I'd call this a successful trip to baby yoga, no? No. The answer is no. She fussed the entire time and was screaming at the end until I zipped her into her baby bunting.
I’ll be honest: I never read any birth stories until I had Nell. I scrolled right past those posts. Mostly because I was terrified of labor. I preferred to remain blissfully unaware. So, I won’t be offended if this post is completely ignored. Given my terrible memory, I really just want to get it written down so I don’t forget the details one day...
On Wednesday, July 29 around 1 p.m., I began to have what felt like cramps, though slightly more intense. But they quickly went away. Braxton Hicks again, I thought. At 1:30, cramps again. And then at 2. “So, I think this might be happening again,” I said to Ben, who was working from home.
That day was supposed to be my last day in the office, but over the weekend, I’d also decided to work from home. Only I didn’t really work.
At our hospital class a few weeks earlier, the nurse said to eat before going to the hospital because it would be while before I could eat again. I quickly helped myself to a giant everything bagel with all the cream cheese, followed by a generous serving of Friendly’s watermelon sherbet, my number one pregnancy craving.
Within only a couple of hours, contractions were getting closer together and much more painful. I alerted my mom and sister that things seemed to be moving and to be ready to head up to Connecticut.
By 5, I was already telling Ben “I. Cannot. Do. This. Anymore.” from the fetal position on our bed. I’ve always had a low tolerance for pain.
We called the doctor and kind of, sort of lied about the length and time apart of the contractions, but they were SO close to being long enough and close enough together to head the hospital. Later, a nurse said something along the lines of “good thing you got here when you did” and I didn’t feel bad about the white lie one bit.
My doctor said to wait it out a little longer if I could, but if it was getting too painful I should head to the hospital. Obviously, I was heading to the hospital.
The hospital is just a 15-minute drive away, but right off of the worst stretch of I-95 in the state. I was so nervous through my pregnancy that we’d be heading toward Norwalk in morning rush hour traffic. It was rush hour, but (THANK GOD) we were going against traffic. Having contractions in the car was interesting as I tried contouring my body in all sorts of positions to deal with the pain with a giant stomach and seatbelt confining me.
We arrived at Norwalk Hospital shortly after 6 and a lovely gray-haired nurse helped me dress into a hospital gown. It was a shift change, so shortly after 7, my nurse, Jen, arrived. Jen was a saint. Remember that bagel with all the cream cheese and watermelon sherbet I had? Well, shortly after meeting her, I projectile-vomited it everywhere. Jen swore I didn’t get it on her, but I’m pretty sure I did.
While we waited (what felt like an eternity) for my epidural, Jen coached me through contractions, telling me to relax (impossible) and chatting about all sorts of things. She was chatty but it was exactly what I needed. Turns out she also went to Fairfield U and Ben knew her husband, so we spent a lot of time reminiscing about the good ‘ole days.
The epidural was the toughest part of the entire thing for me. By the time I got it, contractions were only minutes apart and extremely intense. It was impossible for me to keep still when I had one, but guess what you have to do during an epidural? Remain still. Awesome. Jen sat me up, gave me pillows to hug, and she was basically hugging me still as I tried not to shake.
By this time, my mom had arrived and my sister shortly after. We were told only two people could be in the room with me. Ben would be there the entire time and I figured we’d be in L&D for a while so my mom and sister could swap out. When Kerry arrived, no one kicked her out. She and Jen found out they were both doing post-grad work at the same school (so random!) so everyone just kept chatting.
After my epidural, I was freezing and shaking but I couldn’t feel a damn thing so I didn’t care one bit. My poor mother kept worrying about the shaking, but apparently it’s normal.
Jen said, “I think I’m going to meet this little girl.” Meaning this baby would be here before her shift. At first she was guessing maybe 3 or 4 a.m., but before I knew it, around 11 p.m., it was time to start pushing.
I thought for sure that either my mom or Kerry would have to leave. “Mom, you grab that leg. Sister, you grab this one. Ben, you lift her back,” Jen told them. And that was that. At the beginning, everyone swore they weren’t going to look, but that lasted about 10 minutes.
At this point, my doctor had come in twice: Once when she first arrived and a second time to break my water, which, it turned out, had broken on its own. Here’s what the movies don’t tell you about labor and delivery: The nurses do EVERYTHING. Seriously, my doctor barely made it into the room in time, but I’ll get to that.
Jen coached me through pushing and contractions with my mom echoing everything she said, which was kind of adorable, but I did have to remind her that I could also hear what Jen was saying.
Nell was positioned face-up, which instead of back pain resulted in terrible pain in my left hip. But since I couldn’t feel a thing down there, I really didn’t mind.
I was told I was a great pusher, which I’m sure is something they tell everyone to make them feel good.
“Ok, it’s almost time, I’m going to let Dr. M know,” Jen said. She came back and we pushed a little more and I could tell Jen was getting annoyed. At what, I had no idea. But when she poked her head out into the hall to check on the doctor a second time, she came and said “she’s doing paperwork” to one of the other nurses in a very annoyed tone.
