Showing posts with label labor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label labor. Show all posts

Her birth in photos

I have always had a 'thing' for birth photography. The images are some of the most intense, emotional, beautiful pictures a camera could possibly capture, if you ask me. I know it's not for everyone but it's something that has always intrigued me. When I was pregnant with Truman I did a little research to find a photographer in my area who specialized in birth photography and didn't come up with a whole lot of options. Looking back, it's a very good thing I didn't have a birth photographer for Truman since I was induced and it took 40 hours for him to actually come out. But I still really wanted to have photos to remember the birth of number two, despite all of the unknowns that labor can bring. This time around, I only found ONE photographer who wasn't even in the Milwaukee area, and she was pregnant and due right around the same time as me anyway. Enter one of my best friends, who just so happens to be an amazing up-and-coming photographer (and has been our go-to family photographer for years now--I get to say that I knew her when she started out, before she became all famous and stuff)...

Andrea is no stranger to the blog world and I am sure a lot of you probably read her personal blog if you read mine. Her professional photography website, Andrea Weiss Photography, is another must-read if you have a love for adorable babies and gorgeous photography. And lucky for me, I actually know Andrea in real life and can call her one of my closest friends. I don't remember when we first started talking about her being my birth photographer but I'm pretty sure it was very early on in my pregnancy. I was nervous to ask her because I didn't want her to feel obligated to do it if she wasn't comfortable with the idea of seeing me in actual labor. Because let's get real, a woman in labor can't exactly hide any of her flaws. And, you know, exposing your lady bits along with other unmentionable bodily fluids and screams and curse words could potentially make things a little bit weird on the other side of labor if you don't have a rock solid relationship with your friend. We emailed about it and she said if I didn't mind having her there then she was ALL over it, because of her love for babies and birth and all things mama-related. And I told her that if she didn't mind seeing me act a fool and if she promised to like me afterward, we had a deal. :) Win-win situation for everyone.

And so the anticipation kept building as time went on. Andrea came up to see the hospital before one of my OB appointments, so I could show her the entrances and the birthing center. We talked about all different possible scenarios and she secured child care for her kiddos 'just in case' I went into labor for the weeks leading up to my due date. I got clearance from my OB to have another person in the delivery room and we were all set. And I could barely handle the excitement of it all.

When I texted Andrea on Sunday night, as my labor started at home, I really did worry about getting her hopes up for no reason. But as she wrote on her professional blog, she was already too amped up to go back to bed and I think she knew before I did that this was the real deal and I was having a baby in a few hours. And she totally called it after my 39 week pregnancy post by saying she just had a feeling it would be my last. The girl has a sense about these things, I swear.

I'll let the images speak for themselves but I have to say that I am beyond satisfied with the story Andrea captured. I will forever cherish these images and can't help but cry when I look at them, remembering the pain and the love and the intensity of those few hours bringing our daughter into the world. Giving birth is one of the most special privileges I've ever had and I'm still in awe over the experience. So thankful to have these images to go along with my memories of Cecelia's birth.

I couldn't decide between using the color images or just black and white, so I just decided to mix it up a bit and used black and white for the big horizontal pictures and then color for the two vertical shots. I love both types of images, obvi. Enjoy!

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And because I'm a sucker for slideshows set to music (especially the song that we used for Cecelia's gender reveal!), watch this slideshow Andrea made. I dare you not to shed a tear. :)


The Birth of Cecelia Lorene from Andrea Weiss on Vimeo.


It goes without saying, but if you are near the Milwaukee area and have any desire to pursue birth photography, you must contact Andrea. It's one of the best gifts I have ever gotten and you will not regret it. Thank you again, Andrea, for doing this for us! And yes----she does still like me, even after seeing me in labor:)


Cecelia's birth story

I have always been a huge fan of birth stories and I imagined writing Cecelia's for so long that it feels surreal typing the actual words. I don't think that any written story can fully capture the magic, emotions, and intensity of a baby's birthday but I'm definitely going to try my best so that I never forget meeting our baby girl for the first time.

And here is her birth story in photos if you'd rather just see the pictures. 

