I'm too proud. I'll admit it. I'm too proud to ask for help, but I'm not too proud to admit that. I know that it's perfectly acceptable to ask for help. In my brain, I know that. Yet I tend to do unnecessary things just because I don't want to inconvenience other people. That's the fact of the matter.
I'm learning, though, that it doesn't matter how proud I am. I'm learning to swallow my pride, bite the bullet, and ask for help when I need it. That's a hard thing to do, by the way. A big transition. I'm not patting myself on the back for deciding to make said transition. Not by any means. Because in all honesty, I'd still go about my life not asking for help. It's coming to a point where it's not worth the struggle. The fact of the matter is that I've been thrown into this time in my life where it's not really a choice anymore.
Let me first start by saying that James helps willingly all the time like the perfect husband he is. He reminds me all the time that I'm human and it's OK for us to need help sometimes.
With having a C Section, I needed more help than I wanted to admit. I didn't want people to have to go out of their way to help me. With James going back to work, I needed more help than I wanted to admit. I didn't want people to have to go out of their way to help me. I've been holding out for as long as possible to not have to ask for help. My house is a mess because I literally need to do laundry and dishes every single day to keep the bottles washed, and burp cloths clean. I wouldn't trade that for anything. It's not hard work, I just need a few more hours in the day, and I can do stuff all by myself. When I'm talking about needing help, I mean even from James. Which is so ludicrous. This house is ours. This baby is ours. The responsibilities are split down the middle. But I still feel bad asking him to feed Olivia when he gets home from a long day at work. I still feel bad asking him to finish the dishes so I can work on the laundry. I still feel bad when Olivia is having a fussy night and he has to get up to help me with her. I realize that's insane. I do. But he has long days at work, and I don't want him to have to come home and be bombarded with stuff. It's silly though, because he loves doing it. As do most of the people that offer to help. The month that Olivia has been with us has been an adjustment of asking for help. The biggest adjustment though, has come this week.
It's at a point where I have to have help even though I don't necessarily want it. I want to be able to do everything on my own. I want to be able to be in 5 places and have 10 extra hours in the day to get everything done I need to get done. Just me and James. But that's not realistic, I'm learning.
Since having Olivia, I've been having what we thought was really intense heart burn. (3-4 times a week since she's been born.) Sunday night, though, it became pretty obvious that it was more than heart burn. My heart burn was coming closer together, lasting longer, and having a ridiculous intensity. I would writhe in pain, and cry for hours. I could find no relief. I, of course, felt bad that James had to do all of the night time routine by himself while I just laid on the bed. I apologized that I couldn't help him. He told me I was ridiculous for apologizing for being in pain, because we are a team. Tums didn't help, Alka Seltzer chews didn't help. Nothing helped. I threw up 4 times Sunday night, and I immediately felt better.
Monday, another episode. But I only threw up once. Tuesday around noon, an episode came on, and I couldn't hold Olivia without being in pain. I couldn't get comfortable. Nothing I was doing would relieve the heart burn. James insisted I go to urgent care. I couldn't have tests run and keep Olivia fed, changed, and happy. I had to ask for help.
James was at work, but his mom came with me. She sat with Olivia in the waiting room for hours while I had blood drawn and tests run. James met us when he got off work, and he was in the rooms with me getting results from tests, etc. I got prescriptions, and James' mom was there to pick up the prescriptions and we were able to take Olivia home. The whole way home I told James how much I hate asking for help and having to have other people help us with Olivia. My mindset is that we chose to have a child, and we should be able to take care of her without always calling on people.
Well, turns out that we'll need more help. God is really helping me swallow my pride here, isn't He?
In 12% of pregnancies, the amount of estrogen and progesterone in the body make the gallbladder not contract as well. The bile in the gallbladder turns to stones. So, I fall in that 12% apparently. In order to get relief, I'll need to have my gallbladder removed. Almost 5 weeks after having a C Section, and having a month old newborn who needs me and James, we are now needing to focus on something else.
It's just am outpatient surgery, and won't take long. It's really not even a big deal. But in pre-op, I can't go by myself because I'll be having stuff done where I can't take Olivia back there. On the day of surgery, James and I will have to have James' mom watch Olivia while I'm at the hospital. I texted my family and asked if any of them could come help while I'm recovering if it's a hard recovery. I hate doing that.
It frustrates me that I can't be at home with her doing the things I need to be doing. It frustrates me that James has to use time to take off work for my surgery Friday. I hate it when stuff that concerns me impacts other people.
