Kettering Khaos... a true adventure: Little O'ster

Baby Owen is here! ....and he's almost 4 months old... I'm horrible at keeping up with this blog. In fact, I've completely skipped over writing a blog about Lynkon entering Kindergarten last August. I've started and restarted that entry, but can't figure out how to put my emotions about that milestone in writing. So, the procrastination will continue. For now, back to Little O'ster. I don't want to completely relive his arrival, as it was just as unpredictable as the pregnancy, but I will do a short recap. Short? ... yeah, right. I don't know the meaning of short recap, but here goes nothing...

Buck and I went up to the hospital on October 10th to finish up some of the paperwork for my induction that was scheduled for the following week. They ended up checking my blood pressure as a routine step in the process, and it was elevated. I hadn't had high blood pressure the entire pregnancy mind you, so this was a total shock. My doc was informed and the orders were as follows: "Admit her, we're having a baby!"

Whaaaaaaaat?!?!?! Was I prepared for this??? Had I packed a hospital bag??? Had I SHAVED my legs in the past week??? Had I installed the infant car seat base into the van??? Had I gone through the oh-so-wonderful-nesting-phase where I had cleaned everything and prepared for little Owen's arrival??? I think we all know that the answer to all of these is the same.... HELL NO! However, I wasn't stressed. In fact, it was quite comical to me. This pregnancy started out unpredictable and the ending turned unpredictable on its head. They started my induction out with cervadil, and I was scheduled to get 2 doses (4 hours apart), and then I was to get my first dose of pitocin at 1 a.m. It was going to be a long night. I was told I would have baby Owen by the following morning or early afternoon. Well, so much for that plan of attack. I immediately started getting heavy, painful contractions after having just one dose of cervadil... it had done enough to jump-start my own labor, and I wasn't going to need any more drug assistance. I had made it abundantly clear to the nurses that I wanted to get dilated to a 4-5 before getting my epidural. I knew I could do it... after all, I'd done it twice before. Cinch! Or so I thought. When I got to a 5, Buck, my mom, and I repeatedly said I was ready for the epidural. What was the nurse's response?
"Well, you don't have enough fluid in your body for anesthesia to give you an epidural. But don't worry, I'm going to increase your IV drip and I'll let anesthesia know that you are ready."
Great, sounds like a plan. Shit, there's that word again... plan. I see it mocking me even as I write this post. PlAn... pLaN... plan... PLAN. Buck continued to try and be my advocate as he protested to the nurses, "she goes really fast, she needs the epidural like now." All of this was met with a caring look and reassurance that I would get the epidural in time. The pain was almost unbearable. I was given stadol. I had been given stadol with my previous births and all it had done then was put me to sleep. Sleep sounded amazing at this point... it was a fantastic plan. (Ugh, that f-ing word again!) Sleep definitely did not happen... but, an amazing high did most certainly happen. Apparently I was pretty funny... all I remember is feeling super heavy & weighted down by the drug, but still having extreme contractions. I vaguely remember saying something over and over to Buck and Mom... but cannot remember what I actually said. There may have been some hallucinating, too. I dunno. This lasted all of maybe 30 minutes. So much for good drugs. Then, my water broke. WTF! My water had been broken by the doc in my previous two births... and an epidural always followed. In came the nurse to check my progress. 7CM! At this point, I'm totally freaking out... in my head. I wasn't saying anything out loud. At least I don't think so. In my head, I remember something to this effect:
"WHAT THE F&*K IS GOING ON!?!? WHERE IN THE HELL IS MY EPIDURAL?!?! DOES THIS NURSE NOT RECALL THE CONVERSATION ABOUT GETTING AN EPIDURAL AFTER REACHING A 5?!? I'M NOT GETTING AN EPIDURAL... I'M NOT GETTING AN EPIDURAL... I'M NOT GETTING AN EPIDURAL... THEY AREN'T GOING TO MAKE IT...."
Then, silence. I retreated so far inside myself that the pain became something so intense that I couldn't talk, couldn't think about anything, couldn't moan, couldn't even hear anything... it was as though I was transported into a vacuum of some kind. I was sure I was going to pass out from the intensity of the pain. Then, the pain changed... I don't know how to describe the change, but it allowed me to delve even further inside myself. Screaming, yelling, or even thinking about doing any of those things was not possible. Oddly, it was almost peaceful. I began visualizing the birth that was about to take place. I had never been in a state of concentration like this in all my life. I remember opening my eyes and having a circular field of vision in which everything was a blur except a very bright light, Buck's face and my mom's face. I remember watching them watch each other with a look of dread on their faces and then looking back at me with their best 'everything-is-going-to-be-okay' faces. In that instant, I knew what they knew... I was not going to get an epidural. It was go time. I somehow mustered up the energy to ask if the anesthesiologist was in the room and if I was going to get an epidural... last ditch effort. Can't blame me for trying. Soon after I yelled something to the effect of "I have to push... he's coming out NOW!" To which I was told, "no sweetie, don't push. You aren't ready to push. You aren't at a 10 yet. I just checked you. You're at a 7."
Then, I yelled again, with a little more gumption this time:
"HE'S COMING OUT! I'M PUSHING..." then "HE'S OUT!!"
I remember a nurse lifting up my gown and having a look of disbelief on her face as Owen was laying on the bed. It only took seconds for the room to be flooded with nurses. Now I was finally getting some attention! My bed was never broken down into "pushing-mode". Owen and I did it all by ourselves. My birth plan was shattered, burned, torched and tossed up into the air...

If I had to do it all over again, I'd want it done exactly the same. Looking back, it was perfect. Owen was so alert from the start... he latched immediately. I was able to walk within minutes of giving birth... NO pain. The pain was instantly gone. Amazing.

Unfortunately my blood pressure did not behave though, and I was given what they called Mag-Treatment - a magnesium concoction that was given to me for 24 hours through an IV. I was given a catheter and couldn't get up for those 24 hours either. Brutal. Owen passed all of his blood glucose tests he had to have due to my gestational diabetes. He did end up becoming a little too jaundiced after coming home though, and we were given a billi-blanket to keep on him for 24 hours. He was our little glow worm for a night:) Poor thing was poked and prodded until good bilirubin scores came back.

For having such a dramatic entrance to his little life, Owen is the best baby. So calm, so happy, sleeping through the night... just perfect. Being able to be at home with Owen, without having to return to work has changed my attitude towards taking care of an infant as well. It's pretty easy to take care of a baby when you know that you can devote all your time, love, and energy into them. Sure I'm tired and exhausted, but I don't care. I have a happy baby and I'm happy. Life is definitely good.