Archive for May, 2013

I’ve been remise in writing for almost 2 years.

A lot has happened since July 2011.  Here’s a quick breakdown: I went back to work in September 2011, we moved in June 2012 into my in-laws place (as our new house wasn’t ready yet), moved into our new home on August the 2nd 2012 and had our second son on August 20, 2012.

So here’s the story of how we met Anthony for the first time. (I want to finally get it down as I’ve already forgotten the details and want to have something to look back to later when I forget even more.)

The pregnancy itself was fairly uneventful.  Once again I thought I was having a girl. My due date was supposedly between August the 22nd-24th.

As my due date neared my Braxton Hicks contractions became more frequent and intense.  So much so that on August the 13th I went into the hospital for a check after what felt like one long contraction that wouldn’t let up.  Turns out everything was fine.  But when I was examined it was discovered that I had dilated almost 2 cm, that the time was likely nearing but that I should do more walking. (Are you kidding me I thought to myself).

Then on Sunday, August the 19th I went to bed at 10 p.m. only to wake at midnight with some slight pain.  I was feeling contractions somewhat regularly (about every 10 mins) but after each contraction there was a pain that would come along with it.  I tried to quietly wake Mike, but I didn’t want to alarm him because I figured this was another false alarm.  This wasn’t easily done thanks to my size, but also because our older son was sleeping between us and I didn’t want to wake him.  As expected, Mike immediately figured it was time to head to the hospital but I told him I was going to wait it out a little longer and try a hot shower to see if that would help abate the pain.  As I showered I continued to time my contractions and they were now happening every 6 mins.  So rather than rush to the hospital, for fear that they would just send me home, I phoned in and gave all the necessary details.  It was decided that since this was my second child, and I lived a bit of a distance from the hospital and I’d need to get someone to come to my house to watch my older son, it was time to get moving and make my way in.  We left at about 2 a.m.  I was in complete denial that this was labour (since my first had been so different, and because I just wasn’t ready yet).  You could clearly tell that this wasn’t my first child since my bags weren’t nicely packed months in advance, and unlike the first time, I didn’t want to rush to the hospital every time I felt the slightest anything.

I was now 2-3 cm dilated, but the baby was still pretty high, so as I anticipated, I was told to walk, walk, walk for a good 1 1/2-2 hours.  So here were my husband and I (more me of course) going back and forth along one hospital hallway.  He was timing the contractions and I was waddling back and forth, huffing and puffing, and stopping every so often to cling to something with each contraction.  I still wasn’t thinking that this all meant that the baby was coming, but all my husband kept saying was why couldn’t our children come during the day rather than in the middle of the night.  (I think it was a sign of all the sleepless nights to come from here on in.)  After the walking, the contractions began to come every 3-4 mins, so I went for another check.  This is when I was informed that I was now 3 cm dilated, baby had come down a tad, but that I’d still have to walk some more.  I naively said, well I’m seeing my doctor tomorrow (Tuesday August 21) so we can just go home right?  And the nurse informed me “Oh no! This is happening today!” I was utterly shocked.  Back we went to the hallway, now with more intense contractions, and more fatigued.  I’m sure I looked an absolute fright.  Just to add insult to injury, my husband and I see another couple making the way down the hall towards the birthing centre.  The woman was in a beautiful long dress, her hair and nails were done, and she was casually pulling a small suitcase, while a man trailed behind her with another.  She did look pregnant but I turned to my husband and said “Please tell me that she’s not in labour.” (We were to discover later that she was coming in for a scheduled c-section.)

This time around, I was unable to last the 2 hours of walking because the contractions (concentrated in my back) were coming even more frequently (every 1-2 mins) and I began experiencing a new pain. While we waited to be seen by a nurse once more, my husband began talking to another gentleman in scrubs in the waiting room.  (He was the same man who had walked in about an hour or so earlier with his wife and he was waiting while she was being prepped for the c-section.  Wouldn’t you know that these two began talking about how difficult it is for men in these situations and how no one appreciates how hard it is for them, blah, blah, blah.  I almost lost it, because I was now doubling over in pain and tears were springing to my eyes.  The nurse examined me, said I was now 4 cm, and fortunately the baby had come down some, and that I could finally be admitted.

Once in my birthing room, I was asked whether I was ready for the epidural. Hell ya!  I was also going to be started on IV.  The anaestitist was already on hand so rather than wait for a nurse, he attempted to do my IV himself and missed not once, or twice, but three times.  I was really hoping this wasn’t a sign of how the epidural would go.  At this point, we called my folks to update them and my mom hurried to the hospital immediately.  Unlike my first time around, the epidural didn’t ‘take’ the same way.  I was slightly numbed but still felt a lot of pain at times.  Since labour slowed a little thereafter my water was broken, and I was started on a drip.  By noon or so, I was fully dilated and ready to push.  We quickly discovered that with each push, the baby’s heart rate would drop.   The nurse tried shifting me to no avail.  Then I was given oxygen after every push.  The baby still wasn’t coming down far enough, fast enough, so it was decided that I needed the vacuum.  I saw the doctor exchange the look (indicating that this was the last resort before a c-section) so I got my game face on and pushed as much as I could. And thankfully, less than a minute later (at 1:26 p.m.), Anthony was delivered!  He weighed in at an impressive 7 pounds 15 ounces.

Today, 9 months later, Anthony is weighing about 20 pounds (what Julian weighed at a year) and he’s learned to crawl, sit up and he’s now trying to stand.  I don’t know where the time has gone, but I only hope that I can fully remember these beautiful moments with him.


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