It's a learning process. It's a reality check from God that I can't do it all. I'm not too proud to admit that I'm too proud. I'm not going to change over night, no matter how much I want. But I'll try. I'm still going to try to do everything on my own, because I just am. But if it comes a time when I just can't, I'll try my best to fix up a plate of pride and swallow it right down. Because sometimes, being a mom, and doing what's best for Olivia means doing something I don't normally do. I'm learning.
Wednesday, June 17, 2015
Tuesday, June 16, 2015
One Month!
-Is she a good baby?
Of course! She's the best baby. She's perfect! (Don't all parents think this?) Seriously, though, she's content 95% of the time. Only fussy when she's hungry. (Wonder where she got that? Hah!)
-Does she sleep at night?
Yep! She generally wakes up at around 2:00 and 5:00, and then sleeps until about 7:30 or 8:00. (Give or take an hour or so on either side of all the times.) When she wakes up, we feed her, change her diaper, and she goes right back to sleep.
-Does Daddy help Mommy with night time when she's awake?
Of course! I normally get up with her when she gets up at 2:00, and if I have to pump, he feeds her while I pump, and then he changes her diaper. Sometimes, I'll get up at 2:00 and he'll get up at 5:00 with her. Varies night to night, but he always helps somehow.
-Look at all that hair! Did you have heart burn?
Only when I ate cheddar peppers from Sonic. Once I figured out those were giving me heart burn, I stopped eating them and didn't have any more heart burn. (Ironically, I've been having heartburn something fierce lately.)
-She's so tiny! How much does she weigh?
Born at 8 pounds, 3 ounces. Last weight check (when she was 3 weeks old) she was 8 pounds, 8 ounces.
-How long is she?
Born at 19.5 inches. Last check up (when she was 2 weeks old) was 20 and 3/4.
-Is she eating well?
Yes and No. Hah! She nurses when she wants, not when I want her to (despite many meltdowns). She'll nurse when she wants, so then I pump. We give her what I've pumped as well as formula. It took us a few weeks to find the kind of formula that doesn't make her projectile vomit or have crazy painful constipation (those were sad days, she was so pitiful.) When she eats a bottle, she eats it like someone is going to come and take it away from her. (Again, not sure where she got that. Hah!) She's currently transitioning between 2 ounces and 3 ounces. She's somewhere in between there, depending on the day.
-Does she focus when she looks at you yet?
Sometimes. She was the other day when James was playing 'got your nose' with her. She even let out what we think was her first intentional smile.
-Does she have dimples?
Not sure yet. Hah!
-You're not proud at all, are you?
Only the most proud we've ever been!
A few confessions:
-I may or may not have shed a few tears this morning that Olivia is already 1/12 of a year old. Haha!
-Burp cloths make good napkins. Not that I'm too lazy to get up for a napkin for myself when I'm feeding her or anything.
-James clips her nails because I'm afraid I'll hurt her.
-I take longer than James to do diaper changes because it distracts me when she cries. I spend half the time consoling her instead of just getting it done.
-I'm only just now comfortable bathing her by myself. Hah!
Happy One Month of Birth, Olivia Claire! We love you!
Thursday, June 4, 2015
Mom Shaming
Having a two and a half week old baby is hard work. It's fun, and rewarding, and I feel a level of pride that I've never before felt. But it's hard work. People warned me that becoming a parent is a huge adjustment, and hard work. Yeah, they warned me. But no one warned me about the right things. When I say "hard work", I don't mean the late night feedings and diaper changes. I don't mean the times Olivia is fussy and it takes us time to pinpoint the reason. I don't mean the times when she projectile vomits after a feeding. I don't mean the times when changing her diaper is like wrestling an alligator who happens to be screaming like a banshee. I don't mean the times when she pees or poops mid diaper change, coating her surroundings in said bodily fluids. No, those times aren't hard. Those are the times I expected to encounter. Those times are seriously the last thing on my mind when I look at my daughter in my arms as she falls asleep, or even just looks around the room. When I watch my husband hold Olivia, and see how proud he is of her, the late night feedings, and blood curdling screams that Olivia somehow manages to produce aren't anywhere close to being a memory.
No, those aren't the reasons that having a two and a half week old is hard work. What makes being a parent hard work is the very thing that should be my support system. I expected people to ooh and ahh over my newborn, ask me about if she sleeps well at night, give me advice, and tell me how the time will fly by. I did not expect people to make me feel bad about certain aspects of how we are choosing to raise our child. (After only two and a half weeks, no less!) That is what we shall call Mom Shaming. Mom Shaming is what makes this whole parenting thing hard work. In actuality, Mom Shaming started even before Olivia was born.
