Speedy Delivery

Note: The following is a posting about Oliver's delivery. It contains certain details that might freak out, say, a guy. You have been forewarned.

I frequently said going into Ollie's delivery that I didn't know what it was going to be like, and I was prepared for that. And I didn't know exactly how it would unfold, but I found that I was prepared for it. I was worried at times that not taking a class would mean I wasn't really ready to handle labor without meds, but since I wasn't 100% committed to being unmedicated, I tried to embrace that. As it turns out, I think I just knew my own "learning style." All the books and fore-flection (as opposed to reflection) on what could happen left me open to whatever, but knowledgeable enough to feel calm about the situation.

Contractions started around 3am on Friday the 12th. I woke up to use the restroom and notice cramping that felt similar to what I'd heard described as contractions. They weren't terribly uncomfortable and were pretty sporadic. When Wes got up for work, I told him, "I may or may not be having contractions." After he left I fell back to sleep for about another hour before the alarm went off for me, too. When I used the bathroom, I passed my mucus plug and knew then that I was within 24 hours of meeting my son. It was exciting, though I was nervous about what lay ahead.

I called Wes, who nixed my idea of going to work for as long as possible, and then the midwife (at Wes's behest), who confirmed that I was fine to stay home for as long as I wanted (unless my water broke). I talked briefly with my mom. Wes was already on a 6-3 shift, and since things were moving seemingly slowly, there was no real reason for him to use sick call and come home. I'd always believed I would labor better by myself early on, without him watching and worrying, and I think that was in fact the case. Not that he didn't know what to do, but that there wasn't really much, in my mind, that could be done.

I did, in fact, go to school for an hour to drop off some materials and talk to the teacher who would be taking over my classes on Monday. I saw some neighbors and then a bunch of teachers at school who couldn't believe I was up and about. I don't know what it's like for other women, but for me, those first few hours were just like intense menstrual cramps. I had to stop and stand still for some of them, but there was no need to breathe through them or anything like that.

When I got home from school, the nesting instinct everyone talks about really kicked in. I decided, as was only reasonable, that I needed to clean before the baby came. I took all the linens off the bed and started cleaning the bathroom between contractions, which by 9am were a little more uncomfortable and regular. I talked to my sister once or twice, who, when I had two on the phone with her (and that I had to stop talking for), forewarned me that labor was picking up. Wes called to update me on when he would be home and make sure I was okay. I rocked in the rocking chair, tried to get comfortable on the couch (the rocking chair made my lower back ache), and walked some. Kneeling didn't seem to do much for me. I think in that period of labor, I felt okay about being without drugs. I was still nervous about how much had to still happen (and I didn't know if I would be able to feel if I was dilating), but I was mostly focusing on the next contraction. I didn't really time them except for two 10-15 minute periods. I had a general sense of how often they were coming, but mostly I was thinking about the pain level.

Wes got home at 3am, took Lucy to the vet, and jumped in the shower. While he was in there I called the midwife, thinking it might be close to time to go in. I was getting to the point where I couldn't find any relief from the pain. She told me, though, that it sounded like I was doing well, and she would encourage me to stay home another hour or two if I wanted, maybe try the shower, and call her back. I did get in the shower for 30 to 45 minutes, which helped me get some relief before the contractions picked up even more. When I got out, I threw up pretty hard, which made me a little nervous and confirmed my desire to head to the hospital. It took at least another 30 minutes, though, for me to get dressed, to talk to the midwife again, and to get downstairs with our stuff.

By this point, I was groaning through the contractions. I was in our lobby for at least 5 minutes on my knees on the couch moaning while Wes tried to hail a cab -- during rush hour -- on Friday -- while it was raining. The cab driver seemed pretty calm, even with me moaning and groaning in the back seat, though Wes said he was clearly looking nervous when traffic was totally stopped on Lakeshore Drive. It took over 20 minutes to reach the hospital, which is 1 1/2 miles from our apartment. I could feel my water break and leak with each contraction in the cab (which, fortunately, I had foreseen and taken precaution to manage without damage to the cab). When we got out, I had 3 contractions between the taxi and the door of triage, a total distance of maybe 200 feet.

