Baby! The birth story.
I delayed posting here because I was planning on writing a Very Long Post filled with Gruesome Details. That will still happen--someday. Instead, this is just a Long Post with some Gruesome, and I'll edit in some more grue later. Now that I'm spending 12 out of every 24 hours just on baby-feeding duties, and trying to sleep at least 4-6, things are getting done slower or not at all. If I didn't feel unnaturally alert and unable to nap right now (between feedings), I'd be sleeping.
Welcome to Cassius Alfred Staffin Wiebe, born August 2nd, 2011!
The full photo set (will be updated regularly) is at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/aswiebe/sets/72157627350569730/
The Stats
Weight: 8 lbs, 8 oz.
Length: 21 inches
Head size: 15 inches
Official due date: August 1st, 2011
Hospital: Abbott Northwestern, Minneapolis
When I entered the hospital: August 1st, 2011, at about 8:00 AM.
When Cassius was born: August 2nd, 2011, at about 5:30 AM.
Hours from checking into hospital to Cassius' arrival: 21 hrs 30 min (ouch)
Weather: Thunderstorms and lightning all day. It was atmospherically appropriate.
The Story
It was a dark and stormy Monday morning when I noticed that something might be amiss. One of the things about the body getting ready to have a baby is an increase in mucus secretions--a woman's reproductive bits are a self-cleaning oven, and when there's a bun in the oven, the self-cleaning function clicks into overdrive to help prevent contamination and infection. But this particular morning, those secretions were pink (bloody) and a bit more plentiful than they had been in the past. I'd had the bloody show on Saturday, so it was quite likely this was just a continuation of that, but I decided to call the doctor to see if it might be anything else that needed to be checked out. In the past, I've had worse medical outcomes because of my acceptance of too many things as "normal," and so I was trying to change that behavior. And I figured I should call early in the morning before Phil went off to work, because if it was something that needed to be checked out, I wouldn't need to call him back.
I'd also called the medical practice's hotline on Saturday to check about whether the "contractions" I was having were regular and strong enough that I should get checked out. Verdict: No, especially since I'd just been examined on Friday and found to be generally unprepared to give birth anytime soon. This was after Phil and I walked all around IKEA and the Mall of America on Saturday, hoping to get things moving. Also, while there we acquired a shelving system for the attic/sports room (to allow us to move stuff out that inhabited what is going to be the nursery), Ragstock scarves to use as breastfeeding covers, Neapolitan astronaut's ice cream (just about my favorite thing ever) from the candy store in the MoA, and various forms of food.
Perhaps another sign of imminent labor was that Phil's nesting instinct had kicked in, resulting in the organization of the attic, the assembly of baby devices, and the hoarding of frozen pizza.
Ahem. Monday. The doctor agreed that it wasn't likely that my bag of waters had broken, but that it was something that should be checked out. And so it was off to the hospital we went, after I bolted a bowl of cereal and threw the last-minute packing items into my hospital bag. (And forgot clean underwear, jell-o, and my camera, requiring Phil to make a trip back later to get those items.)
There, the hospital did their little dip-stick test and we found out that yes, my water had broken, albeit in a slow leak rather than the dramatic gush you see on TV. Once that happens, they don't let you go anywhere, because it drastically increases the risks of infection for the baby. They also want you to hurry up and give birth. Suddenly I was going to have the baby significantly earlier than the rest of my body had expected (though it was August 1st, his for-reals due date).
And therein lay the rub. Although Cassius seemed to have decided that he wanted to be prompt about his exit (Water breaking on the actual due date, especially for a first child? Unheard of!), nothing else was ready. Biologically, my body was less ready to give birth than most women's are a month before their actual labor. The cervix wasn't anywhere near ready, I wasn't having consistent, frequent contractions, and the baby hadn't dropped all the way yet. It's dangerous to wait after the waters break, though, because of the risk of infection. I should note at this point that induced labor has a higher risk of things like c-sections and episiotomies and other things that are No Fun. It's also known to be more painful than "regular" labor. My doctor had indicated that if, as expected, Cassius went 1+ weeks past his due date, they'd probably induce, and I was already not happy with that prospect. Moving it up to my actual due date made me way less happy.