Lack of Birth Plan:
A large number of people asked me before Olivia was born what our "birth plan" was. The question confused me every time someone asked me. I fought the urge every time to say "uhh, have a healthy baby?" like having a plan written on paper (or even in my mind) would somehow make its way into my womb, and update my unborn child on how to enter the world so my plan works out exactly how my husband and I had previously planned. I understand that it's important to be prepared. More than that, I understand that no amount of planning on my part will make the day go how I had planned. Truth be told, the reason I did not see fit to have a birth plan was the simple fact that if I had planned some elaborate step by step plan, and something had gone askew, that would have stressed me out more than not having a plan at all. Planning something as unpredictable as child birth seemed crazy to me. Yet a large number of people still responded like I was making a huge mistake when I dropped the bomb on them that I hadn't planned any aspect of giving birth. I had in my head how I would have liked for it to go, but the main thing was that I knew I needed to be flexible. I wanted to focus on bringing Olivia into the world safely instead of focusing on a step by step plan that likely wouldn't end up the way I had planned in the first place. If you want to have a birth plan, more power to you. For me, though, that wasn't something that we saw was necessary.
Having a C Section:
I never knew that having a child by C-Section somehow made people view me as less of a mother. I read a blog the other day about this, and it seriously confused me. C-Section or not, bringing a child into the world is an amazing thing. In other news, recovering from major surgery while having a newborn is a combination of two trying things. Having a child naturally and adjusting to a newborn is a big adjustment. Doing so while recovering from a surgery that leaves a large slice mark in the bottom of your abdomen while being on pain medicine that makes you groggy, and feeling like your insides might become outsides every time you sneeze or cough is rough. I've only given birth via C-Section, so I can't compare the two. But I can tell you that having a C-Section, while it was a quicker ordeal in the hospital than giving birth naturally, the recovery is no joke. About 12 hours after Olivia was born, the nurse said I needed to get up and go to the bathroom. It literally took me two hours (with the help of James and the nurse) to get up, walk across the room, go to the bathroom, and get back in the hospital bed. Sitting up in a chair, standing up, taking a shower, going to the bathroom, sneezing or coughing, and even sleeping are all extremely painful. Mix in late night feedings, diaper changes, getting used to a newborn, finding a schedule, etc, and I'm seriously bewildered why having a C-Section makes one less qualified to say that they've gone through labor. I'm not at all saying that giving birth naturally is less hard than giving birth via C-Section. I am saying, however, that when I say I had a C-Section, and people look at me like I'm a charity case, and a halfway mommy, it really grinds my gears.
Using (Or supplementing with) Formula:
A woman's body is created with the ability to produce breast milk. Some women have trouble (for whatever reason) feeding their newborn solely with breast milk. Be it that they aren't producing enough, their milk isn't all the way in, their baby can't latch on, their supply is close to drying up, etc. A majority of these women already feel upset if they can't make breast feeding work. If they have to solely use (or supplement with) formula in order to feed their child, judging or shaming them is the last thing you should do. Believe me, they're probably beating themselves up enough already. They don't need you to drop a judge face on them when you see them mixing up some formula with which to feed their newborn. You shaming them into "choosing not to breast feed" is the absolute last thing they need. I promise you that.
Being a Working Mom:
A number of people have told me lately that I should be a stay at home mom. Believe me, I'd love nothing more than to stay at home with Olivia (and her future siblings). I also have student loans as well as our other bills to pay every month. Not everyone has the ability to stay home with their kids are forego a salary, being a one salary family. When I say that I have to go back to work after maternity leave, and people look at me like I'm a horrible mother, it really bothers me. More power to those of the mothers in the world who are able to stay at home. I'm not talking about the people who are actually sympathetic to the fact that when my maternity leave ends, it's back to work I go. I'm talking about the people who tell me that I "should be" a stay at home mom. You know, the "oh, you don't love your child enough to find a way to make it work" face.
Baby Weight:
A cashier at the store the other day saw me with Olivia and asked how old she was. When I said, "two weeks", she very obviously looked at my stomach and said, "Oh, yes. I knew she had to be just born." Now, looking at Olivia and saying that wouldn't have offended me. Looking at my stomach and saying that was an anything but subtle way to suggest I rent a Uhaul to get my huge self to the gym. Talk about feeling some shame. Still wearing maternity clothes (half because I'm afraid to try on my pre-pregnancy clothes, and half due to the fact that my cut from C-Section isn't healed yet, and form fitting clothes hurt), a judgy up-down look from the lady at Target did anything but boost my new mommy mojo.
