The Birth of Jack Gerard...

Jack is almost six months old (wow- when did that happen?!) and I am finally starting to work on his baby book.  I figured it would also be fun to share the story of his birth....

The week before Jack arrived was a busy one.....

Tuesday April 26th: I left work a little early to get a pregnancy massage and told the masseuse to feel free to focus on the pressure points which might induce labor.  The massage was wonderful (I highly recommend About Faces Day Spa)... I left feeling calm and relaxed.  Then my car broke down. During rush hour.  In busy Towson.  On a one lane road.  Talk about stress!  I got it started again and quickly pulled into Towson University's campus where it died again.  Josh was working late and I wasn't able to reach him so I called my official muffin taster friend, Meesh, and she came to rescue me.  We decided to meet across campus from where my car was parked because it was a place we both knew.  So there I was.... nine months pregnant, covered in massage oils, hustling my sweaty, cankled self across campus as fast as possible on an unseasonably hot April day. 

Friday April 29th: I went for weekly doctor's appointment.  She checked me out and told me that I was about 2 cms dilated 75% effaced and my cervix is very "ripe"... a description I found quite gross, but I was still happy to hear because it meant that I might be reunited with my ankles soon.  We went into her office to chat and she told me that I could be induced on Wednesday, May 4th... I went back and forth with the decision because I would like to let labor happen naturally but I also really missed my ankles.  I decided to schedule the induction.

Saturday April 30th: Josh and I decided to hang around the house that evening and go to bed pretty early.  I took the only documented photo of my "bare belly bump" using my crummy camera phone and sent the pic to my sister and my mom....

Sunday May 1st:  I woke up at exactly 5:00am with some cramps.  It kinda felt like I have to poo... so I, well, went poo.  I got back into bed and was still feeling a little weird and crampy.  I decided that maybe a shower would help. 

I got out of the shower and crawled back into bed.  At that point it was about 5:45am and I decided that it was time to wake up Josh.  I told him that I was feeling really crampy and weird and he suggested that maybe we start timing the cramps....... they are four to five minutes apart and one minute long.  I'm still not convinced that it is labor but Josh thinks we should head to the hospital.  I stand up to get dressed and double over in pain.  As I am standing there, gripping the comforter on the edge of the bed, Josh says "ok well I'm gonna take a quick shower"..... umm, really?!  I'm not sure what happened next because I was in a haze of pain.... maybe I shot him a look, maybe I hit him over the head with a boot or maybe he decided on his own that it wasn't the best time for a shower... either way, the next thing I remember is getting into the Pathfinder and high tailing it to the hospital. 

The city is so calm at 6:30am on a Sunday morning.  The scene in the car was not.  I had both hands gripping that bar on the ceiling/inside of the door and while it wasn't the cliche-tv-screaming situation, it was an eye-squinting, teeth gritting, heavy breathing situation.  Josh was clearly starting to get really nervous.  We seemed to be getting a lot of red lights even though we were the only car on the road.  He starts talking about running the lights and all I can think about is how many more contractions I would have to endure if we got pulled over so I convince him to just wait until it turns green. 

Me: "Can you just wait for the light to turn green??" ........ and then five minutes later as we are going 90mph in a 50 mph zone.... "Can you slow down so we don't get pulled over??"
Josh: "I can do anything."
Me: " You can do anything??"
Josh: "Yes, I can do anything. I can deliver this baby right now."

I called my mom. It is 5:45am in Chicago. I told her that I thought I was having contractions and that we are on our way to the hospital.  I told her just to wait to hear from us before she heads to the airport.  She didn't listen.  She headed right to the airport.  Good thing she did.

We arrived at the hospital around 7am.  We went to the emergency room to check in because neither of us could remember where we are actually supposed to go.  Josh dropped me off at the door and I waddled in while he parked in a "police only" spot.  The nice front desk guy seemed to be talking in slow motion.  I politely asked him to hold on while I cried (literally) through a contraction.  He offered to get me a wheelchair but I was too focused on getting to the Labor and Delivery wing quickly... no time to wait for a wheelchair.  Josh and I hurried to the elevators, the whole time I'm babbling on about the car being parked illegally and how Josh should go move it...  he wouldn't leave my side... thank goodness, because looking back now I realize I wouldn't have been able to handle it alone.