[first part, food, dvd, etc]
We'll start by saying that two days later my throat was still sore from screaming. Okay? Okay. I was the noisiest patient in the maternity wing. Of course, I was also the only one doing the deed without an epidural (85% of women use an epidural. Half of the remainder planned to and couldn't for some reason). Yes, I took the narcotics they offered. No, they did not help that much. Breathing exercises and whimpering got me past the first many hours of labor contractions, but the last three hours were a stone-cold bitch (that's about when I started for-real screaming).
[insert grue here, painkillers, side effects]
One of the funnier things about my labor, though, was that after only a couple of hours I developed an acute case of reality dysfunction and word salad. I was half-passing out between contractions, and dream, TV (The Godfather, Shark Week), and reality became inseparable. I would try to say something to Phil (about whichever reality), and some very strange version of it would come out of my mouth. He remembers me asking him to "take the cannoli" a couple of times, but unfortunately he did not write any of the other weird things I said down.
He also says I swore very little and didn't hit him at all--mostly because he was smart enough to stay out of reach unless asked for and he didn't say anything really stupid.
When it came time to push, things went really fast. And it was definitely not the most painful part of the whole process (I was once again able to focus enough to control my breathing). Once I told the nurse that I couldn't not push anymore (I started feeling the urge before my cervix was entirely ready), she called the on-call doctor from my obstetrics clinic and told her to take a shower and come in. A few minutes later, she called the hospital staff doctor and told him to get in there because she really didn't think I was going to take that long. And I didn't. The average for a first-time mom is 2-3 hours. I took probably less than 20 minutes. I also turned into some weird growly Gollum thing when I pushed, which was a bit disturbing since I had no control over it.
That's why I had decided to not have an epidural (even if I did wonder if I could reverse that decision when I was at the magical labor phase known as transition). Not the turning-into-Gollum part, but the better delivery. Epidurals can slow labor (which was already slow enough, thankyouverymuch), cause problems pushing, and lead to more interventions and birthing damage to the mother. I ended up with 2 stitches that probably weren't even really needed to heal well. Basically, I was fine.
Oh, and I amused the delivery team when they asked me if I wanted to "touch my baby's head" as he was working his way out, and my response was a very emphatic, "No!"
The doctors and nurses told me I was "built to have babies." That was a surprise, given my mom's 2 c-sections and labor horror stories. And next time, hypothetically, everything will probably go even faster and easier. Especially if I can wait until my body's actually ready to have the baby. I would probably make the same no-epidural decision? We'll see.
(I of course also want to record the details of our stay in the hospital, getting Cassius home, how we're doing--but those will all have to be later posts.)
Welcome to Cassius Alfred Staffin Wiebe, born August 2nd, 2011!
The full photo set (will be updated regularly) is at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/aswiebe/sets/72157627350569730/
The Stats
Weight: 8 lbs, 8 oz.
Length: 21 inches
Head size: 15 inches
Official due date: August 1st, 2011
Hospital: Abbott Northwestern, Minneapolis
When I entered the hospital: August 1st, 2011, at about 8:00 AM.
When Cassius was born: August 2nd, 2011, at about 5:30 AM.
Hours from checking into hospital to Cassius' arrival: 21 hrs 30 min (ouch)
Weather: Thunderstorms and lightning all day. It was atmospherically appropriate.
The Story
It was a dark and stormy Monday morning when I noticed that something might be amiss. One of the things about the body getting ready to have a baby is an increase in mucus secretions--a woman's reproductive bits are a self-cleaning oven, and when there's a bun in the oven, the self-cleaning function clicks into overdrive to help prevent contamination and infection. But this particular morning, those secretions were pink (bloody) and a bit more plentiful than they had been in the past. I'd had the bloody show on Saturday, so it was quite likely this was just a continuation of that, but I decided to call the doctor to see if it might be anything else that needed to be checked out. In the past, I've had worse medical outcomes because of my acceptance of too many things as "normal," and so I was trying to change that behavior. And I figured I should call early in the morning before Phil went off to work, because if it was something that needed to be checked out, I wouldn't need to call him back.
I'd also called the medical practice's hotline on Saturday to check about whether the "contractions" I was having were regular and strong enough that I should get checked out. Verdict: No, especially since I'd just been examined on Friday and found to be generally unprepared to give birth anytime soon. This was after Phil and I walked all around IKEA and the Mall of America on Saturday, hoping to get things moving. Also, while there we acquired a shelving system for the attic/sports room (to allow us to move stuff out that inhabited what is going to be the nursery), Ragstock scarves to use as breastfeeding covers, Neapolitan astronaut's ice cream (just about my favorite thing ever) from the candy store in the MoA, and various forms of food.
