Now for the long version: :-)
Friday, January 23. We're on yellow alert, 3 days past the expected date of delivery, but given my personal history I'm certain we'll be waiting another week. A pre-natal ultrasound this morning showed good movement and plenty of fluid, so no reason for concern. The ultrasound was at the hospital, and we complete a successful drill to practice loading the car and driving. Our next appointment is scheduled for Tues. when I expect to be pressured to schedule an induction by Thurs. (41weeks 2 days) at the latest, earlier if there is any real cause for concern. I am very hopeful for natural and spontaneous labor this time around and am already calculating in my head the risks of pushing off the pitocen until a week from Monday (41weeks 6 days). Since I have been more tired than usual recently, I don't wait for my usual 8pm bedtime and head straight to bed.
Saturday, January 24. I am dreaming about waterfalls and rivers and oceans, when suddenly I realize I am sleeping in one. I wake up Daddy and call the medical doctor, who tells me I could consider taking a shower before coming in to the hospital, if I'm not concerned about the baby's movements. It doesn't sound urgent, and I'm not having any real contractions yet, so I go back to bed. Besides, labor is supposed to take 12 hours or so, so I want to save my strength.
Before I can fall back asleep I am reasonably sure I had my first real contraction, and Daddy calls Pop-Pop and raises our alert status to "Red." Among the things you might expect, this includes cool "red alert" visuals on our tv screen. No klaxons, because that would be stressful. I try timing a few contractions as they grow stronger, but some are less than five minutes apart, and some are like ten minutes apart. I figure the ones after three minutes are aftershocks and skip them in my counting. Since they are still irregular I try to relax with a shower. During the shower though, the contractions get to be all less than five minutes apart, so I end the shower and get dressed. By this time I have given up on going back to bed, and Pop-Pop arrives to watch Jonah.
Within two minutes, we are off to the hospital. By now it is a little before 5:30, and it is snowing heavily. The drive to the hospital is precarious, but Daddy manages to keep us on the road and keep the stress level down with rather mundane topics of conversation. It doesn't make for good heroic drama, but it was what the situation called for. Meanwhile I am climbing the walls every three minutes in contractions and don't even notice the crazy truck driver or that an inch of snow obscures all the lanes of the highway.
We get to the hospital a minute after 6am and 8 cm dilated. Daddy walks me from the curb to the emergency room, where they seem pretty surprised to see anyone come in with this weather. Pretty soon we are in the delivery room, where nurses, a midwife, and the doctors start wandering in. Each time someone would come in, they would ask me my date of birth, medical history, etc., even though I had already filled this out in the prenatal paperwork they had me mail in. Meanwhile, Daddy gives all the insurance information from the same paperwork over the phone to registration. It just made me sick to my stomach how poorly information was communicated.
Several unpleasant contractions later, the doctor says we might as well start pushing. I don't really feel any strong urge, but the contractions are uncomfortable and it is something to do. When I push I don't think anything is happening, but after just five pushes or so, out comes Elliott. Daddy and I are thrilled he is alive, but Elliott gives us a mouthful about the whole experience. Eventually I let Daddy have a turn holding Elliott, and even though the cord had been hastily cut already, Daddy gets to trim it a little bit further. I feel much better than last time, and in fact good enough to make a 10am client meeting in Providence. However, it being a Saturday there is no client meeting scheduled, so I assent to recuperate in the maternity ward with the mortals and take a nap.
Elliott is a pretty good tempered kid. He likes his sleep, especially during the afternoons, and feeds somewhat irregularly. He doesn't like to open his eyes too widely, and prefers to look sidelong at his surroundings than at whomever is holding him. He has a little problem with one of his kidneys, but most newborns with this issue resolve it naturally in the first few weeks.
Saturday, January 24. I am dreaming about waterfalls and rivers and oceans, when suddenly I realize I am sleeping in one. I wake up Daddy and call the medical doctor, who tells me I could consider taking a shower before coming in to the hospital, if I'm not concerned about the baby's movements. It doesn't sound urgent, and I'm not having any real contractions yet, so I go back to bed. Besides, labor is supposed to take 12 hours or so, so I want to save my strength.
Before I can fall back asleep I am reasonably sure I had my first real contraction, and Daddy calls Pop-Pop and raises our alert status to "Red." Among the things you might expect, this includes cool "red alert" visuals on our tv screen. No klaxons, because that would be stressful. I try timing a few contractions as they grow stronger, but some are less than five minutes apart, and some are like ten minutes apart. I figure the ones after three minutes are aftershocks and skip them in my counting. Since they are still irregular I try to relax with a shower. During the shower though, the contractions get to be all less than five minutes apart, so I end the shower and get dressed. By this time I have given up on going back to bed, and Pop-Pop arrives to watch Jonah.
Within two minutes, we are off to the hospital. By now it is a little before 5:30, and it is snowing heavily. The drive to the hospital is precarious, but Daddy manages to keep us on the road and keep the stress level down with rather mundane topics of conversation. It doesn't make for good heroic drama, but it was what the situation called for. Meanwhile I am climbing the walls every three minutes in contractions and don't even notice the crazy truck driver or that an inch of snow obscures all the lanes of the highway.
We get to the hospital a minute after 6am and 8 cm dilated. Daddy walks me from the curb to the emergency room, where they seem pretty surprised to see anyone come in with this weather. Pretty soon we are in the delivery room, where nurses, a midwife, and the doctors start wandering in. Each time someone would come in, they would ask me my date of birth, medical history, etc., even though I had already filled this out in the prenatal paperwork they had me mail in. Meanwhile, Daddy gives all the insurance information from the same paperwork over the phone to registration. It just made me sick to my stomach how poorly information was communicated.
Several unpleasant contractions later, the doctor says we might as well start pushing. I don't really feel any strong urge, but the contractions are uncomfortable and it is something to do. When I push I don't think anything is happening, but after just five pushes or so, out comes Elliott. Daddy and I are thrilled he is alive, but Elliott gives us a mouthful about the whole experience. Eventually I let Daddy have a turn holding Elliott, and even though the cord had been hastily cut already, Daddy gets to trim it a little bit further. I feel much better than last time, and in fact good enough to make a 10am client meeting in Providence. However, it being a Saturday there is no client meeting scheduled, so I assent to recuperate in the maternity ward with the mortals and take a nap.
Elliott is a pretty good tempered kid. He likes his sleep, especially during the afternoons, and feeds somewhat irregularly. He doesn't like to open his eyes too widely, and prefers to look sidelong at his surroundings than at whomever is holding him. He has a little problem with one of his kidneys, but most newborns with this issue resolve it naturally in the first few weeks.
