Thanks to my amazing powers of recollection, the technology of Facebook and text messaging , I have created a tiny record of my labor with Noah.  Without further adieu, February 18, 2011 went something like this:

8:00am – I wake up and think, is today the day?  Because I really don’t want to go to work.  If I’m going to have the baby today I’d kind of like to know so I don’t waste my last day working.  Well, I guess I feel okay so here we go, Day.  Bring it.

11:00am – I get to work, it’s super busy.  Everyone exclaims, “You’re here!  I can’t believe you’re still pregnant!” I’m assigned to triage (boo, hiss, hiss) but this might be a good thing. Maybe sitting down in triage will ease my (now) aching lower back.  I joke with the other nurses that I just need to make it to 7pm and finish my shift because I don’t want to waste any PTO before my maternity leave starts.  (Ha ha HA).

12:00pm – I start to notice my belly becoming hard every now and then.  Although I always have contractions at work, it’s a physically demanding and stressful job.  I’m used to it.  I have another nurse feel my stomach a few times.  She swears I’m in labor.  I am a stubborn nurse AT WORK IN A HOSPITAL and  continue to deny it.  Hey, I’ve got a job to do!  And stuff to do this weekend!

1:55pm – I finally start jotting down start times here and there in between patients to monitor if my contractions are regular.  My lower back still hurts.  This is a new symptom that started this morning.

2:30pm – Shift change is coming up, and it’s almost time for my 30 minute lunch break.  I agree to come back to triage after my break instead of changing assignments.  My back still hurts and I tell the charge nurse, half jokingly, “I think I might be in labor but I don’t know.  I should probably stay sitting down to see if these contractions go away.” A few of us feel around on my stomach again.  “Girl you’re in labor!” they say.  “No, I don’t think so,” I say.  (Ha ha ha HA).

3:05pm – Lunch time.  I make my way to the nurses station but don’t go to lunch.
“I’m afraid to go to lunch,” I say half smiling, half terrified, “I really think I might be in labor.”
“How far apart are they?!” they ask excitedly.
“About every 5 minutes.”
“For how long?!”
“I don’t know!  I don’t have time to pay attention to that, I’ve been triaging!  Probably at least two hours now.  And my doctor said if they were at least 5 minutes for more than two hours I should go to the hospital.”
“Oh my gosh!” they say, “You’re totally in labor.  You need to leave!”
“Yeah, I don’t know.  What if this isn’t it?”
(Ha ha ha HAAAAAA)

3:10pm – I walk around my hospital, notice a little more discomfort with the contractions, call Kevin and ask if I should go to the hospital.  “Um, I can’t really tell you since YOU’RE THE ONE WHO IS PREGNANT.”  Oh, right.  I go back to the unit and sit behind the nurses station.  My boss is down here now.  “You know if you leave now you’ll probably get stuck in traffic and have that baby in the car” he jokes, “so you might as well stick out your shift.”   “Yeah!” the nurses cry, “We’ve got three sterile vag basins and an empty trauma room.  We can deliver that baby right here!”

3:11pm – I DON’T THINK SO.

3:25pm – I tell the charge nurse that yeah, I think I need to leave.  I pack up my stuff and leave for the hospital.  They’ll probably send me home. (Ha ha ha ha HAAAAAA)

3:40pm – I start texting/FBing on my way out because I’ve got to have something to laugh about when they send me home and I left work for nothing, right?  (Also, I’m super nervous.  I was induced the first time, I have NO IDEA what real labor fees like and honestly I’m not hurting at all.)  I’m going to feel like a total tool in about one hour is all I keep thinking.

3:49pm – FB: “I’m leaving work and heading to another hosptial for… Baby?  Maybe?”

4:55pm – FB: “Being admitted. 4-5 cm, 90% effaced.  Really need to go to the BR.  Gross.  Dammit.  And my doc is OOT so delivering with Dr C, supposed hottie according to my sources.  Greeeeeat.”

6:00pm – Kevin and Avelyn finally arrive.  I have a sweet 20 minutes with my beautiful girl, my first born baby before she’s off to dinner and spend the night with the grandparents.  I really want her to stay.  I want her to be here for the birth.  I miss her so much when she’s gone.

6:30pm – 5cm.  Dr C breaks my water.  A big gush of really hot water with every contraction or when baby moves.  This is weird.

