"Get Out" - T's Birth Story

This is the story of our little monster-baby, T, and his arrival to "the outside."


Wednesday, 4 March
I rescheduled my 40-week appointment to today (one day earlier than originally planned) because of the threat of snow. Like, a lot. They were saying 6-12 inches. I pretty much knew school would be canceled, and if they closed the clinic, my appointment would be canceled. So, I wanted to be seen. I had a membrane sweep done. This was against Hubby's better judgment. Maybe I should have listened, but then again... maybe it was for the best that I just went for it. I was 3cm (and could stretch to 4 cm) dilated, but not effaced. Went on about my business.


Thursday, 5 March
This was quite a day, so I'll break it down into a timeline.

• 2:30am - Was awakened by a painful contraction. But, it was alone, so I went back to sleep.
• 10:00am - Started having more contractions. Or, at least, I noticed I was having more. Downloaded an app on my phone to track them. They were ranging from 30-60 seconds in length, and were all over the place in terms of interval. Seven minutes, then 15 minutes, then 5 minutes, then 20 minutes apart. Also, they weren't painful or seeming to grow more consistent.
• Mid-day - Convinced by a friend's Facebook post that I, too, was having "prodromal labor," I continued timing these inconsistent contractions, not realizing they were doing something. Hubby was convinced we needed to at least alert people that "stuff" was happening.
• 4:15pm - Snow was everywhere. We had gotten about 7 inches by this time. We let the neighbors know we might have to go to the hospital, but I was still not 100% sure. However, I had another painful contraction at this point.
• 7:00pm - Hubs realizes we only have a quarter tank of gas and decides to see if he can creep to the nearest gas station on the un-plowed roads. Turns out, only our neighborhood was not plowed. The adjacent streets are snow emergency routes and are (relatively) clear. They'd been plowed before the snow had stopped, so there was still a bit of a mess to deal with. He gassed up the car and came back home.
• 7:45pm - Kids' bedtime routine, and I was still able to give baths and read a bedtime story, but was decidedly more aware of the contractions. They were getting into a more regular interval (between 5-7 minutes apart) and growing a little more painful.
• 8:45pm - Watching TV with the Hubs, and I got one of those contractions that made me get off the couch and hug the ottoman. Hubs was not exactly pleased, and he asked more directly if we needed to go to the hospital now. I was like, "Uh... I don't know. No?"
• 9:30pm - Hubs and I head to bed. He jokes, "Maybe I should sleep in my clothes." Then, he asked me, "So, exactly how close should they be before we go to the hospital?" I momentarily suffer from amnesia and tell him (between contractions) to Google it. By this point, they are lasting from about 45-60 seconds and are about 2-3 minutes apart.
• 10:00pm - Hubs calls Labor and Delivery to let them know what's up and to find out if they are on deferral (and if we need to go to a different hospital). When they ask about my contractions, the on-call nurse says, "Uh, you should have left already." Got the stink-eye from Hubs. He texts our neighbor to ask her to come spend the night with the kids. She doesn't respond, so he heads over to their house and gets his feet wet in the snow because it came over his shoes.
• 10:05pm - Neighbor arrives, Hubs changes shoes, and we go.
• 10:30pm - Arrive to hospital. I am wheeled (in a wheelchair) to L&D because walking has begun to make me angry. Plus, I wasn't sure I would make it down the long hallways to get to L&D without having to stop every few feet to contract.
• 11:00pm - I am checked, baby's HR is good, my contractions are monitored, and I am dilated somewhere between 4-5 cm and effacing (but not totally there yet). I'm asked whether I want to be admitted at first, and then encouraged to be admitted but to walk around. But I won't be allowed to leave the room for some kind of liability reasons, so it's just walk around the room. I groan, probably from a contraction, but also probably from bureaucracy.
• Sometime before midnight - I am given a room and connected to monitors again. I hate continuous monitoring. Hate it.

Friday, 6 March
Most of these times are estimates. I only know for sure the last time listed. I was a little too busy to attend to the clock much on the rest.