The short story for those of you who aren't into these details as much as me: I started timing contractions on Sunday night at 10pm but was NOT convinced it was labor. At about 3 am I got Nate and said we should probably go, still worried we'd be turned away at the hospital, but my pain was getting a lot worse. At 4:30 I was a 2-3cm when I was checked after triage, was a 4cm by 5:30, progressed really fast after this, so epidural at 6:15 when I was at an 8cm. I started feeling more horrible pain at 7:30 even with the epi and was found to be 9cm. By 7:55 am I was complete, so I pushed for 8 minutes and Cecelia was born at 8:05am. So yeah, went from a 2 to a 10 in about 3 hours without Pitocin this time, and pushed for about 5 contractions total. And with Truman's birth, as soon as my water broke, I went from a 2 to 10 in just 2 hours but then pushed for an hour and 10 minutes after that.

And the longer story...

I should start with my OB appointment on Friday 5/25, since I never updated the blog afterward. At 39 weeks, 2 days I was not dilated at all but was 75% effaced and very soft. The internal was a little rough just because she really had to get in there and hunt for my posterior cervix. She straight up asked me if I wanted to be induced the next week and we talked about it for awhile, setting the date for Friday, June 1 if nothing happened before then. My OB assured me that my body would tolerate Pitocin well again, that baby girl was big and strong enough, and she gave me a big hug hoping to see me in a week so she could be the one to deliver me with the induction. My BP was actually up a bit that day, although she didn't seem worried, but at 138/80 I took that as another sign that my body just needed to get the baby out sooner than later.

I left that appointment feeling super excited and relieved that we had a final end date in sight, and when I started bleeding an hour later it became even more 'real' because I really thought that might be my bloody show. Or just an irritated cervix from the internal exam, but either way it was definitely the beginning of the end. I was sort of bummed when nothing else happened that night and my bleeding stopped. Just another one of those 'this could be it' moments that lead to a whole bunch of nothing. Sigh.

Even before my OB appointment that day, I made the final decision to be done with work no matter what--even if that meant I was overdue and wasted a week of maternity leave at home being pregnant. I just couldn't do it anymore and was excited to pack away my work computer for 12 weeks. I decided that next week could be a fun family time with both Nate and I off of work, and came up with a huge To Do list to keep myself busy until baby finally arrived.

The rest of the weekend we stayed busy, took a lot of walks outside, I bounced on the exercise ball and painted the hallway like a madwoman. On Sunday, 5/27/12, we celebrated our fifth wedding anniversary.
(our bobble heads, who have aged very poorly as you can see)
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It was seriously one of the best days we've had as a family because we had SO much fun together enjoying a hot and sunny day, not worrying about whether or not baby girl would come on her own or if she'd make us wait until Friday. We had a big pancake breakfast together at home, then walked to a new playground in our area and died over Truman being SO into the place.
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Tru took a nap while I painted and then I took a shower to get ready for our 'date night'. In the shower I noticed that I was feeling a lot of discomfort and CeCe was kicking me like crazy, to the point of actual pain. I tried really hard not to let myself get too excited and we took Truman to my in-laws before going out to eat.

My belly felt super hard and different that night and I wanted to take a belly picture to capture the state of my bump before we left. 39 weeks, 4 days:

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At dinner I told Nate I was just feeling really crampy and 'off' but I was sure it was nothing other than the same old false labor stuff. We had an awesome dinner, then dessert with decaff coffee outside as the sun set.

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We got Truman and put him to bed at home like always, and I didn't even allow myself to think, 'when he wakes up we might not be here,' since I'd been thinking that for every bedtime in the past week or so without anything happening. We hung out downstairs after Truman was down, and I talked to my parents on the phone while Nate talked to his brother. I was really feeling the pressure at this point, like everyone was just waiting for our call and wondering if I was still pregnant. I felt like I was letting everyone down with each day I stayed pregnant but I knew it was ridiculous to feel that way, since people were just excited to hear the news.

Around 10 pm, I reluctantly started timing 'contractions' on my phone again while bouncing on my exercise ball. I was shocked to see they were consistently 5-6 minutes apart and lasting 45-60 seconds because every other time I was timing them, they'd usually start at 10 minutes and never get closer than about 6 minutes apart. I was having a lot of pressure, peeing a ton, but wouldn't really say they were painful.

