The Delivery...

So, Keaton Gray is finally here. And a little early at that! A week ago today, I took my swollen self to the doctor for my 2-week check-up. After seeing my legs and feet, taking my blood pressure, and testing my urine, my doc told me that I was no longer going to work...bedrest for me! Then, on my way home, he called to tell me that I had to go to the hospital to be monitored because my platelets were low. He also informed me that this could mean no epidural. Blah, blah, blah...let's get to the good stuff. On Friday night, we sat in the hospital room awaiting the results of my bloodwork...thinking there might be a chance we would get to go home. When my doc walked in he instantly said, "Well, we're having a baby tomorrow.". So, that was that. I actually felt a little relief in that moment because I was really tired of being pregnant and swollen. Plus we were ready to meet our little guy. Then, my doc bursted my bubble by uttering the words I had dreaded hearing. He told me my platelets were even lower...in the 80's...and I couldn't have an epidural. So, that was that. I guess I was half-expecting it, since he had pre-warned me on Thursday. But, I really think that deep down I thought it would work out so that I would get my beloved epidural. So, I took a sleeping pill that night...cause I wouldn't have been sleeping without one!

The next morning at 5:00 am we headed to the delivery room to begin the process. Little did I know the process was going to take FOR-ever. When we got in the room, they began my IV. Then, we waited. My doctor wasn't going to be in until about 8:00 or so and that's when they were going to break my water. In the meantime at around 7:30, they started my pitocin. When, my doctor finally came in and "Checked me", I was at a one (crush my spirit) and the baby was still too high to break my water. A one? I just knew I was more than that. So, we waited and waited through contractions that weren't that painful yet. After several more checks I was still a one. I never thought I would hate that number so much. Finally at about 4:00, I felt the craziest and actually kinda painful pop. Then, the waters broke loose. And from that point on, it was game time.

My heavy contractions started the minute my water broke. The nurse came in to check me and what do ya know, I was still a one. I was in disbelief and almost tears, because this "one" felt about like the 4 or 5 I experienced with Cale (right before they gave me an epidural) And all my pain was in my back lower half, which I didn't experience at all with Cale. I hear that's called "back labor" Whatever it is, it sucks. As time passed, the pain got worse and worse. I went from grimacing to self-consiously moaning to almost yelling. I remember I kept looking at the clock as I slowly became more dilated...and thinking "I can't do this. I'll never be able to endure what a "10" is going to feel like." Earlier in the day Carl had said things like..."Oh I bet this baby will be here by early afternoon." Then, when early afternoon came and went he said, "I bet this baby will be here by 7:00". When 7:00 came and went, he started to make another prediction but apparently I told him to "just shut-up" And that's when my meanness began.

Through the course of getting from a 1 to a 10, I apparently told Carl to "shut-up" and to "quit touching me". I told him I felt like I was "dying". I slapped the phone out of his hand as he began to text. I can actually remember being ticked when he picked up his phone. The closer I got to a 10 I apparently even tried to bite him a few times. The reason I say "apparently" is because the medicine they give you when you don't have an epidural knocks you out. This sounds great, right? Well, it only knocks you out in between contractions. Every time a contraction starts back up, I was awoken by the pain. But, hey, at least in between I got some relief. One of the things I remember thinking was how mad I was that CJ's Burger was going to be closed by the time I had Keaton. Not that I was hungry in those moments, but that was suppossed to be my reward for childbirth and I knew I wasn't going to get it.

Finally at about 10:15 or so, I had made it to the magic number. It was time to start pushing. Really I had no choice because when you can feel the pain of labor, and it's pushing time, there's no denying it. I don't think it would be possible NOT to push by that time. Looking back, it's funny. I remember telling Carl early that morning that I hoped I didn't pass gas during the pushing because that type of embarrassment would be hard for me to handle. Well, let's just say that just a "poot" would've been a blessing. What actually happened was a pregnant girl's worst nightmare...Carl and my relationship has gone to a whole other level, and it wasn't pretty. I'll leave it at that. Luckily the pushing only lasted about 45 minutes or so. Yes it hurt; it hurt badly; but actually I think the contractions themselves without the pushing, were worse. My mom would be proud of me, the worst "profanity" I uttered in those moments was, "goodness". No curse words came out, even though I'm pretty sure I thought a few...or more.

At 11:01 Keaton was born. I can't tell you how relieved I was that it was over. Or so I thought. Just like last time, the nurses scooped Keaton up and instantly started doing their thing. I kept trying to catch glimpses of him as my doctor sewed me up. Now, the next part is probably TMI, but here goes. About 10 minutes after I had Cale my doctor started pushing on my stomach to try and get the placenta out. A few minutes in, he realized it wasn't going to be easy. He told me I had two options: He could knock me out, take me into surgery, and do a D & C or he could go for it, but it would be painful. I don't know what I was thinking, but I said "go for it" After about 30 minutes of extreme pushing, that was truly worse than the contractions and birth, my doctor gave up and told me they were going to take me into surgery to get a D&C. I can remember my doctor apologizing over and over as he pushed on my stomach and I cried out, all my shame and self-consciousness long gone. I also remember feeling like a little kid, thinking, "This isn't fair. It's suppossed to be over. I'm suppossed to be holding my little boy, seeing close family members, and chowing down on my burger, fries, and coke. This isn't suppossed to be happening." Well, besides the cold, bright surgery room, I don't remember anything else until about 7:30 the next morning. I remember waking up and thinking, "It's over, it's actually over". Then, I got really excited because I remembered that I hadn't really even seen my little boy. So, I woke Carl up and asked him to go to the nursery to get Keaton. (I think the second thing out of my mouth was, "We're NOT having any more babies") Wouldn't you know the on-call pediatrician was making his rounds and I didn't get to see Keaton for about another hour. And breakfast wasn't served for about another hour. I was a little aggravated!

But, it's over now. We're all home now as a family. Childbirth is a memory...not quite a distant memory yet, but a memory nonetheless. We are enjoying our time as a family of four and so far it has been surprisingly free of meltdowns. I feel so much more prepared this time around. I haven't freaked out at little things like last time. Lack of sleep hasn't effected me like last time either. It's like my body knew what the lack of sleep was going to feel like, and it was ready to cope. I've been pretty uncomfortable since the birth,but hopefully I'll feel better in a week or two. All-in-all, things are pretty great.

Mark my words: NO MORE BABIES FOR ME. No more being pregnant, no more swelling, no more getting bigger each day, no more dorky pants that go up to my boobs, no more labor pains...no more! Our family is complete! Ahhhh, that's a good feeling!