This post has taken me a while to write. Not so much because I didn’t know what to write- I know what I want to say. And not because I don’t want to write it; I do. I guess the reason it has taken me a bit is because it’s still so very surreal. Writing about it makes it seem more real, which is also terrifying.
On October 6th, at 1:17am, I woke up, not knowing why. After laying in bed for a few minutes, I realized I woke up because I was having some mild cramp-like pains.
At 2am I headed downstairs to tell my husband I thought I was having contractions. The poor guy was just about to come up to bed when I told him this; instead he sat up with me while I walked around, bounced, and timed them.
At 4am my contractions were pretty regularly at 4 minutes apart, and getting more intense. We called the doctor, packed up, and headed to the hospital. This is where my timeline gets all confused, and I have no idea what time it is anymore.
I labored for 24 hours. 16 of those hours I did without painkillers, without an epidural, without drugs. My original goal had been to have a natural childbirth. All the women in my direct line of descent had quick, easy childbirths (<6 hours). Mine? Long, drawn out, with little progress made at each check. By hour 17 I was in so much pain and agony that I convinced the nurse to give me an epidural. I literally could not take it anymore. Each contraction had me in hysterics, and it seemed each one brought me no closer to the end. I wasn’t dilated enough to push, and the contractions were so strong at that point they were making me throw up. Finally at hour 20 I was told I was allowed to push, so I did. For five hours. Five long, agonizing hours. This is where we found out that the head was stuck. I spent most of those 5 hours moving around into positions trying to get the head shifted. Nothing helped. At the end of the five hours I was told they recommended a c-section. This was the one thing I had hoped to avoid, but by this point I was exhausted, I was stressed, and I was feeling like a failure.
At 2:04am on October 7, 2014 this beautiful boy came into the world:
His name is Connor Tiberius. He was a whopping 9lbs, 2oz at birth. Apparently he was a bit too large for my body, and I wouldn’t have been able to evacuate him the natural way anyway.
Connor is now 1 1/2 weeks old, and I am in love with this kid. He has the grumpiest old man face most of the time, but when he smiles it is the most adorable thing I have ever seen. He loves his snuggle times with daddy, and naps on mom are the best thing ever.
these past two weeks have been exhausting. I have slept less per night than I ever did in college, I have been peed on and spit up on. I spend most of my day on the couch nursing, so J has to do most of the housework right now.
And I love it all. Well, except for the parts where I’m crying hysterically because it’s 5am and he hasn’t slept since midnight and is fussy and I don’t know what to do. But that is what husbands are for.
We are so very, very blessed to have him, and I cannot wait to watch this tiny little person grow into a unique and wonderful human being.