Okay, so if you were queesed out by the water breaking story this may not be your cup of tea . . .
My due date was July 24, 2009
At birth, I weighed 9 lbs. 13 oz. and was 21 1/2 inches long - a pretty big baby to say the least. In fact, my mother was instructed to feed me formula with cereal and fruit when I was just 1 1/2 weeks old, as nursing wouldn't be enough for my big body and appetite. (This was 1977, so no doctors are being blamed for any suggestions, I'm alive and very healthy.)
At my 38 week appointment (my appointments landed on Tuesdays and my weeks changed on Fridays) my doctor decided to help things along by "sweeping my membranes" (Google if you want the science behind this treatment) to help me avoid delivering a 10 pound baby myself, this being mid-July and me wearing feet the size of watermelons, I was game to get this process moving!
Indeed I did get some more regular contractions and felt more activity in my nether region. Since the night my membranes had been swept, I would be up for 3 1/2 hours in the middle of the night with VERY regular contractions, when morning would come, they'd taper off and I'd go to work.
That Thursday (July 16) I was at work, feeling funky, and the contractions picked up that afternoon and lasted about an hour and a half. I timed them at 2 minutes apart, called Brandon and told him that we were at code yellow and to get into the "ready" position. Apparently Baby Daddy didn't like my non-emergency approach to this labor activity and called our doctor's office, who in turn called me at work and told me to get to St. Mary's to be checked. (Remember I had been to St. Mary's before and been sent home sans baby.) Being scolded by the nurse didn't make me too happy, but I had been "in labor" irregularly for a week now, so I went. We waddle into L & D (labor and delivery) triage, get hooked up to the monitors, get checked by the resident, my cervix is changed to 2-3 c.m. and 50-60% effaced. Not enough to get a room at St. Mary's so I am sent away to "labor at home." If you've ever been given this diagnosis, it's about the most boring and disappointing news a 9 1/2 month pregnant woman can be given. I call into work and talk with Boss Tom, he tells me to stay home and they realize I'm having a baby and not to worry about work - this helps my mind rest at least, but now what would I do to keep busy?
For the next two days, we help our brother and sister-in-law landscape their new yard. I was told some activity would help regulate the contractions and may get Baby Buell here. Also, Brandon wasn't letting me out of his sight, so to the landscape party I went. (He was very well-intentioned, but watched me like maybe the baby would fall out and without his ever-present watchful eye, my lackadaisical self wouldn't notice nor let him know.)
The weekend came and went with no baby. We would have been smart to change our outgoing voice messages to reflect that, but our family and friends love us and it was nice to get to chat with EACH AND EVERY ONE of them.
Monday July 20 arrives. After landscaping Jordan and Holly's house, we figured we may as well finish up the landscaping on our new patio. In June my wonderful dad, Rusty, and Brandon had totally remodeled our small deck into a two-level deck with patio; complete with a dining area and fire pit. This must have done the trick, or so I thought, because for 8 hours that day; at 5 minute intervals, I had fairly strong contractions! I wasn't going to jump the gun and go screaming into St. Mary's, so I gave the contractions 8 hours before calling the nurse. Of course, with that information, I was instructed to head to St. Mary's and "good luck" as it sounded like Baby Buell would be joining us soon! OH BOY!! We're really going to have our baby this time! We get checked in, checked out and settle in for what we think could really be the big event. Again, my cervix checks out at 2-3 c.m. and 50-60% effaced. I'm instructed to walk the halls for 2 hours to see if that makes me dilate more. Around 11:30, I'm checked again and I haven't changed at all, still 2-3 and 50-60, I'm sent home, but given something to help me sleep since by this point, I've been awake for about a week. I cry a bit on the way home. Maybe I'll be pregnant forever.
I did some drawings and Dad and Brandon turned them into this great patio! Brandon built the rails, which turned out really cool.
