Violet Amelia: Birth Story

So, I feel compelled to share Violet's birth story on this little blog that I never post on anymore- simply because I prowled the internet for birth stories like a ravenous beast when I was pregnant. Therefore, I feel that I owe it to the interwebs and all in it. Get ready for the longest birth story of your life. I'm not sparing any details. If you make it through this, God bless you. 

Cramping (pre-labor) started on the night of April 24th and lasted pretty much all day the next day, her due date. I began having irregular contractions, but they were definitely painful. Friday, the 26th, was when it really all began. I started having contractions 3-5 minutes apart, and David and I walked around the complex across from our house to time the contractions and try to make labor progress faster. This was maybe 4 ish in the afternoon. The contractions got more painful and had been lasting consistently for about 2 1/2 hours, so around 6:30 we headed to the hospital. We checked into triage and a nurse hooked me up to a machine to monitor my contractions. She checked me and I was only 1 1/2 cm dilated, so we waited an hour to see if I would dilate to at least a 3, and if not they would send us home. When she came back to check after the hour was up I was still at 1 1/2 cm. I wanted to cry! In fact, I think I did. Anyway, the nurse told us she wouldn't be surprised if the baby came within 24 hours, and that it could even be within the next few hours- "With first babies you just never know." So, we walked the walk of shame back to the parking lot and went to get food at Costa Vida. By the time we got home it was about 9:30.

I was so sad and disappointed that that night was not going to be the night, and proceeded to eat my feelings via a massive burrito, even though I had the strangest gut feeling that I shouldn't eat.

...I should have listened to that feeling, guys.

By 10:00 my contractions took a turn for the worst and I was literally crippled by them. I stood in the bathroom leaning against the counter for a good 10 minutes screaming David's name, but he couldn't hear me over the TV show he was watching. I swear, during those ten minutes I probably could've killed that man for not coming when I called, damn it! He finally heard me and rushed in- the look on his face was quite funny looking back, but at the time it wasn't, of course. He was pretty terrified seeing how much pain I was in, poor guy. It didn't help that I was bleeding everywhere. Sorry, tmi? Anyway, he leapt into action and started timing the contractions for me with the contraction app on my phone. We tried to do some of the labor exercises we had practiced in our birth class, but honestly I was just annoyed by them and wanted to be left to my own devices to deal with the pain. I got in the shower and let the hot water run over my lower back, which was very effective. I was definitely a vocal laborer, moaning and "ouch" ing awkwardly. That was one of my secret fears when we would watch birth videos in our birthing class; when a woman was extra "screamy" and "moany"I would cringe in my seat and pray it didn't happen to me. I know David felt uncomfortable, because, hell, I felt uncomfortable hearing myself. I should say though that I wasn't really that bad, compared to some of the women on the videos. Moving on.

After about a half hour I got out of the shower. Contractions were coming 1-2 minutes apart and I started feeling like I wasn't getting a break inbetween a lot of them, like they were doubling or something, which made it hard to time them. All I knew was that it was the kind of pain everyone talks about- the kind that "stops you in your tracks."By 11:30 David said that we should go to the hospital again. I was reluctant in my silly pregnant brain because I was absolutely terrified of getting sent home again when I was in this kind of pain. However, several contractions later I was donezo. By this time it was around midnight, and David proceeded to gather all of our bags and essentials for the hospital and put them in the car. I mosied across the house to the garage, stopping every 1-2 minutes for a contraction. The car ride was pretty rough. I kept feeling like I was going to puke at the peak of every contraction (no thanks to my emotionally compulsive massive burrito consumption). I should tell you the significance of this though, because I haven't thrown up since 9th grade. I refuse to throw up, ever. Like, I'm really paranoid about it and will do ANYTHING to prevent it. So, here I am in labor, feeling like I'm about to spill my guts on the longest car ride of my life, and I'm still trying to prevent it. And it worked apparently, because I managed to contain that godforsaken burrito.