After walking through about four million hallways (or maybe only three) we arrived at L&D.  They have a little check in area where they check to see if you really need to be there.  I changed into a gown and lie down and squirm around on the bed because squirming is the only thing that makes the contractions manageable.  Oh and death gripping Josh's hand.. that seemed to help too.. he later told me that he was shocked at how strong my hands are.  The nurse hooked me up to a monitor and a doctor came in to check me out.  I was 3cm dilated and 100% effaced so they officially check me in and walk me down the hall to my own room.  It was about 8am by that point and I let them know that I want an epidural AS SOON AS POSSIBLE! 

My room was cozy and the nurse, Linda, was so nice.  Honestly though, I don't remember much from the next couple hours... pain haze and all.  People say that you forget details of your wedding but you never forget details about the birth of your first child... those people probably got their epidural early.  It took a while for me to get mine so much of that morning is blurry.  I remember my doctor coming in to check me (she was on call at the hospital that weekend so it worked out well for me!) and I think I was about 4cm dilated when she checked me. 

It was almost 9:00am by the time the anesthesiologist came to the room to give me the epidural.  Apparently I was lucky enough to catch them at a change of shift so it took a lot longer than it should have to figure out who would be administering my miracle drug. The anesthesiologist finally came in and got right to work... bless his heart.  Josh was not allowed to be near me while I got the epidural.  I sat on the edge of the bed, leaned over and put my arms around the Linda the Nurse's neck and she told me to sit as still as possible.  She told me to stop wiggling my toes and legs.  I told her I wasn't.  She told me that I was.  I focused all of my energy on staying still... I needed this epidural to work.  The anesthesiologist tried to put it as low as possible but it didn't work so he redid it higher... even though it took two tries, it was still very quick from what I remember.  He finished up and I thanked him about 56 times.  I laid back down and breathed through some more contractions.  A little while later, from across the room, Josh said "so I guess the epidural is working?"  I said I wasn't sure and asked how he could tell... he said "you're smiling." 

Shortly after the anesthesiologist left, my doctor came in to check me again.  It had been about an hour since her last prodding... in that time I had gone from 4cms to 9 cms!  We were told that most women progress at about one centimeter per hour.  I had gone five centimeters in an hour.  Apparently, my contractions were stronger than what most women experience because I had progressed so quickly.  It made me feel a little less wimpy for not being able to handle the pain and for wanting the epidural so bad.

Josh and I sat and talked for the next hour.  Sometime in that hour my sister, Jessi, my best friend, Eliza, and Josh's mom arrived at the hospital.  I remember feeling an occasional dull cramp and asking if I was having a contraction.  Josh would look at the monitor and let me know if I was in fact having one.  Suuuch an exciting game to play.  Sometime in there I was checked again and was 10 cm but no one really said anything about when the action would begin and I guess I was too epiduraled up to ask.

At about 10:15am, the nurse told my sister to leave the room.  Linda, Josh and I started talking about how the process of pushing would work.  Linda told us we should practice.  I put my feet up into that wonderfully humiliating position and Josh took hold of my right knee.  Linda took my left knee and then instructed me to put my arms out "like chicken wings" and grab under my thighs.  She told me we would wait for a big contraction and then I would push four times through the contraction.... it would go like this: hold my breath and push HARD for ten seconds, breath and rest for ten seconds, repeat, repeat, repeat.  Then she explained that I should bear down like I am "having a bowel movement"... I asked if I would have one... she said "maybe," I said "eek," and she politely asked me to focus.  We practiced pushing through one of my big contractions and I did pretty good with it.  I relaxed thinking that we had some more down time. 

The next thing I know my doctor is coming through the door putting on latex gloves and saying something like "ok, Liz, here we go... shit is about to get real."  (I'm paraphrasing.)  So I pushed like we had practiced.  I pushed through one contraction.  My doctor and the nurse were both cheering me on (not in an annoying way like the nurse did to Miranda in Sex and the City) and telling me how great I was doing.  Josh seemed genuinely impressed with my pushing skills and kept telling me how proud he was of me and how he couldn't believe how good I was doing.  I felt so much love in that room. 