At my 39 week appointment, (at which, I was technically 39 1/2 weeks) I was still contracting and was still 2-3 c.m. and 50-60 % effaced. Dr. Clevidence (God bless him; truly) decides that enough is enough and he calls St. Mary's to schedule an induction. They have availability that coming Saturday (as they don't want to do anything until someone has actually reached their 40 week mark) at 11:3O a.m.. So that was it, it was set; we would have our bouncing baby girl sometime on July 25. Much relieved we spent much of the rest of that week on our new patio talking with neighbors and imagining our life with our new family member. What would she be like? Who would she look like? Would she get my red hair? Brandon's face? My jokes? Brandon's negotiation? We even helped our dear friends, the Hermsmeiers, paint their living room - hey, if I did enough activity to have that baby on my own, I wasn't completely opposed to it.
Friday, July 24 (our actual due date) we finish up our wills with our attorney (our future was much clearer to us now, and caring for our progeny took a more prominent place in our minds), go out for dinner, and make all the necessary phone calls about tomorrow's big events.
Saturday morning comes! You know we didn't sleep at all that night, we get up early and get going, we're almost giddy!! We leave our house in Cottage Grove and make plans for a big circle around town to get our errands ran and can make it to the hospital by 11:30. (Brandon and I need things to do to keep our minds busy.) We stop off at Oregon to drop our dogs off with Jordan and Holly who will be babysitting our furkids while we're at the hospital. We continue further west to pick up my mom's ring from being repaired at the jeweler. She asks, "what are you guys doing today?" As nonchalantly as I can, "We're having the baby." She said she'd never been told that before. I suspect that she's telling the truth. From the jeweler we go to Denny's for some breakfast, since I'd been told that I wouldn't be able to eat anything once I was checked in at the hospital. We hit the beltline and are minutes from the hospital. Brandon and I look at each other and giggle, we're having our baby today!
My cell phone rings. It's the hospital. Too many women went into labor the night before (it had been a full moon) and they don't have enough beds, would I mind coming tomorrow morning? I could have 5:30 or 7:30. I pick 5:30, I hadn't been sleeping at night anyhow, so what was a couple of hours AND if they were in the habit of making bump calls, I was already going to be there! So what to do now? Cry for a second and head home. We order Chinese, play farkle on the patio and then answer the phone; "no, we're home, there was no room at the hospital, no really, no we're not kidding, yes we go tomorrow at 5:30, no, we're serious."
Sunday, July 26, 5:30 a.m. we're checked in at St. Mary's labor and delivery department. They had been expecting us; finally. We get into our room, my folks show up - they had committed to spending the entire day with us, so they could finally meet their first natural grandchild. About 20 minutes to 7, I get my first dose of misoproxil (I am a candidate for this procedure over a pitocin induction because I was in labor, but my cervix wasn't changing) after 4 hours I will be checked for any changes and the next course of action will be determined. I had several wonderful nurses, with whom we chatted and got to know while we waited. One, who seemed to be familiar with a misoproxil induction knew about the 4 hour rule, and discussed with me the options at the end of the first dose; a second dose, a different drug, being sent home to labor at home. I figured she had to be kidding! I think I politely said, "I'm not going home." She was kidding right? I looked at my mom, who saw that idea was almost too much for me and smiled in her way. In the back of my mind I comforted myself with the idea that Dr. Clevidence wouldn't support that plan, that's why I was being induced in the first place, right! She had to be mistaken and hadn't read my whole chart.
Around 11 a.m. I am checked again, would you believe I was still 2-3 c.m. and 50-60%? A second dose is administered, they also placed an I.V. in case they needed to administer medication to me in a timely manner. This second dose intensified the contractions and I start to feel really uncomfortable. I used the birthing ball, wandered the halls, sat in the tub, anything I could do to maintain comfort and stave off the use of an epidural. I figured I was tough enough to do this without an epidural and if I could keep myself comfortable, I would. Halfway through this second dose, I had contractions every minute, my mom would come watch them on the monitor and point out to me when I'd have them and how strong they were. (I knew.) At this point I received a shot of pain medicine through my I.V. which helped me to relax my muscles and breathing between contractions. I figured we'd be at go time soon and that thought kept me occupied enough that I was confident that when my cervix was checked at the end of the 4 hours I would be at the magical 10 c.m.
