I am definitely not pregnant. That's fine with me, as I need to get back into shape before I contemplate stretching everything out with another of DarthHusband's monsterbabies. We'll try again early next year or the year after. I'd like to make sure my nasty veins are in the best shape possible. We'll see if I can do this pregnancy thing without gaining 72lbs again, too.
Updates:
Me: I'm bringing the doula training workshop to My Fair City in June. I'm taking Eeny to see The Wiggles Live in May. I still heart Gerard Butler. I told DarthHusband I'd go see 300 with him. He knows my real motivation for going, but will take me to see it anyway. Good man.
DarthHusband: The CPAP is life changing, truly. It's amazing what proper oxygenation at night will do for one's mood and health. We're now having marital relations on a regular basis, and our marriage is infinitely better off for it.
He was even nice to Jehovah's Witnesses the other day. I missed the real him so much.
Eeny: Talking up a storm, pretending his fingers are walking people, saying things like, "I need my favorite toy," and still nursing. I never thought I'd still be nursing at this age, and I admit I'm ready for him to decide to wean whenever he wants. However, it's awfully cute to see him walk over to me, lay his head in my lap and say, "I would really really love a little bit of my favorite Nee." He's such a cutie, and is nicely outgrowing his runaway phase, which makes public outings much, much easier.
The Rooster: 'Tis himself. He's taking 3 or 4 steps at a time, but isn't really walking tremendously well yet. He's jabbering more, and says Mama, Dada, Eeeyah (Eeny), and this, that, and "Cheese!" The last one is said while shutterbug mommy's in his face with the camera. He's such a cutie. He got kicked out of KidZone at the gym today for wanting to be held all the time. They won't let him return that day if I've had to go get him, so my Pilates class was shot, but that's okay, because he's such a snugglebunny. He's cutting 8 teeth--all 4 molars and all 4 eye teeth--so he's a million kinds of miserable, and two of them broke through today. I feel so badly for him.
Saturday, April 29, 2006
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Bizarre dream
So in this dream, I took a pregnancy test. As an indicator for positive, the two lines suddenly became animated and started dancing around gleefully. Yeah. Sure. Gleeful dancing lines. It was definitely a dream--I'm crampy and tired and ready for AF to show or for my temps to freaking do something so I can have some random idea of what's going on with this body of mine.
Wow, I need to get more sleep.
Wow, I need to get more sleep.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Happy Birthday Rooster!
Here's a refresher on the birth story. I love my little guy! :)
Monday, April 4th was my due date. I’d been told by “everybody” throughout most of my pregnancy that I’d probably deliver early, and I’d sort of started to believe it. I got rather impatient as my EDD neared, and as I was absolutely enormous, I felt more than ready to have this baby. Monday marked the day that hope was permanently eclipsed. I didn’t really mind though. Instead, I felt that all the pressure was now off. My phone, which had been ringing off the hook, was blissfully silent most of the day. Ian and I spent the day running a couple of errands and playing and cuddling.
I took a nap around 8pm, and woke up at 10. I wasn’t tired, so I got on the computer. I stayed online for a few hours, and finally got tired around 2. I’d had maybe 4 contractions the entire day, and they were no more significant than the Braxton-Hicks I’d had through the month or so leading up to this. Inspired by a birth story I’d read earlier that night, I decided to write down what I wanted out of the birth. I had 8 things in mind.
1) A happy, healthy baby
2)A gentle birth from the baby’s perspective
3)I didn’t want him to be scared
4)I wanted the birth to be easy on him
5)A relatively short labor
6)A calm, trusting birth
7)I wanted him to be born before the back up OB wanted to start non-stress tests
8)I had an appointment with the back up OB scheduled for the morning of 4/5, because I would have been 42 weeks, 1 day according to LMP. I wanted him to be born before it.
I went to bed thinking, “Watch—this’ll be the night—I should have gotten to bed earlier.”
