A Love Story.

I write this as I wear our son in my ring sling.  He is waking from a deep sleep induced by Daddy's  heartbeat - there is no surer way to get him to close his eyes than to place him on Ivan Sr's chest.  It's taken a while - a little more than a week - but we are starting to find a rhythm.  It'll probably change again next week, as Ivan Sr heads back to work, but for now, it's a nice pace.  So!  Where to begin?  I suppose with the beginning...


The Gory Details - Home

Despondent from the failure to make progress on Thursday night, I slept pretty deeply and awoke Friday  mornng at around 11.  Heavenly.  I was experiencing mild cramping and a menstrual-like discharge, but chalked it up to the membrane stripping from the day previous - nothing about which to get excited.  Much to my delighted surprise, Ivan chose to stay home with me (when asked later, he said he had a "feeling").  So I made him take me to IHOP.

I kid you not - we left IHOP at 1 PM and I started feeling very gassy (ha!).  Undeterred, we went shopping.  I needed nightgowns (forgetting why hospitals want you to bring gowns, I bought two sets of PJs - oops).  Stein Mart failed us; Ross did not.  From there it was off to Bed, Bath, and Beyond for a diaper pail (the one I'd ordered from Amazon was too small for a day's worth of cloth diapers and wipes).  By this time I was feeling a bit more than gassy; I was having irregular contractions.  I refused to hope, though.  It was about 4 PM.

Headed home and by 6 PM, I knew the gas pains were not from IHOP's corned beef hash omelet (yes, I am one of the last women alive to cherish this concoction).  At around 7 PM I had Ivan start timing them; they were never regular - between five and 10 minutes apart - but they started ramping up.  And I never stopped bleeding.  An hour later, with some concern, I called our after hours number, and Dr. Smith said it was time to come in.  Savannah held down the fort at home until Kate could return from an outing with a friend, and would meet us at the hospital as soon as possible.  Ivan loaded up our bags.


Gory Details - Hospital
(or, Why I Now Love Epidurals)

Contractions in a moving vehicle are never fun, and thankfully the trip to our hospital is short.  We checked in at around 8:30 PM.  By this time I had some major concerns - my contractions were not regular, they were often back-to-back so I didn't even get a chance to relax my muscles in between, and they were getting really intense.  My labor nurse (also known as Nora Tweedy, Best Labor Nurse Ever™) advised me that if I wanted an epidural, we better decide now, because a.) this baby was coming quickly and b.) the anesthesiologist was not.

I rocked through to 6 cm on my birth ball and decided to order the epidural, figuring I could change my mind if need be when the anesthesiologist arrived.

Two hours later... I was losing my mind.  I was having a very hard time breathing through the contractions, because they had no rhyme or rhythm and were still back-to-back every so often.  Nora made me get off my birthing ball and onto the hospital bed preparatory to the anesthesiologist arriving (which he didn't, for TWO F'IN HOURS) so I wasn't able to rock him down or ease the pain in my hips and abdomen.  I was in bad shape.

By the time the anesthesiologist arrived, I was ready for relief - my fear was that I'd be so worn out from the contractions that I wouldn't be able to push effectively, and my son would be stuck in the birth canal.  I have no idea why this terrified me so much but it did.  I could not release the fear and breathe effectively; I could not release the pain and relax my muscles in between contractions; I could not regain control of my labor.  I bowed my head, bent my back, and received the spinal catheter.

Later, when Nora and I were discussing my labor, I realized I may have been in or near transition; she said I was likely already at 8 cm by the time the anesthesiologist arrived.  I may have been able to labor straight through, medication-free to delivery.  I will never know.

I don't regret it in the slightest.

The epidural took effect and it was the most amazing thing in the world.  It was now 11 PM.

The girls were able to visit me and I was coherent, calm, and enjoying their presence.  We had some wonderful talks while we waited for the doctor or Nora to come check on me, and they stayed with us the whole time.  I didn't scare Ivan with agonized moans and make him regret putting me through this.  Kate watched the contractions on the monitor with awe.

Yeah... see how fun they were when they were back to back?  SO glad that, at that point, I couldn't feel anything.

So yes, the epidural was a wonderful experience, even though I couldn't tell when my body started signaling that it was time to push.

Fortunately, Nora came back at 11:45 and had me do a test push... then she said "Ooookay, stop... I need to go get the doctor."  Dr. Smith suited up and we waited for a contraction.  And waited.  And waited.  Finally, Nora asked if I felt I could push without it, and the next time I felt the baby trying to move down, I pushed.

