I cannot believe my little boy is 4 years old!
That cute child you see is the slooooweeest child. He eats slow, he gets dressed slow, he takes all day to put on his shoes. But I don’t blame him. I should’ve known from the start he’d be one of those slow-moving sloth kids that just takes their time doing e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g.
My due date was May 29th. It never changed (it seems like all my friends and cousins’ due dates were adjusted and scootched around). My pregnancy was remarkably uneventful. Well, besides storing water like a camel and looking like I had elephant legs. Seriously, I had beyond kankles. Towards week 36 or so, the nurse looked at my legs, started laughing and said, “I don’t think those are kankles anymore. I might call those thankles,” and continued laughing. Other than mocking nurses, a 37lb weight-gain, a 43-inch waistline, and an unholy attachment to Thin Mints and Reeses Mini Peanut Butter cups, things were going well:
Like many first time moms, my due date came and went. Thankfully my doctors were merciful and said, “let’s schedule your induction…hopefully you’ll go into labor before then…if not, at least you have a date.” Did I mention that at that, my 40-week checkup, that I was not quite 1cm dilated?
So six days later, on Thursday, June 3, 2004, I woke up grouchy and nervous and hungry and ticked that I wasn’t allowed to eat or drink anything because of the induction and the (slight) risk that they’d need to put me under general anesthesia. So I ate 4 oz of peach applesauce because otherwise I would be so nasty and crabby that I was afraid I’d scare Justin out of the delivery room if I didn’t have something to stop the blood sugar crash.
On our way to the hospital we got caught in school traffic, and since I was already in early stages of labor (thanks prostaglandin gel!), I cussed-out every car we passed where the parents were bringing their kids to school instead of letting them take the bus, and made all sorts of oaths about using public transportation. Yep. I was a bundle of fun and love for humanity.
We arrive at the hospital a little later than scheduled. We get into our room right away and, just before 8am, hook up the pitocin to hose my kid out.
The contractions get strong right away…and during a particularly strong one, around 9am, Gavin kicked in retaliation, and my water broke. Contractions got stronger and I was getting pretty uncomfortable so I got a shot of Stadol. While in-between contractions I was feeling pretty good, it didn’t do crap for me during the contractions.
At 11am I got my first epidural. Thirty minutes later when I was STILL only numb from my knees down and was crawling up the walls from excruciating back labor, we called in the nurse wondering where my pain relief was. At 12pm my second epidural, inserted 1/4 inch higher on my back, was administered and within a couple minutes I was laughing hysterically because my finger could feel my leg, but my leg could not feel my finger! My big serious hairy Russian anesthesiologist cracked a smile and left the room before I could hug him (seriously, I wanted to send the man flowers).
We both rested a couple hours (well, Justin tossed and turned on the lumpy recliner, and I tried to doze in 15-min increments, continually woken up by the auto-blood pressure machine). After our “rest” at 2:45pm, the nurse checked me and I was already 8cm! I asked the nurse if she thought I might have the baby by around dinner time. I figured she had helped deliver hundreds of babies and had a good idea on how these things progress. She said, “sure!” I thought, “great! only a few more hours and we have our baby!” She later told me she said that so as to not discourage me.
Around 4:30 I was feeling a lot of pressure, but was only 9cm. The nurse told me to go ahead and do some small pushes to help the baby move down a little farther. We pushed for about 20 minutes, then rested about 20 min while the doctor and nurses got suited-up and fired-up the fry-warmer. A little after 5pm and we started doing some serious pushing…and letting my epidural wear off some so I could feel when to push. We pushed and huffed and puffed and cussed-out the blood-pressure cuff (it was distracting me and the plastic on the cuff was digging into the inside of my elbow). We huffed and puffed and pushed some more, where I yelled at Justin (and anyone else in earshot) TO JUST KEEP COUNTING! I CANNOT KEEP COUNT WHILE CONCENTRATING ON BIRTHIN’ A HUMAN!!! Everyone began counting then…Justin, the nurses, the doctor and I think even the ladies in housekeeping were counting.
Finally, at 5:34pm, about 9-1/2 hours after it all started, an 8lb 14oz Gavin Isaak was born.
I cannot believe my little boy is 4 years old!