Baby stuff
Jan. 11th, 2009 02:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wendykhI still am in shock that OMG I HAVE A BABY. To say nothing of the whole how he got here drama. I just wasn't expecting him so soon!
He was 6 lbs and 10 oz. He had no preemie type issues (well, he was 36 weeks 4 days! So not that preemie!) and is nursing great. My milk came in and it is swollen and tender here. He sleeps well by himself in his cradle.
We were so unprepared for his birth! We had been planning to stock up the next couple weeks. We didn't even have the carseat. We ordered one but it had not arrived yet obviously. So [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] was super swell and loaned us hers. My husband and some buddies went shopping and spent tons of money stocking our house. Pat shopped more in two days than he ever has in his life, I swear. I was going to get all picky and such about what he bought and then I thought "Wendy, SHUT UP and let him do this." So I did and yk what he did a damn fine job for a guy who didn't know what a nursing bra was :-D.
This pregnancy was not easy on me. Not due to the actual pregnancy. But I was working hard, under a lot of stress, probably not eating as well nutrition wise as I should have, etc. I moved December 10. I helped push my dead car out of a parking lot Dec. 23rdish. (My husband would NEVER have let me. The tow guy did not realize I was pregnant, I am certain, due to my parka, and I felt I had no choice. It wasn't hard at all I thought. In retrospect, I wonder).
Monday night, the 5th... at some point in the evening we took a nap, both of us exhausted. He layed behind me and we felt the baby kick together. It was really sweet. After I woke up, I washed all my dishes I had not yet unpacked from the old place. I did tons of laundry. I made plans to go buy things for the impending homebirth. I had some pain but I thought it was late pregnancy pain. In retrospect...
I barked at Pat that he really needed to call Janet and do his one day crash prenatal course because "I am not putting up with you panicking in labour." Pat worked on cleaning his office. Around 1145pm he called me in to discuss a letter he found which I forgot to mail. I felt what I thought was me wetting my pants. He saw me bend and asked if I was okay. I said I wet myself and I'd be right back.
When I got to the bathroom I saw the reddish colour in my underwear. Then I looked at the floor and saw red drops. Then I looked in the toilet and saw what looked like bright red kool aid. I said "OMG something is wrong!" and Pat came immediately. I just looked up and said "I'm bleeding, this is an emergency thing, we need to go to the hospital RIGHT NOW."
After 45 seconds of "do we call an ambulance, the midwife, or just GO to the hospital?" We settled on just going, since we do live very close now. I sat there scared all the way wishing for any movement, and feeling nothing.
We went to Montreal General since it was closest, not realizing they had no obstetrical unit. However, when you're 8 months prengnant and walk in and gush blood all over, people MOVE. I was put in a room and stabilized, and plans were made to send me down the road a km or so to Royal Victoria immediately. An ultrasound was attempted, and nothing was found. As in for some reason they couldn't see the baby and I was too panicked to ask wtf that meant. I was pretty convinced they knew he was dead and they weren't telling me. I kept asking them to use a doppler but they did not have one they said.
We transported immediately to RVH (Pat followed in the car) and the wonderful paramedic held my hand and calmed me. I tried to not be a screaming mess, but there was no way I could stop crying.
We got there and the attending physician asked me lots of questions. I said I hadn't felt him move and can't we get a doppler. He seemed horrified no one had listened to the heart yet so he got the doppler and as soon as I heard that good strong heartbeat I smiled and relaxed. I did not give a damn about anything else at that point. He was alive, and if I was at RVH he would damn well stay that way, even if it meant a crash c/section, which I was sure, considering the blood loss, I was getting.
The OB on duty came in within 3 minutes of my arrival. He was WONDERFUL. He showed me everything on the ultrasound, he admitted flat out he had NO idea why I was bleeding so badly, and get this, "I am so sorry you won't be able to have him at home, but we'll try to make it as nice as possible here."
