Oh sorry, not OF the nursery, but FOR the Nursery (but I’m going to give you a sneak peak anyway).
Yup, our little dude decided to make an entrance a good 2 1/2 weeks ahead of schedule. It was incredibly unexpected to say the least, especially since my family does not do early babies. I was born 19 days late, in July, and my parents did not have central air so I was expecting some major karma coming back at me. Last Thursday on my personal Facebook page I even jokingly posted that I was 37 weeks so was ready for baby to make his appearance any day now so I could start deflating.
Well, he actually listened.
Meet Wesley, born July 10th, 2017 at 6:39am, 7lbs 12oz,* 20 inches.
Now, when I said I was ready for him, I lied. All day Sunday I was feeling a little run down and experiencing periodic contractions, which I just assumed were Braxton Hicks. Later in the afternoon they started to get a little more frequent so at 3:30 I started timing them assuming I’d end up just ruling them out as a false alarm. I also asked Matt to make some muffins so I’d have some breakfast before work on Monday. This was phase 1 of Denial.
So Matt’s busy baking and I’m busy assuming I’m just normal pregnancy tired and whoever Braxton Hicks contractions were named after was possibly the world’s biggest douche. I’m also messaging a friend of mine complaining about contractions and telling her not to get her hopes up because there was no way this kid was going to get here before August. Phase 2 of denial.
By around 5:30pm things are more painful, and Matt has started the timing app on his phone. They were still lasting a little longer and getting a bit more frequent. but still a bit irregular. I decided to hop in the tub and soak because that will relax me and make it all stop, right? Phase 3 of denial. While I’m in the tub Matt decides to run to the store quick and get snacks just in case we end up having to head to the hospital. When he gets back he starts packing hospital bags while I direct things from the bed because I am officially In Pain. Luckily he had installed the car seat on Saturday, mostly because he was looking for things to do.
Around 7pm my contractions were pretty much in the 4-1-1 territory (coming every 4 minutes, last about 1 minute, for an hour). I called the 24 hour midwife line for my clinic, fully expecting to be told that because my contractions weren’t exactly 4-1-1, I should just keep waiting. See that? Phase 4. The midwife on call, however, says to get thee the hospital and she’ll meet us there.
By 8pm I’m being checked out in triage. I’m totally having contractions and they’re steadily ramping up, but I’m fairly convinced I’m being a pansy and will be getting sent home. (Yup, we just hit phase 5 denial). Turns out I’m only 1cm dilated so I’m clearly going home, right? Wrong. They tell me to start walking and they’ll recheck me at 10.
Matt and I start doing laps around the maternity ward. Things hurt so we’re going slow. I’m still mostly Ok so I have my phone out and figure I’ll use this as an opportunity to walk my Magicarp in Pokemon Go. That last about 2 laps and then I’m really feeling some pain. Now we’re going a couple yards and I’m having to stop and lean against the wall as another contraction hits. By 9pm I can’t keep walking anymore and insist on going back to the triage room so I can lay down again. Denial is steadily fading.
At 10pm the midwife checks me again–4cm. She’s actually pretty impressed and announces that she’s admitting me. Bye-bye denial.
At this point things start getting fuzzy. My birth plan (plan A) was to avoid needles at all costs. I didn’t want an IV unless the doctors thought I was dying, and I didn’t want an epidural. I was going to see how things went and try a water birth + nitrous oxide. This wasn’t out of any specific desire to have a natural birth, I just have a hard core needle phobia. However, contractions have REALLY ramped up at this point and I’d been howling in pain for a while, so we busted out the nitrous oxide as soon as I’m settled in my room.
Guys, nitrous oxide as a pain reliever is a joke. It may have taken the edge off, but it was a razor edge and nothing more. I’m pretty rapidly realizing that I am a pansy and I want All The Drugs because I literally cannot cope. I figure the few minutes of stress I’ll feel from the needles will still be way better than feeling contractions like these for hours.
Sometime around midnight they call the anesthesiologist in. They were super accommodating with my request to lidocaine the hell out of my hand before sticking the IV in, and I survived. The nurse even completely covered my hand in bandages so I wouldn’t be able to see anything sticking out. After they’re satisfied with the amount of fluids I’ve gotten, the anesthesiologist comes back to stick a frickin needle in my spine. Not gonna lie, I was completely terrified at this point. Matt’s holding on to me while I’m curled up and I’m paranoid about moving and screwing something up…I’m also still feeling huge amounts of pain and keep screaming periodically. Matt’s thinking I’m only freaking out about the epidural at this point and keeps telling me there’s not even a needle near me yet. Yeah, but there are plenty of other reasons for me to be in pain.
Somewhere around 1:30-2 the epidural took effect and it was magical.
Finally I’m relaxed and the nurses just let me sleep while things progress. I’m periodically woken up to get moved around a little bit, but mostly I just got to relax. Around 4 they decided the epidural had slowed down my contractions a bit too much so they added pitocin to my IV. I’ve heard some baaaad stuff about pitocin, but my epidural was still going strong so there wasn’t a noticeable difference for me.
The pitocin did it’s job and a little after 5 it’s go time. The midwife and a couple nurses come in and essentially ask me if I know what I’m doing….um, no. Luckily it’s not that complicated at this point and I can feel my contractions just enough to know when they’re happening (but just some pressure and no actual pain), so I can tell when I’m supposed to push without the nurses having to tell me.
At 6:39am on Monday, July 10th, Wesley officially entered our lives. The nurses handed him to me right away and I called him “my little cone-head” because he was pretty pointy. He was also super quiet so the nurses immediately took him back to check him out more thoroughly. Thankfully everything was fine and he was apparently just a quiet baby. Let’s hope it lasts….
He’s been an absolute doll so far and things are going better than I expected. I’m feeling shockingly good and Wesley has passed every test they’ve thrown at him. Matt has also been an absolute rock star of a dad. Breast feeding is a struggle, but that’s apparently pretty standard, especially with early babies. We’re pushing on through and slowly making progress though.
The nursery isn’t quite done, but some projects are going to be on hold for a little bit. I figure I’ll do a “close enough” reveal soon though.
*Yup, 7lbs 12oz at 2 1/2 weeks early. If he had lasted until the 27th (or later!) he would have been a monster baby. I don’t think pushing him out would have been as easy, but he could have totally earned the nickname Wesley “The Crusher**”… now I’ll have wait and see if grows into it.
**You either get it or you don’t, and if you don’t I can’t help you and neither can Patrick Stewart.