Birth #2
Finally, finally I am not pregnant anymore.
Home births beat hospital births by about a million. This birth was far less pleasant, longer, more painful, and just generally not as nice. It wasn't awful, though.
My original plan had been to labor at home as long as possible, since I had a suspicion I would be in labor for a long time, as that's how it was with James. But that plan didn't end up working out.
I woke up Monday morning feeling like crap. My womb ached, and I had even more trouble walking than usual. I struggled through the morning, because it was super busy. We were just in the process of setting up our new food business for The Final Table and we had a lot of meetings that day. But around 1pm I noticed I was leaking blood at an alarming rate. I never did that with James, so I called the doctor. She told me, as I expected, to go to the hospital. I didn't really WANT to, but I also didn't want things to go horribly wrong, so I figured I'd rather be safe than sorry.
I did put it off a bit until we finished our day, and then we headed to the hospital around 5pm. By then I was having mild contractions, but I was still not convinced labor would be happening anytime soon. My first nurse was GREAT. She put me at ease for a hospital birth, probably because she had herself had 4 homebirths, so she was very in line with my "no interventions" birth plan. She was also a night shift nurse, and I quickly realized those were the awesome nurses.
Basically from about 6pm to 6am, not a whole lot happened. My contractions got gradually stronger and stronger and I got progressively more tired. My family showed up, which was slightly irritating, but luckily my father left with James, since I really did not want to have to deal with worrying about my older child while pushing the younger one out.
Adam's Aunt Diana came by again (she was also present for my first birth) and brought her 9 year old daughter this time. And Kim showed up too, just in time for the long boring part. At least having friends there made the time pass a little quicker. Making fat jokes is a pretty good way to get through early labor.
By morning though, I was just really tired. I'd been up all night, in pain every 3-4 minutes or so, and nothing was really progressing. I hate that I seem to have slow going labors.
My doctor came in and broke my water for me at 10am, in order to help get things moving along. After all night of contractions I was still only like 5cm so I let her crochet hook me up.
A waterfall of fluid gushed out of me, and that's when the fun really began. Without a nice balloon of water cushioning the baby, her head dropped right on my cervix and from then on, everything was a lot more painful. My contractions kept getting longer and longer and more unbearable.
By then, I was feeling rather done. I still wasn't fully dilated and I knew the worst part was still ahead, and everything just basically sucked. The nurses were in and out, but more out than in. That was okay since I mostly wanted to be left alone, but it was very different than having a midwife who instead of coming in to monitor you is just there the whole time, being supportive and encouraging.
I finally asked for something to take the edge off. They gave me the equivalent of tylenol, because I didn't want an epidural or any strong drugs or anything that would effect the baby. It was basically worthless, because it did nothing to dull my pain or take the edge off, but mentally it gave me a nice placebo effect for about 10 minutes.
Finally I was fully dilated so they said I could start pushing. I never felt a strong urge to push, just a lot of pressure, and I didn't WANT to push, I just knew it was the only way to end all this.
They put up a "birthing bar" on the bed for me, for me to hang on to and birth basically squatting, which was actually nice, since it gave me something to support myself with. So I started pushing.
The first few pushes don't do anything but hurt. You can't feel the baby coming out, so it basically just feels like you are SUPER constipated and trying very hard, and nothing is happening. Except it really, really hurts.
Finally I felt the baby's head, which was just as discouraging, because every push I felt it come out a little and then suck right back in when I stopped pushing, since I could only tolerate the pain for about 20 seconds at a time, and then I had to rest.
Finally finally, I decided I was done with this crap, and I was going to push and push until she came out. I informed the nurse it was burning, which is a sign of her head ripping open my vajayjay, so she informed the doctor it was time to come in.
My doctor apparently took her sweet time, because I pushed again without the doctor there yet, and the friggin nurse HELD HER HEAD IN.
I could feel her head RIGHT THERE ready to come out, and my "it hurts!" comments were directed at the nurse holding her head in a very painful place, but she did not want that baby out until the doctor was there. Finally my doctor arrived and I pushed again and out she slid. That is one of the most relieving feelings in the whole world. Once you feel that gush of baby, you know it's OVER.
I think they probably WANTED to respect my wishes to give her to me right away, but honestly at that point I was soooo tired and in such pain, I didn't really care anymore, and I felt too weak to lift her up. So I just let things happen.
The placenta came out, the cord was cut, the usual after birth process happenings were going on, and I just wanted to sleep. But pee first. So I tried to stand up. Apparently, big mistake.
A niagra falls of blood gushed out of me, covering me and the floor Carrie style, and my legs looked like I had bathed in red paint. So they forced me into bed and on all kinds of medication to make me cramp up and stop bleeding to death. That was very unpleasant and I did not enjoy it one bit.
