First of all, can I just say that I can never decide if it's appropriate to capitalize the first letter in each word of the post's title, or if it's better to just make the first word capitalized and the rest lower case.
I mull over it every time I post, which shows you just where my true obsessions lie. Clearly NOT in housekeeping or homemaking or whatever my supposed title is.
Okay, so I thought maybe 2 of you might care about Ella's birth story. And if I don't write it out somewhere I'll forget most of it and this is, afterall, my best option for "writing it down."
42 weeks. Who in the heck is pregnant for 42 weeks?
Apparently, me.
42 weeks and 1 day if you want to get technical, and we all know I'm a stickler for details...not. Anyway, at my 42 week check up on Monday the 22nd, Dr. D said that the ultrasound showed some signs of calcification on the baby's placenta. He noted that at that point it wasn't a huge deal but if left in there the baby might show more signs of distress during labor and delivery. So, he suggested (actually pretty much stated) that I be induced the following morning. He tossed around the idea of just sending me straight over to the hospital right then, but I'm fairly certain that the look of panic that swept across Luke's face upon hearing those words changed Dr. D's mind.
Clearly God has it in our best interest for us to have each of our childrens' birth's scheduled, if for no other reason than for my husband's sanity.
So, I enjoyed my last day of pregnancy and did all the things a pregnant woman does who is delivering a baby the next day.
I went to Walmart.
Clearly the mecca of pregnant women everywhere who are 42+ weeks pregnant.
I stocked up on frozen food items so that our sweet babysitter would have plenty of options for food choices. I then spent approximately 72.5 hours on the phone arranging alternate childcare for all 5 kids while our babysitter was in class from 11-4 on Tuesday. See, attention to details. Or not.
It was a magical day that gave me ample time to reflect on the daunting and miraculous change my body was about to undergo.
Notsomuch.
I slept about 21 minutes on Monday night because I bounced back and forth between excited, nervous and the bathroom (thanks to a bladder the size of a raisin).
At 6:00am I called up to the Labor and Delivery suite and sure enough they had room for my, now medically necessary, induction. At 6:30am Luke and I shuffle out to the car, hit up a drive thru for some breakfast biscuits and my stomach really begins to turn from the anxiety of it all.
When I was induced the first time, with Elizabeth, I had just about no anxiety. This being the third time I was being induced, I knew what was coming. Which I'm not so sure was a good thing, at least not for my nerves.
We get to the hospital and sit for a sweet forever in the admitting office, which I'm sure is dramatically less climactic than rushing through the doors of the ER screaming that I'm in labor and to get this baby out now. Although I thought about doing just that to the ladies in the admitting office but judging from their lack of urgency I don't think it would have gotten me very far.
Iwalk waddle up to labor and delivery, get settled in, and finally Dr. D comes in to break my water. We opted to do this first and for me to try to avoid pitocin at all costs. However, after several attempts to break my water, Dr. D is still unsure if he's actually ruptured me. He said that there was very little water around the baby and he couldn't be sure. So, I could either start pitocin right then, or wait and see if my water was indeed broken and contractions would begin on their own.
I decided to see if I'd start contracting on my own. An hour later I was still contractionless and I asked for the devil drug also known as pitocin. Like I said before, I really believe now that pitocin is extracted straight from the veins of the devil before it is put in the IV of laboring women.
I continued to kick Luke's butt in a serious game of scrabble and after about and hour and half of pitocin I threw the scrabble board at Luke's head because IT HURT THAT MUCH.
Actually, that's a lie. It did hurt but we were totally playing scrabble on the computer not on a game board. PS: Laptops can be flung like a frisbees.
I was really hoping I could go without an epidural this time around. Don't ask me why I wanted to do that. Apparently I thought I would enjoy the feeling of my pelvis breaking in half.
I got my epidural around 2:00ish and at that time I was dilated to about 6 cm. And, about 2 hours later I was fully dilated and ready to push. Like, really ready to push. Like, feeling THAT feeling ready to push.
But, Dr. D wasn't there yet so I just had to wait.
Mmmkay, I doubt any doctors read my blog but if there ever happens to be one, PLEASE know that telling a fully dilated woman that she shouldn't push doesn't make it easier to not want to push. In fact, I'd venture to guess that it makes a fully dilated pregnant woman want to push even more. I'm just sayin'.
Dr. D gets there and as he is "suiting up" with his back to me he says, "Okay, I'm here now. Do whatever you feel like you need to do."
In which I say to his BACK, "You may wanna turn around because I don't think this is going to take long."
