From October 3, 2008:
I can't believe it has been 2 weeks since we first checked into the hospital, thinking we were going to meet our Wild Card Lucy within a few hours (turns out my cervix wasn't in on that plan and it was almost 4 days later that we finally met her). In that time, there were some memorable moments, some of which are only funny a full 2 weeks later! Here they are so you can laugh with (or, more accurately, at) me:
My doctor is, ahem, well, old. Throughout the pregnancy we would joke that he better not retire before my due date. As I was in the hospital that first day he came in a few times to check on me and update us on what was going on. At one point he talked to us for a few minutes and turned to leave and ran smack into the door. Another time he got tangled in the curtain as he was trying to push it aside to walk out. After the second mishap, I looked at Andy (after the doctor was out the door and down the hall) and said "Um, that is the man that will be delivering our baby." Andy looked back and said "Let's hope he has a spotter". We found this incredibly funny. In my defense, it had been a long, long day and we needed some comic relief. As it turned out, our doctor was not on call Monday and Lucy was delivered safely into the hands of some complete stranger. I didn't see my doctor again until Tuesday morning.
*The following stories were so incredibly NOT funny to me at the time but looking back, I can laugh*
I mentioned in my birth story how miserably itchy I was during the last stages of labor (a common side effect of the epidural that no one really warns you about). I kept sitting bolt upright in the bed and yelling at Andy that I couldn't take it anymore. Often I would make my point clear by throwing up after yelling. I told him I needed him to come scratch me. So there we were, I was squirming and moaning because every time he scratched somewhere, another part of me itched more and I wasn't getting any relief. I kept slapping his hand away and then immediately asking why he stopped and demanding he scratched me again. The nurse never even batted an eye, she must be used to seeing irrational women and helpless dads. I give Andy major labor coach points for not telling me I was acting like a crackhead.
Once I realized the epidural had worn off (another common thing that no one warns you is likely to happen) I totally flipped out. In a matter of minutes my bottom half had gone from comfortably numb to, as closely as I can describe it, on fire. I was in such pain and in my mind, I felt like the solution was as easy as changing locations. I kept looking at the floor and thinking how cool and soothing it looked and I honestly wanted to get down on the floor to have the baby. Then I thought gravity would be a help and I wanted to stand up. Then I thought that I really had to pee (turns out I just really had to push a baby out), and I wanted to be on the toilet. During all of this, I'm trying to get Andy to help me with my escape from the damned bed that I was starting to hate. Of course, the downside of a standard hospital deliver (supposedly medicated) is that I'm hooked up to all sorts of machines and my legs are the only part of me that is still numb so it is not possible to get up. But this is not acceptable to me and I keep whispering to Andy that he has to help me get up and go to the bathroom. As the pain progressed, my demands got more unreasonable and at one point I told him I just wanted to get the *blank* out of the hospital. Again, he gets more points for not calling me crazy, he just keeps looking desperately at the nurse and telling me calmly that I need to stay on the bed. When the nurse left the room to get the doctor so I could start pushing I thought this was our opportunity to put my brilliant plan of delivering a baby by myself, in another location into action and I told Andy to help me get up and out of the bed. I've never seen him look so relieved as when the nurse came back in the room to help him calm me down.
Originally from September 28, 2008
I've found plenty of time to just sit and hold her and soak in that baby love. I still feel like she is literally a part of me, the way I felt when I was pregnant. The nurse at the hospital described the mother/baby bond as being a couplet and that is the most accurate way I can describe it. When I'm not holding her I feel like I'm missing a part of me and when I do hold her I feel so at peace. We breathe each other in and soothe each other. I've been feeling twinges of the baby blues (see tub crying incident above) but it melts off me when she's nursing or cuddled close to me. I sometimes want to go back to the hospital where it was just the two of us and have a few more days to do nothing but be with her, without all the distractions of home but then I remember how I ached to be home with my other babies and I just try to recreate that quiet bond here during the moments when the other kids are occupied or sleeping.
Happy First Birthday, Wooz. We love you.