After years of dreaming about this day, months of actually preparing for it, and days of waiting and anticipating... it finally came! I'll make a long story as short as I can, even if that means condensing a few details, and sparing you from intimate descriptions.
Things really started Tuesday around noon, in between visits to my midwife for a little membrane sweeping. Sounds like fun, huh? Well it definitely got my contractions going, and for the next 24 hours or so, they were regularly 5-10 minutes apart (closer towards the end, of course), and extremely uncomfortable. I didn't sleep at all that night, and around 5am Wednesday morning, my water broke - or so I thought. Instead of leaving right away, I let Michael get a little extra sleep while I tidied up the house, got everything together for our stay at the hospital including snacks and sandwhiches, and ate what would be my last meal until later that night. Though we had the opportunity to park in the Expectant Mothers Only section, we didn't feel the need, and since I'd already had two unneccessary trips to the hospital, we decided to leave all our overnight stuff in the car until we were sure we'd be staying. Tired, excited, and determined, with my darling husband right beside me for support, I strolled into Camp Lejeune Naval Hospital, slowing down or stopping every few minutes for a contraction, and finally made it to the Labor and Delivery unit on the second floor.
We waited in the lobby for a half hour or so to be admitted, and finally got in a room sometime between 7 and 8 (forgive me, but the timing for all these events is a little fuzzy). My nurse Jen hooked me up to the monitor and did a thurough enough exam to inform me that my "bag of waters" was still in tact, so what I felt earlier must've just been a fore-membrane rupturing... So we sat through a few movies - Mr. and Mrs. Smith, August Rush, and the beginning of Stardust - and I breathed and hummed through a couple more hours of contractions. It took a while to even become 4cm dilated, then a while later when my water actually broke, I jumped up to 6cm, and they assured me that things would progress very quickly from then on. After a full day of contractions I was glad to hear that I was nearing the home stretch.
It was pretty neat that Michael's parents Chris and Cindy and his 38-weeks-pregnant sister Jessica came to see the action. There were times when I was so distracted with the pain or completely oblivious to what was going on in the room that I didn't really care who was hovering around me or what they were doing. Overall though, they were really great to have around, getting ice and taking a lot of pictures (thank you Chris!), but more importantly, helping to lighten the mood and take my mind off of things. Plus I know it meant a lot to Michael that they could be there. I decided right away that I wanted them to stay and watch the whole thing, so they could fully experience the birth of their grandson/nephew, especially since Jess will be delivering her own daughter pretty soon. I think they really enjoyed it.
Once I hit 8cm, I was told to just sit tight during transition and not push until the urge was unbearable and I was at 10cm, then they would call everyone in to help with the delivery. Since I already felt like I was at that point, I asked my nurse to be more specific. How do I know I'm ready if no one's going to check me until I get there? She said "Well, when you say 'Screw you Jen, I'm pushing' - that's when you know." Then my midwife explained how the delivery process was going to work, and what position I should be in to push. He had said earlier that he liked to keep the first stages relaxed and light-hearted, but now it was time to get serious. I was to push as hard as I could for ten seconds, 3-4 times during each contraction, until the baby came out. They said the physical demand was equivilant to running a marathon. I didn't believe them til about four contractions in, when I felt completely exhausted, not to mention grateful for the oxygen mask they'd put on me. I was aware of only two things: the pressure of a baby's head on a place I won't specify, and the comfort of the man that was holding my hand and wiping my face with a cold wet cloth, telling me I was doing so well, and probably overwhelmed with the anxieties of being so close to having a son, to becoming a father.
They told me six more contractions and he'd be out; I told myself three. I got to reach down and feel his head when he was crowning, which probably should've been a magical moment for me, but it was just kind of weird. They started worrying that his heart rate was too low because they were having trouble picking it up on the monitor, so in rushed about five more nurses, and out came the scissors. That was the only time I screamed. One more contraction and he was out. I don't think the midwife was expecting that final push - he turned back around just in time to catch the baby. They rushed him to the corner of the room to clean him up and get him warm, and I delivered the placenta and got stitched up while Michael cut the umbilical cord. I was a little irritated that I had to shout over everyone to ask "Will someone please tell me if it's a boy or not?" I thought that announcement was routine. Sheesh.
It was such a great feeling to have it be over and done with, and to hear his little grunts and cries, to finally have this baby in our lives. The funny thing was, it still didn't seem like it had really happened, not until I got to hold him and say "Hey Caleb, I'm your momma."
I fell in love with him the minute I layed eyes on him, and started crying just as quickly. I noted right away the features he inherited from each of us, my lips and hairline for sure, and the bridge of his nose is all Michael. He also has a pretty good head of hair, which he can thank us both for. I had been preparing myself for a wrinkley, pug-faced newborn, so I was in awe to see this gorgeous wide-eyed little man in my arms, and even more surprised to feel like I already knew him so well.
Caleb Preston Stover, born Wednesday February 4th, 2009 at 1:26pm, 9 pounds 5 ounces, 20 inches long, brown hair... not quite sure about the eye color. Now that he's here, I can't wait to get to know him. I love you little guy.
Once I hit 8cm, I was told to just sit tight during transition and not push until the urge was unbearable and I was at 10cm, then they would call everyone in to help with the delivery. Since I already felt like I was at that point, I asked my nurse to be more specific. How do I know I'm ready if no one's going to check me until I get there? She said "Well, when you say 'Screw you Jen, I'm pushing' - that's when you know." Then my midwife explained how the delivery process was going to work, and what position I should be in to push. He had said earlier that he liked to keep the first stages relaxed and light-hearted, but now it was time to get serious. I was to push as hard as I could for ten seconds, 3-4 times during each contraction, until the baby came out. They said the physical demand was equivilant to running a marathon. I didn't believe them til about four contractions in, when I felt completely exhausted, not to mention grateful for the oxygen mask they'd put on me. I was aware of only two things: the pressure of a baby's head on a place I won't specify, and the comfort of the man that was holding my hand and wiping my face with a cold wet cloth, telling me I was doing so well, and probably overwhelmed with the anxieties of being so close to having a son, to becoming a father.
They told me six more contractions and he'd be out; I told myself three. I got to reach down and feel his head when he was crowning, which probably should've been a magical moment for me, but it was just kind of weird. They started worrying that his heart rate was too low because they were having trouble picking it up on the monitor, so in rushed about five more nurses, and out came the scissors. That was the only time I screamed. One more contraction and he was out. I don't think the midwife was expecting that final push - he turned back around just in time to catch the baby. They rushed him to the corner of the room to clean him up and get him warm, and I delivered the placenta and got stitched up while Michael cut the umbilical cord. I was a little irritated that I had to shout over everyone to ask "Will someone please tell me if it's a boy or not?" I thought that announcement was routine. Sheesh.
It was such a great feeling to have it be over and done with, and to hear his little grunts and cries, to finally have this baby in our lives. The funny thing was, it still didn't seem like it had really happened, not until I got to hold him and say "Hey Caleb, I'm your momma."I fell in love with him the minute I layed eyes on him, and started crying just as quickly. I noted right away the features he inherited from each of us, my lips and hairline for sure, and the bridge of his nose is all Michael. He also has a pretty good head of hair, which he can thank us both for. I had been preparing myself for a wrinkley, pug-faced newborn, so I was in awe to see this gorgeous wide-eyed little man in my arms, and even more surprised to feel like I already knew him so well.Caleb Preston Stover, born Wednesday February 4th, 2009 at 1:26pm, 9 pounds 5 ounces, 20 inches long, brown hair... not quite sure about the eye color. Now that he's here, I can't wait to get to know him. I love you little guy. 
1 comment:
Aww Thanks for sharing your story Sierra! I'm so glad that Michael was able to be there! What a special moment for both of you! Did you have a drug free labor? How was having a midwife? I'm probably getting a doula for our delivery.
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