Transfer

Brought over from my Myspace blog, since I'm afraid it will disappear into the ether as I continue to neglect said site.

Tuesday, December 01, 2009

Turkeys and birthdays Current mood:enamored Category: Life Thanksgiving here was exactly what it needed to be for Harlan, Mom and myself, and that was LAZY. No time constraints, things plucked slowly along as we felt like doing and we spent loads of time on the couch between whiles. We even got crazy and baked a frozen pie a day early for my birthday (we're not big cake eaters, and when your birthday is one day off a major food holiday you get used to sharing it at a young age; no complaints) and nibbled on that while waiting for the turkey to finish roasting. Yum. Then, Friday morning (yep, Black Friday, my birthday, and one I planned on staying holed up inside because the whole shopping craze freaks me out) I woke up to some strange belly activity. Starting around 4AM, I hopped in the shower and decided it was false labor. Sat and watched a bad movie on demand with the sound almost completely off so as not to disturb anyone else, since I wasn't quite comfortable laying down and couldn't get back to sleep right away, then tried the bed thing again. Come 10:30 or so, woke back up to much of the same, except this time the shower didn't have any effect. A flurry of activity ensued as Mom and Harlan flew around emptying the car, rigging up car seats, finding hospital bags and packing new ones and throwing new stuff in the already packed ones...then we went back to chilling out, more or less, because things at that point weren't far enough along to merit heading out. Till about...Noon? Noon-thirty? Harlan called the midwife, and I about snapped when he tried to give me the phone mid-contraction (I was bent over the table in the hallway, unable to speak, and she apparently wanted to "hear me". Dunno what she was listening for, since I couldn't do much other than try and make myself breathe). Then it was time to go. As an aside to anyone out there who's never been pregnant but might be some day---that car ride? You'll think it's the most uncomfortable thing EVER...till you actually hit active labor. We got to the hospital, Harlan ran out for the wheelchair, I got in it and Mom went to park...and Harlan and I immediately found ourselves lost in empty corridors with nary a doctor in sight. The whole complex is linked up, so technically it's one big building...but were we went in, the elevator didn't go to the right floor. So we got out and found a different elevator...which ALSO didn't go to the right floor. It was funny then, and it's freakin hysterical now. We have a long and distinguished history of getting lost while going places we've already been, but I really think this one took the cake. We passed at least 4 empty nurses' stations before we stumbled on the correct set of elevators. Once we got there...well...You know how it goes...Or if you don't, it goes like hours of contractions that get progressively worse, till you find yourself hollering into whatever you can find to shove your face against, be it the back of a chair, the bed, or your husband's stomach. (Good man.) I went from being kind of proud of myself, thinking "Okay, yes. This sucks. This sucks pretty hard, in fact. But it's not SOOO bad that I need to be making a big racket like they always show...This is going to be doable..." And it's a good thing I was still at that point when the nurse (henceforth referred to by Yvonne, which was her name) explained about the hour or so it takes to get the medication set up in case I decided I wanted it. I was still super-cocky at that point, but I definitely remember the point where I had to move to the bed to try some different positions to get my flipping cervix out of the way and thought, "Wow...I totally understand why people would want medication to get through this." Another side note--The point where, if your cervix is posterior (there's basically a little lip that wont' get out of the way, therefore stopping the progression of labor and getting pinched and stuff), the nurse has to manually push it out of the way so things can get moving is the point where you realize the car trip weren't nothin'. It's hard for me to say how quickly things progressed throughout the day--I was a little too preoccupied to track the hours. Yvonne was pretty much fantastic, and not only kept me moving around to different positions to keep things productive (despite my exhaustion--she just had the demeanor that made me listen instead of getting pissed off) was extraordinarily tolerant of my almost breaking her thumb ("Ana, honey, Yvonne has small children and you're going to break her thumb, I need you to let go.") Harlan was right there, making sure I had the numb hand so it wasn't such an issue, and even sat behind me at one point to help me out since I couldn't hang on to him with both hands otherwise. I actually pulled something in my shoulder trying before Yvonne got him set up in the bed with me. Mom was apparently pushing and breathing with me, though I was oblivious to it at the time; she was kind of the background support and providing necessary fanning and juice. You have not experienced cotton mouth until you've been in labor. After about five hours, Garrett Cole made his appearance (6:05 PM) and I really couldn't do anything but look at him saying "Oh my god" when they put him on my chest. I did register very quickly that he wasn't a scary alien-baby, and then after they wiped his face a bit I realized he was actually a pretty darn good looking newborn. After a while, it was time to cut the cord, and I would've laughed if I hadn't been so exhausted when they looked at Harlan all expectantly. We both said "Noooo that's not necessary, but Grandma can do it if she wants!". They blinked a little, but went with it, and Mom did in fact cut the cord (...ew). I had to stay lying down while they put a few stitches in (I guess my "grunty pushes" weren't quite grunty enough) and Harlan got to snoodle the baby while they did the initial procedures. He weighed exactly six pounds, which everyone was amazed by (to the point where they insisted we take a picture of the numbers on the scale) and can stretch out to 18 3/4 inches. Yvonne and the others coo'ed over how tiny and perfect he was, especially how alert he was. Medicated babies don't stare at everyone around them with big, wide blue eyes, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened. I had other things I was going to add, but it'll have to wait, as he just mew'ed from the bed. More to come.

In response to a comment regarding the pain:

The funny thing about it as far as pain goes--the instant he was out I was like "WOAH I feel better!" Renenbering it, it doesn't really stand out as having been bad despite being the single most physically demanding thing I've ever done...like, I have to try and step back for the logical, "Might not seem that bad now, but there was a reason I was screaming and (apparently) cussing the whole time."
Little Man is amazing though--totally worth it.