After assessing my vitals and CJs, it was decided no one was in imminent danger, and that we'd have continuous monitoring and if anything went awry, a c/section would be performed immediately. He broke my water and ordered a very light pit drip. He asked me about my previous births and told me he thought I could have the baby normally still, especially with my history of going very fast once I hit 5cm. He examined me and pulled out a frightening amount of clots. I was gushing like hell still.
I wasn't allowed to move (obviously). Due to this and the fact there was a good chance I'd need a c/section, I took the epidural. It sucked as much as I remembered to put in (I was hoping I had exaggerated it in my mind, no such luck!) but was put in better and I don't have the massive bruising and pain I did last time.
I had Ashton Kutcher for an anaesthesiologist. Well, they sounded alike anyway. He heard me telling Pat that I wanted this in case I had a c/s. He says all flatly "yeah um, well, if that happens, I'm probably gonna have to gas you anyway as we won't have time to top you up. When's the last time you ate?"
I sighed and said "around 7ish." He said "you're 8 months pregnant, left your house at midnight, and ate nothing between 7 and then?"
I suddenly remembered some potato chips I'd had.
After a while we realized no one had actually hooked up the pit. No wonder the contractions were so pathetic. That got remedied and then I had that "oh yeah, I remember this..." moment. Urgh. They kept the epidural super low (I could have walked if I wanted to, really) so I could tell them what was going on as they kind of wanted to avoid too many hands in me at that moment.
Not much time had passed on the pit drip when the heart rate started dropping. The wonderful OB walked in and turned it off immediately. "So much for that idea. Let's hope you can do it on your own now." I told him I was sorry for causing so much trouble (this was a common theme; all night I was apologizing, to Pat for having the baby early, since he had a big day on Tuesday, to the ER staff for bleeding all over hell and gone, to the Royal Vic ER staff for bleeding through those blue pads they stick under you at an alarming rate, to the OB for having to pull revolting clots out of me, to the anaesthesiologist for being a huge wimp during the epidural insertion, etc. This is how cool the OB was though, he smiled and said "don't worry, this is what I go to school for, you think I went to medical school for the kind of deliveries you had before? Relax."
I don't remember the exact sequence of events but at some point I asked to be checked only to find out I was only at a 3, same as when I checked in. But, I was fully effaced, and I wasn't at all when we checked in. Still, I was mad. A while later I was at 4, and within an hour I asked to be checked again and was at 10.
And then the suck started...
See, I always like pushing. It's a relief thing. Sort of like barfing after you've been nauseated all day? And normally I don't actually push. I sort of have a Baby Ejection Reflex. And remembering [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] telling about how the stupid intern flipped out and told her to wait until the real doctor got there to push because they didn't know how to deliver a baby made me inform the staff they better be ready when I said to get in there because there was no way I could hold back and there would be none of this waiting crap for me.
But I had no push urge. None. At all. Usually I had it before I was even at 10. And keep in mind, I could feel stuff quite well. I was having to work very hard through contractions. And my wonderful fabulous husband was smart and did exactly as I told him and kept his opinions and ideas to himself (if he had any). He held my hand and helped me work through them and gave me water behind the nursing staff's back without questioning me.
So they asked me to try to push.
Holy Mary Mother of God that hurt. I was floored how bad it hurt. (Un?)Fortunately, I did very well, and with the heart rate droping during contractions, they were so impressed they instructed me to full on push straight out. So I did, for just around 90 seconds, screaming my head off, tears rolling, in way more pain than when I had Kay au naturale. I kept hollering "I don't want to do this I don't want to do this I don't want to do this" over and over and actual screaming, like in a horror movie. They told me I was wasting energy and to just push. I yelled "I CAN SCREAM AND PUSH AT THE SAME TIME, SHUT UP!" and then his head came out. They told me it was out (like I didn't know? LOL) and I said "Fine, now get the shoulders!" as it was still brutally painful. That went quickly, and then the happy started :-)
I was worried he'd be floppy at best what with the problems, and being early and all. Nope. He was fine. I was shaking like mad, still bleeding way way way too much. I sent Pat to go with CJ, "make sure he's okay." He cried and I smiled "he's crying, he's fine." I felt really lightheaded at this point and was uncontrollably shivering, so strongly I shook the bed.