At 11 pm Nate asked if he should go to bed or not and I told him absolutely--because I figured within the next hour I'd know if something was happening or not. I really wanted to go to bed, too, but was afraid if I did they'd stop like they always did before. So I took the other road and became psychotic about bouncing on the ball and walking around and talking to my belly, begging CeCe to come out and play with us. I was reading blogs, specifically birth stories, watching every single recording on the DVR, and listening to music. My pain was only about a 3-4/10 which wasn't enough to have me convinced, but was a lot more painful than any other BH contractions I'd had. I texted Andrea with the news but was really nervous about jinxing things or getting her hopes up if this was another fake out.

At midnight I noted that my contractions were now 4 minutes apart and the pain was into the 5-6/10 range, meaning I had to focus on breathing through some of them. I noted a very small amount of pink-tinged mucous once when I peed and figured it was time to call the hospital and talk about my options. The nurse was really nice but basically said it was up to me, thinking this was probably the start of labor but there was no way to know if I was actually progressing without checking me. I wanted to have enough time to get my antibiotics for my positive GBS status, but I did NOT want to be turned away for not being far enough along if we got there too soon. So we agreed that I'd call back in about an hour and see if anything had changed. I decided to snap a 'final' belly pic during this part of labor because I was bored and amped up and wondered if it could seriously be The End of pregnancy. Note the exercise ball in the back:)

39 weeks + 5 days: in labor, on Memorial Day!
last belly shot before going to hospital. 39+5w
in labor! 39+5 weeks

At 1:30 am, I was walking around the house and had to stop during contractions which were about 6/10 on the pain scale. The entire contraction was about a minute long but the pain only lasted for the first 10-15 seconds or so. But the most maddening part was they were sometimes still 4 minutes apart but sometimes I'd go 7-9 minutes without a contraction. I was finally convinced I was in labor but still thought it might fizzle out and stop all together. I'd lay down to rest and 'give up control' but then I'd freak out that I was stopping my labor and I'd hop back up again. I was totally annoying myself at this point and had no reason to call back to L&D since I didn't know what I wanted to do. At 2:15 I felt a very small 'pop' and went to the bathroom where I thought my water was breaking, as I said, 'Okay here we go!' But then it just stopped and didn't keep on coming like it had with Truman's water breaking. So I wrote that off as a gas bubble with pee but in hindsight, I think that was actually a slow leak starting for me and I totally talked myself out of believing it at the time. All I wanted was a 'sign' that this was the real deal and I pretty much ignored my water breaking, the blood tinged 'show', and the mucous, too. I was seriously a head case, you guys, just so uncertain of everything going on so much differently than my first labor.

After that, I convinced myself that labor probably stopped. I wasn't timing contractions anymore and was just trying to rest. But at 3:00 I finally came to my senses and knew that my labor had only gotten more intense. My pain was now 7/10 but the contractions were no longer perfectly spaced out at 4 minutes, coming anywhere from 4-9 minutes. I was still losing a bit of my plug with a bit of blood and decided to call the hospital to say I was coming in. I was excited when I walked upstairs to tell Nate the news, but also still very hesitant to believe it was actually happening. I laid down with Nate and he asked what was going on. I told him that I was in a decent amount of pain with each (irregular) contraction but in between I felt 100% normal, and was second-guessing myself with the decision to go to the hospital. Then I had a contraction and couldn't talk through it and immediately said, 'Okay, this is dumb, we need to go'. Nate called his parents and I heard the urgency in his voice when he simply said, 'We need you to come over now, okay? Bye.'

I grabbed the rest of my things for my hospital bag and when Tony got here I was in no mood to chat, I just wanted to go and see if I was dilated at all. The car ride up there wasn't too bad, although it was a 20 minute drive, because there was no traffic and I only had about 3 contractions while on the road. It was seriously so exciting and surreal to make the trip in the middle of the night while in labor, since Nate and I never got to experience that part of it before. We both sensed that we were on the cusp of starting the next chapter in our lives with this car ride, and although we were both really calm I think we were pretty nervous, too.

We checked in to the admitting department at 3:40 and the lady seemed really frazzled about me having contractions in front of her, but I was trying to be very low-key and non-chalant about them as we took our wheelchair ride up in the elevator. The smells of the hospital---the same one where I birthed Truman, but also where Nate and I worked for a few years---brought back a lot of memories for me. I could not believe it was really happening!

