Happy Birthday my sweet little munchkin, you are one year old today! Congratulations! You are so sweet and so smart and so handsome and your Daddy and I love you very, very much.
One year ago today I met Liam. Twelve hours before that I ran up the stairs to go to the bathroom and thought, “shit, I can’t believe I didn’t make it!” I thought I had peed my pants, but in fact my water had broke. I’ll let you know right now–if you don’t want to hear about bodily functions, you really should ignore this post. Move along, nothing to see here–this is a birth story, if you choose to read it, be prepared for strong language and content clearly catagorized as TMI.
Even though my first thought was that I peed, I had a feeling that it was more than that so I called Steve and told him that I thought my water had broke but I wasn’t sure and he told me to call the doctor. How sensible, okay. Yep sure enough, broken membranes according to the doctor. She also said that things may or may not progress on their own, so if I wasn’t getting contractions by the next day we would discuss inducing. I think that the mention of nothing happening until the next day prompted me to lose my mind and I called Steve back to tell him what the doctor had told me and that we could probably still go shopping for baby stuff after he got off work.
Yes Internet, I thought that my water breaking was no big deal and that I would go shopping. You see, my due date was not for another 17 days and Steve and I had planned on doing all the baby supply shopping that we still hadn’t done–it was a lot of stuff. We had booked a car and were ready to go and then this little person decided to do the cha-cha-cha on our newly-laid plans with his tiny little stillettos–really just the first time of many.
Anyway, I had heard somewhere to keep yourself busy when you’re waiting to go into labour. Mainly that you should have a shower, go for a walk and eat. So I had a shower and started packing a suitcase for the hospital and then decided to go up to Shopper’s Drug Mart to pick up a few things that I still needed. By the time I got up the hill, I started to get a tightness in my back that kinda reminded me of menstrual cramps but there was nothing in the front so I didn’t think they were contractions. Yes, I’ll repeat that for you, my water broke and I was feeling menstrual cramps, but it didn’t occur to me that this was early labour. I swear pregnancy makes you stupid. By the time I was on my way home, I wasn’t feeling so hot so I called Steve to let him know that I was having a bit of pain, but that we would still try to go shopping. REALLY obsessed with the shopping–geez.
I think it was about 1pm by this time and by 3pm I was clearly having contractions about 10 minutes apart so I called Steve to tell him to come home. He wasn’t able to concentrate anyway and said he was planning to come home already. There was STILL talk of the shopping (WTF?!?) but by the time he got home and we were getting ready to go it was clear that I could not walk around a store in my condition so Steve went out for some must haves – a baby outfit for the trip home from the hospital and a part needed for the car seat. I told him to pick up food at Wendy’s on his way home because my mental list said that I should eat before I go to the hospital and I hadn’t completed that one yet.
By 5pm I was very uncomfortable and agitated and wondering where the hell Steve was and packing my bag was pissing me off because I would think of something and then start to do it and then I’d get a contraction and forget everything and have check my list and get on track and repeat, repeat repeat–SHIT! Five minutes is not enough time for me to keep on task apparently. Our friends Jess and Guy called to ask us to do something (I don’t recall what) and I said “actually, do you think you might be able to give us a ride to the hospital?” I called the doctor and told her that my contractions are 4 minutes apart and I want to go in, she told me that was fine and she would let the hospital know to expect me. And the thought of eating anything made me want to wretch, so I never did check that off my to do list.
The car ride SUCKED! Sucked ass even. I couldn’t get comfortable and the contractions were speeding up and Guy insisted on turning corners–FUCK! Every bump we went over was a shotgun blast into my lower spine. We got into the Labour and Delivery area at around 6:30pm and were met by a less than friendly nurse saying things like “diversion” and “not enough beds” and WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, I AM HAVING A BABY OVER HERE! So we sat and waited and waited and waited and then we got to go behind a curtain and I layed on a gurney and then guess what? We waited. At 8pm a doctor finally comes in to assess me and I am 4cm dilated and my prize for this is that I get to go in an ambulance to St. Paul’s. St. Paul’s–that beautiful brick building 4 BLOCKS FROM MY APARTMENT. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!!!
I can remember making a lot of noise and the paramedic telling me to breathe in deep and blow out the pain. That didn’t make it any better, screaming made it better, I went with screaming. He might be a father of 7 (OMG 7!) but I’ll bet your ass he’s never been in labour. It’s my party, I’ll scream if I want to.
So, we get into our room, finally, and I feel better–now I can just concentrate on OW, OW, OWWWWWW. And then, guess what–we wait. I can’t stop staring at the clock because I am in a lot of pain and no one is checking me and I’m sure that I’m going to be fully dilated ANY MINUTE and no one will know and then, I don’t know, but it will be bad. In the meantime we get set up with the nitrous oxide and try a bunch of different positions–none of which feel any better, the kid’s head is resting on my spine, I don’t think shifting from my back to my side is gonna do it. The nurse suggests trying the bath, so I do for exactly one contraction, then back to the bed where the nitrous is for more staring at the clock and the door. The doctor checks me at 10pm and I’m at 8cm and asks if I want anything for the pain because I can expect 2-4 hours of puching once I’m fully dilated.
Holy crap, 2-4 more hours AFTER I get to the fully dilated part. Then I panic and decide that I don’t want to do this anymore, which I am told is not an option so I settle for some phentanol. They put the IV in and give me half a dose and it’s okay, I guess, and then the nurse is about to give me more when everything gets really intense and I am waiting for the contraction to end and it isn’t and “OH MY GOD WHY ISN’T IT LETTING UP?!?!” to which the nurse announced, “it sounds like she’s in transition.” Let me tell you, that sounds a lot more peaceful than it feels.
It’s now 11pm and the doctor is surprised that I am indeed fully dilated and now I must rely on only the nitrous to get me through the pushing. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I don’t have a lot of patience and this makes the pushing stage SO FRUSTRATING. I remember pushing so hard and it seeming like nothing was happening over and over. I can remember thinking “2-4 hours–HELL NO!” and pushing harder than I ever thought possible because I am not doing this for 4 more fucking hours!
Steve did a great job of counting down the pushing and switching masks for me. I used the nitrous for the contraction and then I had to breathe oxygen in between because baby’s vitals would dip. This also resulted in them using a bit of suction, which was weird because I could hear and feel when it sliped off his head. And at this point I was waiting and dreading the “ring of fire” that would indicate his crowning. And I gotta say, I didn’t really notice because he all of a sudden popped out and all I felt was relief. It was 12:03am and someone said look and I looked down between my legs and I don’t know if I said it or just thought it, “Holy crap, it’s a baby!” Like I thought I’d be getting something else at that point? And I asked what it was and they said a boy and I was so happy because I got to say I told you so since I knew it was a boy right from the start.
I saw Steve and he looked very lost so I yelled at him to go with the baby. I probably could have said something nicer but I became mother bear who didn’t trust any of the professionals in the room to take care of my child without Steve’s watchfull eye. And then there was the placenta (ew) and the stitching (ouch) and then finally everyone left and I got to be with my two guys and everything was perfect. And it still is.
That’s how you came into the world. I love you Liam. Happy 1st Birthday.
