I was talking with a dear friend of mine, writer and creator of TinyHumanNewbie.com (go check her out!) and she made me realize that I haven't shared my birth story with Connor on the blog. At first, I thought that was insane, but the more I searched through old posts, the more I realized that it made sense. When I started this blog, he was nearly a year old. I was so focused on the here and now that I didn't even think to share the story of his birth.
After miscarrying our first baby, I was always hyper-concerned that something would go wrong. Every little feeling or lack thereof put me on edge. I remember laying in bed perfectly still, on more than one occasion, waiting to feel the baby move because I was so worried that something had gone wrong in my sleep. There were weeks when I wouldn't get out of bed until I felt him move a few times, so I could be sure he was doing ok in there.
I watched What to Expect When You're Expecting weekly, and every time Anna Kendrick's character lost her baby, I'd ball my eyes out and hug the crap out of my belly. Once I got further along in my pregnancy than she was, I would worry that I'd have a birth experience like Elizabeth Banks' character. An emergency c-section was my absolute worst fear, so of course that's what I ended up having.
We scheduled my induction for the 21st of August. I was still teaching at the time, so I wanted to schedule his arrival for before the school year actually started so that I didn't have to worry about going into labor in the middle of 5th period. Surprisingly (or maybe not so surprisingly), I received some backlash from random people for scheduling my baby's birth to be convenient for me. I politely told them to back off, it's my baby and my choice. They can do it their way and I'll continue to do it mine. Wtf, people?
On the morning of my induction, I was super anxious and ready to get over with. Birth terrified me and I really just wanted my baby out and in my arms. I didn't want to go through the whole process of getting him out of me.
8:00 am- started pitocin
9:00- water broke
9:15-Contractions get super bad, ask for the drugs
10:00-drugs are a miracle; I feel amazing
11:30- Nurse starts trying to reposition me and the baby (doesn't really explain why)
12:45- Turn off my pitocin drip and the nurses explain that every time I have a contraction, Connor's heart rate drops some. They tell me not to worry and call my Dr.
1:00- The nurses give me a shot of something to stop my contractions entirely until my Dr could get there.
1:25- Dr arrives and checks me out. Says she wants to give my body a few more minutes to sort things through itself and she needs to eat, so she'll be back in 20 minutes.
1:45 (ish)- Dr informs me that even without the meds triggering contractions, Connor's heart rate still drops with every one of my body's regular, little contractions. I'm at 9 cm at this point. She says we have two choices: 1) turn the pitocin back on and try and push me that last cm and delivery that way, or 2) c-section. She recommends c-section, because he may not be able to handle pushing that last cm and all the contractions involved. She thinks a c-section would be safest for everyone. C-section it is.
2:00- they start prepping Mike and I for surgery (getting him dressed; getting me drugged up more)
2:30- They wheel me into the operating room, and tell Mike to chill for a minute while they get things set up, then they'll come get him.
2:45- Mike's in the room
2:54- They make the first incision
2:56- Connor is born
3:25 (ish)- I'm stitched up and back in my room holding my sweet baby.
The sad truth is that I don't really remember his birth. I was in and out of awareness, thanks to all the drugs that kept me numb and comfy. I didn't even get to hold him right away. Skin-to-skin time wasn't an option. I was too loopy to hold anything. My arms were attached by velcro straps to the table so they wouldn't fall and the monitors and crap could get proper readings. I vaguely remember hearing him and seeing him. Mike says he held him and took pictures (shout out to the nurse that told him to get his phone out and take pictures) but I don't remember any of that.
As I'm writing this, I'm realizing that the reason I haven't written this story is because I don't remember it very well and it makes me sad. I have next to no memory of the first several hours of my son's life because I was so loopy and on all the drugs.
For all the mommas who have had emergency c-sections and been told that you didn't give birth the "right" way, I'm with you and those people are full of shit. If your birth story didn't go the way you had planned, for any reason at all, I'm with you and it's ok to feel badly about it. I wish I could have had a different story to tell, but life had it's own plans.
Connor's birth changed things for me. Not just in the obvious "I have a baby now" kind of way, but also in my perception and self confidence. Every single one of my worst fears came true with his birth, and yet there we were: happy, healthy, and together.
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