The triage people got me to see a nurse right away. I passed something else (more mucous plus, amniotic fluid, I don't know), and then she examined me between contractions. At that point, I thought I was maybe 7 or 8 cm dilated and had decided that, if so, I was going to get an epidural. I couldn't imagine another 2-3 hours or more in the state I was in. Fortunately, I was 9cm and baby was +2 station. We moved quickly up to labor and delivery, but, for reasons unclear to me, the midwife was not there. Instead, I was greeted by one of Wes's and my good friends who is a 4th-year OB/GYN resident. I had joked with her prior to the delivery that if she was in the delivery room, we could never be friends again. After she checked me, too, I looked at Wes and said, "Brook and I will never have the same relationship." There was some concern by the triage nurse and Brook that the baby was presenting weird, so an attending came in to have a feel, too. I begged to get off my back, which was horribly uncomfortable, and they let me squat on the bed. The contractions were at their most painful and most frequent at this point, and I was 100% dilated and effaced. They broke what was left of my water and encouraged me to start pushing. I tried, but there was no urge to push and it was horribly painful. People kept telling me not to make any noise and hold my breath, but it just didn't feel right.

At this point, I was offered an epidural. I was skeptical that it would work fast enough, but I couldn't fathom pushing through what I was feeling, so I said okay. A nurse got my IV going, which I needed for the penicillin (for Strep B) anyway, and the anesthesiologist did a fast run-down with me. Just about that time my midwife came in. She wanted to check me, too, and got me more on my side to do so. After she looked, she told me I didn't need an epidural, I was ready to push and doing great, and she cleared the room but for two nurses.

And then it just happened. I finally felt the urge to push, I was able to get a bit of rest in between contractions, and the midwife and nurses just encouraged and coached me through it. It's amazing how much difference it makes just to have someone there say, "Hey, you can do this. You're doing great." Wes stood by the bed and held my hand and let me pull against him while I pushed. I could feel the baby's head and the aptly named "Ring of fire." There was almost some comfort, literally and figuratively, in the realization that I was just going to have to do it, regardless of how I felt. That baby was going to come out. Wes asked if I wanted to see or feel his head come out, but I was doing much better just focusing on the pushing without associating it with any product. I know that sounds weird, but I didn't care if I was birthing a watermelon at that point -- I was going to push it out!

If there's one thing that recommends going without an epidural, it's the last 10 seconds of the delivery. I don't know what you can feel if you've had meds, so maybe it's not much different, but feeling that baby come of you is totally unbelievable. That was the moment when it all came together and I realized what had just happened. They put him on my chest, and I just smiled and laughed and rubbed his back. He was yelling up a storm (working for that 9 on his Apgar) and, save for the spots on his head, looked great. About 10 seconds out, he pooped meconium all over my chest, but I seriously could not care. They let me be with him for a minute before taking him to weigh and measure him and inspect his head. I passed the placenta with one easy push, and the midwife got me some meds before putting in a few stitches. It took a few minutes for me to be able to relax my pelvis, and I miraculously felt pretty good. I guess that hormone rush really does happen.

The nurses let us both hold him for a few minutes before taking him to the NICU to see a neurologist for the aplasia. I wanted to be with him, but I felt good knowing he was going to get seen.

The recovery has, thus far, been very good. Wes has been really cute about everything -- he seems so proud of my "performance," if you will, and tells everyone about it. I was in the door of triage around 6:45pm, baby was born 7:30pm, with about 20 minutes of pushing, and I was up and walking within a few hours of that. I know full well that most of what happened is just nature -- some women labor longer, suffer more painful or frequent contractions, deal with complications, etc. I'd like to think that my activeness during the pregnancy and labor helped some, and I am proud of myself for trusting that I could make it through, but mostly I'm just so grateful that things went the way they did, knowing that I owe it to biology and luck.

New kid on the block

In the final days...

Dear Husband, Part 25

Last night, I asked Wes what he thought he wanted to for dinner tonight so I could defrost it.

His answer: A baby.

And if my body's signs are trustworthy, he may very well get it.

Reminiscing

Women often talk about how, when they're pregnant, every woman they meet wants to tell them their horror birth story. I've been fortunate in that I've not heard any, save those I already knew about (a friend who hours and hours of unmedicated labor became back labor with an ineffective epidural became a C-section). What has been fun, though, is hearing current moms -- especially older moms -- reminisce about their kids when they were babies. Just today I had two moms at this school share their memories. Csilla brought in a certificate the hospital gave her when her son, Endre, who just started kindergarten, was born, that had his little footprints on it. She was so cute showing them to me and telling me Endre's reaction when she showed them to him recently. Connie, the mother of an almost 21-year-old, was commenting on how amazing it is to realize her kids are grown already. "Where has the time gone?" she asked. "I remember when he was just a baby with these really pudgy, rosy cheeks that you just wanted to pinch."

I love hearing moms talk like this. In the midst of stories about sleepless nights and endless diaper changes and plugged milk ducts, it's nice to know that what moms mostly remember about infancy is the good stuff. It helps to focus on those details as you're going through them, to combat the challenges of the sleepless nights and the endless diaper changes and the...

Update for today: An extra-tight belly with a somewhat quieter baby. Six days left on the ticker.

Out of Town Daddy

Wes left today around noon for his residency retreat in Michigan. He's definitely a bit ancy about being almost two hours away so close to my due date. He's called twice in the last hour just to check in and then to let me know his pager doesn't work out where he is. Were I not pregnant, I doubt we would even talk for the 36 hours he's out of town. In truth, Wes has been particuarly vigilant and a bit on edge the past few days. Last night, I went into the bathroom, turned on the faucet in the tub, and let out a yelp when the shower head sprayed down on me unexpectedly (someone forgot to push the plunger down after his shower). Wes ran into the bathroom at top speed to find out what had happened.

Needless to say, we're both watching and waiting. There's tons of pressure down low, and the kicks have moved down from ribs to the side of my belly. There's still enough movement to know he's doing okay, but it's slowing a bit. Wes put down chux (the blue, waterproof pads they use in the hospital) under the sheets on my side of the bed yesterday -- just in case, I suppose (we do love our mattress). While I'm glad the mattress is protected, it is a bit odd hearing the crinkling when I, with great effort, roll over at night.

The weather here is turning cooler -- 50s and 60s for the past few days, low 70s forecasted for the next several. It's making me run to the baby's dresser to recheck our 0-3 month stash -- all short-sleeved onesies! I guess he'll have to stay wrapped as a baby burrito until he starts fitting into some 3-6 month sweatpants. Fortunately, I have an impressive stash of warm baby blankets for any outings in the car seat or stroller.

Strep...

So I don't have strep throat, but I do have it...elsewhere. My midwife called yesterday to tell me I tested positive for Strep B. It's a random affliction that 20-25% of all women have and that doesn't really cause problems except during pregnancy. The result of this positive strep test is that I need a course of penicillin during delivery. I don't know if that means I have to go to the hospital early or just early enough to get it done before the actual delivery; I have to ask the midwife at my appointment tomorrow. The con, of course, is being strapped to an IV pole for any length of time. The pro is that it reduces to almost null the chance of the baby getting pneumonia, sepsis, or meningitis, the low-risk but possible effects of deliverying without the penicillin.

For as much luck and good fortune as I've had in this pregnancy, this seems like a pretty minor inconvenience. If this is the worst it gets, it's pretty good.

And then there were 7...

Due in August -- Baby Girl to a Humanities teacher (born!)
Due in September -- Baby Boy to a Humanities teacher (hopefully born soon!)
Due in October -- Baby Girl to a science teacher
Due in November -- Baby (not finding out) to a Humanities teacher
Due in January -- Baby (haven't found out yet) to the college prep counselor
Due in March -- Baby (too early to find out) to a Humanities teacher
Due in April -- Twin Babies to a staff member

One year at a charter school with 35 teachers and 15 faculty members

• 7 pregnant women (approximately 20% of the teaching faculty)
• 8 babies (enough to field several kinds of sporting teams)
• 1 teacher hired last spring to cover maternity leaves staying very, very busy

It's September.

Enough said.

Move like a baby and head out...

...to borrow one of Wes's favorite expressions. No doubt, the baby is moving south. That doesn't mean anything is imminent, of course, but I guess it's a move in the right direction. Over the last 48 hours, I've finally felt the pregnancy. Beyond my need for nap each afternoon, I have a lot of pelvis pressure, round ligament pain, and sporadic contractions. If I'm up on my feet or moving around for more than 30 minutes, I really start to feel it and have to sit down. By the end of my classes at 12:15, my lower back is sore. I've always been one to take the stairs instead of the elevator at school, but now I limit the number of trips I make up and down them every day if I can.