With three pushes, I birthed my son.

I wish I could have taken a picture of the girls' faces when they saw him... they were so overjoyed and overwhelmed and loved him from the very moment of his birth.  This one will have to do:

And... there is this:

No more words needed.

Day Two and Beyond - Loss of Bliss, Recovery

What a lovely morning:

With my menfolk sleeping as the sunlight streams in. 

Sadly, the news over the rest of our stay was not as great.  Baby Ivan was sleeping too much and lost almost a pound over the next two days.  He wouldn't nurse properly and we had a few tense and teary moments with lactation consultants, pediatricians, and staff nurses.  The on-call pediatrician demanded we keep him in hospital an additional day, even though I was due to be discharged Sunday morning.  Fortunately, the nursing staff and head nurse at Eastside were awesome and let us stay in his room - if you pray or send out warm thoughts to the universe, please think kindly of Barbara, Monique, Umi, and Debbie.  Also Heather and Laurie who did their best to help me nurse.

Finally, Monday morning (afternoon) we were released, although Baby Ivan's bilirubin count was still high and he was still sleeping too much - we promised to have his blood drawn again as an outpatient on Tuesday and to see the pediatrician that same day.  And we did.


Dr Wilson Is A Superhero In Disguise

There are some people in the world who are exactly where they need to be, and Dr. Wilson is one of them.  She is a lovely, warm, awesome person, who told us that babies have 'gangster farts' and did her best to convince me that formula supplementation is not the end of the world.  She carries a REAL LIVE DOCTOR'S BAG and refers to the Lechenazis with scathing scorn.  She gave me a plan for pumping and supplementation with which I could work, gave us the science behind why our son was not thriving, and encouraged us to move beyond it to recovery.  She also reassured me that I could nurse naturally (without aids) and told me she couldn't see any reason why we couldn't move beyond the scary numbers and yellow skin.

More kind thoughts out to the universe for Beverly Raymond, who recommended Dr. Wilson to us.

Baby Ivan regained the pound he lost, and is now thriving.  This is at five days old:

Under Dr. Wilson's care, I am confident that we will do just fine at home.  He is nursing now and while he still has some issues, we are making progress daily.

We are so suffused with love that we can happily and easily sit for hours just watching him sleep.  He is awake more often now, and loves looking around... even though we're not terribly sure we know what he is looking at, his eyes are so bright and his gaze so inquisitive that he looks highly intelligent.  Hey, don't spoil it for the fatuous new parents - so what if he can't focus?

As I tell Ivan nearly every day, this was his best idea ever.

Stalling Out - Warning: Graphic Post.

I should have known better than to get my hopes up.

Had my 40-week appointment today (yesterday), and saw Dr. Grillo.  He checked me and said I was at 3.5 cm, and then rammed a steak knife into my vagina.  Okay, not really.  He stripped my membranes, but since he neglected to mention he was doing this, it took me by surprise, and I tensed up... which, of course, made it worse.

He said my cervix was extremely favorable and that he was expecting me to be in labor tonight and to have kiddo tonight or tomorrow, certainly no later than the weekend.  The nurse on desk duty asked me if I was sure I wanted to make an appointment for Tuesday next since she felt I wouldn't make it.

I left the clinic on a wave of nervous euphoria and mild cramping.

Decided to do some light shopping, and started feeling a little uneasy, so we went home.  Casual glances at the clock indicated contractions every 20 minutes - so far, so good.  I decided to take a bath and get prepped for bed in case I could rest.  Ivan made it home less than an hour later, and between his anxious eagerness and Savannah's constant checking on me, rest quickly became not an option.  It was really sweet of them, though.

By 10 PM I was having contractions every 10 minutes, although they still weren't very intense.  I was still discharging from the pelvic exam so that was mildly encouraging; I was beginning to convince myself that we were on our way.  Ivan put the car seat in the Prius and literally glowed all evening long.  I love being pregnant with him... although I'm ready to be parents instead.

At midnight, I decided to get some rest, so we went to bed.  Ivan was so restless even in his sleep that he kept waking me up, poor thing.  So I haven't really slept much.  I've just been enjoying (ha) tracking nonexistent contractions.  Yep - I'm down to one contraction an hour, tops.  No sleep, no contractions, no baby.

