I changed sides and drank water (instructions we're all given to help contractions stop) every few minutes, and while it helped me feel better, the contractions didn't stop, though they weren't regular. Some would come every 10 minutes, then every seven, then every three and then it would be fourteen before another came. Still, I just didn't feel right.
About 8 o'clock I decided to take a shower, thinking that if this did turn into something I would at least have that much done ahead of time. Gosh, am I glad I did.
(OF COURSE!) Kurt was on duty, and about 8:30 he texted to see how I was doing. I told him I wasn't sure he really wanted to know. Then told him what was going on and that I wasn't sure any of it meant anything, and in fact it probably didn't. We were 8 days from our due date and still five days from our scheduled c-section. This was not happening tonight!
We messaged back and forth and after another half an hour of contractions (still minor) continuing, Kurt convinced me to call labor and delivery and get their advice. You would think that with baby #6, I would know just exactly what labor was, but I still felt like I wasn't sure there was anything going on. But there might be. But then again....
The nurse was as sweet as they always are, and suggested I call the doctor. Mine was on call that night, which was even better. The exchange service put me right through to him and he suggested waiting another half an hour to see if anything changed. That half hour passed and he called me back to check on me. I had to laugh when my home phone rang; I'd called him on my cell and given that number to the exchange nurse. We happen to go to church with him and I couldn't help think that he probably pulled out his ward list to find my number...can't help but love technology!
By then we'd decided to have Kurt come home. The brush trucks were up until 10pm, and making a decision before those guys left for the night would make finding a replacement easier. Even if this was nothing, there was now enough something that it felt better to have him be closer.
Because it was summertime, all the kids were still up at 9:30. I had everyone come to my room for scripture and prayer and the big girls helped get the little guys tucked in. The three oldest and I were talking in my room for a while and I told them that dad was coming home and that I might be in labor (they knew by now that something was up). I was still thinking all of this was probably nothing, but we felt better being cautious.
About 10:30 I felt my water break. I jumped up and ran to the bathroom and sure enough it really had. Emily was our only baby before this one where my water had broken and with her it broke up high, which meant there was hardly anything to show for it. This time, I felt like Niagra Falls. Oh.my.sakes.
I called the doctor and told him.
"Well, that makes things easy then." he said. He'd call the team and get them assembled. Kurt was still at the station waiting for his relief, so I told the doctor it would be about 45 minutes before Kurt was home and we'd come as soon as he got there. The doctor asked if there was someone else who could bring me in if necessary. Thankfully I had Kurt's mom and Elizabeth available if things got nasty fast.
Thankfully, they didn't. We are six for six in that regard.
Kurt got home and we finished putting my things and his things in a bag (I had a bag mostly packed and had left my toiletries in my travel case from our reunion the week before. Smart!). The big girls were all still up and they got some final instructions before we left. Not one of them went to bed until Kurt called a couple of hours later...
We got to the hospital and opted to leave our bags in the car for now. Not sure why, but they stayed and we went inside. I am not a fan of having to sit in a wheelchair when I'm perfectly capable of walking, but my sweet Paramedic husband insisted I sit and he won. We stopped at the ER desk and finished our registration before being escorted upstairs.
By now it was about 11:40, and we found a whole slew of people waiting for us. It is still humbling to think about these some 15-ish people who had been taken away from whatever else they were doing on a Saturday night just to come to do their job for us. They all had smiles on their faces and we are so grateful for their willingness, and their training that allowed us to be the beneficiary of their skills.
First stop was changing clothes and getting hooked to the fetal monitor. I should stop though and mention that as we walked by the nurse's station my doctor jokingly told us that if we hurry, we could have this baby before midnight. I told him that I was going home then and would be back in a few minutes....
He was well aware of my hope that we'd have this baby on either Thursday or Sunday... all of our babies have come on their own day of the week and these were the two we had left. Our surgery was originally scheduled for the following Thursday, leaving Sunday babyless as it could continue to be the day we "rested from our labors". But, since we were getting to deliver on Sunday, now the baby became our Ox in the myre (I've since been searching for cute plush ox's....not an easy task. Many of them just aren't cute!).
We met the anesthesia team and a surgical nurse started an IV. The L&D nurse was going through my information with me and I heard that the pediatrician was close by. We lucked out here as well that ours was on call and would be with us. He'd scheduled himself to be with us on Thursday, but I was glad we got him even though things were not quite as we'd originally planned.
My doctor came in and sat and watched everyone else do their jobs. I remember noticing his sneakers under his shoe covers. I met the doctor who would be assisting. She was a resident. Her name was Dr. Davis.
At some point the doctor asked me to take a guess on what I thought the baby's size would be. I didn't know. My confidence had been jarred with Emily being so small and I'd thought otherwise. I couldn't guess, but I still hoped...