7:30pm – Contractions are finally starting to hurt.  Ow.  Now I remember what this is like.  Why did I think it would be cool to do this without drugs?  What is wrong with me?!  There is nothing cool about being in pain and I want to enjoy this birth because I’M DOING ALL THE WORK DAMMIT!

8:01pm – Txt: “Just got epidural. Broke bag at 1830.”  Blessed epidural, how I love thee.  Look how happy I am!  A baby is about to rip through my vagina again, yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!

8:42pm – FB: “I can’t feel my legs!  I can’t feel my legs!  Oh wait, there they are, buried beneath the wonderful effects of DRUGS.  7cm.  Going to take a nap now.”  (Of course the nap didn’t happen.  I’m on my phone a lot.  Who can sleep when you’re about to give birth!)

10:09pm – Txt: “9cm, +1 station.  Almost go time!”

10:36pm – Nurse says I’m complete and it’s time!  Had two practice pushes with my nurse and watched in the mirror as his head came all the way down.  Was instructed to stop pushing so we could have an actual doctor present to deliver my unborn child.  I’ve got drugs on board and I can’t feel or move the lower half of my body so you know, take your time.  It’s cool.

10:45ish – Everyone in place, doc asks which one of us (Kevin or myself) wants to deliver the baby.  Holy crap this is totally happening right now.

10:50pm – A few (maybe 4 or 5?) pushes and Dr C tells me to reach down, grab my baby and lay him on my chest.

10:53pm – I do.  Noah James is here.  And I’m in love.

See the whole set on flickr.

Each time someone asks how old Avelyn is and finds out how much she weighs they always ask the same question, “Oh you must have breastfed her, right?” I can’t tell you how happy it makes me that they think that.

As you may remember, I tried so hard to breastfeed. Avelyn never latched properly or I never learned or whatever, but it didn’t happen. I was miserable about it and cried for months, feeling like a total failure. I’m not sure exactly why it meant so much to me but it did, and I was incredibly disappointed in myself when I couldn’t do it. I think it was a combination of many things. As a nurse I knew all about the nutritional benefits of breast milk over formula but more importantly, I had heard so much about the bonding experience between mother and baby during feeding and I felt like I was cheating both Avelyn and myself.

For the first two weeks after she was born I cried everyday throughout the day and pretty much nonstop from 5pm until I went to bed. I was just so overwhelmed with emotion. I cried almost every time I looked at her because she was so tiny and so beautiful. I cried because no one was taking care of us at the hospital so I checked out early and I was not ready to go. I cried because Avelyn was sick and had to be under the bili lights 24 hours a day and I couldn’t hold her for days. I cried because Kevin had to go back to San Antonio when she was 4 days old. I cried because we had to go to the doctor’s office everyday for a week and have her weighed, poked, pricked and prodded to monitor her progress. I cried because she wasn’t eating and she was losing weight so then I cried because I was the one that couldn’t feed her and I felt like I had failed at the most basic thing I should have been able to provide. And of course I cried because I had to go back to school when she was only 3 weeks old and she was so small and she needed me.

Those first few weeks seem like such a blur. I was so overwhelmed with an all encompassing, earth shaking, terrifyingly strong love for this baby that it almost hurt. It seemed like I couldn’t stare at her enough, hold her enough, love her enough. I was terror stricken that she would stop breathing. Kevin could sleep through several minutes of whimpering and crying but I barely slept a wink. I slept at the foot of the bed right next to her bili bed so I could hear her if she made a noise or worse, didn’t make a noise. I kept the hall light on too bright because I was afraid of it being too dark. I kept the temperature way too hot because I didn’t want her to get cold. I almost never went downstairs because I was afraid I wouldn’t hear her if she cried/moved/breathed/wiggled her pinkie toe….

Those first two weeks I knew I was suffering from the “Baby Blues”. I was also in so much pain from the delivery I could barely move. Forget walking, just rolling over in bed was agony. Sitting up or getting out of bed took another person or a lot of work and time. It was almost four weeks before I could walk without feeling like my insides were going to fall out on the floor. It was a pretty awful recovery. I knew it was Baby Blues and I knew it would get better and it did. At the end of two weeks I woke up one day and just felt better. I didn’t cry all day. I took a shower that lasted longer than 5 minutes and kept the door closed (although I did keep the monitor in the bathroom!). At the end of three weeks I noticed I could walk from the front door to the car without too much discomfort and it was becoming less of an effort to move.