I woke up around 4:30 with what I thought was a really bad gas pain. I thought I’d better go ahead and pee since I had to do that anyway, so I went to the bathroom. I spent the whole time in the bathroom trying to breathe through what I finally realized were two monster contractions. I got out of there and went into my bedroom (right next door), and realized that 15 minutes had passed just as another contraction hit. I tried to get to where I could breathe through it, but unlike my first labor, these contractions were truly painful. I tried leaning forward and rocking through it, and it worked, but barely. As soon as that one was over, I woke DarthHusband and told him I didn’t think he’d be going to work today. I got the stopwatch and tried to time contractions, but I kept falling asleep and waking up on a peak. I figured they were about 3 minutes apart and lasting two minutes each, so I woke up DarthHusband again, springing out of bed during a contraction (laying down hurt), and yelling at him to call Midwife (the midwife), NOW. He called, and said that we really wanted to let her sleep, but that this just might be it. At the time, I said she should call back in a half-hour and then see where things were.
We got off the phone, and 2 contractions later, Ian woke up, crying because the house was lit up, and we weren’t in our bed. I tried to lie down with him to get him back to sleep, but it was too painful. I was feeling like I needed some space in a big way, and seeing Ian so distressed was upsetting to me, so I had DarthHusband call my parents and have them come get him. My mom arrived and stayed with me for a few contractions, holding Ian. He was crying—poor little guy, he was so tired and he didn’t understand why there were people up and running around—dangit, we were all supposed to be asleep! I went to the bathroom again, telling my mom I’d be out in a minute to kiss him goodbye. Ian got more upset then, so she and DarthHusband decided to go ahead and send her home before I got out of the bathroom. That made me rather upset, as I had really wanted to kiss him goodbye. :-/
Midwife called back, and talked to one of us briefly, saying she was on her way. When she got here (about 10 minutes later), she headed into the bedroom to get the Doppler and her things set up. At this point, I had an enormous contraction that was really painful. I was holding onto DarthHusband thinking, ‘It’s way too early for me to feel like this—I’ve only been contracting for 45 minutes or so, and I’m sure I’ve got hours and hours left to go, and I know I’m overanalyzing it and being a drama queen, but,’ and then out loud, I heard myself say, “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” I was really sleepy and wanted to go back to bed. Midwife heard me say that, and convinced me to come back into the bedroom and get checked. After the length of my previous birth, during which I’d stayed at 6cm for three days, I was afraid to get checked, and I didn’t want to hear that I was 6 centimeters. I told her that I didn’t want to hear it if I was 6cm. If it was less than that, fine, I could deal, and if it was more than that, then I definitely wanted to know, but I didn’t want to hear 6. I told her she could lie to me and say 5cm if a 6 I was. She said then that she had small hands, and that it sometimes made it difficult to tell when people were dilated to 8. I had a contraction and that statement flew right over my head. However, her comment about a bulging bag of waters didn’t. She said my water would break soon, and then I’d probably want to push, which would be great.
It was then that I realized I was afraid. I felt so out of control. Ian’s labor had been long—very long, but it was never unmanageable, and the stage I was in was not what I would have considered painful. This time though, it hurt. I felt like I was at the mercy of the contractions, and I was afraid of where they’d take me. And I wasn’t ready to have this baby. I was supposed to have a few hours to get used to the idea that this was indeed real. Things were happening way too fast for me.
I didn’t want my water to break because I knew that contractions are usually much more intense after that happens, even though last time it wasn’t so. I told DarthHusband and Midwife this. I really felt like I should give voice to my fears and let them out. This happened several times during the labor. If I was afraid of something (water breaking, the ring of fire, etc), as soon as I voiced it, the event I feared happened and it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Just as I said, “….because I don’t want it to hurt anymore than it already does,” my water broke. Like last time, I had a lot of fluid. Fortunately, it broke on a chux pad, and they got the plastic down in time, so there was only a small spot of it on the floor (it was clear anyway). The contractions did become more intense, but they were not more painful. The apprentices arrived about then. Since we knew this baby would be bigger than my first, I tried lying on my side. My belly felt too heavy for that, but I stayed there for a few contractions. She asked if I felt like pushing, and said I should go with it if I did. I didn’t.