I'm not sure that people mom shame intentionally. I'm actually pretty sure that most of the time it's unintentional. The thing is, though, that when you have a child, a nice thing called Mom Guilt comes right along with it. Constantly wondering if you did something right or wrong. (If you should have had a birth plan after all, if you should have agreed to having a C-Section, if you are using formula, if you have to go back to work, and if you've yet to drop the baby weight.) I promise you that new moms beat themselves up enough. They question their actions enough. They do everything they do for their child. Not to please you and your way of doing things. Mom shaming, dropping the judge face, giving the "oh, you're doing it that way" look, or any other forms of these things is what makes being a new mom so hard. Constantly trying to do what is right by the standards drawn up by other people. James is constantly reminding me that we are doing what is best for Olivia, and that I shouldn't let the Mom Shaming get to me. I do believe it's the hardest part of being a new mom.
I think this video speaks volumes, so I'll just leave you with this.
No, those aren't the reasons that having a two and a half week old is hard work. What makes being a parent hard work is the very thing that should be my support system. I expected people to ooh and ahh over my newborn, ask me about if she sleeps well at night, give me advice, and tell me how the time will fly by. I did not expect people to make me feel bad about certain aspects of how we are choosing to raise our child. (After only two and a half weeks, no less!) That is what we shall call Mom Shaming. Mom Shaming is what makes this whole parenting thing hard work. In actuality, Mom Shaming started even before Olivia was born.
Lack of Birth Plan:
A large number of people asked me before Olivia was born what our "birth plan" was. The question confused me every time someone asked me. I fought the urge every time to say "uhh, have a healthy baby?" like having a plan written on paper (or even in my mind) would somehow make its way into my womb, and update my unborn child on how to enter the world so my plan works out exactly how my husband and I had previously planned. I understand that it's important to be prepared. More than that, I understand that no amount of planning on my part will make the day go how I had planned. Truth be told, the reason I did not see fit to have a birth plan was the simple fact that if I had planned some elaborate step by step plan, and something had gone askew, that would have stressed me out more than not having a plan at all. Planning something as unpredictable as child birth seemed crazy to me. Yet a large number of people still responded like I was making a huge mistake when I dropped the bomb on them that I hadn't planned any aspect of giving birth. I had in my head how I would have liked for it to go, but the main thing was that I knew I needed to be flexible. I wanted to focus on bringing Olivia into the world safely instead of focusing on a step by step plan that likely wouldn't end up the way I had planned in the first place. If you want to have a birth plan, more power to you. For me, though, that wasn't something that we saw was necessary.
Having a C Section:
I never knew that having a child by C-Section somehow made people view me as less of a mother. I read a blog the other day about this, and it seriously confused me. C-Section or not, bringing a child into the world is an amazing thing. In other news, recovering from major surgery while having a newborn is a combination of two trying things. Having a child naturally and adjusting to a newborn is a big adjustment. Doing so while recovering from a surgery that leaves a large slice mark in the bottom of your abdomen while being on pain medicine that makes you groggy, and feeling like your insides might become outsides every time you sneeze or cough is rough. I've only given birth via C-Section, so I can't compare the two. But I can tell you that having a C-Section, while it was a quicker ordeal in the hospital than giving birth naturally, the recovery is no joke. About 12 hours after Olivia was born, the nurse said I needed to get up and go to the bathroom. It literally took me two hours (with the help of James and the nurse) to get up, walk across the room, go to the bathroom, and get back in the hospital bed. Sitting up in a chair, standing up, taking a shower, going to the bathroom, sneezing or coughing, and even sleeping are all extremely painful. Mix in late night feedings, diaper changes, getting used to a newborn, finding a schedule, etc, and I'm seriously bewildered why having a C-Section makes one less qualified to say that they've gone through labor. I'm not at all saying that giving birth naturally is less hard than giving birth via C-Section. I am saying, however, that when I say I had a C-Section, and people look at me like I'm a charity case, and a halfway mommy, it really grinds my gears.
Using (Or supplementing with) Formula:
A woman's body is created with the ability to produce breast milk. Some women have trouble (for whatever reason) feeding their newborn solely with breast milk. Be it that they aren't producing enough, their milk isn't all the way in, their baby can't latch on, their supply is close to drying up, etc. A majority of these women already feel upset if they can't make breast feeding work. If they have to solely use (or supplement with) formula in order to feed their child, judging or shaming them is the last thing you should do. Believe me, they're probably beating themselves up enough already. They don't need you to drop a judge face on them when you see them mixing up some formula with which to feed their newborn. You shaming them into "choosing not to breast feed" is the absolute last thing they need. I promise you that.