Perhaps another sign of imminent labor was that Phil's nesting instinct had kicked in, resulting in the organization of the attic, the assembly of baby devices, and the hoarding of frozen pizza.
Ahem. Monday. The doctor agreed that it wasn't likely that my bag of waters had broken, but that it was something that should be checked out. And so it was off to the hospital we went, after I bolted a bowl of cereal and threw the last-minute packing items into my hospital bag. (And forgot clean underwear, jell-o, and my camera, requiring Phil to make a trip back later to get those items.)
There, the hospital did their little dip-stick test and we found out that yes, my water had broken, albeit in a slow leak rather than the dramatic gush you see on TV. Once that happens, they don't let you go anywhere, because it drastically increases the risks of infection for the baby. They also want you to hurry up and give birth. Suddenly I was going to have the baby significantly earlier than the rest of my body had expected (though it was August 1st, his for-reals due date).
And therein lay the rub. Although Cassius seemed to have decided that he wanted to be prompt about his exit (Water breaking on the actual due date, especially for a first child? Unheard of!), nothing else was ready. Biologically, my body was less ready to give birth than most women's are a month before their actual labor. The cervix wasn't anywhere near ready, I wasn't having consistent, frequent contractions, and the baby hadn't dropped all the way yet. It's dangerous to wait after the waters break, though, because of the risk of infection. I should note at this point that induced labor has a higher risk of things like c-sections and episiotomies and other things that are No Fun. It's also known to be more painful than "regular" labor. My doctor had indicated that if, as expected, Cassius went 1+ weeks past his due date, they'd probably induce, and I was already not happy with that prospect. Moving it up to my actual due date made me way less happy.
[first part, food, dvd, etc]
We'll start by saying that two days later my throat was still sore from screaming. Okay? Okay. I was the noisiest patient in the maternity wing. Of course, I was also the only one doing the deed without an epidural (85% of women use an epidural. Half of the remainder planned to and couldn't for some reason). Yes, I took the narcotics they offered. No, they did not help that much. Breathing exercises and whimpering got me past the first many hours of labor contractions, but the last three hours were a stone-cold bitch (that's about when I started for-real screaming).
[insert grue here, painkillers, side effects]
One of the funnier things about my labor, though, was that after only a couple of hours I developed an acute case of reality dysfunction and word salad. I was half-passing out between contractions, and dream, TV (The Godfather, Shark Week), and reality became inseparable. I would try to say something to Phil (about whichever reality), and some very strange version of it would come out of my mouth. He remembers me asking him to "take the cannoli" a couple of times, but unfortunately he did not write any of the other weird things I said down.
He also says I swore very little and didn't hit him at all--mostly because he was smart enough to stay out of reach unless asked for and he didn't say anything really stupid.
When it came time to push, things went really fast. And it was definitely not the most painful part of the whole process (I was once again able to focus enough to control my breathing). Once I told the nurse that I couldn't not push anymore (I started feeling the urge before my cervix was entirely ready), she called the on-call doctor from my obstetrics clinic and told her to take a shower and come in. A few minutes later, she called the hospital staff doctor and told him to get in there because she really didn't think I was going to take that long. And I didn't. The average for a first-time mom is 2-3 hours. I took probably less than 20 minutes. I also turned into some weird growly Gollum thing when I pushed, which was a bit disturbing since I had no control over it.
That's why I had decided to not have an epidural (even if I did wonder if I could reverse that decision when I was at the magical labor phase known as transition). Not the turning-into-Gollum part, but the better delivery. Epidurals can slow labor (which was already slow enough, thankyouverymuch), cause problems pushing, and lead to more interventions and birthing damage to the mother. I ended up with 2 stitches that probably weren't even really needed to heal well. Basically, I was fine.
Oh, and I amused the delivery team when they asked me if I wanted to "touch my baby's head" as he was working his way out, and my response was a very emphatic, "No!"
The doctors and nurses told me I was "built to have babies." That was a surprise, given my mom's 2 c-sections and labor horror stories. And next time, hypothetically, everything will probably go even faster and easier. Especially if I can wait until my body's actually ready to have the baby. I would probably make the same no-epidural decision? We'll see.
(I of course also want to record the details of our stay in the hospital, getting Cassius home, how we're doing--but those will all have to be later posts.)