Sure enough, I pushed about 4 times and heard the words I'd been waiting to hear for a sweet 42 weeks and 1 day...
"It's a girl!"
And at that same time I heard the best sound in the entire world, the cry of a sweet newborn baby.
God is so good. And, I love this little girl beyond what my words could express.
I mull over it every time I post, which shows you just where my true obsessions lie. Clearly NOT in housekeeping or homemaking or whatever my supposed title is.
Okay, so I thought maybe 2 of you might care about Ella's birth story. And if I don't write it out somewhere I'll forget most of it and this is, afterall, my best option for "writing it down."
42 weeks. Who in the heck is pregnant for 42 weeks?
Apparently, me.
42 weeks and 1 day if you want to get technical, and we all know I'm a stickler for details...not. Anyway, at my 42 week check up on Monday the 22nd, Dr. D said that the ultrasound showed some signs of calcification on the baby's placenta. He noted that at that point it wasn't a huge deal but if left in there the baby might show more signs of distress during labor and delivery. So, he suggested (actually pretty much stated) that I be induced the following morning. He tossed around the idea of just sending me straight over to the hospital right then, but I'm fairly certain that the look of panic that swept across Luke's face upon hearing those words changed Dr. D's mind.
Clearly God has it in our best interest for us to have each of our childrens' birth's scheduled, if for no other reason than for my husband's sanity.
So, I enjoyed my last day of pregnancy and did all the things a pregnant woman does who is delivering a baby the next day.
I went to Walmart.
Clearly the mecca of pregnant women everywhere who are 42+ weeks pregnant.
I stocked up on frozen food items so that our sweet babysitter would have plenty of options for food choices. I then spent approximately 72.5 hours on the phone arranging alternate childcare for all 5 kids while our babysitter was in class from 11-4 on Tuesday. See, attention to details. Or not.
It was a magical day that gave me ample time to reflect on the daunting and miraculous change my body was about to undergo.
Notsomuch.
I slept about 21 minutes on Monday night because I bounced back and forth between excited, nervous and the bathroom (thanks to a bladder the size of a raisin).
At 6:00am I called up to the Labor and Delivery suite and sure enough they had room for my, now medically necessary, induction. At 6:30am Luke and I shuffle out to the car, hit up a drive thru for some breakfast biscuits and my stomach really begins to turn from the anxiety of it all.
When I was induced the first time, with Elizabeth, I had just about no anxiety. This being the third time I was being induced, I knew what was coming. Which I'm not so sure was a good thing, at least not for my nerves.
We get to the hospital and sit for a sweet forever in the admitting office, which I'm sure is dramatically less climactic than rushing through the doors of the ER screaming that I'm in labor and to get this baby out now. Although I thought about doing just that to the ladies in the admitting office but judging from their lack of urgency I don't think it would have gotten me very far.
I
I decided to see if I'd start contracting on my own. An hour later I was still contractionless and I asked for the devil drug also known as pitocin. Like I said before, I really believe now that pitocin is extracted straight from the veins of the devil before it is put in the IV of laboring women.
I continued to kick Luke's butt in a serious game of scrabble and after about and hour and half of pitocin I threw the scrabble board at Luke's head because IT HURT THAT MUCH.
Actually, that's a lie. It did hurt but we were totally playing scrabble on the computer not on a game board. PS: Laptops can be flung like a frisbees.
I was really hoping I could go without an epidural this time around. Don't ask me why I wanted to do that. Apparently I thought I would enjoy the feeling of my pelvis breaking in half.
I got my epidural around 2:00ish and at that time I was dilated to about 6 cm. And, about 2 hours later I was fully dilated and ready to push. Like, really ready to push. Like, feeling THAT feeling ready to push.
But, Dr. D wasn't there yet so I just had to wait.
Mmmkay, I doubt any doctors read my blog but if there ever happens to be one, PLEASE know that telling a fully dilated woman that she shouldn't push doesn't make it easier to not want to push. In fact, I'd venture to guess that it makes a fully dilated pregnant woman want to push even more. I'm just sayin'.
Dr. D gets there and as he is "suiting up" with his back to me he says, "Okay, I'm here now. Do whatever you feel like you need to do."
In which I say to his BACK, "You may wanna turn around because I don't think this is going to take long."
Sure enough, I pushed about 4 times and heard the words I'd been waiting to hear for a sweet 42 weeks and 1 day...
"It's a girl!"
And at that same time I heard the best sound in the entire world, the cry of a sweet newborn baby.
God is so good. And, I love this little girl beyond what my words could express.
