...That has been the question since the advent of Miss L. And honestly, not that tough a question: sleep wins almost every time.
It's been an incredible three weeks. Incredibly tiring, and incredibly humbling, but mostly... just incredible. The whole world has snapped into focus, and the colors are more vivid than I could have imagined. She is the only thing that matters right now.
I realize this is just the start of a crazy adventure, but her birth was an adventure in itself. A week before my due date, Tuesday June 14, I had a routine doctor's visit, during which my doc told me I was still stuck at 1.5 cm dilated (same as weeks prior). Labor did not appear imminent. After a whole bunch of bureaucracy, that very day I scheduled a backup induction date for June 24. I resigned myself to the likelihood she'd be coming late.
And isn't that always the way? Just went I let down my guard... bam!
It was a blisteringly hot night -- over 100 degrees with humidity. At 10pm we finally determined the air acceptable for a short walk. Down to the end of the block and back was all I could muster. Afterwards, we were sitting together on our big (new, natch) living room chair with all the lights out, trying to stay cool, watching the fireflies dart around through the bay window. If I was writing this for a screenplay, you'd surely dismiss it as too corny to be real, but this is how it happened: There we were, cuddling in the dark, contemplating the future, a very sweet (and rare) moment. One of us actually said "This is probably one of our last really peaceful moments for awhile."
A split second later, I flew out of the chair -- with much more regard for the new upholstery than anything else (it was spared, thanks for asking). "Either I just wet my pants or my water broke!" I'm sorry to say my money was on wetting my pants at that moment, but the evidence did not support that theory.
We called the doctor and were told to head to the hospital; assuming I didn't start labor (and she doubted I would; I had so far yet to go), they'd induce in the morning. Still without any major contractions, I was skeptical. Hopeful... but almost didn't dare believe it was happening. Took our time gathering our stuff, calling the folks, and the like. Drove there leisurely, laughing, sure we'd be sent back home upon examination. Walked into Labor and Delivery fully upright, amidst a waiting room of women gasping and panting and looking rather terrified. Clearly, I felt, I did not belong here yet.
The time was now 11:45 pm. The resident confirmed my water had broken. Reality started to set in, but we still figured I'd be induced in the morning, so might as well try to get some rest now. G. pulled out the couch/bed and tried to sleep, and I lay there with my mind racing. Relaxation techniques, deep breathing and everything from childbirth class seemed moot.... When my contractions started, I honestly thought I was psyching myself out. And, I figured, most people have lonnnng drawn out early/false labors, so I needed to just grit my teeth and prepare for what was surely a lot worse to come.
Only -- this was for real. A few hours later I was told I was already at 4 cm and progressing REALLY, REALLY FAST, they couldn't believe how calm I was, and the epidural was available anytime. I think it wasn't until that point that I let myself feel/understand the pain. Once the epidural option was on the table, suddenly... I WANTED IT.
And it was great -- I still felt my feet and the contractions, but without the edge. I was able to rest, and when the delivering doctor showed up at 8 am, he declared me "ready to push." I lay there congratulating myself on an astonishingly easy labor -- labor I didn't fully understand/accept I was in until they were ready to take the pain away.
Unfortunately, though, there was a hitch (isn't there always)? Several pushes in, the doctor noticed the baby's heartrate dropping dramatically with every push, and recovering too slowly. He was apologetic, but said we needed to proceed to the OR for a c-section right away. I honestly didn't care at that point -- I needed my baby healthy.
I didn't love having to be apart from G. while they wheeled me in and scrubbed him up in haste. I hated not being able to have the baby placed on my chest immediately after she came out -- but I reveled in hearing her cry on the other side of the screen, and thrilled after what seemed like an eternity (probably only 5 minutes) and she was finally in my arms.
So, that's the end... or rather, the beginning. I presume my blogging will be more sporadic for awhile, but I'll be here. She's three weeks old today, my recovery is coming along (though not 100% complete), and I'm still definitely learning the ropes of motherhood. But it's great, it's magical. You should all try it! ;)