In fact, the after she was born part was really what made the hospital part unpleasant. After James was born, I just took a nap in my own bed, and my midwife stayed, but left me alone. In the hospital, there were about 20 nurses with their machines and IVs and drugs pumping things through me and being generally annoying.
All in all, it was not a bad birth, just not as easy as James was. I'm still glad I pushed her out without the IVs and the hook ups and the epidurals and the medicines typically given in birth. I started to feel A LOT better as soon as they finally took me off my IV and let me rest.
I had WANTED to go home, but I kept having bleeding issues, so they made me stay 2 days in the hospital to monitor my blood pressure and blood count levels to make sure I wouldn't just randomly pass out. I knew I wouldn't because I felt fine, but hospitals are very lawsuit-concerned.
Anyway, she ended up being 9lbs and 21.5 inches long. So much bigger than James. And she looks it, too. She was one fat, squishy baby. Newborns all look alike to me, and I can't say she was "perfect" or "cute" or anything like that, other than the fact that she had all her fingers and toes and such, and she was no uglier than any other fat, squishy newborn.
After much consternation and debate, we finally decided to name her Saphira Rose. The name mostly came out of nowhere and desperation, because it wasn't on our list anywhere.
Before she was born, we were really leaning towards Wendy, but she didn't look like a Wendy at all. Then I was considering Charlotte very heavily, but I was concerned it was too popular. It's in the top 10 names these days for girls.
I was still sort of hung up on the idea of having a greek name, and this grew stronger when I saw she had the more olive colored skin tone and darker hair to match her greek heritage (Adam is Greek on his mother's side so she's got it in her blood too). I also wanted something to do with "fire" since she was an Aries, and hopefully feisty. Adam's favorite name had to be counted out, because although it meant "fiery one" in Greek, in English it meant "gum disease."
Randomly I stumbled across Sapphiere, which is Greek for Sapphire (obviously) and since in Greek the e's at the end of words are actually pronounced, it makes it a 3 syllable word. So I decided to go with an Americanized version of that, and name her Saphira. I thought briefly about spelling it Safira, since the 'fira' part is easily relatable to 'fire' but in the end, the ph spelling looked less trendy and weird to me.
So that's that. After I named her, I googled it and learned Sapphira was a woman in the Bible, who was someone's wife and eventually killed by God for lying. So I suppose in a way it also matches with James as far as being Biblical.
She's a few days old now, and doing pretty well. I'm just glad to be un-pregnant finally.
That is all, for now.
Home births beat hospital births by about a million. This birth was far less pleasant, longer, more painful, and just generally not as nice. It wasn't awful, though.
My original plan had been to labor at home as long as possible, since I had a suspicion I would be in labor for a long time, as that's how it was with James. But that plan didn't end up working out.
I woke up Monday morning feeling like crap. My womb ached, and I had even more trouble walking than usual. I struggled through the morning, because it was super busy. We were just in the process of setting up our new food business for The Final Table and we had a lot of meetings that day. But around 1pm I noticed I was leaking blood at an alarming rate. I never did that with James, so I called the doctor. She told me, as I expected, to go to the hospital. I didn't really WANT to, but I also didn't want things to go horribly wrong, so I figured I'd rather be safe than sorry.
I did put it off a bit until we finished our day, and then we headed to the hospital around 5pm. By then I was having mild contractions, but I was still not convinced labor would be happening anytime soon. My first nurse was GREAT. She put me at ease for a hospital birth, probably because she had herself had 4 homebirths, so she was very in line with my "no interventions" birth plan. She was also a night shift nurse, and I quickly realized those were the awesome nurses.
Basically from about 6pm to 6am, not a whole lot happened. My contractions got gradually stronger and stronger and I got progressively more tired. My family showed up, which was slightly irritating, but luckily my father left with James, since I really did not want to have to deal with worrying about my older child while pushing the younger one out.
Adam's Aunt Diana came by again (she was also present for my first birth) and brought her 9 year old daughter this time. And Kim showed up too, just in time for the long boring part. At least having friends there made the time pass a little quicker. Making fat jokes is a pretty good way to get through early labor.
By morning though, I was just really tired. I'd been up all night, in pain every 3-4 minutes or so, and nothing was really progressing. I hate that I seem to have slow going labors.
My doctor came in and broke my water for me at 10am, in order to help get things moving along. After all night of contractions I was still only like 5cm so I let her crochet hook me up.
A waterfall of fluid gushed out of me, and that's when the fun really began. Without a nice balloon of water cushioning the baby, her head dropped right on my cervix and from then on, everything was a lot more painful. My contractions kept getting longer and longer and more unbearable.
By then, I was feeling rather done. I still wasn't fully dilated and I knew the worst part was still ahead, and everything just basically sucked. The nurses were in and out, but more out than in. That was okay since I mostly wanted to be left alone, but it was very different than having a midwife who instead of coming in to monitor you is just there the whole time, being supportive and encouraging.