We arrived at the hospital once again, and David dropped me off and went to park the car. We got checked in again and into triage, which was much more dramatic this time around. The nurse checked me during a contraction (which was probably the most painful part of labor, hands down) and I was STILL at a 1 1/2 cm!!!!!!! Oh my god, I couldn't believe that after all that pain, no progression was made. at. all. But they weren't about to make me go home, because they could see how much pain I was in and noted that my contractions were, indeed, coming right on top of each other. The nurse kept saying how good I was doing at breathing through them and asked me if I wanted my epidural or if I wanted to wait, and I looked at her with what I'm sure was the most hideous, mascara-streaked, "... are you serious?" face, and she swiftly brought me a wheelchair to be admitted to a room. We got to our delivery room about 20 minutes after we arrived at the hospital, and within 45 minutes of being there I got my epidural. I had been absolutely terrified of the epidural my entire pregnancy, and I am here to tell you it was literally nothing. I felt a pinch and some pressure. The hardest part about it was having contractions during it, because it does take a while to get it in just right. But seriously, it saved my life. Plus, it was a "walking epidural," which means I was still able to feel some sensation in the lower half of my body. I kept laughing when I would see that I was having a contraction that was literally off the chart on the monitor, and David asked me why I was laughing. I replied in the most euphoric of states, "Because ten minutes ago I was their bitch, but now they're my bitch."

my "bitches"

sipping my water, looking enormous

They put me on pitocin to speed up the dilation/effacement process. We tried to get some sleep and told our friends/family that we were officially checked in, I was comfortable, and this was the real deal!! (:
At 3 a.m. the nurse came in to check me and I was at 3 cm dilated! YAY! My excitement was a little short lived, though. She checked me every 2-3 hours after that, and each time I was still a 3. By 11 a.m. my doctor came to break my water, which was a very strange sensation. There was meconium (baby poo) in the amniotic fluid, which is never a good thing. Throughout the last month and a half or so of my pregnancy, the doctor had been telling me that she was a big baby ( estimated to be 9 pounds at the end) and that I was at higher risk of a C-section because of my abnormally high level of amniotic fluid. He said that we'd wait a few more hours to see if I showed significant progression- he really wanted to give my body a chance to give birth naturally, and as eager as I was to meet my baby girl, I was very grateful for that. He gave me a deadline: if by 4:00 p.m. I was not dilated to at least a 6, a C-section would be the only way to go. Those were the most anxious hours of my life, just waiting for something to happen. Four o'clock rolled around at last, and, alas- I was still only dilated to a 3, which means I had been stuck at a 3 for a total of 13 hours, and had been in labor for a total of 23 hours. Can you imagine if I never would have gotten the epidural??!! I don't even want to think about it. So, it was time for a C-section, and I got really, really nervous. David got dressed up in a spaceman scrub suit, trying to make me laugh at how ridiculous it was. They rushed my family and David's family out of the room and prepped me for surgery. They upped my dose of epidural to the point where I couldn't feel anything below my ribs (a bit of foreshadowing here- note, BELOW my ribs). David and I had to be separated for a bit so they could fully prep me, so he kissed my forehead and told me everything would be okay.

They wheeled me into the surgery room. I remember there being bright lights everywhere, and it was really cold. I didn't like it one bit. I kept getting the shakes really bad, from nerves and my contractions, and they kept telling me to relax but it was damn near impossible. They spread my arms out, Jesus style, and lifted me onto the surgery bed. They put up a screen and a blanket that hung above my neck so that all I could see was the blaring white light above my head. Finally David was able to come in, and he sat in a chair next to me and held my hand. They started cutting, and I remember trying not to look above me because I could see what they were doing in the relflection of the light. Within 2-3 minutes it was time to pull her out! David was filming at this point. She was stuck under my ribs on the left side, and the doctor began pushing down on my ribs REALLY hard- it felt like he was breaking them. He did this multiple times, and each time I was trying not to pass out from pain- (wasn't I supposed to NOT feel pain??!) I honestly couldn't breathe. The doctor was apparently having a really hard time getting her out; David told me later that he put down the camera because he saw the panicked look on the doctor's face, and all the nurses were just standing there wide eyed. Finally, I felt him lift her out of me;  all the nurses erupted in a chorus of "oh my goodness, what a BIG girl!" and I heard my sweet girl cry for the first time. I couldn't really enjoy the moment though because of the horrible pain I continued to feel in my chest/ribs (my ribs are still tender 3 weeks later).

