I honestly can’t believe that almost three months ago I was sitting at home, panicking about leaving for the hospital for the last time without a baby. Paul and I had both gone to work that day, which made it even more surreal- one minute I was invoicing clients and the next I was packing my bag- not just for myself but for OUR DAUGHTER.
Throughout the day I had shed tears for the end of my life as we knew it. My bosses hugged me goodbye and wished me luck. Our suite neighbor popped her head in to wish me luck. I spoke to the gals in Starbucks to let them know why I wasn’t going to be in for a while (I really did this). I kept repeating the phrase, “We’re being induced tonight, so we should have our baby by tomorrow”, but not quite wanting to believe it. For so long that belly was with me, round and full, a sign to all that I was going to be a Mommy, but it wasn’t quite a sign to me. How can you be in denial of something that was constantly with you? Finally, when I was relaxing at home in the few hours between my arrival at home and our departure, it hit me. I’m going to go away, and come back with a baby. A NEWBORN.
Paul got home and we started preparing for our trip. I packed a few snacks, some books and movies. I honestly read a page or two, the movies were useless. We had our clothes in, and were packing up Woofie for his stay at Dad’s house. Then, we sat. I began to cry, wondering if I was making a mistake. It’s inevitable that such a huge step would hit you like that, when you have the delivery scheduled, since you have plenty of time to think about what is going to happen. Paul consoled me, told me I was going to do great, and that he loved me. I crawled into his lap and wept, afraid of the future. We didn’t see enough movies, and now I’ll never see another movie again. Haha. Eventually, the fear subsided and I got happy. We packed up, took Woofie to my dad’s and kissed Woofie goodbye. I felt a lot of guilt for what would be Woofie’s life when we returned. That was the hardest thing for me, really. Knowing that our decision was going to irrevocably change his life, and there was nothing he could do about it. Yes, I know he’s a dog.
After we dropped off Woofie we went to the market and packed up water bottles and redbull for Paul (ick), and snacks like dried fruit, nuts and crackers for him as well. We pulled into the hospital parking lot and the parking attendant gasped out loud when I gamboled out of the car. “I know where you’re going!” he said. He then asked if I was okay to walk myself up to the labor and delivery ward or if I needed assistance. I said I was fine, as this was a planned delivery. Then, I began the walk alone (Paul had to deal with the parking guy), pulling my rolling bag and pillow behind me. Quickly, Paul caught up to me and we began the walk. I took a camera phone pic of him in the elevator up to L&D and we rode up the rest of the way in silence. Since we had pre-registered, all we had to do was give our name and they took us to our room, which was already prepped for us. We signed the papers and I got undressed. I crawled into the bed I would grow to hate and received my IV of fluids and pitocin. My left arm had a blood pressure cuff attached to it, and I was told to sit back and relax, it would be a few hours they said. Paul did a bit of work on the computer and then drifted off to sleep.
Left to my own devices, I turned on A Christmas Story and enjoyed my final few hours with Piper still a resident in my body. A few times the monitor slipped off my belly so the attendant would come in and place it back where they could hear her heartbeat and check my contractions. Oddly enough, I didn’t feel the first 10 hours of contractions, so they kept amping up my dose. Piper dealt with the contractions like a champ, and seemingly didn’t have any adverse reactions, no slowing heartbeat or quicker heartbeat, no distress we could see or feel. Apparently, Piper was pretty comfy in there. As the hours passed I had the hardest time getting any sleep, someone was constantly banging into our room to “check” on us, and to turn up the pitocin. It turned out I had no more than two hours of sleep in 24 hours. Fun!
As I mentioned in my birth post, I had an epidural. There was no way I could breathe through pitocin contractions, man. The next few hours passed in a flurry of dilation checks, contractions I could feel (jesus, if those were epi-dulled contractions I was SO glad I didn’t feel the stronger non-epi ones!), and crappy tv. The nurses were wonderful, but boy did I get sick of them (as it was I was so much happier with the L&D nurses than the baby nurses). We had so many wonderful texts, tweets and emails from family and friends and we had to update them as much as we could. When I was in transition, though, I couldn’t even be bothered to open my eyes, I was just miserable. Eventually the time to push came. And stayed. There is nothing more horrible than the massive feeling of pressure, which in turn turns into an incredible need to push- and being unsuccessful. After two hours the need to push was less than a minute apart, and I was just incredibly uncomfortable and even more miserable. It was decided that I would have the c-section.
They brought us into the OR and began the surgery. It was quick, I was doped up, and happy. I saw our baby, all bundled up, and Paul got to cut the cord (he almost cut from wrong side of the clamp!!), and we were officially a family.
After the delivery we were sent to recovery with our beds separated by curtains. They handed Piper to me and she latched on. As Paul took pictures I considered telling him to stop, then decided it was stupid to be so modest, I was feeding our baby. I was given pain killers and told about post-op care, then wheeled into a labor and delivery room as all the postpartum rooms were taken. Paul was off with Piper to get her newborn tests done, so she was never alone. In the hallway, a l&d nurse asked me if I was planning on having her in the nursery that night, since I had been awake for so long. I agreed, and was set up in my bed. It was about 2:40am or so. As I waited for Paul, I sent a few emails and tried to get some sleep. When Paul arrived, he was exhausted too, and after setting up his bed fell promptly to sleep.
After about two hours of uninterrupted sleep I woke up, hot and groggy. It hit me, I was a mother now. That thought was even more apparent when they brought her in around 5:30am to feed. After trying to get her back to sleep post feeding, I tried to sleep. We were all awakened when a nurse announced we would be moving to our post-partum room, where we would be for the next three days. Again, I was wheeled into a strange room with my daughter in her wheeled bassinet right alongside me.
I got so little sleep that whole time, as everything was so new, and coupled with my c-section, I was just a wreck. People visited and since I was so drugged I couldn’t remember anything, really. One thing I had forgotten to bring was a brush. Seriously. I FORGOT A BRUSH! By my mom’s visit on Wednesday afternoon, my hair was absolutely a rat’s nest from being in bed for three whole days without a shower. I was finally allowed a shower and to try to use the bathroom by Thursday (Thanksgiving), and I felt like a new woman. I got to wear real clothes! They explained how walking around and getting up to do things would help my recovery, so we took walks, Paul holding the baby.
We were able to leave on Saturday, just the three of us. I was rolled outside holding my baby, and people were congratulating us on our new arrival. It was quite the beginning of our life.
Everything was so new to us, but I am SO thankful Paul stayed with me the ENTIRE time. Never once did he leave my side (other than to pop down to the cafeteria), and he was so eager to change diapers, rock her to sleep and help me up from bed.
Paul and Piper are the best things that’s ever happened to me.
