It is birth story time! Get a cup of tea and get comfy, or run away. Whichever suits you is fine.
(And so it goes, the second child enters the world already being constantly compared to the first. (I’ve gotta stop doing that! I need to get their names straight, too.)) Harper was two weeks late. I had midwives with her, and they were very nonchalant about the delay. After a week of false contractions and other signs of pre-labor that I will spare you the gory details of, I went into labor with her on my own 13 days past due.
So, when my due date rolled around this time, I was not anticipating much. My OBGYNs, on the other hand, were of a different school of thought. Low and behold, they have a policy of sorts about these things; they don’t let pregnancies go beyond 41 weeks. I was shocked. They were shocked I was shocked. I doubt my poor doctor had ever faced a woman who was asking not to be induced, and ASKing for another TWO weeks of pregnancy. After giving it some thought, she decided I was not entirely bonkers. She gave me a few more days.
Nothing. I mean not one false contraction. We tried everything to naturally bring on labor. Yes, we even tried that. Everything. And, nothing.
So 10 days past my due date, I went in to be induced. It was all so strange driving to the hospital to have a baby, but not being in labor. I was afraid. Much more afraid than when I attempted to deliver Harps without pain medication (which I ended up getting and loving.)
So at 9:00 p.m. they gave me cervidil and a sleeping pill. Skylar and I settled in for the night. Around 2:00 a.m. some very mild contractions woke me up. I was so excited, thinking maybe, now 11 days past due, I would start labor. Nope. By 9:00 a.m. the contractions were still mild and irregular. They started the pitocin.
Pitocin hurts. No, really. A whole other world of pain in comparison to spontaneous, “Oh, it looks like the baby has decided to get out, yeah!” on your own contractions. So, at 3 c.m., I asked for my epidural. (I was 6 or 7 with Harper.)
Oh, and it was delightful! My goodness, if I ever run into that anesthesiologist at Stop & Shop, I will hug & kiss him! Quick, efficient, no pain, but I could still move my legs, the best epidural ever ever.
At the next check I was 4 c.m. They broke my water. We relaxed. Watched some T.V. Ate some chocolate.
By 12-ish I was 6 c.m. Then things started to get hairy. The baby’s heart rate started dropping with the contractions. Everyone had the “Don’t panic!” look about them, and seemed to start speaking in a stained clam slow manner. They put an oxygen mask on me while I focused on NOT PANNICKING. Then they put a heart monitor on the baby’s head. (Yes, they do that. Yes, it goes up there…) You could hear that monitor loud and clear in the room. It sounded like a metronome, but one that would pretty much stop every other minute.
In between the force of the pitocin contractions, and breaking my water, Casey had come down too quickly. She was tangled in the cord. They do things to help for this. I was rolled on my side, and the pitocin was turned off. The distress continued. They rolled me on my other side. The metronome kept skipping beats. They came in with a large thing wrapped up in plastic to keep it sterial. It was to pump saline in my uterus, in hopes this would give the baby some room to untangle herself a bit.
It had been about an hour or so since the distress began.
This was our last ditch effort to avoid a c-section.
My doctor joked we wouldn’t need to pump the saline if I was ready to push as she opened the package containing the end of the pump. And, she checked me. 10 c.m. +3. (That measurement is equivalent to realllllly ready to push.) 20 minutes later, Casey was born. Most of that time was everyone getting ready to catch the baby. She popped out in I think 2 rounds of pushing, maybe 7 minutes?
They put her right on my belly, fresh out. Harper had meconium, so they had taken her immediately away to suction her airways. This was the first time a brand new baby was ever placed on my belly. She was so small, covered in icky goo, and looked up at me. She looked exactly like Harper did.
I’d like to say it was love at first sight, and she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Honestly, it was gut wrenchingly uncanny. It was ‘I have given birth to twins, born 25 months apart, and this one is really messy.’ at first sight. But, sometimes that is just how love begins.
Happy Birthday Baby Casey. Please stop growing.
