.

When we arrived at the hospital, Roger told the emergency room staff, “I think we’re having a baby!” They called down my first nurse, Lindsay, who took us up to Labor and Delivery.

A friend of ours form drum corps (Ben) was working the front desk in labor and delivery. I knew I recognized him, but I was so wrapped up in my own brain, I didn’t even know what to say to him! Later on, I felt really horrible about that. We filled out some quick paperwork, and Lindsay took me back to triage to check to be sure the fluid was in fact amniotic fluid.  She swabbed my pants and instantly the swab turned blue, which apparently was the indication that it was in fact not pee.

We were taken back to room 264. It is surprising that I can remember that now, because I seemed to forget every single time I ordered room service while I was admitted.  The rooms were great. Nice and roomy.  Very calming. They looked almost like hotel rooms!

I was given a hospital gown. The gowns were so enormous! I was then hooked up to some monitors to see how contractions and baby were doing. This is the point when things begin to get fuzzy in my memory. I know contractions started to get progressively stronger. I asked for a birthing ball, but it was enormous, and after sitting on it for about 30 seconds, I realized it was too uncomfortable. I paced the room, sat with Roger on his bed, and then it was time for needles… YUCK.

Lindsay, and another nurse, whose name I can’t recall came in to get my IV started. They each tried once to no avail. They then called in Paul… or maybe it was Peter… the anesthesiologist to try to get my IV in. After each of them tried once, Peter got it into my left hand. Roger was telling me the needle was the size of a pencil, and I was panicking. Thanks Roger! After the IV, they still had to draw blood, so when all was said and done, I had 4 needle pokes. I hate needles!

Soon after, things began to get more and more uncomfortable, so I asked Wendy (my new nurse) to go sit in the spa room.  This room was so nice. There was dim lighting, and pretty painting, and a giant 3-seat Jacuzzi tub! Wendy had run it for me already, so when I got there I just hopped right in.  Leaning back and enjoying the warmth was not in my future though. The contractions became strong enough that I had to stop conversation and breathe through them. Roger tried to keep me light and happy. He made me laugh when he tried putting up my hair for me. It was a hot mess! I only stayed in the spa room for maybe 30 minutes before I was getting super uncomfortable.

I returned to the room, and got back on the bed. By this time (near midnight), I was starting to REALLY hurt. I asked Wendy when I would be able to safely have my walking epidural. She said any time! So I said, lets get that ball rolling! Wendy said Dr. Bissell wanted to check to see if I was dilating and effacing before we got the meds in.

Dr. Bissell was in in no time (though it felt like ages as the contractions were really picking up). I was 4.5 cm, and 80% effaced, enough to have the medication! WOOHOO! My IV was hooked up to fluid, and I had to wait until the full liter was emptied. This took about 45 minutes, and it was absolutely the LONGEST 45 minutes of my life. I was in very intense pain, and had not even a Tylenol in my system. I was moaning and breathing hard as I tried to get though the contractions. I kept asking, where is he!?! (The epidural guy). Roger tried to reassure me he was on the way.

Roger helped get the epidural in by holding me up as I rounded my back. The sting of the pinch wasn’t too bad, but I remember wiggling my toes the whole time trying to keep my back perfectly still.  The epidural was in, and relief came in about 10 minutes. Praise the Lord!

After the meds kicked in, I was still feeling contractions, but they were significantly less painful. My legs felt tingly like they were asleep. Roger took a nap on the couch, and I “watched” Friends, and George Lopez, though I can’t remember what either episode was about, or how many episodes I “watched”.

At  5:30, the urge to push came over me, and I alerted Wendy to the situation. She talked with Dr. Bissell, who said we needed to check to see if I was complete (fully dilated and effaced). Wendy checked, and I was. She said it was time to push! I couldn’t believe it. I was relatively calm at this point, and asked Wendy how long I would be pushing (or what was the average that women push). She told me 3 hours, and I mentally prepared for 3-5 hours of pushing. I remember thinking, oh dear Lord- help me do this!

*WARNING, the next paragraph is a bit TMI, read at your own risk (This blog is for my own memory's benefit too!)*

 

At 5:50 I started pushing. I remember feeling like my head was going to explode. It was hard to concentrate the energy in the right place, and I also couldn’t get any leverage without holding my breath. They gave me some oxygen because Morrison (and probably I) needed it. It was welcomed, though Wendy kept telling me I didn’t need to leave it on.  Roger was a real angel. He was holding me forward and up when pushing giving me even more power. He and Wendy also counted me through each push so I could hold it a little longer than I would have been able to otherwise. In what seemed like minutes (which it was…!!) several nurses and my doctor came in. It seemed like there were 15 people in the room suddenly. Everyone was telling me what a great job I was doing. Dr. Bissell told me she was going to have to perform an episiotomy, as I “would” tear if she didn’t.  She kept telling me what she was doing, and that was nice, though all I could concentrate on was the contractions, the focused pushing, and Roger and Wendy’s voice counting me down with each push.  At one point Wendy told me to reach down and feel his head, which I was tentative about, but after doing so, it gave me the drive to get him out. I was just picturing my poor boy stuck in there feeling as uncomfortable, if not more uncomfortable than myself! His little head felt too small, but I later saw it was because it had coned out a little bit. Suddenly, I felt like I couldn’t go on. I was exhausted, and I had extreme pain. There was an intense burning sensation. I asked if I was close, and the whole room erupted with a loud YES! So, again with my energy restored, I pushed. 

*TMI over :)*

At 6:25, I heard Dr. Bissell say “Look Rachel!!” I looked up and my sweet boy was there in her hands! I was so overcome with joy I burst into tears! He was so beautiful, and I had never felt more in love: with my little boy, and with my husband, who never left my side. The nurses put him up on my chest, covered with goo and all, and I just cried and cried with joy.  My son was finally here.

The physical symptoms in the next few days were not so pleasant… The burning, searing pain from the episiotomy was the most miserable part.  The hardness of the bed exacerbated the pain.  The nurses also kept pushing on my belly, which was not very comfortable. But the physical discomfort is already fading in my memory, which I am grateful for.

Many of the events in the next few days after his birth will be things I will want to remember forever.  The way I felt the first time he latched on to feed, or the feeling that came over me when our eyes met. I remember telling Roger I was glad there were ways to document the way things looked in pictures, but that I was so sad there was no way to preserve a physical and emotional feeling. Sure, I will remember the feelings by rereading this, but I know it won’t be as strong or clear as it was the moment I was actually touching his little feet, and holding his sweet hand. 

I also know through the days and years to come this emotion will continue- my desperate need to hold on to the present, and not let him grow up, but he will… and I will have more moments that I will want to preserve forever.

Over the last few days, the following phrase has rung through my head over and over, making me cry more often than I care to admit: I feel sad because I am afraid I will never be this happy again.

One of the first photos taken of our son, Morrison. His GG (Carmelita) is holding him, and mom (me) is in the background on the hospital bed. Dad is the photographer.