While it's still Fresh

We went in to the maternity triage on Saturday night because we weren’t feeling a lot of movement.  On examination, Sara wasn’t effaced or dilated, and even though she was having regular contractions on the monitor, all she felt was a little crampy.  Putting them on the monitor showed that there was a pattern to them, but they weren’t anything to write home about…so they sent us home.  Sara said…”Looks like it’s going to be another week…”

Little did we know that it was the calm before the storm.

Sunday began beautifully.  Sara wanted to stay near home and was going to try and make some cookies that she found on the Betty Crocker site (which were scrumptious, btw) and I had absolutely no intention of over exerting myself in any way.  No surprise there.

We went over to William’s Sonoma and got the food coloring paste for the cookies (Sara insists that she wasn’t nesting, “Honest.”), stopping briefly before at Starbucks and after at MooseJaw (I’m getting disappointed in them, rant more on that later).  Then we went over to the grocery to get the final ingredients and some random items and headed home.

About 3:30pm or so Sara decided that her contractions were actually strong and timely enough that we should start keeping track.  They weren’t extremely strong, but they were regular (about five minutes apart) so she started making cookies (REALLY, she WASN’T nesting) and I went to Best Buy to get a pair of cheap speakers so that we could play her “Labor” play list at the hospital on her iPod.  We called the midwives around this time, and Kathy told us to hang out at home, and that if they got stronger or more frequent, call again and head over to the hospital.

I got back with the speakers and loaded a few things into the car.  Sara continued to make cookies (while NOT nesting) and make like she wasn’t having contractions while she talked on the phone as just about every female acquaintance that we have called her that evening. 

Sara finished nesting…er, the cookies while I timed her contractions ( I have an extremely accurate log of start and end times for about two pages in my notebook, I might put up a graph later if you are all lucky), and around eight or so she decided that contractions were getting pretty strong, even though they had slowed a bit, and maybe we should think about going to the hospital.

Sara laid down for 45 minutes.

I finished loading  a few items into the car.

Sara painted her toe nails.

At 10 pm we bolted for the hospital as the contractions picked up their pace, got to skip the long and drawn out triage questions since we had answered them all the night before, and went upstairs where they hooked her back up to the monitor and examined her to find that she had softened and dilated to 2cm.  Impressive.

We were admitted and packed off to the Delivery room, pausing in the hall for a contraction every couple of minutes or so.

We got into our delivery room about midnight and then the “fun” began.  Sara labored hard and well until about 4am, but because we had such a late start, she didn’t get much rest, and was pretty wiped out. She was dilated to 6cm and needed regroup.

We went into the labor room thinking that she didn’t want pain medicine or an epideral, and when she just couldn’t focus anymore she was looking depressed at having to ask for pain meds (which, in hind site, were pointless, and we should have moved right to the epideral, which we got anyway), but everyone (including Sara) knew that the hard work was still in front of her, and she needed her strength.

When the Staydol only lasted 45 of the supposed 90 minutes and she hadn’t had any rest, we agreed that the epideral was our best shot at her getting any rest before pushing started, and by 6am or so she was drugged and sleeping. 

Her water broke some time between then and 8am when she woke up with the urge to push.  Chaos ensued.

For those of you that have done this (either as a mother, father or partner), you know that there is no way to describe the beauty and emotions that are in the delivery room to someone that hasn’t.  However, I stand by my statement that anytime a young man is told that he needs to “Man Up” it is preparation for looking down into your wife or partner’s agonised face, watching the little creature that is your child burst forth into life covered in said wife or partner’s insides and still thinking that the two of them are the most beautiful things on the planet.  You do and they are, but the contradiction of the realities is pretty staggering for the unprepared.

Sara pushed for about 70 minutes, and really was a natural.  Once the midwife helped her focus on the area to push, just about all of them were productive, and once little Rachel crowned, Sara was overwhelmed by a contraction, pushed and nearly shot little bean across the room before the midwife could tell her to stop (which, c’mon, that isn’t fair, nor is it humanly possible – which lends to my argument that women aren’t human, but more on that later).

The rest of the two hours in the delivery room were focused on meeting Rachel, and I tell you, my two ladies have only become more beautiful as my week has gone on.

By Monday night after people had come to visit, I had been up for 36 hours.  I couldn’t sleep at all while Sara was sleeping in the delivery room as every contraction made her gasp or cry out in pain in some way, so sleep was a fallacy.

Tuesday was a quiet day.  No one came up to the hospital until the evening, so we had the day to bond with Rachel (save, of course, for the hour that I spent in the ER due to a mishap with hot water, a styrofoam cup and my right eye – I’m accident prone and the OB nusrse MADE me go – something about liability – *blah* whatever).  I went home Tuesday night and prepped the house and brought my precious cargo home yesterday.  We didn’t get much sleep last night (Sara less than I), but already Sara’s milk is in and the feedings are a little further apart, so maybe a little more tonight.

Hey, c’mon, one can hope, right?

I went and bought a couple of pink things today (clothing for Rachel, that is), as well as other items that we needed that we didn’t think of until we HAD the baby and thought “Hrm, how are we going to do THAT?” and we took Rachel to the pediatrcian’s office for her first check up this afternoon.

“You have a perfect little baby.” says the Doctor.

D’uh, lady, I could have told you that before we got here.