Being a Working Mom:
A number of people have told me lately that I should be a stay at home mom. Believe me, I'd love nothing more than to stay at home with Olivia (and her future siblings). I also have student loans as well as our other bills to pay every month. Not everyone has the ability to stay home with their kids are forego a salary, being a one salary family. When I say that I have to go back to work after maternity leave, and people look at me like I'm a horrible mother, it really bothers me. More power to those of the mothers in the world who are able to stay at home. I'm not talking about the people who are actually sympathetic to the fact that when my maternity leave ends, it's back to work I go. I'm talking about the people who tell me that I "should be" a stay at home mom. You know, the "oh, you don't love your child enough to find a way to make it work" face.
Baby Weight:
A cashier at the store the other day saw me with Olivia and asked how old she was. When I said, "two weeks", she very obviously looked at my stomach and said, "Oh, yes. I knew she had to be just born." Now, looking at Olivia and saying that wouldn't have offended me. Looking at my stomach and saying that was an anything but subtle way to suggest I rent a Uhaul to get my huge self to the gym. Talk about feeling some shame. Still wearing maternity clothes (half because I'm afraid to try on my pre-pregnancy clothes, and half due to the fact that my cut from C-Section isn't healed yet, and form fitting clothes hurt), a judgy up-down look from the lady at Target did anything but boost my new mommy mojo.
I'm not sure that people mom shame intentionally. I'm actually pretty sure that most of the time it's unintentional. The thing is, though, that when you have a child, a nice thing called Mom Guilt comes right along with it. Constantly wondering if you did something right or wrong. (If you should have had a birth plan after all, if you should have agreed to having a C-Section, if you are using formula, if you have to go back to work, and if you've yet to drop the baby weight.) I promise you that new moms beat themselves up enough. They question their actions enough. They do everything they do for their child. Not to please you and your way of doing things. Mom shaming, dropping the judge face, giving the "oh, you're doing it that way" look, or any other forms of these things is what makes being a new mom so hard. Constantly trying to do what is right by the standards drawn up by other people. James is constantly reminding me that we are doing what is best for Olivia, and that I shouldn't let the Mom Shaming get to me. I do believe it's the hardest part of being a new mom.
I think this video speaks volumes, so I'll just leave you with this.
Monday, June 1, 2015
The Day We Met Our Daughter
It seems fitting that the best way to start this whole blog would be with a post of how our sweet girl entered this world. Birth stories are the thing to do now days, I suppose, so like the proud parent I am, I'll share Olivia's story. Saturday, May 16th, 2015 at 12:59 pm, our world was forever changed.
Let me start by saying that my goal was to have a 100% natural birth. My water breaking on its own, dilating at a normal rate, no medicine (especially no epidural!). You know, everything natural. I wasn't married to the idea of it, I just really wanted to see if I could do it. I had heard horror stories about epidurals, and how people were still feeling numbness days, weeks, and years later. I was well aware of the fact that I may get into labor and decide that the pain was too much to handle. In which case, James knew that if I said I wanted pain medicine, then I meant it. The only thing I was adamant about was the fact that I did not want to be induced, and I did not want an epidural or a c section.
My due date was May 24th, and as I was nearing that date, I began swelling. My feet were huge, and I had a big knot of swollen tissue in my stomach, right below my belly button. At my 38 week appointment (when I was actually 3 days away from being 39 weeks), the nurse took note of my swollen feet as well as the swelling in my stomach. She noted that my blood pressure was higher than it had been my whole pregnancy, and asked if I had been having head aches lately. I told her that I had head aches that felt like they were located behind my eye balls. She took note of all of the above, and said the doctor would be in shortly. Dr. Kurtz came in and told me that with my swollen feet and stomach, as well as my elevated blood pressure and constant head aches, I was in the early stages of pre-eclampsia. He said it was nothing to be alarmed about immediately, but that he was able to induce at 39 weeks if I was interested in him doing so. (This was Thursday, and I would have been 39 weeks on the following Sunday.) I had never been wild about the idea of being induced, but if I was in the early stages of pre-eclampsia, I was alright with it. He went ahead and scheduled for me to be induced on Tuesday, May 19th. I was to be at the hospital at 6:00 that morning. James and I still hoped that I would go on my own that weekend, so as not to have to be induced, but were still excited for Tuesday to come. Before I left, the nurse told me that if I did happen to go into labor that weekend, that it would be a good weekend to do so, because my doctor was the one that would be on call that weekend. She also told me that if I went into labor in the middle of the night, to go through the ER, but not to stop there, and to just go straight up to Labor & Delivery by way of ER, since those were the only doors that would be open in the middle of the night.