Soon enough I was rolled into the operating room, but not before Kurt and Dr. R gave me a blessing. That always helps me breathe easier and what a special extra that the doctor could help here, too.
I've never had an epidural that worked, even though we'd tried with four of our other five babies. What did work is the spinal I had during my c-section with Nathan. I was looking forward to a wonderful spinal this time, and while I eventually got it, it wasn't before the poor anesthesiologist got to try three different times. Ugh. Not one bit fun.
Finally it was in and from there it was a rush to get me positioned correctly on the table. Things went numb very quickly!
Numb is so lovely....
There were details going on in every corner of the room. The anesthesia team was above my head; the surgical team was hovering over my belly; the baby team was near the warmer. I heard people talking and the buzz allowed me to just keep saying a prayer of gratitude: for the people in the room and many times over, expressing gratitude for finally getting to this point. Tonight would be the night we would get to meet this special addition to our family. The sweet nurse anesthetist had gauze that she used to wipe my tears away. Everything was SO good.
The doctor did his pinch test and when I didn't feel anything, we were off and running. Not too much time went by and I heard the doctor say, "LOOK at the size of that head!" which got a reaction from the rest of the room. Kurt, who was standing next to my head, was invited to stand up and watch the delivery. It wasn't long before I heard that wonderful sound of a lusty cry. Kurt's first words were, "he's big! and he's Nathan!". I heard someone confirm it was a boy (whew!), and the baby continued to cry. He got handed off to the baby team and I just soaked in the sound of that wonderful cry.
The baby was cleaned up a little, wrapped and Kurt brought him around so I could see him. He WAS a copy of Nathan, and yet his own self, all at the same time. Hello Beautiful!
Hooray! He's here. He.Is.Here!! I can't even begin to describe my elation. Our family was complete. I wasn't pregnant anymore, and labor (if you can call it that) was just about done. We'd be off to the adventure of raising this boy very soon. Sleepy would be my middle name for a while. Bring it on!
Our Pediatrician took Kurt and the baby to the nursery for his initial assessments and to weigh and measure him. I found out later that the baby's APGAR scores were 8 and 9. Sweet!
I continued to do my part in being a lump on the table while the doctors finished the surgery and closed the incision. I fell a little bit deeper in love with my doctor as I listened to him coach the resident who was assisting him through the suturing process. He was kind and patient; she was competent and able. Together they did a great job.
At some point the Pediatrician poked his head back into the operating room. I think he said my name, followed by "he's not 11 pounds..."
Kurt would correct me later when I was retelling this story that my response wasn't a calm, "oh". It was a disappointed, "ooohh." I remember trying to control my reaction ~ it was his health, not his size that really mattered and I knew that. Still, I guess we were hoping to break 11 this time. Ok, I ~ I! ~ was hoping to continue the trend of trophy babies...
"...he's 12."
and there was this grin from the head poking through the door.
What?!
As much as I hoped we might get to eleven, I really never never thought we'd exceed that. Never. But, suddenly things made sense.
12lbs was why laying down felt sooo much better than standing or even sitting.
12lbs was why climbing into our van was such a chore and why deciding to use a stepstool for the week or so leading up to delivery was no longer such a whimpy thing.
12lbs was why breaking down and getting one of those motorized carts at WinCo also wasn't a whimp-out.
I'd learn later that 24-inches was why it seemed like the baby was way down in my tailbone..I'd had two 23-inchers and one 24 1/2-inch baby, but never had any of them sat on me like that.
24-inches was also why it felt like the baby stretched out when I laid down and then when I sat back up again there was a telepathic "oh man!" from him, as he had to scrunch back down. Poor thing.
Our trophy had arrived!
I really know that size isn't as important as health. Having had all of our kids be big babies (people look at me funny when I tell them our smallest was Emily at 8lbs 15oz and she was just....soooo....little...), this is just what we do. I don't recommend it and I certainly don't want my stick-figure friends to do it.
But after moving so slowing and feeling so wiped out for so long, I feel like these big little people are a great product of my misery. "See?" I can say. "See? THIS is why I was like I was."
But, I digress.
My surgery was finished and I was transferred back to the hospital bed and wheeled down to recovery.
Recovery with Emily was the most miserable thing, and I didn't want to repeat that. Thankfully someone got that memo and this time it was me and the nurse, in my hospital room. She sat and talked and we had a lovely conversation about....I really don't remember what. I did ask if someone could go and get my husband (this was part of the problem the time before) and was told no, but this time she gave me a sweet enough reason (which I also don't remember ~ something about how I needed "me" time) and I was ok with that.
Eventually they brought me the baby and he and I had some quiet moments together. There's really nothing like welcoming a new human to the world, fresh from heaven.
Before we knew it the sun came up and we had this beautiful boy to share with the world.
Benjamin Stanley Freeman. Born August 14, 2011 at 1:15am. 12lbs 3oz. 24-inches long.