When I felt like it, I tried pushing in that position (side-lying) a few times, and noticed that Midwife was no longer removing the Doppler from my belly after each contraction. I asked if everything was okay, and she said things were fine, but I should probably change positions to something more comfortable and if the toilet was comfortable last time, maybe I should try it again. We moved to the bathroom, and DarthHusband told me each time I was doing a good job. It was so encouraging to hear, especially since I felt so out of control. Midwife asked if I would please try pushing now, as she wasn’t able to hear the heart rate as well as she liked. I knew everything was okay, but I heard myself praying anyway. I was praying for the strength to remember that the pain was okay, and the result of all of this was a baby anyway, and that the baby would be okay. I’d sort of forgotten that this was leading up to a real baby in all of my fear. I pushed a couple of times, but it felt wrong. It wasn’t comfortable in the least, and it felt so much better to gently blow through contractions. It was the only way I felt in control. I think at one point I told Midwife to “get that #I$&)! Doppler off of me,” and she said she was sorry, but she really wanted to hear him. I was okay with it then. I tried to push again, and then stopped and asked if Ian would be mad at me. I hadn’t kissed him goodbye (something I always make it a point to do), and here I was turning him into a big brother and throwing him into a whole new phase of life, and he'd never be my only child again. After being assured that no, he wouldn’t, and this baby was coming anyway, I tried again. I could feel the baby descend a bit, but was afraid that since it didn’t feel right that he was malpositioned. Midwife assured me that when she checked, she felt the appropriate sutures on his skull, and that she was sure he was positioned right, but maybe I needed another position. Did I want to go back to the bedroom? I answered yes, and DarthHusband, who kept telling me reassuring things (after I nearly dismembered him for counting during a push—poor guy), helped me up to move.
I took two steps, and suddenly fell (not hard) to my knees. The tile floor was surprisingly comfortable, and things immediately felt right. I told DarthHusband and Midwife that the baby was going to be born right here in the bathroom, and they’d better get ready for it, and could I please have some pillows? The apprentices got the pillows for me, and I felt like I could push now. I pushed and felt his shoulders on my pelvic bones. I pushed again, and it burned. I felt warm compresses, and the burning went away. DarthHusband told me he could see a head. Then I heard, “I see lips, I see lips!” I waited until I felt another contraction, and then pushed again. I felt my pelvic bones separate to let the baby’s shoulders through. I don’t remember feeling that with Ian. I heard one of the apprentices say quietly, “The oxygen’s right here.” My heart was telling me that the baby was fine, but I asked anyway. I was told, “It’s just in case.” I heard myself scream as I pushed the rest of him out into DarthHusband's waiting hands, feeling in those few seconds his transition from the abstract concept of “the baby” to the concrete My Child. I didn’t scream because it hurt, but because the feeling was so intense. Then I heard, “Ohhhh, we’ve got a cord, times one…….two……three?! Lindsay—hang on a second, this little one’s all tangled up in his cord.” (This explains why she had kept the Doppler on me.) DarthHusband told me what they were doing as he worked with them to unwind our new son from his cord. He didn’t cry. Somehow I knew he was all right, even though he was quiet. I knew it was because he wasn’t scared. I heard a couple of whimpers, and was helped to turn over, and I could finally hold my little one. DarthHusband confirmed he was a boy, and I was immediately thrilled with my new son. It was 7:53am, just 3 hours and 23 minutes after I felt the first contraction.
