Birth Story

So, the birth story.


I always like to read these... especially on blogs I've been following for a bit. Oh, who am I kidding? I'll read just about any one's birth story, if I know them or not. Some women I know liken it to trading war stories. How horrible it was; and how, now that it's over, we can gloat and laugh about it. Or cringe together in horror. There's a good reason that God in his infinite wisdom made us forget the difficulty of childbirth, so that we would do it again. But those babies, man, they are totally worth it.


So, the birth story.


Actually, there's not much to tell.


After all of the back and forth with doctors and visits and dilating and bed rest and getting to the hospital and being sent home and drugs and drugs and shots and shots, the actual day was calm and peaceful.


I saw my OB on the 18th who said "well, you're more an 8 than a 7 now. Not to give you any more to worry about" and thusly we began discussions on how to get Iris into the world safely. The following day I would be 37 weeks, which would make the delivery A-OK in the eyes of most medical professionals. My sweet Dr. said "you may want to stay on the procardia through the weekend though, as I'll be in Utah." This was Wednesday afternoon. I asked if he would be offended if he wasn't the one to catch the baby. He smiled gently and said "oh no, it's fine if someone else does it." Then he suggested we have an amniocinesis to check the baby's lung development. That would be up to my perinatologist.


I got home, called the perinatologist and said "can we do an amnio tomorrow?" Much discussion ensued and they said that would have to be requested through my OB. I got on the phone with the OB's office, and waited. OH, and I got on youtube to check out how an amnio is done. SHUDDER.


I would never in my life have wanted one of those done, except if it meant that Iris would come out at the right time. I steeled myself for the procedure.


At about 5pm I got a call from the OBs office saying "you'll get the amnio done at 10 am, and then report to the hospital for induction at 5 pm."


WOOOOO HOOOOO!!!


Talking to my sister that night was great. I was excited, but scared. Mostly for the amnio. She suggested jokingly that I ask for a blind fold. I totally did this, and at about noon the next day when they finally were ready for me, I was given a towel to put over my eyes. Helped tremendously.


Just a quick note... all of these last minute happenings plus the birth? Yeah, they were right in the middle of my handsome husband's first two days of meetings for his new job. Not only did he stay by my side the entire time, he stayed on top of the paperwork and meetings the best he could by rearranging schedules with people and doing some things online. He was awesome and supportive. He always made me feel that the baby and I were first, no matter what.


So, Thursday the 19th, after 3 hours at the Parinatologist, we were sent home to wait the outcome of the amnio. If it was good, we could be induced at 5. She needed a score of at least 55. Score? This is a test all of a sudden?


We stopped at Target to pick up a couple of last minute items (I was gratefully in one of those electronic carts. I really couldn't walk very far) and while we were cruising the diaper aisle I got a call from the nurse at the parinatologists. "She scored an 83! Totally ready to go. You can go to the hospital early if you want!"

I was excited (good score baby, you aced the first test!) but the thought of going early was daunting. I was pooped. I showered and napped for 45 minutes before getting up and heading with my fabulous husband to the hospital.

We arrived on the dot at 5 and were greeted warmly. Our nurse (Denise? Darlene?) was a gem and prepped us and our lovely birthing suite. She handed me a yellow gown to put on, saying, "yellow means you're a fall risk". A fall risk? I asked. "Yeah, but you're getting an epidural and aren't going anywhere... ha!"

I had given birth naturally the first two times, but definitely wanted an epidural this time. The anesthesiologist arrived. Jovial round doctor with blond curly hair. Introduces himself as "Dr. McCoy". Oooh! I say "How often do people comment that you're the Star Trek Doc?" "All the time" says the good Dr. He's from Mississippi, has the coolest accent, was once a pharmacist, and spends the next 20 minutes or so chatting with handsome and I about hunting. Big sports enthusiast.

Finally, it's time for the epidural. Everyone told me it was a snap. "Compared to labor, this is super easy". Well, they forgot to tell me that women are normally in full labor when they perform this and are BEGGING to get any kind of relief. Me? I'm dilated to an 8 but am not having hard contractions. So, when they start poking me in the back it's painful. No, like P.A.I.N.F.U.L. I came very close to swearing (Ok, i said one tiny one) but was close to telling him to STOP STOP STOP and that I would just have her naturally again.

Then it was over and I started getting warm and tingly. Mmmm. tingles.

I was told that everyone took the epidural differently. Some could still feel pressure from their contractions. Some could feel when they needed to push. Me? I could feel nada. Seriously nothing. I wasn't sure I liked it.

Waters broken (yeah, I told her I had a lot of fluid. She was still astonished) and pitocin started. I brought my MP3 and a speaker and looped Chopin. Lights were dimmed. Very tranquil. The nurses later stated that they wanted to come back into our room and spend the evening, it was so peaceful.

About an hour and a half into the process, handsome decides to go get something to eat. Promises he'll be right back. I'm great. A little sleepy.

A few minutes later my night nurse comes in (Pat) and says "let's check you". I told her I was ready to take a little nap after she checked. I had been through the hell of transition with both other kids and figured there was no way I was close. Epidural or no epidural. She announces "you're at 10 and the baby is right there! Let's get your Dr. here" Wow! What, no nap? Where was the break through pain of transition? Seriously this was a snap. I still wanted a nap.

Handsome comes back in about then and I announce the good news. He's eating an ice cream, and hurries to finish. I ask the nurse if the meds will be turned down so I can feel to push "nope, you just bear down like you were using the bathroom". But she kindly let me do a trial push to be sure I could manage. Seriously I couldn't feel anything.

I gave one solid push for her and she said "whoa! You're good!"

A few minutes later the fabulous Dr. J shows up. He's mostly suited already, but finishes and hunkers down in front of me. I'm impressed that with the (what looks like) 100 pieces of equipment in front of him that he can tell that "we're missing a pair of scissors." They hand him a suitable replacement. Good job!

It's still very calm and quiet, but exciting. Iris will be here any time now!

The hospital staff are watching my contractions on the monitor and tell me when to push. I'm supposed to push hard for 10 seconds. The trouble is, by the time the count to 4 I need another breath. "Hold it!" the nurse tells me. Yeah right.

3 pushes and the baby's head is out. She guides my hand down to touch her head. Her head! I'd never experienced that before. She's got dark hair!

Then Dr. J tells me "I'll get her out the rest of the way." I'm surprised. "Really? You don't want a little push?" "Nope" he says "just relax and she'll be out in a second." So, I just look down and watch. A minute later she pops out into his arms and starts hollering.

We had told the nurses that she seemed a very mellow baby in utero and wasn't easily perturbed. The nurses actually said "ok, she may not cry very much then, lets look out for that." Boy we're we wrong, and I'm glad of it. She had some big, powerful lungs and used them.

They handed her to me wrapped in a towel and I got to see her pretty face. Dark hair, dark eyes, and a tiny little mouth. I had been worried about her hands for some reason, and they were there and working fine. She was still covered in vernix and terribly waxy looking. Handsome said later "she was so waxy, she looked like a candle." They took her away to be weighed and wiped down.

"She's a Vegas baby!" the nurse announced "7 lbs, 11 ounces!" And 3 weeks early. Good job Iris!

She was perfect, and so so pretty.

I don't remember who got to hold her next. Dad took lots of pictures and I just kept thinking that I wanted him to hold her. He had such a bad time of it in his first marriage, and didn't get what he should have as a new dad with his first daughter. I wanted this to be different. I think it was.

Our experience with Iris continued to be peaceful and calm. The moment she was given back to me or handsome, she quieted immediately. She spent very little time upset, and still doesn't 2 weeks later.

I'd do it again in a minute.