I told my boss that I would be induced on Tuesday, and that I would like for Friday to be my last day at work, so we could have Monday to go to bed early, since we would have to be at the hospital so early Tuesday morning. Friday night, I worked my last night at work, and went home, excited to have the weekend to prepare for our daughter to come home. Friday night, we went to bed, and I could not sleep at all. I was up several times, and tossing and turning all night long.
At 3:45am on Saturday, I woke up with a strange feeling. Almost like I had to go to the bathroom, but different. I sat up to hurry to the bathroom, and I realized that I was soaking wet. I ran to the bathroom, and a huge gush came right as I made it to the toilet. I called for James, and when he woke up I told him that I thought my water broke. He started to get out of the bed and noticed my side of the bed, and agreed with me. He cleaned up the bed, and I told him I'd take a shower and then we could go to the hospital. I cleaned up the bathroom and took a shower while he made sure we had everything in the car. On the way out the door, I grabbed a container of mini white powdered donuts to eat on the way, because I knew they wouldn't let me eat anything once we got to the hospital.
We got to the hospital about 4:30 Saturday morning. We went through the ER, and up to L&D. They put me in a room, and checked to make sure that my water had indeed broken. After the nurse did that, they admitted me. At that time, James called my mom to tell them to make it this way. They had been in New York the previous week, so he wanted to make sure they were on their way back, and wondered where they were. They had stopped half way the night before to sleep, so they were in West Virginia headed this way. He called his parents, and texted his sisters, and I texted my sisters to let them know that my water had broken, so they'd need to be headed this way before Tuesday.
They checked me, and I was at 2 cm at 5:00. She told us that it would be a long day since I was only at 2 cm. She gave me a banana popsicle, and James and I tried to get some rest. At 7:00, the day nurse came in, and checked me. I was still at 2 cm, so she started pitocin to hurry me along. The nurse (Darlene, who I LOVED) checked me every hour, and I was still at 2 cm. Dr. Kurtz came in about 9:00, and checked me. Still at 2 cm, and he commented how far back Olivia was, and that she was going to be a big baby.
At 11:00, Darlene came back in, and I was still at 2 cm. At this point, the pitocin was raised to 25, and I could feel the contractions, but nothing was changing. My blood pressure was starting to get higher, and Olivia's heart rate had dropped a little bit. (Neither one of those were a big enough deal to merit an emergency c section, but I was starting to wonder if I was ever going to progress.) James and I talked when Darlene left the room, and we talked about the options before us. We decided that if they mentioned a c section, then we would go that route as to avoid an emergency situation. Our thinking was that if I wasn't progressing, and it was going to end up in a c section anyway, we might as well go that route instead of having my cervix contract all day long, and put pressure on Olivia. I didn't want a c section to begin with at all, but I knew that if we were going to end up in one anyway, I'd rather it be our choice than an emergency situation.
11:30, Darlene came back in, and sheepishly asked how we felt about a c section if I was still at 2 cm at 12:00. James told her that we had just discussed that, and that we would rather go ahead and do it to avoid an emergency situation than to try to go naturally all day long, and end in the same way. She said she would tell Dr. Kurtz our feelings on it, and that they would both be in at noon. 12:00, Dr. Kurtz and Darlene came in. Dr. Kurtz checked me. Still at 2 cm, and Olivia was still really far back, even though my pitocin was as high as they could give me, and I was feeling the contractions. I texted my family and told them that we would be doing a c section, and that I'd start being prepped at noon. They all started driving to get here.
Dr. Kurtz was really apologetic, and asked me a few times if it was really what I wanted to have a c section. He knew that I wanted all natural, so he wanted to make sure. James asked him if he thought it was necessary, and told him our thoughts. Dr. Kurtz said that he agreed with our thinking, and that he'd rather go ahead and do it than for my blood pressure to keep rising, and Olivia's heart rate to drop more, and then end up in the Operating Room anyway. Dr. Kurtz made sure that we were ok with it, and then told us that I would be prepped for surgery.
At 12:10, the anesthesiologist came in and told me what would happen, and what to expect. Darlene came back in and gave James a pair of scrubs to wear. Darlene left us alone for the last few minutes, and James said a prayer for surgery to go well, and thanked God for us being healthy up to this point.
At 12:20, they wheeled me into the operating room, and told James to wait until they came to get him. The anesthesiologist gave me the shot in my lower back, and prepped me for surgery. At 12:30, I told her that I was feeling nauseous, so she gave me some oxygen, and my nausea began to subside. I heard James and Dr. Kurtz walk in, and I looked at the clock. 12:40. James held my hand while the nurses and Dr. Kurtz did their thing on the other side of the curtain. I could feel pressure, but no pain. I heard Dr. Kurtz telling the nurses that there's no way Olivia could have come out on her own anyway because she was big, and so far back. I heard one nurse say, "Look at that hair!", and then I heard Olivia cry. I remember asking James, "Was that her? Is she here?" He looked over the curtain and nodded yes as he squeezed my hand. The nurse said, "Go take a picture, Daddy!" James kissed my forehead, and I saw them bring Olivia around the curtain to clean her up. I saw her wild and crazy hair all over the place, and that's all I could see as they walked her past me. James went over to the table and took pictures.