They brought her over to my side of the curtain and the first thing I noticed was her big, beautiful lips! I was laughing and crying with immeasurable joy and pain at the same time. I couldn't believe my girl had arrived. (: The first thing I said to David was, "Well, she definitely looks like you!" They weighed and measured her; the final verdict being 9.3 pounds, 20 inches long. Her head was 15 inches around (a normal newborn's head is 12 inches) and the doctor said that even if by some miracle I had managed to get her head out vaginally, there was NO way her shoulders would've fit, and it would've resulted in an emergency C-section anyway.

Meeting my Violet. (:

First family picture!
(I really wish someone would've tamed that weird scruff of hair?!)

David and Violet went to another room to get her cleaned up while they stitched (glued, rather) me up, which seemed to take forever seeing as I wanted to see my baby! I just remember feeling so relieved that she was here, and all the worrying and scary unknowns were over. I finally got reunited with my two loves in the recovery room, and the rest is history. (: 

Nursing her in the recovery room

I hope her birth story doesn't evoke fear or doubt about giving birth, because it was the most rewarding experience with the most beautiful outcome. She is so incredibly worth it. My sweet girl! On the outside now. She knows me, and I know her; I always have. As strange as it is to see your baby's face, it feels like ancient knowledge hidden inside you somewhere, eternally- my baby and me are as old as time itself. 

You've been part of me forever, little one.
 

(:

longtimenoblog.

Well, hey guys. Here's a pregnancy survey.

How far along? 29 weeks!

Total weight gain/measurements: hmm.. about 20 pounds, which is pretty normal I spose. I hope. 

Maternity clothes: Mostly just buying regular clothes in bigger sizes. I have one pair of maternity jeans but they are extremely uncomfortable and I hate them! So I basically live in leggings and big shirts and dresses, which is just fine with me. 

Stretch marks: None to report on the belly! Not the case for my boobs though, seeing as I went from a 32C to a 32DDD. I am lathering the cocoa butter religiously.

Sleep: Ahh. sleep. It is very difficult to get comfortable and stay comfortable these days. I will be buying a pregnancy pillow shortly.

Best moment this week: PRENATAL MASSAGE. Also, feeling her have the hiccups for the first time. She got really annoyed and kept swimming around trying to make them stop. It was sweet. (:

Miss anything? Laying on my belly! And being able to do intense workouts. And sushi. But I honestly, truly love being pregnant. (: 

Movement: Lots and lots! She is my little alien. 

Food cravings: I was craving waffles for the longest time, but within the past week or so I've craved Pita Jungle cilantro/bell pepper hummus real bad. If that stuff could be delivered to my door on the daily, I would be a large(er), happy lady. 

Anything making you queasy or sick? My nausea has come back in spurts lately, I think it's just raging hormones. And then of course there's my IBS, but we won't go into the gory details of that bundle of weeds.

Gender:  Girl! (:

Labor signs: Nope! I've had some really bad days of cramping in my lower abdomen/back, but that's to be expected. 

Symptoms: SLEEPY!!! pressure, heartburn, cramps, nausea, IBS,breakouts, etc.. yuh know. 

Belly button in or out? hahaha. It is in/out.. I really don't know how to describe it. But people have been commenting on how they can see it through my clothes now. David is afraid of it, especially when I laugh. 

Wedding rings on or off? On, although I have noticed slight swelling in the fingers. 

Happy or moody most of the time: This week while driving to school with David I had a bit of a break down- I cried over many silly things, but mostly the fact that I had forgotten my purse/chapstick. A girl needs her g*ddamn chapstick, you know? 

Looking forward to: Meeting my Violet Amelia. (:

Once upon a December.

Things I'm loving on this blissful season:

.. and some Christmas whishlist tidbits:

What're you lovin on?

A Writing Excerpt.