Wes keeps telling me not to overdo it, but it seems like the worst that could happen at this point is that the baby would be born. I'm still not at the point at which I would stand up and say, "I want him out!", but I am at the point where I can see how I'll appreciate having my body back -- even in an altered state. Sleeping on my belly, bending at the waist...ahh, yes.

For now, I remind myself to treasure the finals days of my first pregnancy. Watching his little butt move back and forth. Anticipating what he'll look like. Giggling with Wes in bed over the fact that we're going to have a baby! Who let that happen?

Dear Husband Part 24, or Total Domination

Since learning our due date of "sometime in September," Wes has been obsessed with the baby coming no earlier than September 1. Why? He wants him to be the oldest in his class, thus destined, in his words, for "total domination" in all things academic and sports. I have tried to explain to Wes that the baby could come in August and we could simply choose to hold him back a year before starting him in school if we felt he needed more time (and given what HP has gone through with her daughters, it'd be the preferable situation). I have tried to explain to him that being older doesn't necessarily mean he'd be better at everything -- and that the playing field levels out as the kids get older. I have tried to explain to him that some states don't use September 1 as their cutoff date. All to no avail.

I teased Wes yesterday that maybe the baby would come this Sunday, August 31, around 11:58pm. "We'd hold him in," said Wes. "Or how do time zones work? If it's 11:58pm here, it'd be September 1 at Harvard."

High expectations, have we?

When the baby comes

What the baby's delivery date will say about him:

September 1 (Labor Day) -- Appreciates wordplay, like his mother.
September 15 (Full Moon) -- Easily swayed by his environment.
September 19 (Official due date) -- Highly punctual, a Neiheisel family tradition.
After September 19 -- A rebel who fights back against family expectations.

Dear Husband Part 23

Lying in bed last night, Wes looked at me and said, "You're the best wife I've ever had."

I think he really meant it, too.

Final touches

Wes and I are putting the final touches on the baby's room, including a few things on the wall. I got this cute cable art system from which we can hang wall cards or photographs. Right now it's displaying some tools (drill, hammer, vice), some "science nerd" cards (positive correlation, y chromosome, neuron, uvula), and some animal cards (cow, giraffe, ladybug). We will ultimately replace some of those with photographs of family members. The lovely green chenille rug we ordered is still on backorder, so it might not arrive before baby, which is fine since it won't get used a lot right away (by the baby anyway -- Lucy clearly will use it immediately). We still have two pictures to put up that are in the same series as the Jane Goodall one, but one of them is stored in the way back corner of the storage locker and will require some energy to get out (and by that, I mean Wes has to do it). The dresser, as you can see, is in place and fully stocked. Even the diaper pail sits at the ready. Now all I have to do is read the camera manual some more to work out the white balance in the room so all our baby pictures don't turn out bright yellow.

As days go by

One of the hardest parts about the end of pregnancy is the not knowing when. I'm not ancy for him to come. On the contrary, the further I get into the school year, the easier it will be for me to transition out of the classroom and the better it will be for our bank coffers. There just seems to be such lack of clarity about the actual due date, though. I know for sure the late of my LMP, and for that matter, we know for sure the date of conception. My LMP gives me a due date of September 8, making me almost 38 weeks pregnant. My date of conception -- with a longer luteal phase -- is about 5 days behind, making me a little more than 37 weeks pregnant. At my ultrasound on February 29, the baby measured 6 6/7 weeks, which puts my due date at September 17 and makes me 36 4/7 weeks pregnant. The midwife, however, gave me a due date of September 19, which makes me 36 2/7 weeks pregnant. That's a range of almost 2 weeks, which when you get to the end of things seems like it could make a difference. The ultrasound seems the most reliable, but are all embryos the same size early on? Could the ultrasound tech have been off by a couple days?

The ticker on the baby's blog is set for September 17, since I've been counting up weeks based on the first-trimester ultrasound. When people ask my due date, I say September 19. Fortunately, it seems he's going to come in a window such that the delivery won't be affected by the confusion -- no one will think I'm too early and, hopefully, won't worry he's coming too late.