A few minutes later, Dr. M. arrived, took a look at what was going on and said “Oh wow, she’s ready!” I’d bet a million dollars Jen just wanted to say “Uh yeah, that’s what I was trying to tell you!”
The next thing I know, I was told to push. I did, and then I suddenly had a baby in my arms at 1:11am on July 30.
I just remember thinking, “omigod, she’s huge!” I’m not much of a crier, so there were no tears on my end, but my eyes did well up a bit, and I was just in awe of her.
The 12-hour process was much less dramatic than I thought it would be. I imagined being in a delivery room for many hours longer than I was. I imagined pushing for hours and hours. And I for sure anticipated a panic on my part.
On our second day in the hospital, the nurse who admitted me came to my room to check on us. “That was a violent labor,” she said, referring to how fast it progressed. It turned out I did most of active labor before the epidural kicked in. She guessed if I hadn’t had the epidural, Nell would have been born hours earlier, on the 29th.
On August 1, after lots of visitors and help from nurses, it was time to take our little Nell home and do this parenting thing on our own. Which we kind of failed at immediately. Once we were discharged,no one checked on us or the car seat as we left. Turns out Nell was not strapped into her car seat tightly enough. But we all made it home safe and sound.
At least for a little while. I made the call to my office this week after putting it off for days.
It’s an odd feeling because I always pictured myself as a working mom. However, with the cost of childcare in Fairfield County and the circumstances of my job it just didn’t make sense.
I’m not mourning the loss of a career right now because, honestly, for the last few years my jobs haven’t really amounted to a career. I wish they did but they don’t. I’m positive I’ll miss the routine of working and daily interaction with adults but…
I’m so thankful that we’re able to make this work for the time being and that I’ll be able to share this time with Nell.
Now excuse me while I go research every Mommy & Me type class in the area.
At the risk of criticism from the breastfeeding police, I’m just going to say it...
I hate breastfeeding.
I knew breastfeeding could be hard thanks to stories from friends and posts here on Tumblr. During my pregnancy when asked if I was planning on breastfeeding, I answered by saying yes but knew it’s not something that works out well for everyone and I hoped it would work for me. I didn’t realize just how hard and draining it could be.
We had a rough start from the beginning with Nell’s tongue tie. In fact there is a photo of me from Nell’s first go at the boob and the face I’m making just screams “THIS IS PAINFUL!” (My sister went a little nuts with camera in the delivery room and those photos will never see the light of day, nipples everywhere!) By the time we brought Nell home three days later my nipples were cracked and bleeding.
After a lactation consultant approved day of pumping we introduced a breast shield as a temporary fix until the tongue tie was taken care of. Now Nell is used to the shield and not latching well without it. So in addition to the logistics of getting situated to nurse, I have the added step of putting on the shield that she usually knocks off if she isn’t swaddled.
With the tongue tie fixed and the annoying but useful breast shield I feel guilty complaining about anything else but I’m just so drained by the task. Nell nurses every two and half hours on the dot. As soon as I’m done, it’s almost time to start again. And I find the entire process extremely uncomfortable. My back is sore, my hands are tired. I don’t feel like I’m bonding with my daughter.
At two weeks we started giving Nell one bottle of pumped milk at night (doctor’s orders) to get her used to the bottle and give me the chance to get to bed early and for Ben to partake in feeding. On a few occasions I’ve given her the bottle and I enjoyed it so much more. I could really look at her, not be uncomfortable, and have an overall pleasant experience.
In Bringing Up Bebe, the author explains that while the French also believe “breast is best” they don’t put the emphasis on it that we do here and that French women breastfeed while it’s pleasant for the child and mother. If I were French, would I stop at this point?
I’m lucky that I have a good supply and that with the shield Nell has a decent latch so I feel guilty that I dislike it this much. Many woman face much more difficult situlations. I’m afraid I’m being selfish or unloving or something else terrible.
My goal right now is to continue until Nell is three months. Perhaps it will get better when she’s able to go longer between feedings. In the meantime, I’m going to allow myself to give her one additional bottle of pumped milk during the day.
Today was my due date. I can’t believe we’re already five days into parenthood. It’s been such a blur.
Labor and delivery was not nearly as dramatic and overwhelming as I thought it would be. Thank god! Though it was much faster than I anticipated. Contractions started around 1:30pm, we were at the hospital by 6:30pm, and Nell made her debut at 1:11am.
Recovery was scary at first but each day it gets better. That’s all I’ll say about that.
Breastfeeding has been the worst part of this journey so far. What I thought was just normal soreness turned out to be a result of Nell being tongue tied (that’s a real thing and not just an expression, who knew?) and only got worse. We meet with a lactation consultation tomorrow and I was given the green light to exclusively pump today to get a little relief.
I’m mesmerized by everything Nell does and can’t wait to get to know her personality as it emerges. Right now our days mostly involve sleeping and feeding and our nights involve very little sleep, lots of crying, and feeding. But every day she makes a new face or noise and I’m reminded that it won’t be like this forever. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t been crying multiple times a day because I’m overwhelmed and exhausted and it really feels like it will be like this forever.
