B came home from work a bit after 5:00. Bean was just waking from her nap. As we made create-your-own pizzas, I noted that I felt funny. A few times I said to B, "I'm having some contractions and they might be real this time. I'm just giving it time so I can figure it out." Between 5:30 and 6 we sat down to our dinner and then went outside for awhile. Contractions? Check! At this point, I timed a few and they were 4-6 minutes apart. Hmmm...could it really be active labor?! naaaaah. I'll just monitor them and see what happens. If it's for real, I'll go in and lie down for awhile..conserve my energy. The baby won't be here before tomorrow morning anyhow...
I continued to play with Bean at her sand table, and supervise B who was planting our greenhouse selections for me. Several more times I say to him, "I think this might be for real. We'll see." I periodically hit the button on the contraction timer app on my phone to check in on timing. Things are getting closer to 3-5 minutes apart. huh.
It was also an active night in our online world. What follows now is a mashup of our virtual correspondence and our real-life events, thanks to the breadcrumb trail we left through our texts, skype calls, and emails. It was a fast and furious night.
6 - 6:30 - outdoor play with the Bean and planting time
6:49 - I send an email response to a well-wisher regarding our upcoming baby. "Thanks! Won't be long!" I say. (heh)
7:00ish - Bean and I do a Google hangout with Aunt Em and Uncle Nick. (yep, still contracting. still 4-6 minutes apart, with some strength behind them. still mentally assessing.)
7:30 - B gives Bean a bath. I agree to do storytime.
7:34 - I talk to my Mom. I don't mention the contractions.
8:00 - I do storytime. I'm having a bit of trouble getting through but persevere. Timer is getting closer and closer to 3 minutes. Bean drags it out and asks for songs. I have to take a break to contract. Yeah. This is probably real.
8:37 - I call my Mom again and let her know that I "might" need her tonight. Do I want her to come over now? I don't know. She suggests that I call the doctor. I tell B I'm going to call. In the meantime Bean sneaks downstairs and overhears. "Why are you calling Dr. S., Mommy?" (oh, crap. in my vision, this is all supposed to go down without her knowing. oops.) B walks her back to bed.
8:45 - I call the doctor and tell him things are 4-6 minutes apart. He says to go in to the hospital and get checked. I tell him I can be there in half hour to 45 minutes.
8:56 - To her credit, Mom texts that she's coming over right away (I would have told her to wait). I go to take a shower. Sometimes taking a shower can relax you and slow things down. After this, maybe I'll lie down awhile.
9:24 - I hear Mom arrive. I'm out of the shower and making sure the bag is packed. Contracting at 3-5 minutes apart. Guess they're not slowing down. As I leave my room I see Bean sitting at the top of the steps. She's worried. "Who's here?" she asks. "Grammy," I say. "Remember the big tummy ache?" I ask. "Yeah," she replies. "Well I think I have it. I think the baby is going to come tonight. I need to go to the hospital."
There were hugs and kisses and contractions. By the time B and I left the house, contractions were 2-3 minutes apart, and I was stopping to breathe and sway through them. The building intensity was surprising and impressive.
10ish - We arrive at the hospital. Nurse Amanda, the best nurse I've ever had ever ever, says she'll check my progress. I'm 3 cm (eh), but 80% effaced. This is for real. Still, given our prior experiences with false alarms at the hospital when Bean was born, we agree to wait until I've been checked into the hospital to let family know...
Absolutely no time is wasted beginning the checkin process. As contractions keep coming, I periodically look at B, smiling, and say, "I can't believe this is happening!" Then I return to my position, seated in a rocking chair next to the bed, and take my deep breaths. Amanda is patient and coaches me through the contractions. At some point during the medical forms and questioning, I can't sit anymore. A strong contraction comes and my body involuntarily stands up. I remain in that position, bending in and L shape over the tray table, breathing and swaying for the remainder of the laboring.
10:59 - Finally, the questioning is over. B's texts the family "Anne has been admitted to the hospital. Will send updates as able."