The midwives were getting slightly concerned because Rooster wasn’t crying, so I asked him to cry just once to tell them he was okay. He let out one indignant yell, and then settled right back down, and looked at me with big, dark eyes. He nursed for a minute, I delivered the placenta immediately after—it was a big one, and then, after a quick shower for me, Rooster and I snuggled in bed. I ate a huge breakfast while DarthHusband weighed Rooster. When he came out, we were sure there was no way he was bigger than Ian had been—he just felt so tiny all crunched up in my arms. Midwife double-checked the scale, and Rooster was indeed bigger, weighing in at 9lbs, 4oz, and measuring just a wee bit shorter at 20.5 inches (and he refused to uncurl his leg to make it an even 21). An examination of me revealed one small labial abrasion (not worth a stitch), and not even so much as a skid mark to my perineum. I’ve healed very well, and feel pretty much back to normal, except for the lovely postpartum stomach with brand-new stretch marks.
Looking back over the birth, there were a few things that stood out to us. The first was that I gave birth in the ideal position for a large baby with a nuchal cord. It was amazing to me that my body knew exactly how to best deliver him for his size and the unexpected cord. His cord was also longer than normal. This was probably why I had so much amniotic fluid—it kept the cord floating well during the pregnancy. The cord was long enough that I was able to push him out before the midwife had a chance to determine whether it would need to be cut or if it could simply be unwrapped. His heart rate had dropped into the 90s, but did not do so until I began to push, and even though it was low, it was steady, and did not drop any lower. We suspect that Rooster wrapped himself in it on his way out, as his heart rate was strong and steady in the 120s even after my water broke. The cord was wrapped tightly enough to cause his heart to slow, but it was not pulled tightly enough to empty it or completely compress it. His descent into and through the birth canal was so rapid that his head wasn’t the slightest bit coney, yet for such a rapid birth, he had no bruising, and no signs of having been through any trauma whatsoever. I believe this birth was gentle for him. He is still a very calm baby, and very rarely cries. He was given an initial Apgar score of 5, because of his slow heart rate, and because he decided to take his time breathing (he didn't come out crying or obviously breathing), but by two minutes, he was given a score of 8. He required no oxygen, and was easily convinced to breathe with just a bit of blow-by. Had we planned to have this birth in a hospital, I don't know if we would have made it in. I think I probably would have wanted to stay home, not wanting to go in too soon. Since my first labor was so long, I know I wouldn't have believed I had progressed as far as I did in such a short time. I haven't marked time well in this story, but going back over it with the midwife, from the time Rooster's heart rate dropped into the 90s to the time he was born was about 20 minutes. We went to my family doctor the next day for my RhoGam shot, and to have the doctor take a peek at Rooster. He heard the whole birth story, and said it sounded like things went great. "Uncomplicated pregnancy, relatively uncomplicated delivery--just wonderful!" He gave us a pat on the back, along with his hearty congratulations and sent us home to rest.
I am firmly convinced that in spite of how rocky this birth was for me, it was gentle and easy on Rooster, which is just how I’d prayed it would be. I looked at the list I’d made the night before, and realized, as I sent DarthHusband to call and cancel the appointment with my back up OB, that I’d gotten everything on that list. Even though I didn’t feel particularly calm, I had a sense of peace through the whole thing that everything was fine. This labor and birth has taught me more about myself that I realize. It was an amazing experience.
Monday, April 4th was my due date. I’d been told by “everybody” throughout most of my pregnancy that I’d probably deliver early, and I’d sort of started to believe it. I got rather impatient as my EDD neared, and as I was absolutely enormous, I felt more than ready to have this baby. Monday marked the day that hope was permanently eclipsed. I didn’t really mind though. Instead, I felt that all the pressure was now off. My phone, which had been ringing off the hook, was blissfully silent most of the day. Ian and I spent the day running a couple of errands and playing and cuddling.
I took a nap around 8pm, and woke up at 10. I wasn’t tired, so I got on the computer. I stayed online for a few hours, and finally got tired around 2. I’d had maybe 4 contractions the entire day, and they were no more significant than the Braxton-Hicks I’d had through the month or so leading up to this. Inspired by a birth story I’d read earlier that night, I decided to write down what I wanted out of the birth. I had 8 things in mind.
