Better late than never, I guess...

So I was reading all of my buds' blogs today, and one of them wrote about their baby's birth story. Her baby is six months old now, and I realized my baby may be eight months old, but what the heck. I never wrote his birth story out, so here goes.

I think it's a total mom thing to want to dish out all the details of the labor experience, because I swear I never cared about how I got here before now. Every year, on my birthday, my mother retells the story of how she started going into labor, and she wasn't going to have people coming over without the house being cleaned. So she vacummed. And there was no way she was going to the hospital without painted toenails. So in between contractions, she painted her nails, while my grandpa Fred sat out on the front porch in one of the rocking chairs, nervously smoking a cigarette.
Sure, I thought it was amusing, but I wondered why she felt the need to tell me about it every year.

I think it's similar to guys pointing to different scars on various parts of their bodies, and telling the story of each one. Their friends are totally impressed and the story swapping continues. I think it must be "our" version of that.

So anyways, here we go...

The weekend before Noah was born, I had started feeling noticeably worse. I'd spent the majority of my pregnancy disgustingly swollen, hot, and uncomfortable. I looked huge... all over. For those of you who are curious, I gained 60 lbs with him. Now that I've lost almost all of it, I don't mind saying it anymore. By the way, if you're pregnant and noticing weight gain like I had, and the doctor gives you a hard time about it, just cry and explain that you've been eating Weight Watchers and are still gaining (yes, true story... I was obsessed). My weight was never mentioned again.

So even though I had spent most of my pregnancy feeling pretty gross, this was different. I felt heavy and had this nagging headache. I would try to sleep it off, take Tylenol, drink water... nothing helped. It was pounding. I just figured I was tired or something.
That Wednesday, I had an appt with the doc. Everything went like normal, I turned around when they weighed me, I peed in the cup, had my blood pressure taken, and then waited for the doctor. Brad went with me to every appointment. I thought it was sweet. Anyways, Dr G came in, and said, "Hailey, what's going on? You're blood pressure is up." I was confused, and just replied, "It is?" I almost felt like I'd gotten a bad grade on a spelling test or something. She proceeded to tell me that I had pre-eclampsia... protein in my pee, excessive swelling (duh), and elevated blood pressure. She asked if I'd had any headaches that wouldn't go away, and it was like a light bulb went off. "Yeah!" I said. She nodded, and then told me she knew I wanted to go into labor on my own, however, this was nothing to mess with. I was too sick to wait, and the only cure was to have little Noah. She immediately left and made arrangements for me to be induced in the morning. She told me if things got worse that night, I was to come to the hospital immediately. Otherwise, we'd wait until the morning.

I was terrified and relieved at the same time. Somewhere along the line, I'd lost my excitement about having a baby and was totally focused on my own misery. Everything hurt. I couldn't bend my ankles or wrists. My legs were so swollen, it was painful to the touch. And because of the extreme swelling (and yeah, the weight gain didn't help), I got lovely stretch marks on my thighs. I cried a lot, because I was sure Brad thought I was hideous. He obviously didn't think this way and made every effort to make me feel otherwise, but it didn't matter. I'd convinced myself that I wasn't pretty anymore. I didn't recognize my own reflection in the mirror. As someone who has spent her whole life being very small, it was humilating to have family and friends see you this big... and then comment on it.
Looking back now, I can see how amazingly selfish this was, but I never could wrap my mind around the idea of us having the baby. Yeah, I felt him kick and move. But I couldn't picture him. The first time it really hit me was about a week before I had my last appointment. Dr G did an ultrasound, just to make sure he was okay, and she found his face. In the black blurriness, we could see cheeks and little eyes looking back at us. That was the first time it really hit me that there was a person in there.

That night, I was both nervous and excited. I was nervous, because I had no idea what was going to happen. What if this labor lasted forever? What if he's too big? What will the Pitocin feel like? What about the epidural? Please, dear Lord, don't let me poop on the table. I would just die.
I was also excited, because this meant it was over. The waiting, the hurting, the swelling, the gross horse pills, the headaches, the inappropriate comments, the awkward maternity clothes, the weighing in every week... all of it was soon going to be over. And Noah would be its replacement. He was my justification for going through it all. I was finally going to see him!
When I lay down that night to go to sleep, I didn't. Obviously. I had way too much going on in my head. I wondered what he was going to look like. Would he have Brad's blue eyes (yes), or my hair color (no)? I stayed up that night thinking and wondering and not sleeping.

I slept a total of three hours.

We got out the door at 6:15am, and headed to Presbyterian Main. This is where I was born, my parents were born, etc. This is where I wanted Noah to be born. My daddy was so sweet. He called me and wanted to meet me before we went in. He met us inside and walked me up to the maternity floor, gave me a kiss, and told me I was going to do just fine. He made sure Brad knew to call and keep him updated, and told us he was going to stay in the area. My mom was also in the area, taking a class for her interpreting stuff. For some reason, I thought Dr G was going to be there... like the whole time. Ha. Such a newbie.
A nurse took me to my L&D room, which was enormous and beautiful, with a nice view. I was impressed. I got changed and by 7:30am, I was hooked up to all sorts of stuff. Poor Brad finally got to be on the other side of it all. Normally, he's the one that gets hooked up with wires and tubes and monitors.

I had such a sweet nurse. I forgot her name, but she reassured me that she gained more than I did with her baby (and she was small again... there was hope for me, after all). Dr G stopped in to check on me, broke my water for me (oh yay), and she instructed the nurse to let me get an epidural as soon as I wanted one. She made sure I was okay, and then told me she had a few appointments that day, but that she was right across the street. If anything happened, she'd be right over.
Brad was so sweet. He made phone calls and tried to cater to me as much as possible. It didn't take long for the Pitocin to kick in. Fortunately, I'd already arrived at the hospital at 3cm. I could handle it. It was like having mild cramps.
I know a lot of you didn't grow up with me, but those of you who went to school with me know (embarrasingly enough) that my cramps are bad. So bad that I black out, throw up, and all those related things. One of my high moments in life was laying on the floor in the pricipals office (he was gone that day), and my friend Justin who was an office assistant had to bring me Tylenol (which wouldn't work). So embarrassing at 17. So yeah, I was pleasantly surprised with how things were going.
The only bad part was that I was still really nervous... shaky nervous. Brad was doing a wonderful job, but he knew what I needed. He made the phone call to my mom and asked her to come over.
This is why my husband is so wonderful. He knows what I need, even if I'm not aware of it. As soon as my mom walked through that door, I felt my entire body relax. Everything was good. She's a great distraction (haha), and was amazing. She supported me when I needed it, and she gave me space when it was necessary.
A couple of hours in, the contractions started getting much worse, and I knew there was no reason to be totally uncomfortable if I didn't have to be. I asked for the epidural. The guy came in, and my sweet nurse talked me through the contractions while he did his thing. I felt relief soon after that, and was excited that I felt so much better.

And then it quit.
I hit the button, and nothing happened. Slight panic attack.

We called for the anathesiologist again, and he finally showed up after what felt like forever. It was a different guy this time, one that was apparently more experienced. He said it was in the wrong spot, so he removed it. So I got a second epidural. Again, instant happiness. This one lasted about an hour... maybe an hour and a half? I pressed the button for more. I could feel the cold going down my spine, so I knew something was right... but something was OH SO WRONG. Because I was in some serious pain at this point. I was around 7 or 8cm by this time, so contractions were definitely strong. They called the guy again. And then another different man walks in to check me out. Yeah, moving around a lot at this point? Not fun for me. It was then that the guy informs us that he's not sure what's going on. He thinks that because of the excessive swelling, I'm not even receiving the epidural. The tissues in my back are absorbing it, and all I'm getting is the initial numbing medication. He gave me a third epidural and said that if it doesn't work this time, the best they can do is try the numbing stuff again.

No need, though.

This epidural lasted about the same amount of time as the last one, however as it was wearing off, it was definitely time to have Noah. Dr G was there, so I didn't need to wait... which is good, because telling a woman not to push once they hit that point is next to impossible.
Brad was so sweet and told me how amazing I was doing and coached me the whole way through it. In the middle of it all, I saw Dr G look up at the monitor. She never flinched. She continued to coach me while using the vacuum thingy. I remember looking around in between and not remembering so many nurses being in there before. Turns out, Noah's heart rate had dropped, which sent a flood of extra people into the room. I think I might've pushed for 20 minutes or so before Noah arrived. There was an immediate rush to get him to the table to make sure he was okay. Brad made sure I was fine and then went over to see him. He said his favorite part was being able to watch Noah open his eyes for the first time.

Noah's heart was fine. He had a big bruise from the vacuum, but other than that, he seemed just fine. I got to hold him, which was so surreal. While holding him, though, I noticed him breathing a little funny. They took him back, and in fact, he was having trouble. He was fine, but they decided to monitor him that night in the nursery. He came into the world in true Kemper style... the only one in the nursery attached to wires and monitors. Fortunately, that's the last time that's ever had to happen.

And yay for me, I was considered special, and got to go to the "Special Maternity Ward". I got a nice room, but I didn't care. After having a baby on three hours of sleep, I was wiped out. All I wanted was food and sleep... and a shower. But unfortunately, because I was still considered sick, they wouldn't let me take one. Nope, I didn't get a shower for three days. Ugh. That's all I have to say about that.
And the sleep I wanted? Yeah, they were just preparing me for Noah. I was on watch, and they came in every four hours to take my blood pressure, check on my swelling, and give me medication. So not much sleep either.

Brad was my hero, though. Since I was still hooked up to monitors and tubes and things, I wasn't able to enjoy the first moments with my baby. I got to hold him and try to nurse him, but as far as daiper changes and things go, that wasn't an option. Brad was my rock and took care of the both of us.

Noah was born on Thursday, and we were able to go home on Saturday afternoon. I finally got my shower, and I was so ready to go home. It was nice to be wearing something other than a hospital gown too. The best part, though, was that it was all over. Noah was with us, and things were only going to go up from here.

And that's my story.