Somehow, I didn't tear. Cool!
I missed the placenta coming out since I was out of it and watching CJ. Apparently, it was in pieces, like hamburger, deteriorated, and partially detached. The OB told Pat "actually, partially attached would be better way to describe it from the looks of this."
I asked the OB (once I stopped shaking) why this happened. He said there's no way that was my fault, and sometimes bad things just happen. He said it is a risk factor if we choose to have another child, but can be somewhat combatted with excellent nutrition and physical health (mental note: lose weight and eat better before having next one).
Later we found out stuff we didn't know at the time, but were supposed to find out at my 37 week midwife visit.
1) I was Group B Strep positive.
2) My iron was above 100, the magic cut off for out of hospital birth. It was at 102. Due to this I was given a scrip for iron.
Because of the GBS+ status, and his "preemie" status, we had to follow a "nursing protocol."
Wendy is notoriously bad at following directions anyway, so this did not go well. I just kept my baby and nursed him whenever he wanted. No one seemed to mind as he was looking fine and doing as he should be. Because of all this we also had to stay a minimum of 48 hours. The nurses, especially those with kids who knew he was my third, were amazingly awesome. They asked how I thought he was doing and I said I thought he'd be fine, just needed some maturing and that he'd get nursing down in a bit (he was latching fine, he was just a bit weak and uncoordinated. He has totally resolved that issue now!). They were fine with that.
Except the Stupid Night Nurse.
She was convinced he was starving and bullied me into supplementing with formula twice. She based her opinion on his startle reflex and him being "jittery." (I saw no difference from my other two kids..) The day nurses noticed nothing pathological about this but she was hellbent. I decided it was easier to shut her up than argue. So I TOLD her his dad was severely lactose intolerant and what does she bring me? Regular Good Start. CJ gobbled it down, and then looked all content for 5 minutes, then hurled it up with a bunch of mucous. I was so shocked! Not. Sheesh.
I begged to go home and finally the pedi came to see me, just after 48 hours. I was expecting her to be all uptight since the nurses warned me when I begged to come home earlier that she was strict on protocol. She came in and I began to plead my case (there was some doubt she'd let him come home as he was born weighing 3010 grams, had gone down to 2795 on day 1, and then to 2770 on day two, and technically as a preemie they weren't to let him leave until he gained). I had NOTHING to worry about. I said I felt I could nurse easier at home and I promised to be followed by the home care nurses and my midwives and I promised to supplement if we needed to, and she just smiled and said "don't worry it's okay." Then we talked and I found out SHE had HER child at the maison de naissance, and one of her patients was nursing her newborn, her 2 year old AND her 4 year old! YAY it was so nice to find someone who spoke my language! I actually cried with happiness when she said I could go.
Friday the midwife came for follow up and he had gone up to 2825! Still good even allowing for some scale adjustments.
I really am not upset about the birth experience thing. I've always HATED when people responded to homebirth with "omg what if something goes wrong?" Well duh I thought, then you go to the freaking hospital! And well, I needed to be there, so there I was. I feel enormously better physically. Pascal and Nancy and Kay and Olly have all been by and been so helpful. I've had a couple friends over taking care of me and Pat so I can care for CJ better. My house looks immaculate thanks to them. Nursing is going fantasic; I love my pump and have made some bottles which he doesn't need but I like seeing them there, makes me feel all competent! He loves sleeping BY HIMSELF in his cradle or car seat. He slept for 3.5 hours straight last night and I was SO relieved.