1) A happy, healthy baby
2)A gentle birth from the baby’s perspective
3)I didn’t want him to be scared
4)I wanted the birth to be easy on him
5)A relatively short labor
6)A calm, trusting birth
7)I wanted him to be born before the back up OB wanted to start non-stress tests
8)I had an appointment with the back up OB scheduled for the morning of 4/5, because I would have been 42 weeks, 1 day according to LMP. I wanted him to be born before it.
I went to bed thinking, “Watch—this’ll be the night—I should have gotten to bed earlier.”
I woke up around 4:30 with what I thought was a really bad gas pain. I thought I’d better go ahead and pee since I had to do that anyway, so I went to the bathroom. I spent the whole time in the bathroom trying to breathe through what I finally realized were two monster contractions. I got out of there and went into my bedroom (right next door), and realized that 15 minutes had passed just as another contraction hit. I tried to get to where I could breathe through it, but unlike my first labor, these contractions were truly painful. I tried leaning forward and rocking through it, and it worked, but barely. As soon as that one was over, I woke DarthHusband and told him I didn’t think he’d be going to work today. I got the stopwatch and tried to time contractions, but I kept falling asleep and waking up on a peak. I figured they were about 3 minutes apart and lasting two minutes each, so I woke up DarthHusband again, springing out of bed during a contraction (laying down hurt), and yelling at him to call Midwife (the midwife), NOW. He called, and said that we really wanted to let her sleep, but that this just might be it. At the time, I said she should call back in a half-hour and then see where things were.
We got off the phone, and 2 contractions later, Ian woke up, crying because the house was lit up, and we weren’t in our bed. I tried to lie down with him to get him back to sleep, but it was too painful. I was feeling like I needed some space in a big way, and seeing Ian so distressed was upsetting to me, so I had DarthHusband call my parents and have them come get him. My mom arrived and stayed with me for a few contractions, holding Ian. He was crying—poor little guy, he was so tired and he didn’t understand why there were people up and running around—dangit, we were all supposed to be asleep! I went to the bathroom again, telling my mom I’d be out in a minute to kiss him goodbye. Ian got more upset then, so she and DarthHusband decided to go ahead and send her home before I got out of the bathroom. That made me rather upset, as I had really wanted to kiss him goodbye. :-/
Midwife called back, and talked to one of us briefly, saying she was on her way. When she got here (about 10 minutes later), she headed into the bedroom to get the Doppler and her things set up. At this point, I had an enormous contraction that was really painful. I was holding onto DarthHusband thinking, ‘It’s way too early for me to feel like this—I’ve only been contracting for 45 minutes or so, and I’m sure I’ve got hours and hours left to go, and I know I’m overanalyzing it and being a drama queen, but,’ and then out loud, I heard myself say, “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” I was really sleepy and wanted to go back to bed. Midwife heard me say that, and convinced me to come back into the bedroom and get checked. After the length of my previous birth, during which I’d stayed at 6cm for three days, I was afraid to get checked, and I didn’t want to hear that I was 6 centimeters. I told her that I didn’t want to hear it if I was 6cm. If it was less than that, fine, I could deal, and if it was more than that, then I definitely wanted to know, but I didn’t want to hear 6. I told her she could lie to me and say 5cm if a 6 I was. She said then that she had small hands, and that it sometimes made it difficult to tell when people were dilated to 8. I had a contraction and that statement flew right over my head. However, her comment about a bulging bag of waters didn’t. She said my water would break soon, and then I’d probably want to push, which would be great.
It was then that I realized I was afraid. I felt so out of control. Ian’s labor had been long—very long, but it was never unmanageable, and the stage I was in was not what I would have considered painful. This time though, it hurt. I felt like I was at the mercy of the contractions, and I was afraid of where they’d take me. And I wasn’t ready to have this baby. I was supposed to have a few hours to get used to the idea that this was indeed real. Things were happening way too fast for me.