3 p.m. arrives, I'm almost excited to be checked, I had been enjoying such strong contractions, I just knew I'd be complete. Guess what! 2-3 c.m. and 50-60% effaced. No, I'm not kidding. The nurse calls Dr. Clevidence to see which course of action he thinks we should take. He suggests breaking my water. So at about 3:30, he breaks my water. It feels like the biggest warmest pee accident a person could have, now I know my time in the tub is up, all I want to do is wipe. They look at the clock, tell me it takes about 1 hour to dilate 1 centimeter and I should be having the baby yet that evening. They show me the call button and to let them know if I needed anything and that they'd go out to let me rest up for a while and they'd check on me in a bit. We all breathe a sigh of relief, she'd really be here sometime today! My folks decide that since they have 7 hours they'd go for coffee. I joked and told them, I'd hang out in my room 'til they got back. After about an hour I realize the difference in the contractions I'd been having and what BIG contractions were. WHOA - this was some pain. I glance at the clock, 4:30. I squeeze Brandon's hand and tell him, through my teeth, "I am giving up, I can't do this for 6 more hours, I changed my mind, I am not being tough anymore and I want that epidural! NOW!" He looks in my eyes and sees that I'm serious and dashes out the door to find my nurse.
After a bit he returns with my nurse, Amy. She is fantastic, really knowledgeable, I like her and trust her. She says "I need to check you before we can give you your epidural." She checks, looks at me and says she'll be right back. Where could she be going? What was wrong? Could I still be at 2-3 c.m.?? She returns with the resident, she checks me as well. She tells us, that we'll be having a baby that day. We thought that seemed like silly news since that was our whole plan for that day anyhow. She tells us, she'll be right back with Dr. Clevidence. Now I worry. What was wrong? Was Baby Buell in trouble? Did some hidden male parts show themselves? Did I poop? They get Dr. Clevidence, he gets his gloves almost on and they lift the sheet so he can see what was going on. Nurse Amy gets in my sight line and says, "guess what? You're going to get that natural childbirth you wanted, you're complete, it's time to push."
Whoa! That's what all the pain was. I changed 7 c.m. in an hour. She was already crowning, Brandon took a glance and confirmed that information. Here's the good part about taking 7 hours to dilate 7 centimeters; you "stretch." The good news about taking 1 hour to dilate 7 centimeters is, you dilate 7 centimeters in 1 hour. The bad news, you do less stretching and more tearing, like in
all directions, the pain I had felt was actually my vagina being torn by the baby as she was making her way south. OUCH!
The nurse places the birthing equipment under me, they wheel in the surgical table and Dr. Clevidence almost gets his coat on when I scream, "I want to poop!" They say that's good and to try, I push 3 times. With the first 2 Brynn is out, the placenta followed with the 3rd. Brandon watches and reports up to me the progress each one brings. "Her head is out!" "She's perfect!" I confirm that it is indeed a girl. It is. They place her on my chest. I try to hold her, but my muscles are jello from adrenaline and pushing and I fear that I'll drop her. Brandon asks if I want to hold her some more, I said, "take her to my mother" I could hear that my folks had tried to come into the room with their coffee, while I was pushing and Brandon yelled, "it's not a good time!"
From the door I could hear when my mother saw my baby, "She looks just like Bridgie!" and my dad started snapping pictures. They already liked her, strike that, already LOVED her.
While I was being sewn up and getting the chord blood collected, which took an hour, Brandon volleyed from my folks to me carrying our precious bundle. He was smiling so big, he looked like he'd been carrying a baby everyday of his life and she was totally comfortable with him.
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How could any day compete with that? We had the love of our lives in each other and now with each other. Despite my shortcomings, I was blessed beyond measure.