Saturday, September 10, 2011

Labor Day 2011

Really an entry for me more than anything, so I'm sorry if it's a little dry and far too long. 

5:15am -- Cameron needs to be tucked back in.   Why at 4 years old the kid needs to be tucked back in at 5:15am, I have no idea, but whatever.   After making my way back to bed just grateful that Cameron was going back to sleep, I felt a twinge of what I thought was intestinal pain.   Great.   Just what I needed after going to bed at 12:30am for the first time in ages and being 39 weeks pregnant.   After laying there for 20 minutes or so, I realized that my "intestinal cramps" seemed to be coming at 7 minute intervals.   Hm... curious.   It didn't take me long to realize that this wasn't the result of Derran's cooking, nor was it Braxton Hicks.  

6:00am -- I woke up Derran to tell him what was going on. 

6:05am -- Derran's snoring.  I start to pack our bags for the hospital.   Yes, you know me, always the procrastinator! 

7:00am -- Cam actually slept in!  He happily climbs in bed with us, and a now awake Derran and I decide to break the news to him.   I tell him, "Cameron, XOXO is coming today!"  His response?  "You mean you're having contractions?   Your tummy is getting really tight and then loose and then tight?"  Uh, apparently someone pays more attention to what we talk about than he lets on.    He immediately busted out in a huge happy cheer!   For the rest of the morning Derran and I debated when we actually needed to leave to go to the hospital.    We consulted with my mom; I checked in with my FTMs (my online mommy group I met when I was pregnant with Cam); and I texted a bazillion people all while timing my contractions with my handy dandy phone app at 5 minutes apart for 1 minute each.  Cameron could not have been sweeter.   When I had hard contractions, Derran would hold my hand, and so would Cam.   Cameron brought me stuffed animals when I seemed to be really in pain.   He wanted to help so badly.  

12:30pm -- We finally make the decision that we need to go the hospital.  Little did we know we were 12 hours premature.

2:30pm -- By the time we feed Cam, drop him at Grandma and Grandpa Condon's, hit Taco Bell for my last meal, and stop at Babies R Us for the take home outfit we still hadn't purchased, it was already 2:30, and my contractions were still 5 minutes apart for a 1 minute each.  I was getting tired, but I knew I had a long way to go still.  They weren't getting much more intense, and they weren't getting closer together, but I still thought that I met the 5-1-1 criteria at this point.  

3:00pm -- We arrive at St. Jo's L&D triage.   The nurse took my information and put us on the monitors in the room.   She already seemed skeptical.   I was clearly having contractions.   XOXO's heart rate accelerated with each one which is a sign that he had a lot of stamina left.   After an internal check, it was determined that while I am indeed in labor, my progression is exactly ZERO.  I was sent home.  In a way, I can't blame them.   What's the point in keeping me there if I'm not actually progressing?   This way, at least I'd be able to be home.   Hell, perhaps it kept my hospital bill down.   She told me to go to my 10am appointment in the morning where we would likely discuss induction.   Great.   I had to deal with 5 minute apart contractions for another 19 hours AT LEAST?  So with instructions not to come back until my contractions were 3-4 minutes apart and twice as strong, I left the hospital feeling defeated and exhausted.

4:00 -- 10:00 The rest of the evening went as a typical Monday night would.   We picked up Cam, played, had dinner, played some more, and put him to bed all the while I contracted every 5 minutes and tried not to cuss or cry in front of my son. 

10:00pmish -- I snuggled in to bed with extra towels, just in case, and my phone to continue tracking my contractions -- still, 5 minutes apart 1 minute each.  Derran started in the on snoring and I tried to focus on the news.  

10:45pm -- I had a massive contraction that last 2 full minutes and concluded with the sensation of something popping.  After lying there another minute, it dawned on me that perhaps is was my water breaking.  I got out of bed, and sure enough... water with every contraction. 

11:25pm -- By this point, we'd re-packed what we'd unpacked and woke Cam who was very giddy and out of it -- he said to me in the car, "Fat Baby Mommy (his nickname for me for the last few months... charming, eh?), you are having BIG contractions!" and giggled away!   We dropped him at my parents with my contractions now 3 minutes apart and fiercely strong.   We made our way to St. Jo's the LONG WAY for fear that Taste of Colorado was still in the clean up stages.   I tracked my contractions on my phone app just to keep my mind busy, and did what I could not to completely panic.   By the time we were 5 minutes from the hospital, I literally could not speak any more.   Too... much... pain.   The fatigue of having contracted for 19 hours had sunk in and these contractions were so much worse. 

12:01am -- We made it to St. Jo's triage.   I had to go to the bathroom extremely bad.   The nurse looked at me and realized I was in bad shape.   She warned me not to push.   At this point it had not even dawned on me that perhaps my urge to go to the bathroom was actually XOXO trying to make his escape!   After hobbling to a room, they tested me to make sure what I thought was my water breaking really was, and sure enough... without asking me any other questions, I was wheeled out the door and towards the elevator for L&D.   We flew past Tim in the waiting room, and he and Derran took one elevator, and I took the other with the nurse.   The nurse told me the baby was REALLY close.   I still didn't know how close; I just knew I wanted the epidural and I wanted it NOW! 

12:21am -- We got up to L&D.   There were 3 people in the room.   Not even a minute later, the room filled with at least 6-8 nurses and doctors.   I begged for the epidural.   A nurse checked me and couldn't decide if what she was feeling was that I was still not dilated at all (HOLY CRAP, REALLY? I COULD BE IN THIS MUCH PAIN AND NOT BE DILATED AT ALL?) or if it was the head of the baby.   Thankfully, the doctor checked next, and instantly knew it was XOXO's head, right there, ready to go.   I suddenly knew I needed to push.   The urge was too strong to resist.  I was extraordinarily belligerent with the nurses.   They kept telling me to hold my legs up.   They kept telling me to push.   I'm pretty sure I dropped more f-bombs than I heard all last year combined in my Period 8.  Finally, one of the nurses pulled out her Mommy Voice on me... "Colleen!   You are going to do this.   You are going to do it NOW.   With the next contraction, you are going to push that baby out."  I finally calmed down enough to focus.   The doctor told me she could already see his hair.   I'm pretty sure I hadn't even pushed yet. 

12:31am -- Three pushes and three minutes after I finally focused only 30 minutes after we arrived at St. Jo's,  Charlie Joseph was gasping for his first breath of air at 8 pounds 2 oz and 19 inches.

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