We were all wondering just how exactly this story was going to play out. Would he come on his due date? When would I go into labor? How long would I labor? Would there be complications? etc, etc.
Well, now we know!
All last weekend, I felt really crampy. We honestly believed the time was now and that we would have a baby shortly. But then the weekend came and went, and still no baby. I spent my early weekend mornings finishing Christmas gifts for my staff, determined to hand them out on Monday the 4th. I had a long list of tasks that no matter what, I would finish.
We Facetimed Sam's parents on Sunday night, and afterward I was insistent that we put up our Christmas tree. My friends know that I'm really not much of a holiday decorator, so this kind of behavior was highly out of character for me. Normally, I could wait until the week of Christmas before I actually want to put up my tree.
Not this time. We successfully Christmas-fied our living room before going to bed that night.
Monday morning came, and I showed up to work. I handed out my gifts and got to work on my task list. People were surprised that I was handing out gifts so soon, but I just knew I had to do it before it was too late.
Around lunch time, I was walking back from the faculty room and felt a contraction. This was about 1pm, and I thought "Oh boy, progress!" By the time 4pm rolled around, my contractions were about 20 minutes apart. I told my administration about what was going on, but they didn't seem to worried. My principal even joked that she would see me in the morning.
I had three contractions on the 20 minute drive home, and I started tracking them with my app as soon as I walked in the door. They were about seven minutes apart, so I labored on the birthing ball for awhile and called my doctor. The doctor called shortly after Sam arrived home, and while she said something was happening, she did not tell me I was in labor.
We kept tracking the contractions while we packed the hospital bag, and called the hospital when they got to be about 5 minutes apart. Labor & Delivery told us to come in and get checked, so we left the house at about 11pm and headed to St. Mark's Hospital.
They checked me and said that while I was contracting every 4-7 minutes, I was only at a 1 and they couldn't admit me yet. I didn't understand how they were sending me home when I was in so much pain. They kept us for about an hour to see if I would dilate anymore, so we walked around the hallway the whole time. Unfortunately, I hadn't made any progress with dilating, so they shot me in the hips with morphine and fentanyl and sent me on my way. They also instructed me to come back when the contractions were more frequently at 4 minutes apart rather than at 5.
The meds knocked me on my butt, and it was about 2am when we finally got back home. I texted my boss and said I would be starting my leave the next day, and passed out in my bed.
The nurses had said that the morphine would last about 6hrs, and we weren't sure if the contractions were going to start up again immediately after the meds wore off. I spent most of Tuesday asleep in my bed and forcing myself to eat and drink. I started to feel better, but also very discouraged. How could that be false labor? I didn't believe it.
Sam came back from the lab and tried to cheer me up, but I just wasn't feeling it. I wrote my staff an email explaining the situation, and tried to convince myself that this would not continue for another two weeks. My doctor had said that she would only induce me at 41 weeks, which would have been Dec 19.
I was exactly 39 weeks pregnant and in that awkward limbo where nobody would give me a definitive answer about just how long they would let me body torture me before interfering.
Around midnight on Wednesday December 6, I woke up with contractions. They were about once an hour, but by 4am they were about 10 minutes apart. At this point I could't go back to sleep in between contractions, and the only semi-decent position I could get into was hunched over the birthing ball.
I could not stop shaking, so I put on Sam's jacket over my pajamas, in addition to a scarf, socks, and my slippers. It wasn't enough. I had to also wrap myself in a fleece blanket so that I wouldn't feel like I was going to muscle-spasm my body to death.
I woke Sam up at 6am and told him that my contractions were once again 5 minutes apart, but there was much more pelvic pressure this time. It felt like burning, and it was so bad I couldn't labor standing up. By 7am they were 4.5 minutes apart and I was just miserable. We called Labor & Delivery again and told them about what was happening, and they asked us to come in to be checked.
We embarked on the road to St. Mark's for the second time in less than 48hrs, only this time it was during rush hour traffic. I was terrified of being sent home again, because I knew I couldn't keep repeating this feat.
At triage, they told me I was at a 4 and 100% effaced, which meant I was being admitted and the baby was really on his way. I was floored at the nurse's response when she said I was a 4, I even cursed "Holy Shit" as my response. Sam called work and said the hospital was admitting us.
They put me in a delivery room and gave me my epidural around 9:30am, which provided me much relief, although I kept shaking like a madman. I asked my nurse why I was so cold, and I was told that not only is that a symptom of the labor hormone, but also a side-effect of the medication.
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| Shortly after getting the epidural |
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| We were relieved that it was all finally happening |
About noon, the specialist came in and broke my water because my contractions had lost their consistency. My sweet mother-in-law had flown in the night before after we'd called on Monday night, and I was so happy to see her when she walked into the room. Victoria showed up shortly after with lunch for Sam and her never-ending supply of emotional support. They checked me again at 2pm I was told I was at an 8 and that my doctor would be there soon. By 4pm I was at a 9.5, and at 4:30 my doctor showed up.
Sometime between 4:30 and 5 I started pushing. He was born at 6:34pm.
I remember being given oxygen when I was pushing. I remember feeling sick near the end of my pushing phase. I also remember feeling him actually come out of my body.
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Charles Bennett Elmer
6.9lbs, 18.5 inches |
His cry sounded like he'd been crying for hours, but the staff told us that crying would help clear his lungs out. They put him on top of me, but I couldn't see him. All I could hear was his hoarse little cry, over and over again.
I remember crying as the doctor stitched me up, for which felt like forever, but necessary because I had four 3rd degree tears. I begged for my mom, who just happened to arrive not five minutes after he was born. Additionally I got sick and coughed up the five swallows of chicken broth they'd allowed me the few hours beforehand
Everything after that is a bit of a blur. I know my phone was blowing up because I kept hearing it go off at the most random moments.
My parents and my brother came in, along with my in-laws and everyone had a chance to meet the baby.
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| Hello, firstborn |
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| Meeting Grandpa Ron |
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| Meeting Grandpa Bob |
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| Meeting Nana Lisa |
Around 9pm they took us upstairs to our room, and after his first feeding Charlie headed to the nursery for the night so that we could get some rest.
Nurses kept coming to to take my vitals and bringing the baby so I could feed him, and then I learned that breastfeeding releases a hormone that makes you tired so that both you and the baby relax more. No wonder I was so exhausted!
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| Little Charlie |
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| Daddy's boy |
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| Exhausted Mama the day after |
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| Sam wanted to take some shots of us to capture those sweet bonding moments |
We stayed in the hospital Thursday and part of Friday, which meant we got discharged on my 28th birthday. The nutrition staff noticed that it was my birthday and gave me a special brownie with a candle on top. I still can't believe he came in between mine and Ian's birthdays, and that he came on baby Matthew's 1st birthday!
As Friday went on, the doctor came to check us and signed our discharge papers, and we made plans to head out after lunch time. It was a little nerve-racking for me to get dressed, mostly because I wasn't emotionally prepared to see my post-pregnancy body just yet. But I remember looking in the mirror and feeling pretty okay with what I saw. I'd just put my body through the ringer, but it came through and did exactly what I needed it to do. I chose to be grateful for the strength it showed me while I carried and delivered my son.
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| Getting ready to go home! |
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| Heading out |
