;<<< Maxed-Out Mommyyy: my birth story and the week that has commenced.

Maxwell John has arrived!!!

February 9th, 2012 at 6:50 pm

8 lbs. and 15 oz.

20 1/2 inches long

I'm sitting here on my parents love seat with my newborn son laying on top of the boppy on my lap. He messed his diaper, fed for a while, and fell asleep. This has been our routine for the past week, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

It's a crazy thing finally being a mom. Its what I've always wanted to be. And now I am. People aren't lying when they say you love your kid like crazy. I honestly would do anything for him. He's become the center of my universe.

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Tuesday.

My due date came and went. Tuesday night, I cried because I was so tired of being pregnant. God decided to play tricks on me by giving me time-able contractions for the first time from 2:30 am through the rest of the night. They were hitting 10 minutes apart. I lay there hopeful. Fred got up and left for work. I got up an hour later, hoping to spur them on and...

they stopped.

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Wednesday.

Because of going over the due date, I went in for an ultrasound to make sure that his growth was going alright and to check the amniotic fluid levels. Everything was good. He was measuring at 8 lbs. 13 oz. "What a chunkster," says the ultrasound tech. She let us know that he hadn't even dropped.

On to my appointment: the doctor gave me a cervical exam and told me that there had been no progression. She told us that she didn't see me going into labor on my own anytime soon, and sent me to the hospital for an NST and to schedule an induction.

NST went fine and the induction was set for February 15th.

I struggled with the thought of an induction. I was upset that they wanted to induce me at 41 weeks, when it's completely normal to go until 42 weeks. Our hope had been to go completely natural and an induction would have made that harder. I was ready to cry at the thought of not being able to go into labor naturally. And the thought of having a "deadline" terrified me.

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Thursday.

Time-able contractions off and on all night, but always over 10 minutes. 6:30 am rolls around and Fred gets up for work. "Are you sure you want me to go?" Yeah, I didn't see the point in him sticking around. The contractions were 10 minutes apart. And after my false hope of yesterday, I didn't even want to think about it. He left and I went back to sleep. I laid in bed and slept as much as possible, waking up only to start the timer on my contraction timer app. I texted my mom letting her know that I was having contractions again, and that they were getting worse and she told me that she would teach her class at co-op and then come and sit with me. Finally, at 10 am, I dragged myself out of bed, and started cleaning. I figured I needed to get this mess under control. The contractions kept getting closer and closer. They hit 6-8 minutes and were getting stronger. I was in denial, I guess, because I kept telling myself that this couldn't be it.

Mom finally arrived and it had gotten to the point that I would have to stop during the contractions, focus, brace myself on something, breathe, and rock through them. She started timing them while I cleaned or whatever in between. They started hitting 5 minutes, 4 minutes, 3 minutes. I told her that I didn't want to go to the hospital. I wanted to wait until God gave me some kind of sure-fire sign that it was time... ya know, like water breaking or something? Nothing. And they just kept getting stronger. Finally, mom talked me into going and just getting checked. Just in case. Okay, but nothings going on, I thought to myself.

So, at 1 pm, we went.

We got to the hospital, and they hooked me up. They checked my cervix. Ta-da! 5 centimeters dilated. "You're having a baby, today." I had to hold back tears, I was so scared and not ready, but you don't have much of a choice at that point. My mom called Fred around 2 pm, and told him he better head over.

They took me to the delivery room, and started the admitting process. Each contraction that hit, I looked at the clock, wondering when Fred would be there. By the time they finished admitting me (almost 3ish), Fred had finally arrived. The mid-wife came in with him, and checked my cervix again. 8 centimeters dilated. She told me to get up and move around, it would help speed things up. We walked the halls for about 20 minutes. The contractions kept coming. Harder and stronger and longer and closer together. It got to the point that when they would come, I would have to throw my arms around Fred and he'd hold me up while I rocked through the pain.

We finally got back to the room and I had hit the transition stage. I stood by the counter, leaning over the counter, and the contractions hit one after another, non-stop. The pain was crazy. I've never experienced anything like it. I couldn't talk, couldn't think, couldn't move- just tapped my fingers on the counter and groaned and tried to focus on my breathing. I was seeing stars. The pain got so intense, that I almost considered asking for pain meds, as I had had none. But with that thought, a face popped into my head. A face of someone telling me that it is impossible to give birth without an epidural, without drugs. Someone telling me I wouldn't be able to do it. And with that image, my determination set in even stronger. The Bible verse about running the race that God has set before you with endurance kept running through my head. And the race was on.

The mid-wife came in around 4:30 to check my cervix again. Boom! I was complete. I laid down on the bed and started pushing against the pressure. A few pushes later, my water ~~broke~~ exploded all over the midwife.

They had me keep pushing with every contraction.

It was intense. But after the transition, it felt good to be pushing. I could feel the pressure subsiding, slowly. It was exhausting. In between each contraction, I would lay back, Mom would hold my water up for me to take a sip, and I would fall asleep, waiting for the next contraction.

Max's head was right there. Every push, it came further. The doctor was apparently spiking his hair as he was coming out. People kept telling me that I was almost done. Everytime I looked at the clock, only a few minutes had gone by, and the end didn't feel any closer. 6:15. 6:20. 6:25. 6:30. I started telling myself, this baby needs to be out by 7 pm. I pushed and pushed with all of my might, I could feel everything. There's nothing quite like feeling a baby being born. Experiencing every emotion, every ache, every thought, every strain. I was so exhausted and then with one last push, he literally just popped out. His head. And then his shoulders. I felt like I exploded. 6:50.

A few seconds later, I heard him cry. It didn't seem real.

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And then,

there he was. Laying on my chest. Staring at me. As soon, as our eyes met, there was no going back. My eyes filled with tears. And I touched his fingers, his face, his hair, his back. It felt like a dream. We just layed there, gazing at each other. The world had stopped. There was nothing else. I literally could not think of anything else. My entire world shifted.

And then, our moment was over. Fred cut the cord. The nurses were flying in and out of the room. They had to take him to start doing their tests and stuff. I delivered the placenta and then they started stitching me up. I tore pretty bad. That's all I have to say about that.

It felt like an eternity. I watched what was going on with Max as they did all of thier tests. 8 lbs. 15 oz. they called over. My eyes crossed at that thought. I just pushed out an almost 9 lb. baby!

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Finally, they gave him back to me. And he's been in my arms pretty much since.

I'm too tired to write anymore. Here's some pictures from this week: