Flashback - June 17, 2009:
At my 36 week check-up, my OB said I was hardly even a half of a centimeter dilated. As I was asking my many questions about labor and delivery, she assured me that I had plenty of time. No worries, I had a month to plan and organize my life and house in preparation for a life-altering event.
Fast forward six hours later....
My husband had been working his butt off doing labored yard work for three straight days, only after working twenty-five hours of overtime. Feeling bad that my husband was literally hauling stone, I decided to make a nice dinner. Dinner was ready, so we sat down to eat. Leaning forward to take that first bite, it happened. I peed myself!! (Or, so I thought.) Here I was, eight months pregnant, taking pride in the fact that I had not lost my bladder control even once and it happened. Between a few good laughs from my husband, I made my way to the bathroom and cleaned myself off. But in the process, it happened again...and again. Two pairs of underware later, I realized that this was not what it seemed. Could it be? My water broke! Now over the past several months, I've encountered numerous people offering warranted and unwarranted advice. One piece of information stuck in my head. Once you get to the hospital, they don't let you eat or drink, so make sure you stuff yourself silly once labor begins, that way you will be prepared for the 24 hour marathon that lays ahead. So there I was, leaking amniotic fluid, stuffing my face, giggling in oblivion. In all of the advice given, everyone failed to mention that water-breakage does not constitute a binge (or any other labor practices for that matter). Two hours later, only after setting up animal daycare, we were en route to the hospital. There I was sitting atop a garbage bag with two towels shoved between my legs, nibbling away on whatever I could get my hands on; a banana, granola bar, pretzels, and about three full water bottles. I was prepared for my marathon. And right next to me, was my shocked, sleep-deprived husband.
As we arrived at the hospital, I managed to completely let loose my remaining water in front of a family of six, only before my husband decided to crash my wheelchair into a door. Only two minutes later, he let go of my wheelchair in motion, sending me into a wall. Not knowing where we were going, we went to the wrong wing. Off to a great start! And once we finally arrived to labor and delivery, my sleep deprived husband passed out cold right next to me in a twin-sized bed. To add to that, while I was up from the bed for a bathroom break, the nurses decided to play a trick on my passed out husband. They decided to transfer the bed to a private delivery room while he was still in the bed (only after asking if my police officer husband would shoot them upon waking up). Apparently I was just feeling way too well for anything to be taken seriously. This stuff cannot be made up!
After several hours, I was still not yet dilated. The pitocin was ordered, and the epidural was demanded. (They go hand in hand in my mind - yah drugs!) Sixteen hours later, drugs were administered, but still there was no dilation. So, I sent the family to go to eat lunch. I figured at least some of us should be allowed to listen to our growling stomachs. Of course, Murphy's Law always comes into affect in the most important moments. I was alone, so of course things started to roll. Only a half hour after being dilated 3 centimeters, I quickly rose to 7. Luckily my husband strolled in prior to an organized manhunt.
(For those of you that had a difficult labor, future reading may lead you to anger.)
My initial reaction to the epidural was much less than pleasant, but six hours, 5 vomits, and several hotflashes later, the kinks were worked out and I was pain free. As a matter of fact, the epidural was so incredible, that I had to ask when I was having contractions. The most intense ones were more of a pester that I blew away rather than a painful lamaze workout. My doctor opted for a natural decent, allowing the baby to enter the birth canal on his own so the process was slow, steady, and relaxing. Ten centimeters dilated, it was time to push. Ten minutes later, Little Baby Jaden was crying for the world to hear. I saw my angle, smiled at my husband, and said, "That wasn't so bad. I could do that again!"
At four weeks early, he already weighed 6 pounds 1 ounce and was 19 1/2 inches long. My little man is steadily growing, having gained almost three pounds since birth. I guess all of my concerns about the size of the little monster inside of me were right. In fact, at my four week postpartum appointment, my OB said, "If he was full term, he would have torn you to pieces!" Heartwarming to hear, isn't it? I guess the moral of the story is - trust your instincts (and your loins).
After a brief period in the NICU (giving us quite a scare!!), he is now home with us and we are more than in love with his every little move and every little whim. I'm amazed at myself how easily I fell into the mommy groove. And I am amazed at my husband for his constant need to clean and make things perfect for his little guy. I am even amazed at how quickly the dog took to the baby. Jaden is our perfect little guy in every single way. So perfect, in fact, that my husband is already talking about number two!!!
