Part One: And we shall call him...

Hamilton.

 

Our dear boy joined us later than expected on the apparently hallowed date of 12-12-12; a date ne'er to be repeated in our lifetime (praise the Lord!). After two weeks of little to no progress, despite my best efforts (bouncing on the yoga ball, herbal supplements/tea, raking the yard, spicy Pad Thai, walking, to name just a few), my doctor recommended that we induce labor for an expected  birth date of 12-11-12. She sent us off for a "last supper" with instructions to head the hospital around 8:30 pm to get started on some meds that would soften my cervix and get things moving. What a strange feeling it is to know that right now, I am not a mother, but in mere hours, everything as I know it will change. Eerie indeed.

 

My last belly pic. Bittersweet. I'm realizing how very portable he was back then!
 

At the hospital, I was fitted with an IV and an ambien. Off I drifted to dreamland! Someone woke me up around 4, telling me that my contractions were too close together to continue the cytotec, so she started me on the pitocin. Later, my doc told me she wished they hadn't done this, and it probably prolonged my labor. I didn't like that nurse anyway.

 

So on I labored, and up went the pitocin. Drip, drip, drip. Contractions were uncomfortable, but nothing like I'd imagined. I was able to visit, laugh, watch TV, bounce on the yoga ball and be generally amiable the whole time. I thought my water broke and it turned out I probably peed myself a little (that's when my dignity began it's slow, painful exit). A few hours later, I thought for SURE my water broke... they checked and it tested positive, though there wasn't much to show for it. This is when I began to question everyone about the epidural. After all, I was feeling good! This wasn't so bad! What were all those women talking about? All I had to fear at this point was the actual EXPELLING of the child.

 

Shortly after this discussion, Doc came in to check my progress. Apparently my water had only "leaked", so she broke it herself. Within seconds, my entire body was racked with a kind of pain I will never even come close to describing. Holy Mother of God. THAT is a contraction. All the other pain I'd ever experienced in my entire life could be rolled into one and it STILL wouldn't hurt like that contraction. I let one more pass before I said "I'd like the epidural." (I'm sure it was that calm). Unfortunately, three other women were being induced on the same schedule as me (not to mention all the "walk-ins") and the anesthesiologist was quite busy.

 

It was just me and Seth at that point, and it was all I could do to grip the bed rails and breathe while he stroked my back and occasionally changed the music if I requested it. The back labor was excruciating. After some time (who knows at this point - at least the entire Mumford and Sons album), the man I thought would be my savior arrived. In went the needle, easy as pie. Text book. Perfect, he said. Except for one minor detail. I could still feel EVERY TINY THING. My legs were fine, my back felt as if it were breaking, and my uterus was being torn apart by the demon inside me. No one seemed to understand (believe?) me at this point, but I think that my reactions to the contractions (now about 2 minutes apart) convinced them. After a few more hours of writhing (Ray LaMontagne this time) in came the anesthesiologist again who couldn't believe it hadn't worked, as he'd done it perfectly. He tried again and hit a vein. Not good. As he pulled it out, he got it right for just a second and gave me a "bolus" - a giant shot of the medicine that would wear off within the hour. This gave me about an hour of only terribly painful contractions as opposed to the excruciating ones I'd been experiencing for the last three hours or so while we waited for a new anesthesiologist to come "give it a shot" (pun intended).

 

Doctor Big Needle arrived and SUCCESSFULLY administered the GD epidural. Now I don't know how an epidural is supposed to feel, but I do know that I could still feel and move my legs, and could feel the contractions, though they were now bearable. After some time, the nurse/doc checked me and said I could start pushing. Um... what? No thank you. I do not know how to push a baby out, I do not WANT to push this baby out, I want the baby to come out on his own, thank you very much. I am exhausted, I am emotional, I've been through a night nurse, a day nurse, and back to the night nurse. I told them I would start in fifteen minutes - as the calendar changed to 12-12-12.

 

The rest is not fit for the Internet. Suffice it to say that is the hardest work I have ever done in my entire life. Nearly two hours of pushing, crying, quitting, grunting, and repeating the whole process. At one point, Doc did mention that he'd been stuck behind my pelvis for quite a while and the vacuum was a very real option. Did I want that? I asked Seth and, like a good little supportive husband, he said "Whatever you want." "I NEED HELP!" I pleaded. To which he replied, "You're doing great, he'll make it. You don't need it." I sighed with relief and got back to work. With that final push, I felt the crazy relief of being DONE, along with the strangest sensation of a squirming baby entering the world. Nothing prepares you for that. Baby turned out to have been sunny-side up (thus the terrible back labor and struggle leaving the birth canal). They placed him on my chest and I took note of his white skin, crazy cone-head, and the huge relief that it was all over, finally over, praise GOD it was over! They took little man and I heard not a peep from him, which about sent me over the edge. "Is he ok? Is he ok? Why isn't he crying?" Doc assured me he was fine, but I was having a hard time believing it. He WAS fine, but there were some problems with his breathing and they took him away for a bit. I have no memory of what happened in this time.

 

After a while, babe came back to me, and I was able to love him and kiss his cheeks and even nurse him a bit. Then in came the family to meet little man. Of course, general impressions were that he was in every way... perfect.

 

7 pounds, 5 ounces of sheer bliss.