I shouldn't be surprised, considering I went through this with Savannah, but I am.  I was hoping this would be different... please, just give me some linear progression instead of the stalling out, starting up misery and frustration of anxious anticipation and depressing discouragement. 

I feel so badly for getting Ivan's hopes up.  And the girls'.  I feel badly for getting mine up too.

Come out, little man... we're all crazy ready to meet you.

40 Weeks, and No Son.

Dear Baby Ivan,

This is your due date, and should be your birth date, really.  It's a good date and I have been spending no small part of the last nine months daydreaming about it... thematic Friday the 13th parties, etc.  Thomas Jefferson was born on this date (a long time ago).  So were Gary Kasparov, Ron Perlman, Peabo Bryson, Rick Schroder and a bunch of other people.  I will be happy to tell you all about them if you decide to make your appearance forthwith.

The nursery is ready...

A Loss, A Gain, And My OB Hates Flip Flops.

Thursday's pelvic exam went much more serenely.  I lost a pound and a half, which everyone assures me is a good sign for incipient labor... now if I could share that info with the kiddo so he'd get a move on...

I am half a cm further dilated so that's considered progress (a gain!).  I have been having little "practice" contractions (as I like to think of them) but nothing alarming as of yet.

Dr. Smith did look with disapproval on the only shoes that I could wear to my appointment... a pair of flip flops.  My feet are just so swollen that I can't stuff 'em in anything else.  Except my bedroom slippers.  Which I would have worn were it not raining.

So she sent me off to buy compression stockings (which feel great on my feet but not so fun where the elastic hits my calves... it's TIGHT) and I'm about to try on my Asics for the first time in two weeks, since I need to take advantage of the weekday slowness to go buy some more baby clothes... since I haven't bought much and now we're down to a matter of days.  Four, to be exact.  If kiddo cooperates.

And he better, because my appointment next Thursday is with Dr. Grillo again.

39 Weeks, Swelling, and My Sarcastic OB.

I"m not ashamed to admit it.

I have had moments during this pregnancy of which I am not proud.  Mustard fever comes to mind.  There haven't been too many of what I call the "alarmist" moments, but there's been enough that I hesitate to call the OB clinic without someone else in the family being alarmed too.  We were all fairly unsettled by the condition of my feet Monday night,.since they were huge, tingly, and... blue.

So I called our clinic after-hours nurse and asked her if it was normal, and she told me to come in Tuesday morning.  I asked Ivan to drive me just in case, so Tuesday morning he accompanied me (wearing my pink fluffy slippers because they were the only things that fit) and my awesome clinic squeezed us in.

Dr. Grillo took one look at my ankles and very nicely did not roll his eyes.  He did tell me that on a scale of  1-to-10 for swollenness, I'm sitting at about... a 2.

And then he told me that the way to cure it was to deliver a baby, so go have contractions.

Yes, I feel foolish.

I also feel like I used all my nesting energy this weekend and I no longer have enough to do more than cook dinner and minor chores.  And when I say minor, I mean it.  I look at the vacuum cleaner with loathing.

I'm having small preparatory contractions and I have a feeling I might be dilated more.  I did not opt for the pelvic exam on Tuesday because, well... it was Dr. Grillo.  I like him a lot, but he has huge hands.  I'll wait for Thursday (tomorrow) and see cute, petite little Dr. Smith.  Her hands are smaller than mine. 

I'll keep this short and update on Thursday.

Progress, Week 38 Appointment.

I'm making a second post in one week, I know.  But I wanted to keep track of where I'm at in case we don't have a week 40 post, since it's remotely possible that we won't.  Not probable, per se, because that would be Stubborn Baby cooperating with Mama.  And we all know he doesn't like to do that.  At this point I'm only sure of one thing.
 
Dr. Grillo has freakin' huge hands.

But... I'm 1.5cm dilated, 70% effaced, and kiddo is at 0 station, head down and facing my back.  I'm having contractions but they're not constant or productive and only about one an hour.

I'm now also cramping like whoa and worn out, thanks to said huge hands and a sensitive cervix.

But!  Dr. Grillo is pleased because we are making progress and right on schedule, and Ivan Jr is in great position.

Thanks to me having babies in different centuries, we have no idea how this will go... fast labor, slow labor, walking around for a week or two dilated to 4cm... who knows?  Only the kiddo.  Apparently my previous experiences don't count since there has been such an interval between births, and let's be honest - every birth is different.

But it feels right to think, "Soon."

We'll see.  Right now a nice relaxing bath is in order.  Peace out, A-town down.