The nurse told me she was born at 12:59, weighed 8 pounds and 3 ounces, was 19 1/2 inches long, and that she was perfectly healthy. Not sure if it was the anesthesia, or the fact that the day was such a whirlwind, but after that, it was all a blur. I don't remember going back to the room to recover, but I remember family coming in for a few minutes before Darlene kicked them all out. After 2 hours in L&D unit, they sent us to the Mother Baby unit, and our family came in to see us in shifts.
If you made it this far into reading this post, kudos to you. I'm so thankful for our healthy daughter, who we believe is perfect. At the end of the day, it really didn't matter to me that I had a c section, or that it wasn't exactly how I had planned. I'm just so thankful that she's here, and healthy. And for now, our family is complete.
Let me start by saying that my goal was to have a 100% natural birth. My water breaking on its own, dilating at a normal rate, no medicine (especially no epidural!). You know, everything natural. I wasn't married to the idea of it, I just really wanted to see if I could do it. I had heard horror stories about epidurals, and how people were still feeling numbness days, weeks, and years later. I was well aware of the fact that I may get into labor and decide that the pain was too much to handle. In which case, James knew that if I said I wanted pain medicine, then I meant it. The only thing I was adamant about was the fact that I did not want to be induced, and I did not want an epidural or a c section.
My due date was May 24th, and as I was nearing that date, I began swelling. My feet were huge, and I had a big knot of swollen tissue in my stomach, right below my belly button. At my 38 week appointment (when I was actually 3 days away from being 39 weeks), the nurse took note of my swollen feet as well as the swelling in my stomach. She noted that my blood pressure was higher than it had been my whole pregnancy, and asked if I had been having head aches lately. I told her that I had head aches that felt like they were located behind my eye balls. She took note of all of the above, and said the doctor would be in shortly. Dr. Kurtz came in and told me that with my swollen feet and stomach, as well as my elevated blood pressure and constant head aches, I was in the early stages of pre-eclampsia. He said it was nothing to be alarmed about immediately, but that he was able to induce at 39 weeks if I was interested in him doing so. (This was Thursday, and I would have been 39 weeks on the following Sunday.) I had never been wild about the idea of being induced, but if I was in the early stages of pre-eclampsia, I was alright with it. He went ahead and scheduled for me to be induced on Tuesday, May 19th. I was to be at the hospital at 6:00 that morning. James and I still hoped that I would go on my own that weekend, so as not to have to be induced, but were still excited for Tuesday to come. Before I left, the nurse told me that if I did happen to go into labor that weekend, that it would be a good weekend to do so, because my doctor was the one that would be on call that weekend. She also told me that if I went into labor in the middle of the night, to go through the ER, but not to stop there, and to just go straight up to Labor & Delivery by way of ER, since those were the only doors that would be open in the middle of the night.
I told my boss that I would be induced on Tuesday, and that I would like for Friday to be my last day at work, so we could have Monday to go to bed early, since we would have to be at the hospital so early Tuesday morning. Friday night, I worked my last night at work, and went home, excited to have the weekend to prepare for our daughter to come home. Friday night, we went to bed, and I could not sleep at all. I was up several times, and tossing and turning all night long.
At 3:45am on Saturday, I woke up with a strange feeling. Almost like I had to go to the bathroom, but different. I sat up to hurry to the bathroom, and I realized that I was soaking wet. I ran to the bathroom, and a huge gush came right as I made it to the toilet. I called for James, and when he woke up I told him that I thought my water broke. He started to get out of the bed and noticed my side of the bed, and agreed with me. He cleaned up the bed, and I told him I'd take a shower and then we could go to the hospital. I cleaned up the bathroom and took a shower while he made sure we had everything in the car. On the way out the door, I grabbed a container of mini white powdered donuts to eat on the way, because I knew they wouldn't let me eat anything once we got to the hospital.
We got to the hospital about 4:30 Saturday morning. We went through the ER, and up to L&D. They put me in a room, and checked to make sure that my water had indeed broken. After the nurse did that, they admitted me. At that time, James called my mom to tell them to make it this way. They had been in New York the previous week, so he wanted to make sure they were on their way back, and wondered where they were. They had stopped half way the night before to sleep, so they were in West Virginia headed this way. He called his parents, and texted his sisters, and I texted my sisters to let them know that my water had broken, so they'd need to be headed this way before Tuesday.