Starting back to school was hard but I looked forward to going home to Kevin and Avelyn every day. I was so tired from being a new parent and my hormones were so wacky that my brain was fried and I couldn’t concentrate or remember anything at all. I was determined to give her breast milk and not formula for as long as I could so I hooked myself to the pump every 2-4 hours to try to keep up with her demand. Between feeding her, pumping and going to school I was exhausted. The exhaustion I felt can only be understood by someone who’s been there. Trust me, I have pulled plenty of all-nighters and a few all-weekers but this is something so completely different. You can only understand the depth of “new baby fog” once you’ve been through it. It’s indescribable.

When she was seven weeks old I made the difficult decision to switch exclusively to formula. It was very hard but I knew it was what I needed to do. I was pumping night and day and barely sleeping trying to keep up with her appetite. With Kevin being gone all summer and me going to school full time I was going crazy. I don’t remember when it started because I felt so much better after the BB had lifted but one day I realized that something had changed and I was going downhill.

Depression runs deep on both sides of my family. I have never suffered from a major depression although I do have a history of panic attacks and severe anxiety that over the years I have learned to control to a good extent. There was a time when I would have multiple panic attacks a day but I have worked hard and now only suffer one every few months or so. I know that during times of great stress or emotional upheaval I am at risk for relapsing and I work hard to notice the signs ahead of time to hopefully prevent or at least lessen the toll.

I was sitting in Psych the day we were learning about depression and anxiety disorders. Dealing with the lack of sleep, new mother obsessions, full time course load, etc. I was out of tune with my body. It wasn’t until the slides popped up on the screen that I started to realize I was probably suffering from depression. I was getting more and more anxious sitting through class, wondering what I should do, who I could talk to about it without sounding like a crazy hypochondriac that thinks they have every disease they learn about in class. After the lecture I waited for the other students to leave and I approached the professor. I didn’t even know what to say but before I even said a word I started to cry and she sat down and talked to me for a good 20 minutes. I am so thankful for her silent ear.

Once I started talking I just couldn’t stop. Everything had been building up inside of me and I didn’t even know it. I told her about Avelyn’s birth one month before, about Kevin having just left for the summer, about the lack of sleep, the lack of friends, the anxiety attacks that had been occurring more and more frequently without me even realizing it. The more I talked the more I was amazed it had taken me this long to see it. I felt a little stupid for laying it out there to someone I barely knew, but it felt so good to talk to someone who didn’t know me, that could be objective and caring without making me feel inferior or dependent. I pride myself on my independence and my privacy. I didn’t want to lose that. I didn’t want anyone close to me thinking I couldn’t do it all. I still don’t. My professor suggested I contact the university counseling service since it was FREE and came with my tuition fees. Uh, yes, thank you. I called that afternoon and had an appointment two days later.

My therapist was wonderful. That first day I think I cried the whole time and I told her everything. I talked about being disappointed in myself for not breastfeeding, for not being able to stay home with Avelyn, for feeling guilty when I enjoyed being at school sometimes even though I would choose to stay with Avelyn in a second if I could. I talked about feeling guilty for choosing sleep instead of homework once Avelyn went to bed. She asked me about my appetite (none, I hadn’t eaten anything real in weeks), my sleep (exHAUSted), my fears (uh, yes, many) and everything else she could think of. I told her all about my increasing panic episodes and my obsessive thoughts that I just couldn’t seem to get rid of. That was my biggest concern.

I was obsessed with thoughts of dropping Avelyn on the concrete, as if I spent SO much time walking on sidewalks with her hanging loosely in my arms. I couldn’t shake the thought of stumbling and falling down the stairs or losing my grip and watching her little body fly down the steps. It was uncontrollable and terrifying. I was so overwhelmed with anxiety and fear that I felt like I was going crazy.

Luckily I never had bonding issues with her, never felt distant or afraid of her. I loved her the moment I knew she was conceived and felt the overwhelming warmth of that love take over my body the moment the doctor laid her on my chest. Taking care of her was the only thing I felt like I was doing right. I could recognize her “feed me”, “hold me”, “change me” cries after just a week or two, although it took a little longer to really trust that voice.

