Friday, April 29, 2005

Happy Birthday, Boy Terror.

This is the story of Boy Terror's arrival in the world.

After a month of prolonged latent labour, many false alarms, and many many sleepless nights, I was finally at the due date. Hubby and I spent Tuesday at the hospital, having tests done. When I finally got to leave, they told me to not go far, that surely the baby would come any time. So we spent Tuesday night in a hotel. Wednesday, I saw my doctor, and he assured me that by the end of the day, we would be having a baby. Humph. What does he know! At any rate, Hubby went home, an hour away to connect with our daughter, who was staying with a friend during all the upheaval, and to make an appearance at school. I stayed with Dave and Natalie, friends of ours, for the night. Just in case. After so many false alarms, I really didn't think we were going anywhere!

Thursday, April 29
6:00 am I woke up on the couch, needing to pee. When I stood up, I realized either I was too late to pee, or my water had broken. After a step or two, the stabbing pain made it clear that hey! Today was the day!
7:00 am I called Hubby to let him know he would need to find a sub, and not to worry, but he should come and get me to go to the hospital sometime. I seriously thought I had loads of time, since I felt fine!
8:20 am I stood up from the comfy chair, and remembered very clearly the difference between contractions with intact water sac, and contractions with no water.
8:30 am We decided that Dave should drive me to the hospital. Just to be safe. Since I couldn't walk.
8:31 am Dave started looking a bit stressed.
8:45 - 9:15 am I reclined in a hospital bed, feeling the contracts slow down, and ease up. Hubby arrived, and was delighted to tell me our new car could easily make the hour long trip in under 30 minutes! Dave was willing to stay with me for the duration, but I thought he might hug Hubby when he arrived.
9:15 - noon I laughed, I chatted. I did not give birth. Contractions were still 2 minutes apart, but nothing was happening. Hmmm. I told the nurse that I WAS NOT going home until I had the damn baby. She said after lunch I should walk around a bit.
Lunch: I had a delicious salmon chowder. I LOVE seafood! Still happy, perky, la la la.
1:00 pm The nurse checked me, and I was a measly 4 centimetres, and that was being generous. At that point we figured the baby would arrive in the early evening, since it took 6.5 hours to get from 4 to 10 centimetres with Girl Terror. As per the instructions, I got out of bed to go walk around. I made it all the way to the toilet, where I had to sit for a loooong time before I was brave enough to stand up. Then I made it all the way to the sink, where I got stuck. Couldn't move. Contractions while reclining might not have done anything, but standing, so Baby's head could rest comfortably on my cervix, moved things along at a rip roaring pace. Of course, I was the only one feeling the difference. The nurse suggested a stroll. Hubby suggested a shower. I got back into the bed, and suggested that I would not be moving my ass again, thankyouverymuch. And the pain began.
1:30 pm. I believe my exact words were "Who the F@#$ gives Salmon chowder to a woman in labour?!!" And the lunch was tossed. Returned seafood chowder is nasty. I DO NOT like seafood!
1:30-2:00 pm I became aware that hey, things are moving along. Fast. Biiiig baby. Little tiny opening. Pain. I started asking for drugs. Being allergic to all the good stuff, I was limited to Demerol and laughing gas. I asked immediately for the Demerol. The nurse kindly suggested that I save the big guns for later, when I would really need them. I suggested that she go get the damn drugs now, when I really needed them. She gave me the laughing gas to appease me.
2:05 I asked, loudly and clearly, for Demerol. Lots and lots of Demerol. The nurse pulled up a chair and started her chat about drugs effecting the baby, and was I aware, blah blah blah. I said "DRUGS FIRST, TALK LATER." She got the drugs.
2:30 pm I started mentioning the need to bear down feeling coming on. I sucked on the gas mask. I told Hubby I could NOT do this, no way! If this labour was anything like my first, I had a few hours to go, and I was not feeling cheery about it.
2:45 pm To make me shut up, the nurse said she'd check me. After all, only an 1.5 hours earlier I was at 4 centimetres. Lo and behold, I was fully dilated and ready to rock and roll!
3:00 ish: My doctor arrived. I don't know, I don't remember. I was just focusing on NOT pushing.
3:30 pm Boy Terror came rocketing into the world. Time stood still. And the angels sang.
4:00 - 5:00 pm Because I bled a lot after Girl Terror was born, the doctor was prepared this time. As soon as blood started pumping out of me at an alarming pace, the drugs were poured in, the nurse grabbed my uterus (seriously) and massaged, and the scary part was over before it began. I wasn't too aware of any pain, until my doctor said "This tearing is beyond what I am comfortable stitching. We are going to wait for the surgeon to come up here, okay? Can you just stay here and be still?" Where did he think I was going? My feet were in stirrups, my ass was hanging off the end of a bed, and everything other than the sight of my husband, holding his newborn son, was a blur. The nurse took a peek at what they were all calling "a bit of tearing" and promptly gave me a second dose of Demerol.
5:00 The surgeon came, did his magic, and left prescriptions for a horrifying number of laxatives. I was sailing along on a sea of Demerol, but I'm sure what he said was "It was a fourth degree tear....I did what I could, but please, please be careful when you go to the bathroom."
5:30 ish: I held my tiny son. Everything else became a minor inconvenience, barely even remembered. I knew in that moment I would have done it all again in a heartbeat. I know I had him in my arms at some point previously, but it was a fuzzy memory. I looked down at his tiny hands, his beautiful fat cheeks, and his full head of red hair. My heart was bursting with pride, and all I could think was "I have a son. I have produced this amazing, gorgeous little boy. My Son."
And again, time stood still, while the angels sang.


Raehan said...

God, that post was so intense and so powerful. The tearing.....yikes. Hard to hear about. The nice thing about giving birth is we don't have to see the blood.

I know well about needing to push and people telling you not to when the baby is actually coming. That happened with Rachel.

And, of course, the angels singing. I know about that, too.

But Tammy, can't say that he looks evil in that picture. Sorry. Can't agree with that one. : )

Rachel was a red head when she was a baby and she turned blond. But you once said you are a red head, so his probably will stay red, right?

Anonymous said...

Hmmm... yeah... I had a resident helping the doctor out with my delivery and nobody told me NOT to push once the baby was almost out. So one final heave and Keira came literally flying out and landed with a clunk on the table, while the resident stood there with her hands up in the air not knowing what to do with them (catching the baby might have been nice). Had a nice tear myself - 2nd degree hurt like hell; I sure can't imagine 4th. The kidlet had a head in the 95% percentile. Ouch. Shudder...

Margie (and Fae) said...

I'm new to your blog, but I had to comment on this post. What a great telling of a wonderful story. I did tear up at the end! Your son is definitely a cutie!

Anonymous said...

Oh wow. See I don't know what that is like. All my babies were C-sections, a totally different kind of story--but of course with a similar ending.

Thank you for sharing.

TS said...
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alena said...
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