I didn’t want my water to break because I knew that contractions are usually much more intense after that happens, even though last time it wasn’t so. I told DarthHusband and Midwife this. I really felt like I should give voice to my fears and let them out. This happened several times during the labor. If I was afraid of something (water breaking, the ring of fire, etc), as soon as I voiced it, the event I feared happened and it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Just as I said, “….because I don’t want it to hurt anymore than it already does,” my water broke. Like last time, I had a lot of fluid. Fortunately, it broke on a chux pad, and they got the plastic down in time, so there was only a small spot of it on the floor (it was clear anyway). The contractions did become more intense, but they were not more painful. The apprentices arrived about then. Since we knew this baby would be bigger than my first, I tried lying on my side. My belly felt too heavy for that, but I stayed there for a few contractions. She asked if I felt like pushing, and said I should go with it if I did. I didn’t.
When I felt like it, I tried pushing in that position (side-lying) a few times, and noticed that Midwife was no longer removing the Doppler from my belly after each contraction. I asked if everything was okay, and she said things were fine, but I should probably change positions to something more comfortable and if the toilet was comfortable last time, maybe I should try it again. We moved to the bathroom, and DarthHusband told me each time I was doing a good job. It was so encouraging to hear, especially since I felt so out of control. Midwife asked if I would please try pushing now, as she wasn’t able to hear the heart rate as well as she liked. I knew everything was okay, but I heard myself praying anyway. I was praying for the strength to remember that the pain was okay, and the result of all of this was a baby anyway, and that the baby would be okay. I’d sort of forgotten that this was leading up to a real baby in all of my fear. I pushed a couple of times, but it felt wrong. It wasn’t comfortable in the least, and it felt so much better to gently blow through contractions. It was the only way I felt in control. I think at one point I told Midwife to “get that #I$&)! Doppler off of me,” and she said she was sorry, but she really wanted to hear him. I was okay with it then. I tried to push again, and then stopped and asked if Ian would be mad at me. I hadn’t kissed him goodbye (something I always make it a point to do), and here I was turning him into a big brother and throwing him into a whole new phase of life, and he'd never be my only child again. After being assured that no, he wouldn’t, and this baby was coming anyway, I tried again. I could feel the baby descend a bit, but was afraid that since it didn’t feel right that he was malpositioned. Midwife assured me that when she checked, she felt the appropriate sutures on his skull, and that she was sure he was positioned right, but maybe I needed another position. Did I want to go back to the bedroom? I answered yes, and DarthHusband, who kept telling me reassuring things (after I nearly dismembered him for counting during a push—poor guy), helped me up to move.
I took two steps, and suddenly fell (not hard) to my knees. The tile floor was surprisingly comfortable, and things immediately felt right. I told DarthHusband and Midwife that the baby was going to be born right here in the bathroom, and they’d better get ready for it, and could I please have some pillows? The apprentices got the pillows for me, and I felt like I could push now. I pushed and felt his shoulders on my pelvic bones. I pushed again, and it burned. I felt warm compresses, and the burning went away. DarthHusband told me he could see a head. Then I heard, “I see lips, I see lips!” I waited until I felt another contraction, and then pushed again. I felt my pelvic bones separate to let the baby’s shoulders through. I don’t remember feeling that with Ian. I heard one of the apprentices say quietly, “The oxygen’s right here.” My heart was telling me that the baby was fine, but I asked anyway. I was told, “It’s just in case.” I heard myself scream as I pushed the rest of him out into DarthHusband's waiting hands, feeling in those few seconds his transition from the abstract concept of “the baby” to the concrete My Child. I didn’t scream because it hurt, but because the feeling was so intense. Then I heard, “Ohhhh, we’ve got a cord, times one…….two……three?! Lindsay—hang on a second, this little one’s all tangled up in his cord.” (This explains why she had kept the Doppler on me.) DarthHusband told me what they were doing as he worked with them to unwind our new son from his cord. He didn’t cry. Somehow I knew he was all right, even though he was quiet. I knew it was because he wasn’t scared. I heard a couple of whimpers, and was helped to turn over, and I could finally hold my little one. DarthHusband confirmed he was a boy, and I was immediately thrilled with my new son. It was 7:53am, just 3 hours and 23 minutes after I felt the first contraction.
