Looking back

I was reading through my old posts and realized that I never wrote anything about the birth of my last son.  Leading up to his birth, I was extremely uncomfortable until I stopped working during my 36th week.  Some people are reading this thinking, "I worked up until 39/40 weeks".  Well, I learned from my first child that you cannot guarantee when your child will come.

My daughter was born between 35 and 36 weeks.  Thankfully, I had taken off work really early.  Truthfully, it was earlier than I needed, but it allowed me to be home when my water broke at 6:30 pm without any warning.  I had to be induced at 11:30 pm after hours with no real contractions.  My daughter couldn't breathe well and had jaundice, all the fun stuff that preemies have.  Although it was really shitty having my first child in the hospital, it gave us time to get everything we hadn't gotten (carseat, crib) that we desperately needed three weeks ahead of schedule.

After that, my second child came at 37 weeks and 5 days.  After feeling mild contractions for an hour at most, my water broke at 6:30 pm (again).  Within minutes, we were on the way to the hospital with contractions coming every three or four minutes and lasting over a minute.  I got wheeled in to the maternity ward, barely made it on the scale, got to use the new tub (the hospital I went to with my first, moved and built a dank, tricked out new hospital with sweet ass delivery and recovery rooms), barely got back to my bed to start pushing.  Two and a half hours after arriving at the hospital, my son was born.

Usually, you are more at risk for preterm labor if you have had it before.  Apparently, my children defy science or whatever.  I say that because I believed my third child would follow his sibling's leads and come out early.  I had been feeling enormous and having Braxton Hicks for weeks.  Many weeks.  Week 37 came and went.  I had my 38th week appointment and was dilated 3 cm, 80% effaced, and my son was at 0 station (meaning he was as far into my pelvis as he could be before entering the birth canal).  I had false labor pains that started at 7 pm and lasted well into the night.  Contractions were coming every seven minutes, but not growing in strength.  I felt like throwing up with every contraction.  My face would flush and I'd feel like fainting.  I almost went to the hospital just from feeling terrible.  This happened on two separate nights.

Fast forward to week 39.  I go to my OB-GYN and I am now 4-5 cm dilated, 80% effaced, and -1 station.  Yep, he was in the birth canal, but would not come out.  I was further dilated than my mother in law got when she had my husband, and I wasn't in labor.  What a jerk, right?  The doctor asked if I wanted my membranes swept (that's where they separate the amniotic sac from the uterine wall near the cervix).  Why not?  My daughter had started kindergarten the week before and my husband was due to start work the following week (he teaches at a private school) so the timing was right.  Several hours later, I was having contractions every four minutes and lasting a minute.  They'd been coming regularly for hours.  All the protocols were met.  My husband kept telling me to call the doctor to confirm going to the hospital, but I kept waiting for my water to break like before.  I had contractions with my first son that were hard to talk through because of the pain.  Why wasn't I having those?  Doctor said come on in when I finally did call.  I walked in, got on the scale, even had time to decide what I wanted for pain management.  I got some fentanyl and started to drift off (I was getting really tired with all the contractions).  Doc came in and broke my water.  Shit got real after that.  Little boy came an hour and ten min later.  I breathed through my pain and made a concerted effort to focus on each contraction.  I followed that up during the pushing with four big pushes.

It was really weird when my son came.  It was very emotional for me.  I had been having more and more doubts as his arrival came closer and the weeks wore on.  I started to freak out about whether we could do it, raise three kids.  I mean, what were we thinking?  His brother and sister had such a great relationship and here was this little boy coming in to ruin it.  And labor, wow.  It had only been a year and a half since my last labor and although it was quick, it hurt.  A lot.  I was scared.  Scared about how I would pick my daughter up from school with two little boys, scared about how I would breastfeed my newborn while my toddler ran around terrorizing my living room, scared about everything changing.  And then he came.

I still felt really worried.  I knew from my previous experiences that even the best labor can result in tears.  You just cannot help the emotion.  It's hard to explain.  I know hormones play a huge part, but even still, it's jarring.  With my last son, I was elated.  It all happened so fast, even if it was painful.  We didn't know what we were having with him until he came out balls and penis flashing.  I was so excited to have a son.  So why didn't I feel the same with this one?  I was pretty upset and didn't really connect while we were in the hospital.  I just wanted to get home and get into a routine.

We got home and things fell into place.  We suffered setbacks like most parents.  My son ended up jaundiced even with constant feeding (the ped at the hospital suggested that I have something that I've passed to my children since all three have been jaundiced, whether full-term or not), breastfeeding got temporarily screwed up (lactation consultant saved me from quitting), and he still has cradle cap at two months old (minor, but still annoying).  Even with the issues listed above, I found myself completely in love with my child.  When I'm away from him, he's constantly on my mind.  His cry is cute, his smile is cute, his little face is so cute.  I just can't get over it.  He's got such a sweet little face with these big eyes that just light up when he looks at me.  I've found that all my worries were unfounded and now that he's here, I can't imagine life without him.  It's as if I've never worried before and everything in my life fell perfectly into place.

Halloween

Last night we took my daughter trick or treating in our new neighborhood.  She was Disney's Rapunzel on her wedding day.  This costume had multiple components, almost all of which my daughter had to complain about.  The wig was itchy, the tiara/veil kept falling, the shoes were clunky, and the part that goes under the dress to pouf it out didn't quite stay in the right place.  I was told exactly, "there's something under my dress...it's not perfect".  What a statement!

We also took my sons for a short bit.  The elder was dressed as Hulk and the younger was Mike from Monster's Inc.  They were so cute and I was so proud of them.  The toddler, who is usually a holy terror, was an absolute delight.  He waved hi to people and didn't fuss.  He stayed on my husband's shoulders and had the greatest time.  The baby, who is only two months old, slept.  Like, almost the entire time we were out with them.  I was very impressed with both of them.  I cannot wait until next year when both of them can walk around.

It sprinkled at the start of the night, but that bothered next to no one (except my daughter who worried about her dress, naturally).  We were out for about an hour before we headed home to put my toddler to bed and drop the baby off with grandparents, who handed out candy for us.  We met up with friends of ours and now, I am determined to always trick or treat with friends of ours, whether it's the family down the street that have a daughter around our son's age or the family with kids a couple years older than our oldest.  Trick or treating with other kids helps keep the whole thing in perspective.