Of course, our pregnancy had been so low-key and uneventful that he decided to make a big entrance. So, here's our little guy's birth story.
It was Tuesday, January 21, just a week after my last post. It was just like any other Tuesday. I got up, went about my morning routine, got in the car, and headed to work. We had a presentation with one of our clients that afternoon, so when I got into the office I immediately sat down and started working. At about 9:30 my dear friend and co-worker Tayler came to me and requested my presence in our conference room. When I walked in, our entire staff was there, along with a few of our clients and our accounting partners from the 6th floor. They'd planned a little office baby shower for me, with bagels and juice. I was pretty touched! During the shower there were a lot of jokes flying around about how lost the office would be without me (no one would be able to change the toner in the printer, the dishes would never get done, etc.) and how our guy had better be a late-term birth, as my boss had yet to hire someone to take over for me while on leave. We'd been interviewing, but no decision had been made, and that there wouldn't be enough time for me to train someone unless my pregnancy went on longer than your typical 40 weeks. But the shower was lovely, my co-workers gave us a few gifts (including burp cloths, which was a little inside joke - I'd had dreams late during my pregnancy that we wouldn't have enough), and I was happily surprised by their kindness.
After the shower I returned to my desk and worked on the presentation for our meeting that afternoon, while also trying to field multiple emails from other clients and multitask, as I do every day. Things weren't particularly stressful, at least no more than usual. In fact, most of the day is already a blur. Our client meeting started at 3:00, so I rode with my boss over to their offices. During the presentation I felt mildly uncomfortable, though the sensations felt like his normal kicks and rolls and movements, which had become such a normalcy for me that I didn't think twice about it - since I spent most of my days sitting at a desk I knew he was cramped for space, and was used to him spinning around pretty much all day, every day.
After our meeting, which had been a bit stressful but nothing out of the ordinary for that client, I rode back to the office with my boss. The entire ride back revolved around a different client and a fire drill that had popped up during our meeting. Again, nothing out of the ordinary, but still stressful. When I got back to my office I took care of a few loose ends, closed up my laptop, and headed out for the night.
Our car was pretty much completely out of gas. I'd realized how low the tank was when I left for work that morning, but knew that I'd be able to get to work on what I had, and would just need to stop on my way home to fill it. There is a certain gas station I stop at when I'm able, because the gas is always cheaper there than any other station on my way home. So I pulled into the station and put the car in park, got out and headed to the pump. As I did so, I felt a weird sensation that - and pardon the blunt-ness on this - felt like discharge dropping out of me. If you're a lady reading this, you probably know exactly what I mean. I didn't think much of it, as it's a pretty common sensation. What disturbed me was that the sensation didn't stop. And it didn't stop. And then I finally realized what happened - my water had broke. And I started to panic. We were exactly at 37 weeks, to the day. It's too early, I kept thinking. We aren't ready, I stressed. The tank was still filling, so I quickly (and awkwardly, with my pants getting increasingly wet) grabbed my cell phone out of the car and called Matt.
"Where are you?" I asked, bluntly.
"Uhm, on my way home... why?"
"Because... we need to go to the hospital."
"... why?"
"Because... my water just broke."
"What??"
"My water broke, and we need to go to the hospital."
"Where are you??" Matt asked, his tone becoming more panicked as well.
"At the gas station on my way home." By now I had finished filling up the tank and was searching my car for something, anything I could put in the seat while I made my way home. I finally settled on the plastic windshield cover that we had tucked in the trunk.
The rest of the drive home was a blur. I was about 8 miles from home, liquid pouring out of me, trying to call the doctor and call my mother and call a few friends along the way. To be honest, I'm surprised I made it home without incident because I was so distracted. I was so panicked, still freaking out about the fact that we'd just cleared 37 weeks. I was pretty terrified, but was also on auto-pilot. We scrambled around the house, trying to get the last few things we needed packed, trying to get the dogs outside once more (as they'd likely be home alone all night long), trying to get organized and out the door as quickly as possible. I tried changing clothes, as my work clothes were now completely soaked. I frantically gave Matt a "Daddy" gift I'd made for him - I'm not sure why, but I'd planned to give it to him the next week or so and wanted him to have it before we delivered. Before I knew it, we were in the car and on our way to the hospital.
We spent the 15-minute drive mostly in a panicked silence, but tried to make some small talk about what was happening. Again, it's all a blur. All I can remember is feeling completely overwhelmed and terrified. We sat in a turn lane, waiting to turn left into the hospital. When it turned green we started to go, but the light started to change back to yellow before we got to the front of the lane. To my surprise Matt laid on the horn of the car and blew through the red light. I had to laugh - it definitely didn't seem necessary, but it made everything feel all that more real.
We arrived at the ER at the hospital. Matt dropped me off and went to park the car. I awkwardly waddled to the desk, still leaking, still dripping. I told the man at the desk that I was there to see Dr. Jacobsen, the OB on-call that night. I expected them to swing over with a wheelchair to get me to the delivery floor; instead, the desk worker pointed down the hall and told me how to get to the elevator. So I continued awkwardly walking in wet pants.
When I got up to the second floor I happened to walk in during a nursing shift change, so there were about 14 nurses all standing around the front desk. One of them looked at me and asked if she could help me, so I said, "Well, I'm here to see Dr. Jacobsen... my water broke--" at which point one of them told me to follow her, and we went down into another wing. She was really reassuring, telling me to keep calm, as she told the admitting nurse in the next wing that I was a "confirmed wet pants" and needed a room immediately. By then Matt had caught up with me, thankfully. The nurse helped us get settled in a room and told me to try to relax until the delivery nurse arrived.
I should mention that, at this point in the evening, it'd been a little over an hour since my water had broke. I hadn't had any contractions or any other pain, just the discomfort of being wet from waist to toe. The delivery nurse came in and introduced herself, gave me a gown, and was generally very pleasant and calm, which was mildly helpful. She talked to us about our "plan," and we told her that we really hadn't made one - that we were planning to see how things went and play it by ear. She told us that the doctor was in a C-section at that time, so she wanted us to take things easy until he was able to get in. She prepped me for an epidural and started a bag of fluid, hooked me up to the monitors, and checked to see how dilated I was - at that point, I was either 2 or 3 cm (I can't remember). She told me to get settled while she went to check on another patient.
At this point I remember feeling my first contraction - and it was intense. I can't even really describe it - a really severe menstrual cramp? I just remember grabbing Matt's hand and squeezing it. The only thought I really had about them, other than Holy hell, this hurts!, was that they were coming on really quickly. We never took the time to monitor them, but I'd estimate that they were already under 5 minutes apart.
When the nurse came back she asked how things were going, and I told her about the contractions, and basically said, "If this is what contractions feel like, I'd like that epidural!" As I continued to squeeze Matt's hand she decided to re-check me to see if there had been any major changes. There had been: in less than a half hour I'd gone from 2 or 3 cm dilated to 6 cm. The nurse looked at me, and with what sounded like a little bit of alarm, told me she was going to go get the doctor, and was going to see if they had another anesthesiologist in the wing, since the main one was in the C-section. She hurried out of the room, while I continued to lie there and squeeze Matt's hand. It was probably close to 8:00 by now.
A short time later our nurse came back in with our doctor and a cartful of gear. The contractions were intense and on top of one another. The doctor talked to us a little, I don't even remember about what, while he checked everything out. He told me that I was fully dilated and that, if I had the sensation to push that I needed to push. There'd be no epidural, there was no time. Our guy was coming hard and fast, and he was ready to go, whether we were or not.
Again, that part of the night was a blur of pain. I remember a few times feeling like I couldn't do it - I wanted to stop, take a breath, re-group, but there wasn't time. I remember my doctor telling me, as they do in the movies, that his head would be out with one more big push, and that I had to push through the pain. He told me it'd feel like a "ring of fire," but that once his head was out that the worst would be over (of course, when he said that, it made me think of this clip from Scrubs - totally inappropriate at the time, but funny to think about the next day). All I can remember from that part of the night was saying I can't do it, I just can't do it, and Matt reassuring me that I could.
So, without going into a ton of gross detail, I pushed until they told me he was out. And then up came this little body, covered in goo, onto my chest. And I remember looking up at Matt (who was crying a little, which made me completely melt even more), and saying hello to our little boy. I didn't cry, I was just in awe. I just kept saying "Hi, Jamie!"The nurse took him from me, wiped him down, weighed him, wrapped him up in a swaddle, and gave him to Matt to hold. The doctor tended to me and my "injuries" (which I won't detail here for the sake of some modesty). We were so happy. I was exhausted, uncomfortable, and sore, but still so happy.
 |
| Our little Jamie: born January 21 at 8:46 pm 5 lbs, 15.8 oz, 18" |
We stayed in the delivery room for awhile, but eventually we were taken to another room where we'd be living for the next two days. Jamie came too, and roomed in with us for almost the entire time (except for a few hours on Thursday morning when we were in desperate need for some sleep). Those two days were surreal. I spent a lot of it sleeping and trying to heal as much as I could before going home, and Matt had to deal with the unbearably uncomfortable "beds" for Dads in the hospital rooms. Jamie slept in the plastic bassinet at my bedside.
Before we knew it, it was Thursday and time for us to go home. As it typically goes for us, we'd gotten a few inches of snow Thursday morning, so heading out was even more nerve-racking than it would have been if the weather had cooperated! We were still completely exhausted, both of us sore and overwhelmed, but we just couldn't stop smiling.
 |
| Welcome home, Jamie! |
No comments:
Post a Comment