My last pregnancy update (EVER) was definitely on point. I woke up nervous, jittery and I had a very bad feeling about how this labor and delivery was going to go. In all, I am glad I convinced my doctor that you were going to be a big boy and you came early, with the help of drugs, otherwise it could have been a bad situation.
Wednesday night, the night before I was induced with you, Grandma Terri came down to stay with James since he had the flu and couldn't go to daycare the following day. Thank God for Grandma's! So your dad and I were up bright and early, getting ready to go. We ate breakfast, said our good-bye's and headed out. It was much less emotional than when we went to the hospital to have Catherine, most likely because this wasn't our first, or even second, rodeo. However, it is always surreal, that ride to the hospital, where you realize that no matter what, you are going to come back a family of five.
We checked in, they gave us the crappiest room on the floor (seriously. And what's even more interesting about that is that a couple of nurses said it was the least busy they had been in a long time and had a ton of rooms open. Ummmmm, so, could we have gotten a bigger one, with a better bed for Eric?), and they got the pitocin started.
It was slow-going at first, but the nurse also said they didn't want to rush into it before I could get my epidural. So Eric and I passed the time by hanging out, playing on our phones, talking about your name (Drew Michael was about the most concrete of names we had decided on for any of our children thus far. I knew you were going to be Drew before you were born, definitely), watching the contractions on the monitor. We guessed when you were going to get here, and since Catherine was born around 2:30, and knowing that once my body got going, it new how to labor and deliver a baby, I guessed you would be 8 pounds 3 ounces, born at 1:15 p.m. Eric guessed 9 pounds (thanks a lot!) born at 1:30 p.m.
But I labored very slowly this time. I didn't want to have the epidural as early as I did with Catherine and be incapacitated that long, so I waited as long as I felt comfortable and finally asked for it about 10:30 a.m. It was an excrutiating experience, but it was the best epidural I have had thus far. The anesthesiologist kept hitting me on the right side. So she would take the needle out and put it back in. It was a long 5 minutes or so, but finally, she hit the money spot, and throughout the course of labor, I could move both my legs and still had some sensation. Not feeling by any means, but I could tell when someone was touching my leg etc.
So 1:15 p.m. and 1:30 p.m. came and went. Eric's mom arrived about that time, but I was only at an 8. About 2:30, I was about a 9 and finally about 3:00, I was a 10, but there was a lip of my cervix that was caught at the top of your head.
At 3:00, Dr. Dejong came in and broke down the table to start pushing. Now, at this point, I had not had anything to eat since 6:30 a.m. and I was STARVING. So when I started pushing, I thought I was going to throw up! The pushing was excrutiating, and even though I am a champion birther, it was so tough. I pushed with everything I had, but seemed like I was progressing so slowly. Thankfully, I could feel the contractions ramp up and worked with my body to push through them. Eric was amazing, per usual, and cheered me on, kept my face cool with a wash cloth and overall, was a champ in his own right. You have a pretty amazing dad.
So I clamped down and pushed and pushed and pushed. Finally, I was told they could see your head and how much hair you had (WHAT? I was having a child born with HAIR?)! But you were slow to come out. Once you did, they told me to stop pushing, with an urgency that even had me opening my eyes (the first time I have ever done so during a labor) to see what was wrong.
The cord was wrapped around your neck three times. This is what I meant above when I said that had we waited for me to go into labor naturally, and you could have come very quickly, or the cord could have twisted even more, it could have been dangerous for you.
So I waited and breathed through contractions as Dr. Dejong pulled on the cord to loosen it. It was hard to get his scissors in to cut it, but he managed and they told me to push one more time through a contraction. I remember the precise moment I opened my eyes with James and saw him come out, I remember the precise moment I opened my eyes and saw Catherine come out, I remember the precise moment I opened my eyes and saw you come out. Three of the most beautiful moments in my life.
They put you on my chest, but true to form, you were stubborn and didn't want to breathe, so they whisked you away and put you on the table.
I cannot remember what your dad said to me after James and Catherine were born, but this time, I will never forget it. He took my hand, leaned down and simply said, "I love you." It was one of the most sincere, raw moments between your dad and I. It was lovely and I will never forget it.
Of course, then true to form, your good ole mom shooed Eric away to make sure you were doing ok while Dr. Dejong worked on me. It took me a long time to actually see you. I was surprised that I didn't cry, even when they put you on my chest, but I really think it's because I didn't SEE you.
Finally, they brought you over to me, and there you were. Beautiful. And there I was, crying.
8 pounds, 7 ounces, 21 inches long at 3:23 p.m. I didn't push for long, but it seemed like an eternity as every time I pushed, I was meeting the resistance of a cord that was wrapped tightly around your neck. It was as slow as James, it wasn't as quick as Catherine, but it was still beautiful. You are beautiful.
All in all, it was a lovely day. My mom, your grandma, came in an hour or so afterward, while the nurse was helping me get cleaned up in the bathroom. When I came out, she was holding you in the rocking chair and crying.
It was the first of our kids where I had seen her cry like that. I know it was because she was remembering my dad.
All while we were preparing for your birth, all I could ever seem to think about was my dad. It still astounds me that your due date was February 5th. Even though that's one day earlier than the date of his death, it still happened to fall on the exact day. And that due date never wavered. Every time I was measured, with each ultrasound, I was reassured that by God, you were due February 5th. Even our 20 week ultrasound, where sometimes the head circumference says a different date than the development of the organs etc., everything lined up perfectly with February 5th.
I think that's why I was leery of your labor and delivery. I had yet to see a sign from my dad. No cardinals. No looking at the clock randomly and seeing 11:11 (your birthday, in fact). No signs that were otherwise telling me it would be ok.
Even after you were born, I didn't see any sign from my dad, telling me he was there. Even when I was pushing, toward the end when I was getting really tired, it seemed like I wasn't making any progress and I was feeling like I was going to throw up, I'm pretty sure I said, "C'mon dad, throw me a bone here!" There was still nothing.
So in the wee hours of February 6th, the nurse came in to wake me up to nurse you. She left you with me, and since you were still only stirring, I took a few moments to wake myself up. I propped myself up in bed, and there was my sign.
A red hat, donated by the American Heart Association.
Seems trivial, and maybe a bit weird, but it was what was written on the pamphlet that really got me. "February is American Heart Month. In support, we ask that you post a photo of your new little one wearing their red hat on social media!"
So, that is my goal for you today. I will post a picture in memory of my dad, one of the greatest men I knew.
You are perfect. In every sense of the word. Welcome to the shitshow, son. :)
You are amazing. And now I'm bawling.
ReplyDeleteCongratulations on the littlest Engel. He is truly perfect.