Wednesday, September 15, 2010
"As we go on, we remember all the times we had together"
Where did the last 10 years go? On Saturday, I'll be attending my 10-year high school reunion. At 18, I couldn't fathom who, what or where I'd be at 28. I'm so proud to go meet up with my old friends content, somewhat more cultured, and excited about the next 10 years!
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Andrew's Birth Story
This story has been just waiting for me to tell it. It may get graphic, so keep that in mind before you keep reading it. Also, I'll be sharing photos here nobody has ever seen, so enjoy!
Andrew was due January 17, 2010. On January 14, I'd had a doctor appointment, and my blood pressure was pretty high. The doc had told me to keep an eye on it over the weekend, and if it went up at all, I was to call Labor & Delivery (L&D) immediately.
On January 15, my grandparents invited us over for dinner. After dinner, we stopped by my mom's so she could take my blood pressure, since she's a nurse. My blood pressure was 150/92, which is sky high for me (I normally run about 112/72). I called the hospital, and after laying on my left side and drinking water, they decided to have me go in.
We arrived at L&D about 10:30 that night. They hooked me up to monitors and called my doctor, who arrived immediately. Because I am small-boned, he was concerned that I might need a C-section, and called the OB/GYN since he's a family doc and can only asssist with C-sections. I was exhausted and dying to go to bed, so I finally asked if I could go home. "I think we're going to keep you here and induce" was the response I got. I got a little panicked. I was large, uncomfortable and ready to meet the baby, but the whole labor thing is a little concerning--especially for a first-time mom!
Jay ran home to take our dogs to his mom and retrieve our packed bags, since we didn't have them with us. I was moved into my labor suite and pitocin was started about 3 a.m.
The Huxtables kept me company throughout the night. Jay tried to get some sleep. I was too nerved up to sleep.
About 10 a.m., I started actually feeling the contractions. I'd had Braxton Hicks for months, but this were actually slightly painful. I moved from the bed to a rocking chair and back again.
I had no intention of having a "natural" birth (whatever THAT means), and I had signed my epidural consent form at 28 weeks, but I didn't feel like I needed it at that point. I was doing pretty good.
Jay was too:
That all changed about noon. The contractions started coming fast and furious and --oh my Lord--they hurt! I started panicking a little bit and immediately asked for my epidural. Then, about 12:30, I had some kind of ungodly pain and --splash!--my water broke. There was no relief from the pain then.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, the anesthesiologist came by with my blessed epidural. And it was blessed. For about 10 minutes. Apparently, my son decided to turn the wrong way in the birth canal and was face up instead of face down. So I had what they call back labor. I can only equate it to having a million hot knives stuck in your back with no relief. It was horrific and the pain would not relent--even in between contractions.
So then someone has the bright idea to get all 215 lbs. of me on my hands and knees and try and turn the baby. I couldn't sleep in my own bed for the last 2 months of my pregnancy because I had to be reclined and they wanted me on my hands and knees? It was embarassing and beyond uncomfortable. But apparently it worked. But at that point, it was becoming obvious that my epidural wasn't.
And shortly after that episode, the nurse checked me for dilation. Surprised, she looked up and said "you're complete". I was shocked. I had really only been in labor about 2 /12 hours (it was about 2:30 at that point), and this was my first baby. This was supposed to take hours, right?
Then she decides we're going to do a few "practice pushes". I immediately refused, terrified. No way. I wasn't ready for that nonsense. I felt like Prissy in Gone with the Wind.
"I don't know nothin' 'bout birthin' babies!"
Luckily, my body took over. Since the epidural wasn't working the way it was supposed to, I was overcome with this overwhelming desire to push. Forgive me for being graphic, but it was like having to poop times about one million. Once that need to push took over, there was no stopping it.
Apparently the doctor and second nurse thought I would be a while, because they both left the room and left me to do my thing while my nurse was working on paperwork. Probably about 3:15, I looked at my nurse in a panic.
"I feel the head!" I yelled at her.
She stopped what she was doing and said "what?" and walked over to have a look. Her eyes turned into saucers and she went running, calling after my doctor to get in the room immediately. Then she turns her attention to me, telling me to stop pushing.
Not happening.
My doctor came in the room and I was freaking out, thinking they were really going to try and make me stop pushing, because there was no way I could stop.
"Help me!" I told my doctor, glaring at the nurse trying to get me to stop pushing.
He managed to get one hand in a glove and one arm in his gown and caught my son with one hand, while Jay looked on with a look of shock and amazement.
We didn't know what we were having, and I hadn't heard the necessary "It's a .....!" so I had to ask "What is it?"
"It's a boy!"
I was excited, and I'm sure it wasn't as long as it seemed, but it felt like forever until that little booger started crying. Once he did, he calmed right down once they gave him to me. The first thing I noticed was this cute little dimple in his chin that matched mine. The second thing I noticed was that his hair was red--and I was ecstatic!
We had the named Andrew Robert picked out for a little boy. Andrew comes from Andrew Christoffersen, Jay's great-grandfather who was originally supposed to come over on the Titanic. He traded in those tickets and came over on the Olympic two weeks prior. Smart man. Robert is after Jay's wonderful father who passed away in February of 2009, exactly 11 months before Andy was born.
And that's the story of how our son made his entrance into the world.
Seven months later, he's the light of our lives:
Andrew was due January 17, 2010. On January 14, I'd had a doctor appointment, and my blood pressure was pretty high. The doc had told me to keep an eye on it over the weekend, and if it went up at all, I was to call Labor & Delivery (L&D) immediately.
On January 15, my grandparents invited us over for dinner. After dinner, we stopped by my mom's so she could take my blood pressure, since she's a nurse. My blood pressure was 150/92, which is sky high for me (I normally run about 112/72). I called the hospital, and after laying on my left side and drinking water, they decided to have me go in.
We arrived at L&D about 10:30 that night. They hooked me up to monitors and called my doctor, who arrived immediately. Because I am small-boned, he was concerned that I might need a C-section, and called the OB/GYN since he's a family doc and can only asssist with C-sections. I was exhausted and dying to go to bed, so I finally asked if I could go home. "I think we're going to keep you here and induce" was the response I got. I got a little panicked. I was large, uncomfortable and ready to meet the baby, but the whole labor thing is a little concerning--especially for a first-time mom!
Jay ran home to take our dogs to his mom and retrieve our packed bags, since we didn't have them with us. I was moved into my labor suite and pitocin was started about 3 a.m.
About 10 a.m., I started actually feeling the contractions. I'd had Braxton Hicks for months, but this were actually slightly painful. I moved from the bed to a rocking chair and back again.
Jay was too:
That all changed about noon. The contractions started coming fast and furious and --oh my Lord--they hurt! I started panicking a little bit and immediately asked for my epidural. Then, about 12:30, I had some kind of ungodly pain and --splash!--my water broke. There was no relief from the pain then.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, the anesthesiologist came by with my blessed epidural. And it was blessed. For about 10 minutes. Apparently, my son decided to turn the wrong way in the birth canal and was face up instead of face down. So I had what they call back labor. I can only equate it to having a million hot knives stuck in your back with no relief. It was horrific and the pain would not relent--even in between contractions.
So then someone has the bright idea to get all 215 lbs. of me on my hands and knees and try and turn the baby. I couldn't sleep in my own bed for the last 2 months of my pregnancy because I had to be reclined and they wanted me on my hands and knees? It was embarassing and beyond uncomfortable. But apparently it worked. But at that point, it was becoming obvious that my epidural wasn't.
And shortly after that episode, the nurse checked me for dilation. Surprised, she looked up and said "you're complete". I was shocked. I had really only been in labor about 2 /12 hours (it was about 2:30 at that point), and this was my first baby. This was supposed to take hours, right?
Then she decides we're going to do a few "practice pushes". I immediately refused, terrified. No way. I wasn't ready for that nonsense. I felt like Prissy in Gone with the Wind.
"I don't know nothin' 'bout birthin' babies!"
Luckily, my body took over. Since the epidural wasn't working the way it was supposed to, I was overcome with this overwhelming desire to push. Forgive me for being graphic, but it was like having to poop times about one million. Once that need to push took over, there was no stopping it.
Apparently the doctor and second nurse thought I would be a while, because they both left the room and left me to do my thing while my nurse was working on paperwork. Probably about 3:15, I looked at my nurse in a panic.
"I feel the head!" I yelled at her.
She stopped what she was doing and said "what?" and walked over to have a look. Her eyes turned into saucers and she went running, calling after my doctor to get in the room immediately. Then she turns her attention to me, telling me to stop pushing.
Not happening.
My doctor came in the room and I was freaking out, thinking they were really going to try and make me stop pushing, because there was no way I could stop.
"Help me!" I told my doctor, glaring at the nurse trying to get me to stop pushing.
He managed to get one hand in a glove and one arm in his gown and caught my son with one hand, while Jay looked on with a look of shock and amazement.
We didn't know what we were having, and I hadn't heard the necessary "It's a .....!" so I had to ask "What is it?"
"It's a boy!"
I was excited, and I'm sure it wasn't as long as it seemed, but it felt like forever until that little booger started crying. Once he did, he calmed right down once they gave him to me. The first thing I noticed was this cute little dimple in his chin that matched mine. The second thing I noticed was that his hair was red--and I was ecstatic!
We had the named Andrew Robert picked out for a little boy. Andrew comes from Andrew Christoffersen, Jay's great-grandfather who was originally supposed to come over on the Titanic. He traded in those tickets and came over on the Olympic two weeks prior. Smart man. Robert is after Jay's wonderful father who passed away in February of 2009, exactly 11 months before Andy was born.
Seven months later, he's the light of our lives:
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)