Sunday, February 05, 2006

Meh, who cares about the stupor bowl.

Today is my middle boy's seventh birthday. Happy Birthday Alec!

Warning! This post contains descriptive elements of pooping out a baby. If you don't want to read about the juicier bits of childbirth then stop HERE. Remember, I warned ya.

February 4th, 1999. I'm TIRED. Even though I'm not due for another two weeks I know my body isn't going to take much more of this. My apartment is a complete and utter wreck. I keep waiting for the nesting urge to hit me like a garbage truck, but all the while the garbage keeps piling about me. I've put 75 lbs on my 115 lb frame. Maternity pants do not come in long inseams. Technically you can't be highwatering when all you do is lay down. Other than the fatigue my pregnancy has been normal.

11 pm - I decide to sleep. I've spent two months on the couch because I have to sleep in a semi sitting position. The baby likes to lounge around on my spine, not that you could tell that was the case from looking at the beachball shoved under my shirt. Justin kisses me goodnight and retires alone to our bedroom.

The juicy bits are coming...don't get so impatient! Sheesh people!

February 5th, 1:30 am. My impending son begins jumping up and down on my cervix. Actually, I'd received a very hard definite kick. This kick wasn't a normal baby, WTF are you doin in there, type of was HARD. It wakes me. In the moment I wake I feel a definite pop "down there" and then a gush. My water has broke. "Awesome!" I think as I run to the bathroom holding my crotch with my hand, much like a four year old in front of a water fountain. As if I could hold that in.

Sitting on the john catches most of the gush. Boy am I relieved. The baby is coming! I'm done being pregnant! I've been too tired to pack a hospital bag! Well, poop... I'd never seen what breaking the water looked like so I look down past my highwater maternity pants into the toilet bowl. Bright red...bright bright red. OK, not normal.

"Justin, we need to go to the hospital right NOW", I scream. That's when my labor starts. Contractions coming hard two minutes apart. It takes around ten minutes to call Justin's grandma (who would be watching my oldest), my parents (my mom is my labor coach), and to put shoes on my oldest boy. I manage to remember a towel to sit on in the car. I thank the gods that my highwater maternity pants are an annoying shade of red and won't stain.

While driving the fifteen miles to the hospital it's decided we will not have time to stop at Grandma's and drop off the oldest.

The nurses saw me in the parking lot of the hospital in obvious hard labor. They help me into the building. I ask for an epidural even though I was very much against having one. Immediate transition labor does that to a person. The nurse helps me into a hospital gown. I ask if she's ever seen a woman in labor so messy. She says yes with a great big grin. I'm not reassured. The nurse checks me and I'm measuring 6 centimeters dilated. I ask for my mother. I never get the epidural.

Within fifteen minutes I relay the very important info that I must push...NOW. I'm checked again and I'm fully dilated. Hey, I wasn't hyperventilating, there really was no rest between contractions. The nurse changes the large pad under my butt. My doctor had been called and was on her way. The nurse tells me to pant and try not to push. Hey lady, you pant and try to hold in explosive diarrhea. Suddenly a nurse shoves her entire hand up my nether regions. The baby's heartrate was falling and she was manually stimulating him. This was A-OK with me as, strangely, it took away much of my pain. I tell the nurse that her fisting action feels good...I wish I could have been more coherent and said what I meant, that it was pain relieving. The nurse looks at me funny while she calls in the emergency room doctor.

The baby moves down before even the emergency doc has arrived. I'm alone. My OB hasn't arrived, my parents haven't arrived, Justin's walking my oldest around the hospital. The emergency room doc barges in the room without so much as a hello and positions himself between my legs. Funny, I have to pay him for this privilege. I push. The doc tells me to hold the push and he gives me a lil snip. I push again.

2:43 am. Alec Lachlan is born after two pushes. He's a gorgeous shade of deep purple. The good folks in the nursery go about reviving my boy. He doesn't cry for the longest time. I've got too much adrenaline coursing through my system to process what this means. Finally he cries and then he's rushed off to the nursery where I was told (several months later) that he had to be revived again.

My parents and doc arrive. My placenta gets a good poking and prodding. It's determined that I'd suffered a partial placental abruption. I am very fortunate in three ways...that this happened in late pregnancy, that the placenta didn't tear and that my water had broke instead of me bleeding into the amniotic sac. My parents go to the nursery to gawk at the baby. Justin turns the corner and learns that in the forty minutes we'd been at the hospital his second son was born.

4 am. After receiving a hell of a lot of stitches in areas no one should be sewn up, I get up to go to the nursery and gawk at my baby. Except for seeing his lovely regal purpleness, I had no idea what he looked like. I'm feeling GOOD. At that moment I had more energy than I've had in months. My baby is small, and pink and breathing well under the oxygen tent and responding very well to the glucose through the IV. He's also blond. What? BLOND? Justin is darkheaded, I'm darkheaded. My firstborn is darkheaded. I give birth to a blondie. My OB remarks on me being up and I say I feel very good. Alec is 6 lbs. 3 oz. and 19 inches long.

2 pm. I've eaten and slept. My new baby is brought to me. He's perfect and healthy. I'd prayed much of the night and someone up there winked at me. We settle into nursing and he sucks the hell out of me for the next hour. I know he'll be just fine from that moment on. I still feel very good and the rest of my recovery is short and sweet. The upside of an hours worth of labor is that there is less wear and tear on mom. I recommend short labors to anyone.

Alec is my laid back guy. He's an incredible little tender heart who was considerate enough to skip the terrible twos. Though he didn't talk until well past the age of three, he's incredibly intelligent and is well past grade level in his first grade class. He enjoys drawing and games and puzzles. He's still blond, but now a dirty dishwater shade. At the moment he's missing his front teeth.

Happy Birthday Alec. I hope you will always know how much we appreciate the gift you gave us in becoming your parents.


  1. I can relate to the immediate-transition labor. My "baby" is 21 now, but in 1984 I took "Labor Day" seriously and had her a couple of months before her due date of Nov. 3. I still remember how fast it all happened, and how hard those contractions were. Whoever says labor with a premie baby doesn't hurt hasn't had a premie baby!

    Thanks for sharing your story. I enjoyed it much more than watching the game.

  2. After reading this I had to go give my boy (a very fast delivery right in the middle of my front hallway) a big teary eyed squeeze. My daughter (9) rolled her eyes and said, "Hormones." :)

  3. You know we adore your children; Alec holds a special place in *S*'s heart. He is indeed a tender heart, and I think all tender-hearts stick together.

    Not to mention, he's artistically gifted! What four year old can draw sail boats to scale???

    Happy Birthday, Becky and Justin.

  4. That was quite an experience. I hope #3 was easier.

    Pregnancy is in my mind proof positive that God is a male. If God were a female, we men would be the ones having babies!

  5. #3 was a far easier birth. But we'll have to wait until June 19th for that story.

  6. WOW!

    I did almost the same with both my boys!
    No hard labor though. I'm the bitch everyone hates; no pain till i'm pushing.
    The nurses this last time were in shock that I had no drugs, barely felt my contractions, never screamed and only complained of being "a bit uncomfortable".

    Yea ... they hated me.

  7. A placental abruption usually causes fast hard labors.

    Meredith gave birth in the hallway?

    Hehe Labor Day baby. I had my last on Father's Day.

  8. whew...
    in tears.

    funny, that I never much think about what can go wrong until after labor... THEN I freak right the freak out! Glad to see him happy and strong! And what's up with all these blogging babies... Dooce, RockStar Mommy, You and I. I guess February is the time to pop 'em out!

  9. being there when both of my children were coming into this world was the best thing that has ever happened to me...I always tell father's to be there, One, they need to know how hard it is to actually give birtha nd it bonds you to that did me. I'd die for them.
    no lie!

  10. Hehe Bon, just wait until I get to my Feb. 23rd entry. husband panics and then passes out during childbirth. While he wishes vehemently that he did not have this reaction, even with a lot of valium, he does. I'm ok with him stepping out during the pushing moments. After the birth and I'm sewn, he comes back in and takes over. I sleep and he changes diapers. It's a good deal all around!

  11. hey yeah!
    and I got a feb 14th post to make... it'll still be all about cake but ya work with what you have got, ya know?

  12. AW.....such a cutie!!! And what a great story teller you are. :) Fast labors are good. Breathing babies, whether before or after resusucucusistation (hate that word), are the cooolest.

    Love how the fairy dress is coming together! (...know how to make a CANON costume...?? Preferably with an exploding canon ball. heh.)

  13. I can't believe I already forgot that you had baby #3 on my birthday. I'm a dummy head.

  14. ok becky, you win the most dramatic birth in the family award. But I come pretty damn close with all three of mine, SO THERE!!!

  15. Wow, that's a good story. You make placental abruptions sound almost convenient! (I've got a friend who had an abruption and emergency C-section at 26 weeks—the kid's fine now, but was in the NICU for 4 months.) Cute kid. Mine didn't really talk 'til 3 1/2 either...


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