He looks just like Pat, but with my nose. He's so tiny and soft and round and I just adore him and he's made our family so very happy. We're so joyful and grateful to have him. Life is good.
He was 6 lbs and 10 oz. He had no preemie type issues (well, he was 36 weeks 4 days! So not that preemie!) and is nursing great. My milk came in and it is swollen and tender here. He sleeps well by himself in his cradle.
We were so unprepared for his birth! We had been planning to stock up the next couple weeks. We didn't even have the carseat. We ordered one but it had not arrived yet obviously. So [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] was super swell and loaned us hers. My husband and some buddies went shopping and spent tons of money stocking our house. Pat shopped more in two days than he ever has in his life, I swear. I was going to get all picky and such about what he bought and then I thought "Wendy, SHUT UP and let him do this." So I did and yk what he did a damn fine job for a guy who didn't know what a nursing bra was :-D.
This pregnancy was not easy on me. Not due to the actual pregnancy. But I was working hard, under a lot of stress, probably not eating as well nutrition wise as I should have, etc. I moved December 10. I helped push my dead car out of a parking lot Dec. 23rdish. (My husband would NEVER have let me. The tow guy did not realize I was pregnant, I am certain, due to my parka, and I felt I had no choice. It wasn't hard at all I thought. In retrospect, I wonder).
Monday night, the 5th... at some point in the evening we took a nap, both of us exhausted. He layed behind me and we felt the baby kick together. It was really sweet. After I woke up, I washed all my dishes I had not yet unpacked from the old place. I did tons of laundry. I made plans to go buy things for the impending homebirth. I had some pain but I thought it was late pregnancy pain. In retrospect...
I barked at Pat that he really needed to call Janet and do his one day crash prenatal course because "I am not putting up with you panicking in labour." Pat worked on cleaning his office. Around 1145pm he called me in to discuss a letter he found which I forgot to mail. I felt what I thought was me wetting my pants. He saw me bend and asked if I was okay. I said I wet myself and I'd be right back.
When I got to the bathroom I saw the reddish colour in my underwear. Then I looked at the floor and saw red drops. Then I looked in the toilet and saw what looked like bright red kool aid. I said "OMG something is wrong!" and Pat came immediately. I just looked up and said "I'm bleeding, this is an emergency thing, we need to go to the hospital RIGHT NOW."
After 45 seconds of "do we call an ambulance, the midwife, or just GO to the hospital?" We settled on just going, since we do live very close now. I sat there scared all the way wishing for any movement, and feeling nothing.
We went to Montreal General since it was closest, not realizing they had no obstetrical unit. However, when you're 8 months prengnant and walk in and gush blood all over, people MOVE. I was put in a room and stabilized, and plans were made to send me down the road a km or so to Royal Victoria immediately. An ultrasound was attempted, and nothing was found. As in for some reason they couldn't see the baby and I was too panicked to ask wtf that meant. I was pretty convinced they knew he was dead and they weren't telling me. I kept asking them to use a doppler but they did not have one they said.
We transported immediately to RVH (Pat followed in the car) and the wonderful paramedic held my hand and calmed me. I tried to not be a screaming mess, but there was no way I could stop crying.
We got there and the attending physician asked me lots of questions. I said I hadn't felt him move and can't we get a doppler. He seemed horrified no one had listened to the heart yet so he got the doppler and as soon as I heard that good strong heartbeat I smiled and relaxed. I did not give a damn about anything else at that point. He was alive, and if I was at RVH he would damn well stay that way, even if it meant a crash c/section, which I was sure, considering the blood loss, I was getting.
The OB on duty came in within 3 minutes of my arrival. He was WONDERFUL. He showed me everything on the ultrasound, he admitted flat out he had NO idea why I was bleeding so badly, and get this, "I am so sorry you won't be able to have him at home, but we'll try to make it as nice as possible here."
After assessing my vitals and CJs, it was decided no one was in imminent danger, and that we'd have continuous monitoring and if anything went awry, a c/section would be performed immediately. He broke my water and ordered a very light pit drip. He asked me about my previous births and told me he thought I could have the baby normally still, especially with my history of going very fast once I hit 5cm. He examined me and pulled out a frightening amount of clots. I was gushing like hell still.
I wasn't allowed to move (obviously). Due to this and the fact there was a good chance I'd need a c/section, I took the epidural. It sucked as much as I remembered to put in (I was hoping I had exaggerated it in my mind, no such luck!) but was put in better and I don't have the massive bruising and pain I did last time.
I had Ashton Kutcher for an anaesthesiologist. Well, they sounded alike anyway. He heard me telling Pat that I wanted this in case I had a c/s. He says all flatly "yeah um, well, if that happens, I'm probably gonna have to gas you anyway as we won't have time to top you up. When's the last time you ate?"
I sighed and said "around 7ish." He said "you're 8 months pregnant, left your house at midnight, and ate nothing between 7 and then?"
I suddenly remembered some potato chips I'd had.
After a while we realized no one had actually hooked up the pit. No wonder the contractions were so pathetic. That got remedied and then I had that "oh yeah, I remember this..." moment. Urgh. They kept the epidural super low (I could have walked if I wanted to, really) so I could tell them what was going on as they kind of wanted to avoid too many hands in me at that moment.
Not much time had passed on the pit drip when the heart rate started dropping. The wonderful OB walked in and turned it off immediately. "So much for that idea. Let's hope you can do it on your own now." I told him I was sorry for causing so much trouble (this was a common theme; all night I was apologizing, to Pat for having the baby early, since he had a big day on Tuesday, to the ER staff for bleeding all over hell and gone, to the Royal Vic ER staff for bleeding through those blue pads they stick under you at an alarming rate, to the OB for having to pull revolting clots out of me, to the anaesthesiologist for being a huge wimp during the epidural insertion, etc. This is how cool the OB was though, he smiled and said "don't worry, this is what I go to school for, you think I went to medical school for the kind of deliveries you had before? Relax."
I don't remember the exact sequence of events but at some point I asked to be checked only to find out I was only at a 3, same as when I checked in. But, I was fully effaced, and I wasn't at all when we checked in. Still, I was mad. A while later I was at 4, and within an hour I asked to be checked again and was at 10.
And then the suck started...
See, I always like pushing. It's a relief thing. Sort of like barfing after you've been nauseated all day? And normally I don't actually push. I sort of have a Baby Ejection Reflex. And remembering [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] telling about how the stupid intern flipped out and told her to wait until the real doctor got there to push because they didn't know how to deliver a baby made me inform the staff they better be ready when I said to get in there because there was no way I could hold back and there would be none of this waiting crap for me.
But I had no push urge. None. At all. Usually I had it before I was even at 10. And keep in mind, I could feel stuff quite well. I was having to work very hard through contractions. And my wonderful fabulous husband was smart and did exactly as I told him and kept his opinions and ideas to himself (if he had any). He held my hand and helped me work through them and gave me water behind the nursing staff's back without questioning me.
So they asked me to try to push.
Holy Mary Mother of God that hurt. I was floored how bad it hurt. (Un?)Fortunately, I did very well, and with the heart rate droping during contractions, they were so impressed they instructed me to full on push straight out. So I did, for just around 90 seconds, screaming my head off, tears rolling, in way more pain than when I had Kay au naturale. I kept hollering "I don't want to do this I don't want to do this I don't want to do this" over and over and actual screaming, like in a horror movie. They told me I was wasting energy and to just push. I yelled "I CAN SCREAM AND PUSH AT THE SAME TIME, SHUT UP!" and then his head came out. They told me it was out (like I didn't know? LOL) and I said "Fine, now get the shoulders!" as it was still brutally painful. That went quickly, and then the happy started :-)
I was worried he'd be floppy at best what with the problems, and being early and all. Nope. He was fine. I was shaking like mad, still bleeding way way way too much. I sent Pat to go with CJ, "make sure he's okay." He cried and I smiled "he's crying, he's fine." I felt really lightheaded at this point and was uncontrollably shivering, so strongly I shook the bed.
