He's Here...

Grayson's Arrival...

So, let's have a brief Elliot's labor recap, so we know what I knew about "how labor goes down." (If you are feeling REALLY ambitious, you can re-read the blog post with the FULL story here ) With Elliot, I had zero false labor. No false starts of any kind. One MILD occasion of Braxton Hick's (hereafter known as "BH's") three weeks before his due date, so I knew they weren't the real deal.

The morning of July 27th, I woke up at 6:30 AM with contractions that were coming 10 minutes apart. By the time I got out of bed an hour later, they hadn't stopped, so I thought: "hmmm, interesting." E and I continued to time them, I stayed up on my feet and busy (walking, packing) and by 1:30 PM I felt so crappy that I got into the shower and just sat there with the hot water shooting at my lower back. At this point I wasn't friendly. I was puking up my macaroni lunch onto the bathroom floor and I was on the Silent Planet of Pain. Around 3 PM I decided that, even if the contractions weren't at the magical "5 minutes apart for over an hour" point, I was going to call the hospital and lie about it because I WANTED THEIR DRUGS. Thankfully, E informed me that they were. By 3:30 we were on our way. I arrived at 4 and was deemed to be in active labor and at about 5-6 CM. Hallelujah. 6 PM: got an epidural. 7 PM: I'm at 10 CM and the epi isn't working still. 7:10 Epi fixed, I sleep and labor down to get Elliot in a better spot in the birth canal. 10 PM I start pushing. 11:19 PM: Elliot is born.

So, wake up in labor, contractions get longer and stronger with continued physical activity, arrive at the hospital at 5-6 CM (contractions 2 minutes apart in the car on the way there.) Give birth 7 hours later. Pretty predictable, and what "they" tell you will happen in all the books. That was Elliot.

This, is Grayson:




The hardest part of the last few weeks of this pregnancy was all the false starts. Starting around Saturday April 16th, 5 days before he was born, I was having hours-worth (typically 4 or so) TIMEABLE contractions daily. Usually at night, they also made it very difficult to get any sleep (something that is already near-impossible when this huge.) So I kept thinking I was in labor, only to have the contractions leave me with mere hours left to sleep before Elliot would wake up and I'd start another day of very pregnant toddler-chasing. I was not in the best mood this last week. The hormones + lack of sleep nearly led to tears on several occasions, and I am NOT a cryer.

Monday April 18th- I go insane and sweep/steam/staralize the family room, kitchen and bathroom floors. I clean the bathroom obsessively... like, kneeling on the floor scrubbing the baseboards with bleach wipes. I'm a loon. So, nesting... check.

Tuesday, April 19th rolls around. It's my best friend's 30th birthday! It's my brother's 3rd wedding anniversary! What a great day to give birth, right? (Plus - the day after is not so great... 4-20...Columbine anniversary... HITLER's birthday... um, right?) So when I wake up with contractions (yet again) I'm 3 days past my due date, it's a date of awesome personal importance already, so I'm irrationally hopeful. I make E take us out to breakfast (I'm not cooking and cleaning in labor.) I tell him to go to work early, so he can leave early if need be. He does. Around 10 Elliot and I take an hour long walk. Around 11 AM the contractions stop. I text E emotional words about how frustrated I am.

30 minutes later I have what my friend Kit calls (HI kit!) the "Kickstart Crap." Um... stop reading this paragraph if you don't want to hear a little bit about how I wouldn't have made it to the toilet were I not RIGHT next door to the bathroom in Elliot's room. It was quick, and I had no warning, and it was crazy. This is at 11:30. I consult my online mama friends about the reality versus Old Wive's Tale-i-ness of such a poop at the beginning of labor and the consensus is: get ready to birth a baby.

Around 1:30 PM the contractions start back up. 10 minutes apart. E comes home around 2:30. Around 4, the contractions are down to 8 minutes apart, and we decide to enjoy the bizarrely fantastic NW weather and take Elliot to the park with our friend Lisa who has arrived to hang out. As soon as I get off the couch and start moving around the contractions jump to 4-5 minutes apart... and stay there for an hour. However, I'm walking through them, I'm talking through them, hell, I'm walking up an insane hill to get Elliot to the park... this is NOT how the "5 minutes apart for an hour" timeframe felt with Elliot. I call my Midwife from the park... she's thinking it's just way early, and were I to sit back down and relax they'd slow back down or possibly peter out. I head home to test her theory. They immediately slow back down, but by dinner time (2 hours later at 6 PM) they have been at 7 minutes apart for under an hour... and they are starting to hurt. I'm having to breathe through them, but then I continue chatting.

The walk across the room to the dinner table speeds them back up to the 3-5 minute apart range. Ridiculous. Sitting back on the couch returns them to the 6 minute apart, painful range. Nothing about these is especially consistant, and my brain is hurting from trying to decide if this is "IT" or not. I mean, they had already left me once that day... the pain is a good sign (ha) but I'm not convinced. E and I decide to go on a walk around 8 PM to see if that livens things up. It does while I'm walking, (3-4 minutes apart) but I'm still walking right through them. They are just not as strong as I want them to be to be able to convince myself that I'm REALLY in labor. We decide on a plan, or, I do: Dairy Queen blizzards (sounds like a Pregnant Lady's plan) and watching a movie ("Forgetting Sarah Marshall") on the couch w/ Lisa while I time my contractions.

By the end of the movie, I know we are headed to the hospital. Not because the contractions are so painful they have come to resemble Elliot's, but just because they are now 4-6 minutes apart and are strong enough that I know I won't be able to sleep through them. I just want to get there and have someone diddle around w/ my cervix and tell me what is up.