For someone who loves Microsoft Outlook calendar with a passion, I think I'm handling this ambiguity in dates rather well.

Practice run

We got our stroller the other day and, 'twixt the two of us, managed to assemble the thing and install the infant carseat adapter. Wes strolled down the hallway to ensure the tracking wasn't off. Monkey really enjoyed his ride.

You know the school year's started when...

the blog posts slow down. Teachers have been back for two weeks now, and classes finally start on Monday, which actually means a little more down time for me as I only teach in the mornings (in expectation of a part-time schedule after the baby arrives).

Baby preparations have been coming along quite well. The dresser finally arrived yesterday, just in time for Wes to help me get it upstairs before heading off to work. After unwrapping it from layers of protective cardboard and bubble wrap, we were really pleased with what we found. It's well made and coordinates beautifully with other pieces in the room. I stayed up unreasonably late last night washing all the clothes and blankets and folding them away into the drawers. Suffice it to say we don't need any more stuff for the baby, primarily because there's no room for anything else!

My 36 week appointment was on Monday. Unfortunately, the "delivery talk" that I was anticipating got moved to the next appointment, so Wes attended only to witness the usual pee-weight-blood pressure-belly measure-heartbeat check ritual. In true ER doc fashion, Wes commented on how ridiculous it is for healthy people to be seen by physicians (or midwives) this often and offered to simply check these things at home. I have to go weekly now, and while I'm completely satisfied to be just such a healthy person -- especially while pregnant -- it is a nuisance to get up to the hospital from school every week just to hear, "You're doing great!" I did gain 2 lbs. at this appointment, which puts me at +5 from my pre-pregnancy weight. This was the first midwife to comment on the minimal weight gain, but since I'm healthy and the baby looks healthy and the right size for his gestation, there's really not much to say. If this is the only time in my life I don't gain much extra weight, I'll take it.

It seems my body, too, is getting ready for d-day -- though it may be as many as 6 weeks away still. I've been having increasing contractions over the last 10 days. Last Tuesday I had about 5 hours of contractions 10-15 minutes apart. It was strange to have them come on. At first I was nervous -- those kinds of uncomfortable sensations can indicate something wrong earlier in pregnancy -- but then I realized what it was and got kind of excited. I know the stages of labor, so I wasn't worried I was actually in labor, but it still is an indication of time passing and getting closer to the real thing. I've had them on and off since then, usually when I've overexerted.

And if five pregnant women at my school wasn't enough, another non-teaching staff member announced last week that she, too, is pregnant --6 weeks -- and with twins. That means that by the end of the school year, if all goes well, there will be 7 babies born to faculty/staff at our school -- and there are only about 40 of those! -- and 5 of us will be first-time moms. What else can expect from an all-girls' school?

Growing, growing...

With infant

I had a very exciting, expecting-mommy moment a few days ago when Wes and I bought our plane tickets to go to Atlanta for Christmas. With airfare being what it is, and gas prices being what they are, we thought it better to go ahead and lock in a (somewhat) reasonable price now rather than potentially pay a higher fee later -- especially since we have to travel on Christmas eve due to Wes's schedule.

I knew that we wouldn't have to buy a ticket for the baby, since he'll still be traveling in our lap -- especially for a flight as short as this one -- but I wasn't sure if I had to indicate anywhere that we'd have a kid with us. My question was answered when I got to this screen. Who would have thought it'd be so exciting to check the box "With infant?". After that I got to put in his name (what do you do if you haven't picked a name yet? Baby Self?), his gender, and his birth date (errrr, will his due date work?).

I'm sure when the time comes to actually take the trip, it won't be as exciting as all this, but the anticipation of it is great fun.

Note: Wesley was the one who insisted that he be listed as "Dr." Perhaps he was bitter that I claimed the infant for myself :)

Safe and sound

We are now officially ready for baby, not because we have everything we need, but because we have the one thing we can't leave the hospital without -- a car seat. A family vote swayed me to the Graco Safeseat Deco (mom went for the more elegant blue, Laura and Wes for the polka dots, and I was undecided), which will coordinate nicely with our stroller when we need to use them together.

I heard it can be tricky getting a baby in there the first time (though I suppose I've had some practice at that already), so I found the closest thing to a newborn in the apartment. And yes, he is wearing a diaper. It kind of freaks me out that it fits him.