Anyway, we talked about everything and she suggested I see the psychiatrist to determine if I fit the criteria for post partum depression and if so what we could do about it. The psychiatrist determined that it did sound like I was suffering from increased anxiety and depression. I started on an antidepressant and haven’t looked back. I’ve been seeing the therapist almost every week since my initial appointment and the psychiatrist once a month to monitor side effects and improvements.

I am so happy to say that I feel better than I’ve felt in years. I feel good. I didn’t even know what good felt like, it had been so long since I hadn’t felt sad. It wasn’t just pregnancy and hormones that made me feel this way but it was what sent me over the edge and made me realize it was something I could try to help myself with. I wish I had sought help years ago. I wish it wasn’t such a stigma to have “Psychiatrist” on your insurance bill. I wish I could tell everyone feeling sad and anxious and worried that life isn’t supposed to feel that way. I wish someone had told me that.

By the way, there is no hidden message in this post, no cry for help, no woe is me tale. I just wanted to be honest. This was part of my “new mommy” transition. Now it’s something I know I have to be aware of the next time around. I will know what to look for, Kevin will know to speak up if he sees these behaviors, and I will know that it will get better if it happens again. I am so thankful for all the support friends and family provide without being overbearing and checking in too often. I appreciate the respect and Independence you provide that I so desperately require. I also appreciate that I know you will be there should the need ever arise.

So thanks for all that, and if something I said here resonates with one person then I won’t feel too totally stupid for writing this. If it doesn’t, well, now you know. Have a great week!

As previously posted, there was no change at Tuesday’s OB appt regarding all those technical details — still 3cm/60%. We were all hoping I would last until the induction date but with everything that had been going on they were all surprised I hadn’t gone into labor yet.

Just two days later, during my weekly ultrasound on Thursday, we found that in the last 7 days the amniotic fluid level had dropped dangerously low, which occurs in roughly 4% of pregnancies. In my case this was most likely caused by the placenta just giving out. Luckily the baby was showing no signs of distress and her heart rate and breathing pattern were strong. They sent me back up to my regular OB with well wishes saying I would probably be having a baby! Even though I understood the situation, I still don’t think I could comprehend that we would have this baby in the next 24 hours. Even after I got upstairs and was signing in to see my doctor and the receptionist said – “Dr. X wants you to go across the street to the hospital and check in and she will meet you there. Congratulations! You’re going to have your baby!” EVEN THEN, I was still stunned thinking “Baby = Maybe” not “Baby = NOW FOOL!”

I finally got a hold of Kevin and told him he would probably need to come to Houston because we were probably having a baby today. It wasn’t until I’d already checked into the hospital and was waiting for them to call me back before I thought to ask a nurse what they were planning to do for me. This surreal conversation went something like this:

Me: I’m sorry, when you said induction were you referring to the scheduled induction on the 27th or are they planning to induce today?
Nurse: Um, today [idiot]. Dr. X is going to check you to determine if we need to deliver you tonight or early tomorrow morning.
Me: Oh. [awkward pause] So I should probably tell my husband he needs to come back into town.
Nurse: Yes.
Me: Okay, wow, thank you. [AGHHHHH!]

I phoned Kevin again who promptly got moving, and my grandparents to keep me company until he arrived. Pretty soon we were in a room and the rest is history. Kevin brought a great pizza as my last child-free meal and then I slept the night away thanks to the wonderful effects of Ambien – 6 whole hours. I realize now why that was so important.

We started the Pitocin at 5 am the next morning and Avelyn was born just 9 hours later at 2:05 pm after 40 minutes of pushing. It was the most amazing experience ever and I highly recommend it (with epidural, of course). The whole thing was just very relaxed, calm, exciting and FUN thanks to my wonderful doctor and nurse. Kevin did a fantastic job too – he was supportive, attentive, funny, worried, nervous, everything a new dad-to-be should.

When she came out I just remember being totally stunned at how surreal it all was. My belly deflated (a good amount anyway), a baby was lying on it instead if in it and she was breathtakingly beautiful. She seemed like such a little stranger but in the most familiar way. It was really odd how everything changed in an instant — She made two people into a family who seconds before were just a couple.

Crazy. Wonderful. Beautiful. Life.

5 times the charm

Our last “just the two of us” photo (note the “IV fat face”)