• A little after midnight - I alert Hubs to the monitor screen and show him "TOCO." When TOCO goes up, I go berserk. TOCO is monitoring the contractions. When it is around 20, I'm okay. When it goes up above 50, I am unhappy. TOCO was pinging 100+ by now.
• 12:45am - The anesthesiologist shows up to get my consent for epidural and general anesthesia if needed. I humor him a little, but I let him know I had no intention of having any meds. He's persistent, however, so I hold up my "wait" finger during a particularly owwie contraction. I want to hold up a different finger. Hubs knows it. He is smiling behind eager anesthesiologist's back. Finally, I am able to scrawl some semblance of a signature on the "just in case" form.
• 1:15am - TOCO is going over 200 now. And it gets back to maybe 50 before going up again. I'm not getting a break anymore. The nurses are in awe (apparently, and according to Hubs) because I'm coping like a champ. A crowd gathers. They expect it will be any time now. But... it's not happening fast enough, and I can see people starting to leave after a few minutes. I get discouraged but can't really share my feelings.
• 1:45am - They get me on my back (which I hate) to check me. The OB on duty asks, "If I can get to it, do you want me to break your water?" I think I say yes. In my head, I say yes. Bad news, though... meconium in the water. My risk level just went up.
• 1:50am - I am allowed to be on my hands and knees. Grateful for the position change, I now feel like it's push time. And I start to push. And, oops! Poop. I apologize, but everyone says not to worry and keep doing my thing.
• 2:00am - Baby's HR is dropping to the 120s during contractions now. People are unhappy with that. They want me to roll back over on my back and start grabbing my legs. So, I do. And, oops! Poop again. I am screaming "Get OUUUT" at this point. I'm not sure why he hasn't been born yet. It should be easy with the third, right?
• 2:05am - Feels like I've been pushing forever. But it's only been a few times. They've put me on oxygen by now (might have happened a little bit before now). The OB says she needs to get out the vacuum. Baby needs out.
• 2:10am - The vacuum going in has a certain "wrong direction-ness" to it that I can't explain. Everything in me is like, "Nope. This is ebb tide, y'all. No swimming to shore." I think I protest about this somehow, but I might be sounding like a blithering idiot at this point. I'm not exactly lucid. I haven't opened my eyes in the last ten minutes at least. It's too much stimulation.
• 2:15am - I'm pushing, and pushing, and pushing. They fuss because I keep grunting during my pushes, when I should be holding my breath and using all the musculature in my body to get the baby out. I finally manage to get three or four in a row without grunting.
• 2:17am - He's out. Along with lots of shit-water. Hubs is grossed out. He says the boy is a "literal shithead" because his own fecal matter is all up in his hair. And he's pretty much brown all over.... until they clean him off.

It felt like forever, that they had him, working on him and helping him breathe. He cried when he emerged, but it was a sputter. They were concerned he may have aspirated the meconium, which can lead to a serious lung infection. They did suction, then deep suction. "Neonatal resuscitation" is on his chart. His APGAR scores were 6/8 because of low HR, poor color, poor motor response, and something else I can't quite recall.


When I finally got him (which was only like 20-30 minutes later, but it felt like FOREVER), he immediately latched like a champ and nursed. I still had no stats on this boy other than the time of his birth. I kept asking and no one was listening. After I'd been stitched up (because a vacuum-assisted birth does a real number on the nether regions), I was assisted to the bathroom. The nurse who took baby T from me said she'd weigh him. She and a resident commented that he felt like an eight-pound-eight-ounce baby. While I was in the bathroom, Hubs hollered in, "So... remember how they said 8 lbs, 8 oz??" I was like, yeah. "Well, how 'bout more like, 9 lbs, 9 oz." My jaw dropped. T is officially 1.5 lbs bigger than his brother, who was 1.5 lbs bigger than our girl. If we kept going, we'd have an 11-pounder next time! Regarding length, still not accurate information. We are going with 20 inches because the resident who attempted to measure him said, "He's wiggly, but we'll call this 20 inches." He was 20.5" at his appointment 3 days later, so we're really not sure. Maybe this is a difference between first-child and subsequent-children? I might care more about really knowing this information, but I also might not. He's perfect. So who cares?


He had to be "stuck" a bunch of times because they were concerned about diabetes. His blood sugar was 46, 47, 55, and 49 on each of his four fasting glucose tests (his poor little heels!!) - and it had to be above 45 for him to get the green light. So, he passed. Pediatricians checked out his lungs several times. He passed his newborn audiology test. He threw up a bloody mess, and I got freaked out, but it turns out this is normal for babies to ingest some of the blood of delivery. Gross, right?


Anyway, this baby boy is amazing. He sleeps well during the day, and sometimes also at night. He loves to cuddle. He is quiet and doesn't really make much fuss. He hates a wet diaper but doesn't seem to care about a poopy one. He would rather sleep with me than in his bassinet, but I don't sleep when he's in bed with me. I've probably been feeding him 3-4 times a night, with cluster feeding at the front-end (for like 2 straight hours, from 10-midnight). Hubs has been sleeping on the couch so he can be a better dad to the other two, who are handling new siblinghood in their own special ways. Took J about 3 days to decide he would hold his brother. Took E about 5 seconds upon walking into my hospital room to ask if she could hold him. They are not the same kid after all.


He looks like a mash-up of both of them. Lips like sister, eyes like brother. Stork bite like sister, quiet calmness like brother. He is exactly the baby we need during this very stressful time in our lives!!

T, at 9 days of age

Week 36: Vaccination and the Can of Worms

36 Weeks
Romaine Lettuce


Wowza, what acrobatics this boy seems able to still manage in this ever-shrinking space between my ribs and pelvis! My abdomen contorts into the most unusual of shapes. As one can imagine, the sensation of my internal organs being shifted around feels less than pleasant. Hard to believe I'm a mere 28 days from the due date (which means, I could be as little as 14 days away from his arrival - barring any catastrophe). His number one job is to get chubby. He's gaining an ounce per day. He's probably about 18 inches long, maybe more. No wonder the jabs I'm getting from the inside feels so much more painful!


So, in keeping with the current, lots of new debates have sprung up over vaccinations vs. not, or on delayed schedule with some selecting-out of specific vaccines. Most of the new debates stem from the rising outbreak of the measles, a highly communicable disease that had all but been completely wiped out from the U.S. until a few years ago. First, there were one or two cases, then a few more. We're in the triple digits of new cases, which is unheard of for a disease that had supposedly been eradicated through vaccine use.


I posted something earlier today that captures pretty much how I feel about vaccinating. It follows below.

This is long. I'm sorry in advance.

I expose myself daily to the threat of death by motor vehicle accident every time I get into a car (and, in MD/NoVA/DC...I'm pretty sure the risk is higher). I also know that, despite the fact that we entrusted people who manufacture airbags in cars, I might get seriously injured by an airbag in the event of a crash (and it has recently been exposed that the #1 manufacturer of airbags has royally screwed up). I also know that my ribs might be broken if I wear a seatbelt. Regardless of these possible issues, I know that wearing a seatbelt and keeping my airbags turned on will SAVE MY LIFE if I get nailed by someone while driving on the beltway. So I do it. I do it with the expectation that the decisions of another driver put me at greater risk if I fail to protect myself from them.

I look at vaccinations the same way. I trust the science behind the diseases that are highly communicable and have been nearly eradicated from the planet, save for the few who have chosen (for whatever reason - personal, religious, medical vulnerability, or other reasons) not to vaccinate. The same science that tells me that I am 95-99% safe from acquiring a disease with potentially lethal health outcomes IF I vaccinate. Yes, I question the FDA. I know drugs get approved for reasons other than safety or public health concern. It's political, too. But, when something has been independently researched using dollars that did NOT come from any pharmaceutical company NUMEROUS times, nearly all yielding the same or similar results, I do not question the safety of the vaccines over the level of risk I am taking to go without.