After the third round of pushing the doctor told us that she could see the baby's head and told Josh to lean over to see it.  He leaned over and then looked back at me with some serious fear in his eyes and said "his head is tiny!"  My doctor laughed and said "oh it gets bigger" and told him that it was just the top of the baby's head.  We waited for my next big contraction and I got to pushing again. 

And then..... at 10:40am..... he was here....... Jack Gerard Piette.

For some reason, I expected more of a maternal instinct to kick in... like I would cradle my baby in my arms and instantly feel the urge to nurse him and stroke his itty, bitty head.  Instead, the loop playing in my head was more like "ohmyGod ohmyGod- he is so tiny- ohmyGod ohmyGod- shit did just get real- ohmyGod this is real I can't believe this is real- I'm scared."  I guess I froze because the nurse had to take my hand and place it on Jack.  He was so tiny and so much cleaner than I had expected.. and so perfect.

I held him for a minute and then Linda took him to get weighed and cleaned up.  Before she even put him on the scale she started saying over and over "LOOK! He is a mini version of his Daddy! I can't believe how much he looks like Josh!" and was holding Jack up next to Josh's face.  I kept thinking "oh my gosh... really?  I like you and all but I'm hurting over here and I want my baby back.. please move it along.  Also, I think he kinda looks like Patrick Swayze." 

He weighed in at 6 pounds 15 ounces, which was a lot less than we had expected considering the fact that Josh and I were both nine pound babies and I ate about 479 tons of Chick-fil-a while pregnant. 

Jack was handed to Josh and THAT was hands down the best moment of my life so far... watching how proud and happy and excited and filled with love Josh was standing there holding his little boy.

Jessi and Eliza and Josh's mom came in to meet him.  They all agreed that he was perfect.

Around 2:00 that afternoon my mom arrived at the hospital.  I had hoped she would have been there when Jack was born (and we kinda figured she would) but he wanted out!  Josh kept bragging that I was in the top 1% of women with how fast I delivered Jack... it really wasn't something I had much control over but for some reason he still seemed very proud of me and I liked it.

The next two days in the hospital were wonderful and stressful and scary and happy.  It was awesome to have family and nurses there to help us.  We had learned about meconium (the sticky, messy greenish-black baby poo) in our childbirth class but nothing could have prepared us for what it was truly like.  It was terrifying and disgusting... thank goodness that people were there to help us change diapers. 

Josh rocked the baby while I tried to sleep and I held the baby and stared at him while Josh slept.  We learned ways to burp him.  I learned ways to nurse him.  We gingerly handled him because he was so tiny and fragile and watched in horror as the nurses manhandled him.  We buzzed the nurses when he had a freakout crying session because we didn't know what to do.  We asked a million questions and wrote down everything- recording every answer to every ridiculous question we asked the nurses and noting each dirty diaper and each nursing session.  And we stared at Jack constantly, like I imagine most new parents do.

Tuesday rolled around and the nice people at the hospital told us we had to get our nervous little butts out of there and go to our own house to change dirty diapers and raise our son.  So we packed everything up.  I was wheeled down in a wheelchair to the pick up area to meet Josh and was told by the guy wheeling me down that I "looked good for just having a baby" and that I "could get right back out there"... mmhmmm, I still got it. 

I sat in the backseat with Jack and freaked out everytime we went over a bump.  Josh drove about 40 mph the whole way home on the highway.  I got nervous when my mom wanted to take a picture of us out front of the house when we first got home because it seemed way too sunny for the baby.  I melted down during the first bath.  I checked the rise and fall of his chest seven million times a night to make sure that he was breathing.  I cried at weird, silly things because I was sleep deprived.  I had a hard time napping when he napped (like eeeeeveryone told me to do) because I was too busy checking to make sure he was breathing.  Typical new parent stuff. 

The level of new parent neuroses decreases each day and I'm figuring that by the time Jack is about 14 years old I'll probably be down to only checking his chest twelve times a night to make sure that he is breathing.