Now that my body has adjusted to thinking three consecutive hours of sleep is a well rested night, I find that I actually have energy to blog. So, starting at the beginning...
Sunday, April 14 I went to church and almost immediately began having regular, uncomfortable contractions. I sat through most of church, and by third block I couldn't focus on anything but the intense pain that shot around my left side every five minutes. We left church, I ate something, rested, walked around.... And the contractions stopped. Whew. Just in time for our dinner date with a wonderful family in the ward. The car ride over started them up again, but I was able to walk them off again.
Of course the next few days I felt like a bomb waiting to go off. And car rides became increasingly uncomfortable.
My sister arrived to hang out with us, and I called my mom to ask her to come a few days early so JD could pick her up because I was no longer equal to riding in the car. Saturday, April 20 arrived cold and sunny after two days of pouring rain. We went to go help clean up the aftermath of some pretty bad flooding in our ward area. (one of the benefits of having a sister just back from her mission visit is she would rather be put to work than sit around doing nothing at home). We hung out at home the rest of the day, and my mom arrived at 5 and my husband went to pick her up. Immediately upon arrival at our apartment she made us dinner ( she's pretty much amazing like that). At 6 I started feeling contractions again, so I started to time them, but was determined not to get excited after Sunday, in fact I was rather annoyed at having two false starts. The contractions continued while we watched The Life of Pi, beautiful film btw, and were starting to get more insistent. We went to bed. I couldn't sleep because I was too uncomfortable. I turned to J and said, "even if this isn't the real thing,I think I'd better call the on just in case." He agreed and so I called to report seven minutes apart and thirty seconds long at about 11 pm. It's amazing how fast hours go by when they are broken into 7 minute intervals. I decided I wanted to soak in the warm tub, so we filled the tub and I crawled in while J continued to time. We called again around 2 am to hear we should head to the hospital. We left around 3 and arrived at the birth unit to be received by really nice nurses, we got put in a room with a birthing tub, and the nurse hooked me up to IV antibiotics then checked me to the welcome tune of 90 percent effaced 4 centimeters dilated with baby at a negative one station. I hung out on the bed with the IV and fetal monitor for what felt like hours before our doula arrived, but what I'm sure was probably less than an hour. My amazing J was right th the whole time as I was getting more and more intensely focused on breathing through the contractions. The doula arrived just as I was unable to relax, and she gave me a lavender foot massage... Which helped immensely. Soon thereafter the midwife arrived, she checked me again but I really didn't care how progressed I was. Although ido remember joking with her about how soon our baby would be born, she said before lunch, and i said " we are planning lunch at 10, right? " beyond that, All i cared about was when I could get into the tub. Eventually they ok'd the tub, and I climbed in. Every step i took increased the discomfort of the contractions. once i was in, though, The jets were amazing. All I remember was the warm water, the jets, my husbands hand squeezing mine, and using vocal sounds to avoid pushing. The need to push was so strong and inescapable that without the constant urging of our doula and midwife not to push I would not have been able to control it. After a few hours I started to feel sick being in the tub, more so than the wave of nausea every time a contraction hit. They helped me out of the tub, and back to the bed where I measured 100 percent effaced and 9.5 centimeters with our girl at a plus one. They had me get up and go to the bathroom, then told me I could start to push. I'd never been so relieved in my life. By this time I'd been begging to push for a while. I pushed and pushed... With the birthing bar, in a semi squat, and then they had me turn on my side to help our baby turn. It felt so good to push. After almost an hour I was so exhausted, but they had me reach down and tough the baby's head.. Which didn't at all rejuvenate my energy. In fact I wanted to tell them I couldn't spare the energy to do it, but I didn't have the energy to tell them. However just a few pushes later out she came and they had me reach down and take her. It was 9:45, and it was the most powerful moment of my life.
Even now remembering how it felt to hold her, I cry. I was exhausted and exultant. A joy and energy totally separate from my bodily fatigue filled me. They let the cord stop pulsing and JD cut it. Meanwhile we were trying to deliver the placenta, which was not fun. They mashed my tummy (ow) and gave me some pitocin (didn't feel any difference at all) and mashed some more (double ow). But finally it came out and I was really and truly done. They let me hold our little girl for almost two hours before weighing her and toweling her off. There was almost no blood or gunk on her at all. She was perfect. She nursed there, and we just rested together.
Our recovery went great, only small micro tears, no stitches needed. No hemmeroids. She had brought the lip of my cervix with her on the way down, but that receded nicely. I couldn't have asked for a more beautiful first birth.