The midwives were getting slightly concerned because Rooster wasn’t crying, so I asked him to cry just once to tell them he was okay. He let out one indignant yell, and then settled right back down, and looked at me with big, dark eyes. He nursed for a minute, I delivered the placenta immediately after—it was a big one, and then, after a quick shower for me, Rooster and I snuggled in bed. I ate a huge breakfast while DarthHusband weighed Rooster. When he came out, we were sure there was no way he was bigger than Ian had been—he just felt so tiny all crunched up in my arms. Midwife double-checked the scale, and Rooster was indeed bigger, weighing in at 9lbs, 4oz, and measuring just a wee bit shorter at 20.5 inches (and he refused to uncurl his leg to make it an even 21). An examination of me revealed one small labial abrasion (not worth a stitch), and not even so much as a skid mark to my perineum. I’ve healed very well, and feel pretty much back to normal, except for the lovely postpartum stomach with brand-new stretch marks.
Looking back over the birth, there were a few things that stood out to us. The first was that I gave birth in the ideal position for a large baby with a nuchal cord. It was amazing to me that my body knew exactly how to best deliver him for his size and the unexpected cord. His cord was also longer than normal. This was probably why I had so much amniotic fluid—it kept the cord floating well during the pregnancy. The cord was long enough that I was able to push him out before the midwife had a chance to determine whether it would need to be cut or if it could simply be unwrapped. His heart rate had dropped into the 90s, but did not do so until I began to push, and even though it was low, it was steady, and did not drop any lower. We suspect that Rooster wrapped himself in it on his way out, as his heart rate was strong and steady in the 120s even after my water broke. The cord was wrapped tightly enough to cause his heart to slow, but it was not pulled tightly enough to empty it or completely compress it. His descent into and through the birth canal was so rapid that his head wasn’t the slightest bit coney, yet for such a rapid birth, he had no bruising, and no signs of having been through any trauma whatsoever. I believe this birth was gentle for him. He is still a very calm baby, and very rarely cries. He was given an initial Apgar score of 5, because of his slow heart rate, and because he decided to take his time breathing (he didn't come out crying or obviously breathing), but by two minutes, he was given a score of 8. He required no oxygen, and was easily convinced to breathe with just a bit of blow-by. Had we planned to have this birth in a hospital, I don't know if we would have made it in. I think I probably would have wanted to stay home, not wanting to go in too soon. Since my first labor was so long, I know I wouldn't have believed I had progressed as far as I did in such a short time. I haven't marked time well in this story, but going back over it with the midwife, from the time Rooster's heart rate dropped into the 90s to the time he was born was about 20 minutes. We went to my family doctor the next day for my RhoGam shot, and to have the doctor take a peek at Rooster. He heard the whole birth story, and said it sounded like things went great. "Uncomplicated pregnancy, relatively uncomplicated delivery--just wonderful!" He gave us a pat on the back, along with his hearty congratulations and sent us home to rest.
I am firmly convinced that in spite of how rocky this birth was for me, it was gentle and easy on Rooster, which is just how I’d prayed it would be. I looked at the list I’d made the night before, and realized, as I sent DarthHusband to call and cancel the appointment with my back up OB, that I’d gotten everything on that list. Even though I didn’t feel particularly calm, I had a sense of peace through the whole thing that everything was fine. This labor and birth has taught me more about myself that I realize. It was an amazing experience.
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