labor

The day after our drive + hike in Logan Canyon, I woke up to go potty at around 6:00am + noticed my underwear was kind-of-not-dry, and I wondered if maybe my water had broken. But then I remembered having read something along the lines of, "When your water breaks, you'll know it." My underwear wasn't that wet, so I changed and got back in bed for a little bit longer before getting up and going to work.

That Monday was the normalest Monday of all Mondays. I had an IEP after school, then went home and thought about making dinner.

When I got home, I went potty again (because the bladder of a pregnant lady is a ridiculous thing), and I noticed my underwear was wet again. I knew I hadn't peed my pants, so I called my doctor's office and had a chat with the nurse there. She told me to change my underwear and walk around for a bit, and if it happened again, I should go to the hospital and have them check me out.

I made dinner and double checked that my hospital bag was completely packed, then went to the bathroom and checked just as Andy was driving home from work. 

As you probably guessed, it had happened again. Andy and I ate, and ran to Hobby Lobby really quickly (because I had to get some stuff for a Relief Society activity to take place that week). When we got home, we both took a shower, Andy gave me a blessing, and we headed to the hospital.

We checked in at about 7:00pm and discovered that I was, in fact, leaking amniotic fluid, and that I probably had been for the past 13 hours. 

Before your raise your eyebrows any further, know that I hadn't felt a single contraction. They checked, and I was still only dilated to a 2 and 80% effaced; nothing had changed in the past 2 weeks. But because my water had broken, I was technically in labor, so they had me stay.

They started me on an antibiotic to ward off any infection I might've acquired over the past 13 hours, and at about 9pm, they started me on pitocin (because I still wasn't having any contractions and I wasn't progressing on my own).

Andy and I watched some Lord of the Rings while the pitocin started doing its thing, and this is where things got a bit hazy for me. I remember feeling uncomfortable with contractions, and I remember being stupidly tired. The sweet nursing staff came in and checked on me regularly and I was still progressing slowly. 

At about 12:30 on Tuesday morning, the anesthesiologist gave me an epidural, and I got really giggly because of the sweet relief. Man alive, the epidural was wonderful.

Andy and I tried to sleep after that. I actually succeeded in catching a few cat naps throughout the night, but poor Andy couldn't sleep at all. 

The combination of the epidural + being so tired + not fully being aware of the clock, makes for a messed up timeline in my own head, but here's what I can recall...

I had progressed okay, but got stuck at around 4.5 cm for a very long while--long enough, in fact, that they were discussing the possibility a c-section. Also, sometime that morning, my epidural was wearing off, and I could really feel the contractions on one side. And they hurt. A lot. Andy rubbed my back and tried to help as much as he could as I cried into my pillow. When my sweet nurses checked on me, they turned me on my other side to allow gravity help the medication move around, and they were extra vigilant to make sure they flipped me every couple of hours + things went much more smoothly.

Things really started picking up at around 11:00am, and at 11:30, it was time to push. At that point, I kind of fell apart and cried; I was about to become a mother! I was going to meet my son very soon!

My nurses had warned me that, as a first timer, pushing could take anywhere between one and three hours.

For some silly reason, I thought (even after having been in active labor for well over 12 hours) that I might be one of those moms you hear about who literally only had push three or four times. 

Silly, stupid Gina. THEY HAD WARNED ME.

At some point during all the pushing, I threw up. I told my nurse I was feeling sick and she got me a bag in the nick of time. I hadn't had anything to eat besides ice chips and a few bites of Jell-o since 5:30 the night before, so there was only bile. Yuck.

My nurse told that vomiting is actually a really effective way to help push a baby out, and that helped me feel a bit better about having been sick during labor.

I surprised myself and used the mirror they offered, and it ended up being incredibly helpful. 

At 1:00pm, my doctor walked in to check on me, and he said, "Let's have this baby." And I was thinking, "Hey, man, I've been pushing for an hour and a half, do you think that saying it will make it so?" But he meant business, because he got dressed in what, in my exhausted state, looked like a hazmat suit, got in position, looked me in the eye, and told me to push. 

At that point, I only had to push a couple of times, and after 100 minutes of pushing, there he was. 

My Thomas.

He had the cutest little cry as they cleaned him up + weighed him + did the APGAR tests...but when they plopped him on my tummy, he was so quiet and alert.

He weighed 6 lb., 15 oz., and was 20.5 inches long. A little squirt.

And man, oh man, that first moment of holding my newborn son; cradling him in my arms; looking at him as he looked at me; feeling his soft skin against mine...it was all so magical and exhilarating and reverent. I held him close and whispered, "Hello, handsome! I'm your Momma, and I love you so much!"

I can't even tell you what, exactly, was going on around me. I know that Dr. Horsley was busy with the aftermath of delivery, and there was a team of nurses doing...stuff. But I only had eyes for my boys, Andy and Thomas. 

When the team left and it quieted down, Tommy and I tried nursing for the first time. After a few short minutes, I started shaking and felt sick again, so Andy got some one-on-one time with his little boy as I threw up some more and the nurse put heated blankets on top of me and got my post-birth shock, I think it was, under control.

I felt guilty that I couldn't nurse for longer immediately after he was born, but watching Andy with Thomas that first hour or two is one of the most precious things I've ever seen. Man alive, I married a good man.

Labor was long. And hard. And painful. And exhausting. But, dang it, I'd do it again for my sweet little Thomas. 

Getting to know him on the outside, especially in those first few days, was so tender. I felt like I knew him so well already, but I just could not get enough of his sweet face + his heavenly smell.

I fell for his face the moment I clapped eyes on him

I did it. I pushed a baby out of me. And as hard and awful and tiring as it was, I'm so glad I did it. 

Hello, baby boy!

one day old

Thomas on his due date, a whole week old!
He's always had a ridiculously expressive face.

Tommy and his little friends, Rowlf and Kermie.