Had a really short cycle - only 23 days. Maybe we're starting to get somewhere?
In other news, my son's birthday is tomorrow. So I thought now might be an appropriate time to write down his birth story.
A year ago, late on a Sunday afternoon in early May, after weeks of Braxton-Hicks contractions, I began to feel my contractions falling into a definite rhythm. For that first 36 hours, the rhythm went something like this: contraction every 10-12 minutes for 3 hours, then 8 minutes, 7 minutes, 6 minutes.... where they would stick for 4-5 hours regardless of what I did (walking, pelvic tilt, stairs, and when I gave up, hot bath, lying down, trying to sleep....), then I'd get about an hour and a half off before they started all over again. (The trick here, folks, is that the doctors recommend you to labour at home until your contractions are closer together than 5 minutes, and lasting more than 60 seconds each. It seemed like I was NEVER going to hit that 5 minute mark!) I spent that 36 hours cleaning, packing and re-packing the hospital bag, walking, talking to my belly, and basically doing everything BUT sleep (since I couldn't have slept to save my life, being so excited). At the end of that first day-and-a-half, I couldn't take it anymore and asked my hubby to take me to the hospital to see if any progress had been made. I was at a whopping 2 cm, and they won't keep you till at least 4 unless your water's broken. So home again we went, and this time the contractions stayed stuck at 6 minutes. For another 24 hours. Not getting any longer, stronger, or closer together - but no longer giving me that break, during which I had been kind-of dozing previously. So now on top of being keyed-up by the thought that I was finally, FINALLY going into labour, I was exhausted. On Wednesday, at 4AM, after having gone nearly 36 hours without sleep of any kind and over 60 without particularly good or restful sleep, we went back to the hospital where I was given a sedative, since I was still only 2 cm dilated. I got 3 hours uninterrupted sleep, and when I woke up my obstetrician was there and asked if I wanted to have a baby today, or be sent home again. I gave him the obvious answer (BABY!!!!) and he broke my water. Things really got going then; my contractions got much stronger, so much so that I began to have real difficulties with my breathing excercises, and ended up needing someone to count off the seconds so that I knew how much longer it would go on. By 1PM, I'd only progressed to 5cm, so the nurse started me on a pitocin drip (something I plan on avoiding next time unless deemed absolutely necessary for the safety of my child). Contractions on pitocin are horrible. But it definitely got the job done, since over the next 90 minutes I went from a 5 to a 9+, with only a lip remaining. In fact, I asked the nurse if it was too late to change my mind about the pain meds, since I assumed it was going to be a few more hours (they say 1 cm/hour is a usual dilation rate) and I didn't think I could last that long. The nurse actually held off on checking me for about 20 minutes after that request, since she knew how passionately I wanted as little medication as possible. When she checked, though, the nurse realized my son was sunny-side-up, and helped me onto my hands and knees to get rid of the lip and to (hopefully) flip my baby around the right way. After labouring in this position for about 20 or 30 minutes, my body (entirely without consulting my brain at all!) began to push. Let me tell you, that is an extremely disorienting experience! I had to turn around the other way to get up into the birthing bed properly (our hospital uses birthing beds that support the labouring woman in a squatting position) in the middle of a contraction, since at that point it seemed like there was no in-between time left - the contractions were coming fast and furious, each one right on the heels of the last. I finally got into position, and heard a nurse off to the side telling my obstetrician (who had just arrived on scene) that he'd better "Glove up or [he was] gonna miss it!" I will never forget the incredible, indescribable feeling of my son's body moving through me to be born. I will also never forget that he crowned TWICE, nor that I told the doctor and nurses and my husband that I couldn't continue after the head was out, that I quit, that I couldn't possibly do it again for the shoulders. And yet, despite the clarity with which I remember saying those things, it's not the pain I remember most; it's the instantaneous feeling of overwhelming relief, euphoria, adrenaline, and love that came with his feet passing out of me. The second his birth was finished - while his cord was still unclamped and uncut! - I forgot all about the pain of birthing him and lost myself in the joy of my baby.
"Oh hi there," I said, as he was placed naked onto my belly. He grabbed my finger in his tiny hands, and I have been there ever since. For an entire year, he has been my life, and will always be the best and greatest thing in it.