I grew up in a world where there was no varicella vaccine. I had to have the chickenpox. Did I go blind? No. Did my fever fry my brain? No. Do I have scars? A few. Was I effing MISERABLE? Yes. So...I can give my child a shot that will hurt for a few seconds and keep them from being miserable AND keep them from having to deal with shingles later in life (1 in 3 people who had chickenpox go on to get shingles - so it's like the gift that keeps on giving - yay). Yeah, I'm on the side of preventing unnecessary suffering for my babies that will last into their old age. And it hasn't even been around long enough to have been critically evaluated by independent research on NEARLY the level as numerous other vaccines that have been around longer. I do it anyway. I've never had mumps, measles, or rubella. I wouldn't wish any of them on my worst enemy, so I damn sure won't risk my kids getting them. And because I know pertussis can kill babies, I got my TDap shot at 28 weeks of pregnancy because it will start my unborn's antibodies to build up and protect him until he can get his own vaccination at 6 months. Yes, I vaccinate.

I know that if I choose to take my vaccinated children to Disneyland someday, they will not expose the unvaccinated children with terminal illnesses who are there with Make-a-Wish Foundation, getting their wish to meet Cinderella. I also know that the decisions of others around me (again, for whatever reasons they may have), can potentially affect me or my children (just like the other drivers on the beltway). So I will do my utmost to inoculate my kids (and myself) against communicable disease (to get my 95% effective rate) and stay as far away from exposed individuals as possible, whenever possible, to aim for 100%.

Because, unlike choosing not to wear a seatbelt while driving in one's own car, choosing not to vaccinate could hurt someone else.

No Rest for the Weary

25 Weeks, 1 day
Cauliflower, Rutabaga, or Bag of Flour (depending on the website)


I have had to travel a bit for work lately, and it won't slow down anytime soon. In the interim, I have had the worst sleep one might imagine. People say that later in pregnancy, baby is helping mom gear up for the frequent sleep-wake cycle of newborns. But that junk doesn't usually start until later in the third trimester. I am still (for a couple weeks) in the second trimester, and I'm supposed to be enjoying this time.


Don't get me wrong, I truly do enjoy the fun wiggles and jiggles of my squirmy-worm baby. I just prefer that they not be at 3am. And, being pregnant with a third kid while managing the lives of two other kids is not exactly a cake-walk in the first place. Thus, I am about as exhausted as I have ever been, despite this time supposedly being the "easiest" or the most relaxing part of pregnancy.

The Eggplant

23 Weeks
Small Eggplant (22-24 weeks), or Large Mango
I missed last week. Not because I was forgetful, but because I was busy. No matter. Baby's size hit "eggplant" last week (though maybe this is a puny eggplant), and is about the same for this and the next. Somewhere around 1-1.5 pounds, this little dude is kicking up a storm. Had a Level 2 Ultrasound last week, which included a fetal echocardiogram (EKG). Because the firstborn had a ventricular septal defect prior to birth, they wanted to check to be sure this little ticker was ticking properly. No worries. 150bpm at the last midwife appointment three days ago. He's doing great. He had the hiccups during the entire EKG appointment, which made it fun for the docs to try and get a good image. However, they felt pretty confident that 90% of possible heart defects were ruled out. The other 10% cannot be diagnosed in utero (things like the hole in the top of the heart, which is present in utero, failing to close upon birth). I'm feeling pretty good, but noticing that my lower back is starting to ache. Gotta carry this little dude around for about 17 more weeks (maybe less). He's only going to get bigger. And wigglier.

Sweet Sixteen

16 Weeks
Avocado
I'm getting my "swole" on. Today, I am starting to look more like that evening picture from a couple posts ago. Fair enough.... because my little dude is 3 1/2 ounces and 4 1/2 inches long from crown to rump. I haven't felt another twinge since that first time, which makes me think that first time was a false alarm. Bummer. But, as an experienced mama, I should be able to feel some squirms soon. Part of how soon that will happen depends on exactly where within my uterus the little squirt has dug in. Because the uterus has no nerve endings for feeling, and neither do the small intestines that are also hanging out in the neighborhood, the only way a mama can feel her baby is if the little guy or gal kicks to the front (and the belly nerves can catch it) or in the bottom (so the bladder, vagina, anus, or other areas of the pelvic region can catch it). This explains why some have described those "flutters" as gas, feeling like they need to pee, or other fun things. Since my "works" are all tilted to the rear, my best chance of feeling movement this early is on those downward kicks. And that, of course, is if Blueberry is down low. Right now, I know he's skinny and covered in hair (called lanugo). I also know the top of my uterus is about 3 inches below my belly button. And is going to get bigger and bigger!