Mr. Carpenter ate his supper at six p.m. sharp every evening.  He lived on the eleventh floor of the old brick apartment building on West 62^nd street, New York, New York. His window curtains were vintage canvas, smitten with years of dust and introversion, ones you could see through from the outside. Wild rice with chicken, or canned tomato soup and crackers was the alternation, a regimen of nearly sixty years in the making. His apartment was lonely; the whole space smelled of loneliness. The furnishing was drab, plain and practical; an ancient tweed couch and a ten-inch television atop a rickety old table were the highlights of the place at first glance. But at six p.m. sharp, every evening on the dime, there sat a picture in a lovely, rusted, silver frame across from him on the table. The photograph inside was black and white, the fading face of a memory and a young woman with distinctly arched eyebrows, shining dark eyes and a warm smile peered out of it. In black ink there was a message scrawled toward the bottom of the photo that read:

                                   

To my James,

Never forget me soldier. I’ll be waiting.

           

                        Love always,

                           Emaline

            There was a slight crack in the glass that slid horizontally across the frame, one created in a fit of rage and helplessness years before. It was ugly and foreboding across such a beautiful face; although appropriately so.  There was a chair on her side of the table, filled with the ghost of a lost love. To anyone else observing the scene, he ate alone, but to James Carpenter, he was indeed, never alone. Tonight’s cuisine was a bowl of tomato soup, which sat motionless on her side. They sat in silence, James and the picture frame. He had run out of things to say to her, he had become numb; at least for tonight. He reached for a handful of crackers placed in the middle of the table and crushed them in his hand, dropping the crumbs into the bowl.

            “Crackers, Emaline dear?” He asked with a soft, worn voice. He took a bite and chewed, staring at her portrait absently.

            “No? Alright.” Another few bites and he was finished, not unlike his Emaline’s life. He got up and took her bowl with his to the kitchen and washed them. He then turned on the television and took a seat on the scratchy tweed sofa. Every night at 6:30, his favorite travel program came on. He always thought the television was the best way to travel. He could sit in the comfort of his own home and never have to spend a penny or move a muscle, while simultaneously taking in the world outside his own sad existence. At least he chose his solitude; ignorance had never become him. He watched the program and glanced over at the picture on the table every now and then. Sometimes he would set the picture next to him, other times he would leave her on the table. When the program finally ended at 7:30, he found himself spent as usual, and sorely stood up. His arthritis had worsened within recent years, and it made his bones creak and his spirit wane. He began turning off all the lights, and eventually maneuvered over to his tiny bathroom to brush his teeth and change into his pajamas and robe. Once he was all ready for bed, he returned to the kitchen and stood in the doorway, staring once more with that blank stare at his sweet Emaline. Usually, he took the photograph to his room and set it next to him on his nightstand. But tonight, he walked to the table and gently placed the frame face down. As he crawled into bed, he heard sirens sounding in the distance. They reminded him of the war, which permeated into all of the memories he tried so desperately to forget. After an hour or so of wrestling his demons, the pitter-patter of a light rain came, and carried him to a place somewhat better than reality: sleep.

somuchbeauty.

I love the 50's-70's:

... that's all. 

Fall Festivities.

"Or maybe it is just Fall, and so everything is softer round the edges, and a little bit frayed."

I love Fall; everything about it. I think last year was the first year I truly appreciated it, and ran with open arms to greet it. It seems like when you're growing up, things like seasons don't mean as much- or you just don't notice them like you should, and then all of the sudden you wake up and realize that things like seasons make you happy- they are the blissful things that come round once a year to offer change, and renewal and beauty. 

We celebrated the Halloween weekend by visiting a pumpkin patch. I'm not sure what's wrong with my camera, and when peering at the picture above I can arguably say that maybe there isn't a thing wrong with it, because it produced such a lovely Pumpkin Wonderland, which is an accurate portrayal of the aura of our night.

We first went out to dinner: 

The beginning of our mural-our waiter was pleased. 

Then off to the Pumpkin Patch:

The shapes of some were tumorous, and overall questionable..

David was very happy to be measured at the pumpkin patch- he just can't stay away from the camera, that one.

We tried to find a Baby-ish pumpkin to include our little gem tucked away in my tummy, and this, sadly, was the creme of the crop.

On our way out, we were well-wished by these fellas:

More particularly, this guy:

 

Happy Halloween and Happy Fall, to all. (: