December 24, 2013

So I’ve been out of commission, so to speak. I’ve had some emails inquiring about my condition, and I’m happy to say that we are now the proud parents of another sweet little boy.

Okay, maybe not LITTLE little, but little to us.

And now I will commence with the birth story, so if you are not inclined to curiosity about such things, I’ll give you a minute to excuse yourself. Also? If you have any kind of modesty issues or squeamishness towards anything having to do with blood, placentas, the breaking of womb waters, or just general talk of “girl stuff”, please do us all a favor and get lost.

Sorry. Lost it there for a minute. I have little patience with people who aren’t completely fascinated with my girly innards that produce the most awesome babies in the universe.

Is that a problem?

Okay, so here goes…….

First of all, I must put this first part in caps, because it’s so awesome…….


See? Awesome!

I had gotten everyone up for the day and was getting 3-year-old dressed for church. I was sitting on the floor in her room, slipping her dress over her head when I felt it.

The Gush.

This was the third birth I’ve had that began with my membranes rupturing. It’s not a pleasant feeling, but IS a very good gauge of how fast I then needed to move, and a kind of alarm, making it very well known to me that labor was coming.
I yelled to Yummy Man, thinking he could hear me, but he couldn’t and besides, the three older girls in the room with me ran yelling down the hallway that my water had broken. I think it was the single greatest and most unusual sentence they had ever uttered…..and they relished it. The teen-aged boys that we have here, shuddered quietly and retreated to their room. I yelled for beach towels and cloth diapers and basically began barking orders while waddling around the house with the equivalent of a hay bale between my legs. Yummy Man ran to help me, asking what to do and what I needed. He was very happy that this had finally begun because he’d been bugging me about it for weeks.

Weeks, I tell you.

While sitting on the potty, hoping to drain all the juice I could from my loins, (See? I told you this was gonna get earthy.) I called the hospital and told the GUY that answered (WHY oh WHY are there men on the OB ward?) who I was, that my water had broken, that it wasn’t the best color, and that my labors go pretty fast.

We can see the hospital from our backyard, so it only took a few minutes to get there. From the time my water broke, until they made sure that I was indeed in labor and the contractions truly started was about an hour.

They got me in a bed to monitor me before they committed to admitting me to give birth. I told them that I was very anxious to get an epidural as soon as possible because the labor was going to go fast and I didn’t want to do it without an epidural.

I LOVED that they listened to me and actually got the anesthesiologist from another room to come and take care of me. Everyone who helped me that day was very aware of the time and had an urgency to all that they did because of my history and because they actually took me seriously. I have never experienced this before in any other hospital births and I was highly impressed and almost embarrassingly grateful.

They moved me to what would be my room and got me settled with the epidural. It was the easiest, best epi I’ve ever had and I almost hugged the guy who did it. He was respectful and gentle and now I’m thinking it was because he kinda viewed me as his grandmother and wanted to help me in my time of need…..but maybe not.

At this point, I was between 6 and 7 cm dilated. The midwife actually asked me if I thought she should check me when I arrived and I told her that I DID want her to so that we knew where we were. So that was the verdict. At that point, it was about 3 hours since my water had broken.

The epidural made me happy and things were calm and nice for awhile. At about the 4 hour mark, for some reason, EVERYONE in the room all left at the exact same time, even Yummy Man. He was going to get me more ice water, but ALL the nurses and midwife just left the room to tend to other things. And wouldn’t you know, THAT’S when Tiny Britches decided to slide down into the birth canal. I yelled for Yummy Man and he came running back in really fast and maybe called out to others..not sure. But let me say here that, for a split second, I considered calling out to one of the nurses or the midwife who had just left, seeing as how they were just outside in the hallway since the nurses’ station was right there. But I couldn’t remember their names, and just calling out, “DOCTOR!” or “NURSE!” just seemed like a bad Chevy Chase movie or something.

(Yes, I was thinking about Chevy Chase movies while my baby boy hovered on the brink between the inside of my womb, and the outside of my womb. I am not a normal mother.)

So Yummy Man yelled for someone and they all came running back in. Again, the midwife asked if she should check me and I told her that she really did need to because his head was just inside me and I knew things were gonna go fast. I was complete at that point.

But then Little Britches decided to make things more interesting by squeezing off his cord, or perhaps holding his breath…..wait, can a baby not yet born even do that?

Anyway, they lost him on the heartrate monitor and then things got dicey.

They put me on oxygen and started yelling at me to turn this way and that way and get up there and put that down there and basically be a Russian gymnast who can barely move her legs because of the epidural AND who can barely move PERIOD because she has the equivalent of a birthing ball filled with cement inside her abdomen.

They faintly got his rhythm back, but then promptly lost it again. Somewhere in there, they shoved a large needle in my arm to stop the contractions while they tried to get him back on the monitor but that didn’t seem to work. So at this point, the midwife starts explaining to me that the worst case scenario is that they take the baby by c-section, but she is really going to work hard at getting him out the normal way.

A few minutes later, and more flinging me here and there and everywhere, she told me that I was GOING to push the baby out NOW, and since I was only having mild contractions now because of the medicine they had given me, THEY would tell me when to push.

So basically, it was 5 minutes or so of really brutal football practice, where all the coaches are yelling at you to PUSH! PUSH! PUSH! and you ARE, but it doesn’t feel like you’re doing anything because they are STILL all yelling at you, saying the baby has to come NOW, and did I mention that they were yelling?

Because normally, isn’t it the mom that’s yelling?

Yeah, I thought so too.

But I was busy pushing while they yelled at me.

And there was yelling.

So after 5 or 6 pushes (wherein my caregivers yelled at me), our eleventh baby was born!

And when the midwife pulled him out, she raised him up in the air and exclaimed, “THAT’S a toddler!”

He weighed 10 lbs., 14 oz.

And he is my SECOND biggest baby.

He looks uncannily like number 9… much so that I tell people that I had twins….5 years apart. He is precious and good and handsome and cuter than white kittens.  

I just love that little kid to death. Funny how incredibly much you can love someone you just met.

So that’s the story. I think it’s one of my best yet. =)


3 Responses to “”

  1. Love this!!! And whew! God knew that you needed to know that you CAN push when you are not having contractions and had you learn that on previous births. 🙂 Great story!

  2. ronda caballero said

    A M A Z I N G ! ! !
    Thanks for posting the story.

  3. Trina said

    Oh Oh OH!! I love your birth stories! SOOOO glad he’s here safe and sound, soooooo glad you were able to push him out when they told you to! CONGRATULATIONS!!!!! Praise God!!!

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