They checked me, and I was at 2 cm at 5:00. She told us that it would be a long day since I was only at 2 cm. She gave me a banana popsicle, and James and I tried to get some rest. At 7:00, the day nurse came in, and checked me. I was still at 2 cm, so she started pitocin to hurry me along. The nurse (Darlene, who I LOVED) checked me every hour, and I was still at 2 cm. Dr. Kurtz came in about 9:00, and checked me. Still at 2 cm, and he commented how far back Olivia was, and that she was going to be a big baby.
At 11:00, Darlene came back in, and I was still at 2 cm. At this point, the pitocin was raised to 25, and I could feel the contractions, but nothing was changing. My blood pressure was starting to get higher, and Olivia's heart rate had dropped a little bit. (Neither one of those were a big enough deal to merit an emergency c section, but I was starting to wonder if I was ever going to progress.) James and I talked when Darlene left the room, and we talked about the options before us. We decided that if they mentioned a c section, then we would go that route as to avoid an emergency situation. Our thinking was that if I wasn't progressing, and it was going to end up in a c section anyway, we might as well go that route instead of having my cervix contract all day long, and put pressure on Olivia. I didn't want a c section to begin with at all, but I knew that if we were going to end up in one anyway, I'd rather it be our choice than an emergency situation.
11:30, Darlene came back in, and sheepishly asked how we felt about a c section if I was still at 2 cm at 12:00. James told her that we had just discussed that, and that we would rather go ahead and do it to avoid an emergency situation than to try to go naturally all day long, and end in the same way. She said she would tell Dr. Kurtz our feelings on it, and that they would both be in at noon. 12:00, Dr. Kurtz and Darlene came in. Dr. Kurtz checked me. Still at 2 cm, and Olivia was still really far back, even though my pitocin was as high as they could give me, and I was feeling the contractions. I texted my family and told them that we would be doing a c section, and that I'd start being prepped at noon. They all started driving to get here.
Dr. Kurtz was really apologetic, and asked me a few times if it was really what I wanted to have a c section. He knew that I wanted all natural, so he wanted to make sure. James asked him if he thought it was necessary, and told him our thoughts. Dr. Kurtz said that he agreed with our thinking, and that he'd rather go ahead and do it than for my blood pressure to keep rising, and Olivia's heart rate to drop more, and then end up in the Operating Room anyway. Dr. Kurtz made sure that we were ok with it, and then told us that I would be prepped for surgery.
At 12:10, the anesthesiologist came in and told me what would happen, and what to expect. Darlene came back in and gave James a pair of scrubs to wear. Darlene left us alone for the last few minutes, and James said a prayer for surgery to go well, and thanked God for us being healthy up to this point.
At 12:20, they wheeled me into the operating room, and told James to wait until they came to get him. The anesthesiologist gave me the shot in my lower back, and prepped me for surgery. At 12:30, I told her that I was feeling nauseous, so she gave me some oxygen, and my nausea began to subside. I heard James and Dr. Kurtz walk in, and I looked at the clock. 12:40. James held my hand while the nurses and Dr. Kurtz did their thing on the other side of the curtain. I could feel pressure, but no pain. I heard Dr. Kurtz telling the nurses that there's no way Olivia could have come out on her own anyway because she was big, and so far back. I heard one nurse say, "Look at that hair!", and then I heard Olivia cry. I remember asking James, "Was that her? Is she here?" He looked over the curtain and nodded yes as he squeezed my hand. The nurse said, "Go take a picture, Daddy!" James kissed my forehead, and I saw them bring Olivia around the curtain to clean her up. I saw her wild and crazy hair all over the place, and that's all I could see as they walked her past me. James went over to the table and took pictures.
The nurse told me she was born at 12:59, weighed 8 pounds and 3 ounces, was 19 1/2 inches long, and that she was perfectly healthy. Not sure if it was the anesthesia, or the fact that the day was such a whirlwind, but after that, it was all a blur. I don't remember going back to the room to recover, but I remember family coming in for a few minutes before Darlene kicked them all out. After 2 hours in L&D unit, they sent us to the Mother Baby unit, and our family came in to see us in shifts.
If you made it this far into reading this post, kudos to you. I'm so thankful for our healthy daughter, who we believe is perfect. At the end of the day, it really didn't matter to me that I had a c section, or that it wasn't exactly how I had planned. I'm just so thankful that she's here, and healthy. And for now, our family is complete.
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