Somehow, I didn't tear. Cool!
I missed the placenta coming out since I was out of it and watching CJ. Apparently, it was in pieces, like hamburger, deteriorated, and partially detached. The OB told Pat "actually, partially attached would be better way to describe it from the looks of this."
I asked the OB (once I stopped shaking) why this happened. He said there's no way that was my fault, and sometimes bad things just happen. He said it is a risk factor if we choose to have another child, but can be somewhat combatted with excellent nutrition and physical health (mental note: lose weight and eat better before having next one).
Later we found out stuff we didn't know at the time, but were supposed to find out at my 37 week midwife visit.
1) I was Group B Strep positive.
2) My iron was above 100, the magic cut off for out of hospital birth. It was at 102. Due to this I was given a scrip for iron.
Because of the GBS+ status, and his "preemie" status, we had to follow a "nursing protocol."
Wendy is notoriously bad at following directions anyway, so this did not go well. I just kept my baby and nursed him whenever he wanted. No one seemed to mind as he was looking fine and doing as he should be. Because of all this we also had to stay a minimum of 48 hours. The nurses, especially those with kids who knew he was my third, were amazingly awesome. They asked how I thought he was doing and I said I thought he'd be fine, just needed some maturing and that he'd get nursing down in a bit (he was latching fine, he was just a bit weak and uncoordinated. He has totally resolved that issue now!). They were fine with that.
Except the Stupid Night Nurse.
She was convinced he was starving and bullied me into supplementing with formula twice. She based her opinion on his startle reflex and him being "jittery." (I saw no difference from my other two kids..) The day nurses noticed nothing pathological about this but she was hellbent. I decided it was easier to shut her up than argue. So I TOLD her his dad was severely lactose intolerant and what does she bring me? Regular Good Start. CJ gobbled it down, and then looked all content for 5 minutes, then hurled it up with a bunch of mucous. I was so shocked! Not. Sheesh.
I begged to go home and finally the pedi came to see me, just after 48 hours. I was expecting her to be all uptight since the nurses warned me when I begged to come home earlier that she was strict on protocol. She came in and I began to plead my case (there was some doubt she'd let him come home as he was born weighing 3010 grams, had gone down to 2795 on day 1, and then to 2770 on day two, and technically as a preemie they weren't to let him leave until he gained). I had NOTHING to worry about. I said I felt I could nurse easier at home and I promised to be followed by the home care nurses and my midwives and I promised to supplement if we needed to, and she just smiled and said "don't worry it's okay." Then we talked and I found out SHE had HER child at the maison de naissance, and one of her patients was nursing her newborn, her 2 year old AND her 4 year old! YAY it was so nice to find someone who spoke my language! I actually cried with happiness when she said I could go.
Friday the midwife came for follow up and he had gone up to 2825! Still good even allowing for some scale adjustments.
I really am not upset about the birth experience thing. I've always HATED when people responded to homebirth with "omg what if something goes wrong?" Well duh I thought, then you go to the freaking hospital! And well, I needed to be there, so there I was. I feel enormously better physically. Pascal and Nancy and Kay and Olly have all been by and been so helpful. I've had a couple friends over taking care of me and Pat so I can care for CJ better. My house looks immaculate thanks to them. Nursing is going fantasic; I love my pump and have made some bottles which he doesn't need but I like seeing them there, makes me feel all competent! He loves sleeping BY HIMSELF in his cradle or car seat. He slept for 3.5 hours straight last night and I was SO relieved.
He looks just like Pat, but with my nose. He's so tiny and soft and round and I just adore him and he's made our family so very happy. We're so joyful and grateful to have him. Life is good.