I finally asked for something to take the edge off. They gave me the equivalent of tylenol, because I didn't want an epidural or any strong drugs or anything that would effect the baby. It was basically worthless, because it did nothing to dull my pain or take the edge off, but mentally it gave me a nice placebo effect for about 10 minutes.
Finally I was fully dilated so they said I could start pushing. I never felt a strong urge to push, just a lot of pressure, and I didn't WANT to push, I just knew it was the only way to end all this.
They put up a "birthing bar" on the bed for me, for me to hang on to and birth basically squatting, which was actually nice, since it gave me something to support myself with. So I started pushing.
The first few pushes don't do anything but hurt. You can't feel the baby coming out, so it basically just feels like you are SUPER constipated and trying very hard, and nothing is happening. Except it really, really hurts.
Finally I felt the baby's head, which was just as discouraging, because every push I felt it come out a little and then suck right back in when I stopped pushing, since I could only tolerate the pain for about 20 seconds at a time, and then I had to rest.
Finally finally, I decided I was done with this crap, and I was going to push and push until she came out. I informed the nurse it was burning, which is a sign of her head ripping open my vajayjay, so she informed the doctor it was time to come in.
My doctor apparently took her sweet time, because I pushed again without the doctor there yet, and the friggin nurse HELD HER HEAD IN.
I could feel her head RIGHT THERE ready to come out, and my "it hurts!" comments were directed at the nurse holding her head in a very painful place, but she did not want that baby out until the doctor was there. Finally my doctor arrived and I pushed again and out she slid. That is one of the most relieving feelings in the whole world. Once you feel that gush of baby, you know it's OVER.
I think they probably WANTED to respect my wishes to give her to me right away, but honestly at that point I was soooo tired and in such pain, I didn't really care anymore, and I felt too weak to lift her up. So I just let things happen.
The placenta came out, the cord was cut, the usual after birth process happenings were going on, and I just wanted to sleep. But pee first. So I tried to stand up. Apparently, big mistake.
A niagra falls of blood gushed out of me, covering me and the floor Carrie style, and my legs looked like I had bathed in red paint. So they forced me into bed and on all kinds of medication to make me cramp up and stop bleeding to death. That was very unpleasant and I did not enjoy it one bit.
In fact, the after she was born part was really what made the hospital part unpleasant. After James was born, I just took a nap in my own bed, and my midwife stayed, but left me alone. In the hospital, there were about 20 nurses with their machines and IVs and drugs pumping things through me and being generally annoying.
All in all, it was not a bad birth, just not as easy as James was. I'm still glad I pushed her out without the IVs and the hook ups and the epidurals and the medicines typically given in birth. I started to feel A LOT better as soon as they finally took me off my IV and let me rest.
I had WANTED to go home, but I kept having bleeding issues, so they made me stay 2 days in the hospital to monitor my blood pressure and blood count levels to make sure I wouldn't just randomly pass out. I knew I wouldn't because I felt fine, but hospitals are very lawsuit-concerned.
Anyway, she ended up being 9lbs and 21.5 inches long. So much bigger than James. And she looks it, too. She was one fat, squishy baby. Newborns all look alike to me, and I can't say she was "perfect" or "cute" or anything like that, other than the fact that she had all her fingers and toes and such, and she was no uglier than any other fat, squishy newborn.
After much consternation and debate, we finally decided to name her Saphira Rose. The name mostly came out of nowhere and desperation, because it wasn't on our list anywhere.
Before she was born, we were really leaning towards Wendy, but she didn't look like a Wendy at all. Then I was considering Charlotte very heavily, but I was concerned it was too popular. It's in the top 10 names these days for girls.
I was still sort of hung up on the idea of having a greek name, and this grew stronger when I saw she had the more olive colored skin tone and darker hair to match her greek heritage (Adam is Greek on his mother's side so she's got it in her blood too). I also wanted something to do with "fire" since she was an Aries, and hopefully feisty. Adam's favorite name had to be counted out, because although it meant "fiery one" in Greek, in English it meant "gum disease."
Randomly I stumbled across Sapphiere, which is Greek for Sapphire (obviously) and since in Greek the e's at the end of words are actually pronounced, it makes it a 3 syllable word. So I decided to go with an Americanized version of that, and name her Saphira. I thought briefly about spelling it Safira, since the 'fira' part is easily relatable to 'fire' but in the end, the ph spelling looked less trendy and weird to me.
So that's that. After I named her, I googled it and learned Sapphira was a woman in the Bible, who was someone's wife and eventually killed by God for lying. So I suppose in a way it also matches with James as far as being Biblical.
She's a few days old now, and doing pretty well. I'm just glad to be un-pregnant finally.
That is all, for now.