11ish and Dr. S. arrives, and I'm checked again - you have to be over 5 cm for them to be able to unstrap you from the monitors. In the last hour I've progressed to 6 cm with a paper-thin cervix. (woah. what?!) At 11:17, B texts: "6 cm. Should not be too long." "Wow. I take it she's staying," replies Mom. :)
I'm allowed to stand up again. I continue my breathing. Everything is about breathing now. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Repeat. Every now and then I give B instructions about what to do, but mostly I don't want anyone to touch me. I'm in this game and I'm going to do it.
Now it's time for an IV and blood draw. Seriously?! You wait until NOW to try to stick me? By the way, my legs are shaking at this point. I'm still standing, but realize that I'm in the thick of transition. "Do I really need the IV?" I ask Amanda. Unfortunately, they must insert the port "just in case." ugh. In she comes, trying to miss the height of my contractions, but it's becoming harder to do so. The moment she sticks my hand, I begin to cry. This pain from the needle is so different from what my body is programmed to handle at this moment that it registers with great intensity, sending the pain receptors over the top, and totally messes with my focus on the real mission that my body has right now - strengthening the contractions that are pushing my baby out. I continue to cry as the dude from the lab sticks me twice to get blood out of my arm. I think I'm probably wimpering now for it to stop - I mean the needles, not the contractions.
It's well after 11 now. I'm aware that the room is filling up with people. Even though I'm convinced this is going to take a lot longer, I notice in my peripheral vision the wheeling in of the warming table, the doctor getting into scrubs, an army of nurses standing at the ready and watching. (An unmedicated birth is quite the spectator event.) I hear someone say that they've brought in extra blankets in case the warming table isn't heated up in time. huh, really? I guess the think this baby is coming very very soon! I continue to focus on a spot on the floor - swaying, moaning, breathing. At some point I'm asked whether I feel that I need to push. "I don't think so," I say. Then a moment later, "I do feel like I need to go to the bathroom." THAT springs them into action: "Sweety we need to check you NOW because we don't do standing births here!" I don't want to lie down, but I do. Being flat on my back feels worse than anything else. They check me, and I'm 8 cm. Go-time is just around the corner. Dr. S offers to break the waters so that I can push sooner. He is under the assumption that I'm in too much pain. I don't argue. It's 11:47, and B texts the family: "8 cm. It's baby time." Responses include, "Go Anne!" and "I hope the doc is in the neighborhood," to which B responds, "In the room. I think it is time." "OMG," writes Mom.
Waters break, and in 2 contractions I feel it. The head. "I need to push!!!!" Dr. S. gets into position and the nurses look ready. Everyone stands back, though, and lets me work. Amanda is at my side, B at the other. Unlike at Bean's birth, this time I hold my own legs, make my own calls about when and how to push, and for how long. Dr. S. uses his hands to hold my cervix back. I yell at him, "GET OUT! GET OUT!" I think he assumes I mean the baby. Then he realizes and explains..he's helping. (sigh, okay) I push, I poop, I feel the baby's head, my body lets out a primal guttural weight-lifter type yell. The ring of fire happens..."HELP ME!" I scream. But I'm calling out to my own body, and to my baby - not to anyone in the room. One. More. Push....and...
At 12:06 a.m. HE emerged. I was the first to see and announce that the baby is a boy. He was laid on my chest, and I held him there for several minutes while his cord stopped pulsing. "He's heavy!" I say. "He has ROLLS!" He was briefly moved to have the cord cut and get a quick once-over, and then he was returned to me. I held him for over an hour. He nursed. He was eventually weighed - 8 lbs, 3 oz. By 12:09, the family all know that Owen Russell Behler has arrived. Replies include "OMG!" and "Great job, team!" and "That's a big boy!"At some point I told B he could go home and sleep.
Sometime after 2 (3?) I was taken to my hospital room. I tried to rest, but I couldn't sleep. The adrenaline rush was just too strong to allow it. Here I was, a Momma again, to a perfect little baby boy.