The whole way to the hospital I'm telling E that I'm afraid that I have a Cervix of Steel and that they are going to send us home. I stop my anxious monologue to breathe through contractions (okay, so now they are real doozies) but then return to normal conversation. The car ride to the hospital w/ Elliot was completely silent, this one is a chat-fest. I arrive and on the walk from the front doors of the Maternity Center to my room I have 3 contractions that I walk and breathe through. My midwife is stunned, she just keeps saying "you are doing so well, good job!" and I'm thinking "she totally thinks that I'm a faker."

12 AM: So, imagine my surprise when she checks my cervix and declares me at 5 CM already. What?! Impossible, but I'll take it! She tells me they have to monitor the baby for 20 minutes, and then I will be let off leash to do what I want. We decide that I will sit on a birthing ball for the 20 minutes.

12:16 AM: POP. "Hey, my water just broke!" Surprising. and a mess. So 4 minutes later when I am freed from the monitors, I decide to hop into the shower. As I'm now a mess, I've ruined the awesome rainbow-striped-knee-socks I was wearing (same socks as my MW was wearing, we were delighted to find) and I love a shower. I figure laboring in the shower will be a delight. I'm still chatting it up, making jokes. My MW is still exclaiming about how well I am handling all the contractions, especially since they are apparently over 80 seconds long each (what?! crazy.)

1 AM: E has been discussing w/ my nurse and MW the possibility of an epidural. I have been up over 20 hours without a break at this point (remember the early morning of contraction-timing) and I am afraid that if I don't rest pushing is going to be really difficult. (Elliot being 8.9 I'm assuming Lil Bro will be even larger.) We decide that I will get out of the shower and get an IV of fluids which I will roll around the halls with on a walk. Walking has been good to this labor, so I figure I will continue and when I have taken in all the necessary fluid we will return to the room, numb up, and sleep for a while.

1:05 AM: While the nurse preps the IV stuff I realize I have had over 3 contractions since getting out of the shower... hrm. E says that I have gone "all warrior woman" this labor. Heh... if he only knew what was coming.

1:10 AM: I sit to have the nurse put my IV in. While I sit there I realize... I need to push. Nope, I AM pushing. "I'm pushing!" She runs over to call my MW back into the room, and I'm really pushing. Well, my body is pushing and there is NOTHING I can do about it... nor do I want to stop it frankly, going with the flow and pushing is the only thing that makes me feel a smidge better at this point.

1:10-1:25 AM: When my MW arrives I'm in this crazy 3-limbs on the bed, 1 foot on the floor position. She convinces me (nicely) to at least try all 4 limbs on the bed. HA. Once I get there (hands and knees) she asks if she can check me (she hasn't since I arrived just over an HOUR BEFORE and was at a 5, mind you.) I say "NO!" and then, "I just don't see the point, honestly." I could feel Grayson's head, and it didn't feel far from appearing. And, frankly, I didn't need anyone's hand up in the Pain Zone. Cute E still doesn't quite understand how far along we are in this process and tries to remind me that if she checks me, I might still be able to get an epidural. I know how long it takes to get an epidural, at least a good 30 minutes. And I know viscerally that this child will have arrived by then, and there is no way I am putting this process on hold for ANYTHING, including blissful numb-ness. I say "That train has left the station, babe!" To my MW's infinite credit, she trusted me and knew that I knew where my body was. And I could feel his head, so where we were was close.

In minutes I decide quickly that hands-and-knees is not for me, I want more help from gravity and request the Squat Bar. I love the Squat Bar, but Grayson (and his heart rate) don't, so I end up laying on my side, one foot up on the bar. All this position changing happens through my screaming, and I hear things being said like "we are getting the warming bed" and "he has a lot of hair!" and... still I'm screaming. At one point I realize that if any couples are doing the walk around the hallway that E and I had planned and they are hearing me, that I am scaring the shit out of them. Nothing to be done about it, folks. Like the pushing, the screaming seems beyond my control. The pushing would start, and then the screaming... and I'm not initiating either activity, I'm just assisting them as best as I can.

1:25 AM: Grayson is born. As this moment got closer and closer I kept alternating between the thoughts "I don't know if I can continue doing this" and the realization that "the only way through this is to keep going." Between the birthing of the head (crazy) and shoulders (crazier) I believe I said something along the lines of "Hey guys, I don't know about this..." hahahaha. I could hear E getting more and more excited, so I knew Grayson's arrival was close, and then - there he was.




They handed him RIGHT to me and I got to snuggle him for an hour straight. He was screaming loudly right out of the gate, and I apparently said something like "I know, buddy, that was rough for me too." Within 5 minutes of being born he was rooting, latched on and proceeded to nurse for an hour. Pretty cool. After this I handed him over for shots/weight/etc. I got out of bed, showered, and got back into bed all warm and clean to snuggle the wee boy. It was pretty awesome.

Would I have chosen to do this without drugs were it up to me? Never. Would I do it again this way, having gotten through it? Only if I could guarantee I'd only be pushing for 15 minutes or so again... and since you can't guarantee that... probably not. :) However, having had 1 epidural birth and one 100% natural I will say: the recovery from this labor has been astonishing. No back pain (which I had lots of last time) and I was up and taking a long walk to the park hours after getting home from the hospital, never would have done that last time. And - while I didn't actually choose it, and realizing I was going totally med-free was terrifying in the moment - now I know that I can do it... 'cause i did. :)