Time to break out more maternity clothes.

Gender Prediction via Old Wives' Tales

As a mother of a girl who is now carrying a boy, there are definitely some differences between them.  But how reliable are those old wives' tales we've all heard about?  Numerous websites exist to help you "predict" your unborn child's gender.  Consider the following:

• Take a quiz to predict your baby's gender at BabyGenderPrediction.com or Parents.com (but be advised, some of the quizzes are tedious and may ask things you might not know, like how overweight or underweight you were before pregnancy or during it)
• Before you even conceive, Pregnancy-Info will tell you what to do to ensure conception of a boy or girl
• Chinese Birthday Calendars, which use your age and the month of conception to predict the sex, can be found anywhere online - here's one at WebWomb.com (it says I'm having a girl... ha ha)

Then there are the other things one typically hears during pregnancy:

• Carrying high = girl, carrying low = boy (although I've heard it the opposite way also)
• Shiny, glossy hair and strong nails, little to no morning sickness = boy, looking and feeling like crap = girl - supposedly, because girls steal their mothers' beauty (for me it was the other way around - I had the shiny hair the first time with my girl and this time more breakouts and nails that break at the drop of a hat - AND I was way more nauseated with my son)
• 140+ bmp fetal heart rate = girl, lower HR = boy (this one was true for me)
• Craving sweets = girl, craving sour/salty foods = boy (this was SO not the case for me)
• Here's one I never heard before (and have not tried): The Drano Test.  Pee in a cup, pour in a tablespoon of Drano (yes, the stuff you unclog drains with) and watch to see if it changes color.  In theory, green = girl, and blue = boy.
• Legendary Mayan prediction methods are to look at the age of the mother at conception and the year of conception.  If both are even or both odd, it's a girl.  If one is even and the other is odd, it's a boy. (again, this would make my child a girl, so I'm not sure how accurate it is)
• A VERY old tradition is to take off your wedding ring and tie it to a string.  Hang in front of your belly.  If the ring tick-tocks like a pendulum, it's a girl.  If it goes around in a circular motion, it's a boy.

Two things I had not heard before, but I've confirmed this with several friends, are the power of dreams and the amount of fetal movement.  As I mentioned in a previous blog, I had dreams about having a boy this time around and was not surprised to confirm it on ultrasound.  However, the other thing I've noticed is that my squirmy son pretty much NEVER stops moving.  I can still tell when he's sleeping because the movements are slower, less frequent, and smaller.  Still, he moves.  Like he's tossing and turning!  And when he's awake, Lord help me.  My entire abdomen changes shape.  He pokes, grabs, punches, kicks, stretches, and (I think) jumps rope with his umbilical cord.

Everyone I've talked to who also had boys noticed this excessive fetal movement as well.  So, I would guess that it can be another "wives' tale" to add to the list.

Of course, all of these gender prediction methods should be taken as entertainment or fun only.  The really sure way to tell if it's a boy or girl is the post-20-weeks ultrasound or amniocentesis.  Or, of course, if you are waiting for the surprise... birth!

Bump-di-bump

Ah, sixteen weeks.  Deuce is a-kicking quite frequently now, and I forgot how surreal and somewhat unnerving it can be until one gets accustomed to the feeling again.  Equally unnerving is how prone to sudden bouts of nausea and (sometimes) vomiting I am even this late in the pregnancy.  Hopefully this week's checkup will assist with some of the questions I have about it.  More to follow, once I learn something.

Indeed, it is time to be excited about the coming little one.  Now that fetal movement is noticeable and more often than once a day, I can feel pretty good about the development going on inside my growing tummy.  Unfortunately, it isn't yet to the point of doing "kick counts" and other monitoring that is adviseable in later pregnancy.  Still, it's something to cheer about.

Not so much the growing belly and shouts from relatives and friends to see pictures posted on Facebook.  Cut it out.  Please.