Where has the time gone?? George turned 6 months old today!
(Warning: long post!)
As soon as he was born, one of my friends said, "I hope you post his birth story on your blog! I love birth stories!!" But I didn't. So, here is the slightly censored story of the best/hardest day of our lives (Warning... labor lingo used! If you don't know what a word means, you may not want to know):
On Monday, December 6, I went in for my normal check-up (it was the last of my bi-weekly check-ups and starting the next week, I was going to go weekly). I was 34 weeks and 6 days along. When the doctor saw us he said, "Hi! I didn't know you were coming in today! I was thinking about you guys this morning!" I thought it was strange that he was thinking of us that day, but I didn't really think much of it. During my exam, he said, "I think I'm going to go ahead and check you today."
So, the doctor checked my cervix and said, "umm.. you're dilated to a 2." I, knowing only that you need to be at a 10 to push said, "ok... am I in labor?! What does that mean?!" He said that a lot of the time, a woman will be dilated for a few weeks before labor with her first baby, but that we would probably have a baby before Christmas. Steve and I looked at each other and we were both slightly terrified. We left the doctor's office and called our moms with the news.
Well, in my mom's typical fashion, this news made her very nervous! After talking with one of her friends who was a labor & delivery nurse and asking me questions about how I felt, she booked a flight for the very next morning. That night, Steve and I went to hang out with some friends. I felt crappy, so I wore sweatpants (and Steve let me). I know, right?? I don't even wear sweatpants to Wal Mart.
The next morning (December 7), I frantically tried to straighten up before my mom landed. I suspected that something was wrong when I tried to pick up a dining room chair to move it and couldn't pick it up. Seriously. I tried to pick it up and the pressure on my stomach was just too much! I had to scoot it back to the table. My mom came and she and my aunt finished up cleaning the baby's room. My mom and I just hung out on the couch for the rest of the afternoon. I was having contractions, but they were irregular, so I wasn't concerned. My mom, though, was not only timing them, she was keeping a log! Around 5:00, they started getting more regular and uncomfortable. They continued going back and forth between regular and irregular. My mom made a delicious dinner for us and Steve went on splits with the missionaries. Finally, around 9:00, we realized that I was probably going to the hospital. When Steve got home, we packed a bag (because who has a bag packed at 35 weeks??). The fire department was driving through our complex with Santa Clause on the back as we were getting ready to leave. It was nice. We left and got to the hospital and into my room by 10 (just in time to watch 16 & Pregnant... the nurse thought it was weird that I love that show).
This was the first time that I realized that being in labor at 35 weeks was a problem. I knew that it was "pre-term," but I also knew that my baby was measuring big and that he was already all lined up to be born. The nurses were very nervous and kept telling me, "white males have the hardest time when they're born early--I want you to realize that." I was then less excited and more scared out of my mind. What if something was wrong with my baby?? I always just assumed that this labor would go the same way it does for everyone else.
So, the nurse checked me and I was dilated to a 4. The contractions were super-close together and starting to really hurt. She called my doctor who said that he didn't want to stop labor, but he didn't want to speed it up, either. So Steve, my mom, and I all just hung out in the room. By about 2am, I was the only one still awake. I din't have an Epidural, so the contractions were keeping me awake. I was soooo tired, so I called the nurse and told her that I wanted Stadol. It was awesome. My sensitive little system was not used to any kind of drug... and within seconds of her pushing it through my IV, I was out. I slept deeper than I ever have in my entire life for 4 hours and woke up totally refreshed. It slowed my labor and when I woke up, I was still at a 6.
The next day (December 8), we watched a lot of TV. My aunts came over to hang out for a little while and then left to run errands. The doctor told me to walk around. We walked, and walked, and walked, and walked the halls. By the time that the doctor came, I was at an 8! Around noon, he broke my water and the first thing I yelled was, "I NEED AN EPIDURAL!!!!!!!" And he said, "YOU DIDN'T GET ONE??" The nurses told him that I didn't want one. Lucky for me, the anesthesiologist had just stepped into a c-section, because I really, really didn't want an epidural. (Have you seen that needle??) The doctor said that he would see me in about 2 hours... but less than an hour later I said, "I have to push! I have to push!"
Luckily, my aunts picked up Steve's mom at he airport and she came in just as I was about to push! I had tunnel vision from my contractions and I was also wearing an oxygen mask, so I didn't even notice that 5 extra people ran into the room. I pushed for about 20 minutes and he was out! The doctor held him up so Steve could cut the cord and then handed him to a bunch of people in the corner. I couldn't even see him. It felt weird that I just had a baby and hadn't even really seen him yet. In my mind, that was the time that I should have been cuddling with my new baby. We were supposed to be learning how to nurse. Instead, he was in the corner and I was getting stitches. I was so glad that Steve was there to give him a blessing. That new little baby needed all of the help that he could get!
A few minutes later, they went to rush him into the NICU. Had it not been for Steve's mom saying, "Does the Mommy get to see her baby??" I would not have seen him at all before they took him. They tossed him in my face and I gave him a kiss... then they put him in the cradle and rushed out of the room. Steve went with him.
His lungs were immature and he was given a steroid shot. I didn't get to see him until later that afternoon. He was in a dark room with a breathing tube down his throat and a feeding tube down his nose. He looked so pathetic. It was scary, but I know now that it looked worse than it was. By the next morning, he had pulled out his breathing tube and was breathing almost completely on his own! It wasn't until 2 days after he was born that I got to hold him for the first time. I was so excited! It was only for a few minutes, though, because he was having a hard time eating from a bottle. He was then moved out of the dark room and into the room with the rest of the babies. He got better and better with each day! He was in the NICU for 10 days for observation and to get him eating on his own (he is my son... and he was more interested in sleeping than eating)! He especially hated (and still hates) eating from a bottle, but he was a pro at nursing from the first time we tried!
He came home on December 18 and has been perfect ever since! He plumped up by about 2 months and the pediatrician stopped comparing him to premature babies altogether! At his 6 month appointment today, he weighed in at nearly 19lbs, and 27" long! He is a healthy, happy baby and we love him so much!!!