We arrived to the triage room and met my nurse, Sarah, who was super nice and laid back. I tried my best to be patient with her but she had Nate step out of the room after I got gowned up, so she could ask me the 'private' questions they needed for my history form. And um, seriously, it took 45 freaking minutes. Which means I was having contractions left and right, without my husband, while I told her that no, I did not have a history of Sickle Cell Anemia and yes, you can check my reflexes while I lay here in pain. The baby was being monitored and she sounded fabulous and my BP was just a little high with readings in the 120's/90's. FINALLY she checked me after taking so long with the questions (and apologizing along the way, but still!) and I was a 2-3 cm. She said she'd call the OB on call but assumed I was getting to stay in light of my GBS status and quick labor history. Nate came back in the room and I was beyond relieved to see my hubby's face at this point, and I felt really bad he had to be gone for so long worried about what was happening in that little triage room. The nurse came back and took us to our room saying that the OB did want to keep me and get started on the antibiotics. She informed us that we'd be in room 247 and my jaw dropped---the same exact room where I had Truman! I felt like that was a little sign from God saying, 'It's all going to be okay, so just chill out.'

When we got to the room at 5am, I called my parents and texted friends to tell them it was really happening. My parents got up and started their 8 hour trek up north, super excited to see us but I could barely talk to my mom on the phone and had to give her over to Nate while I had a killer contraction. Andrea was also on her way to photograph the birth, and the nurse said we should just walk around a bit to get things going while she got set up for the IV. We made it about two laps before I decided I wanted those antibiotics asap, because I just felt like my contractions were already changing. And I really hated being 'that girl' in the hallway that was stopping with each contraction and breathing through the pain. At this point Nate was helping me tremendously to stay focused, holding my hand, and telling me to breathe slowly. But I was already feeling a little nervous that these contractions were going to get a lot worse before I'd meet our baby girl.

At 5:30 I got into the bed for the nurse to start the IV and just a few minutes later, CeCe's heart rate dropped from her normal 130s down to a very slow and scary 90. I felt the whole world stopping as the nurse frantically had me switch positions, grabbed the oxygen for me, and told me to breathe deep. I looked at Nate and he gave me a worried face, too, and I said, 'Why is it so slow now?' I let myself 'go there' and imagined baby girl under a lot of distress, not tolerating contractions this early in the game without any meds, which made me jump to conclusions about emergency c-sections and really horrible outcomes. Cord prolapse? Placental abruption? The nurse checked me thinking maybe I was progressing super fast, which caused the drop in rate, but I was only a 4cm. Finally Cecelia's heart rate filled the room with a glorious sound of 135 beats per minute, but this little glitch shook my confidence like none other. Maybe she had just moved and the nurse couldn't find her (since C was kicking me like crazy right before that happened), but I couldn't help but start to feel a little panicky over this ending badly. That feeling of doom and gloom never really left even after Cecelia was born for at least the first few hours and I hate that I let my negativity get to me at all, but it was seriously so scary. I remember praying to God to just let her get here safely, and tried to convince myself that He must really want her to make it if he allowed her to get past my horrible first trimester and brought us through my miscarriage. I knew deep down that this little girl was going to be in our arms soon but old insecurities and pain kept coming to the surface.

At 5:45 I first asked for the epidural. And at 6:00 I was checked, found to be at 6 cm, and started 'begging' for one according to Nate's notes. I told him my pain was 10/10 with each contraction and I just couldn't handle it anymore. Breathing and focusing was not working anymore and I started to let the panic set in even more. Andrea arrived right when I was reaching this breaking point and when she knocked on our door, I was SO hoping it was the anesthesiologist that the nurse had promised was 'on her way'. I was convinced she kept telling me that just to keep me calm, but in my head I had decided that they hadn't even contacted the doctor and I'd be in pain forever. Very level-headed at this point while headed into transition, huh?

The anesthesiologist finally arrived at 6:15 (which is hilarious because I remember it taking about one hour, not 15 minutes). I tried my best to stay still and listen to her instructions but I was really and truly at the breaking point and just wanted her to get it over with. When she told me I would feel some relief in 2-3 more contractions it sounded like the cruelest thing in the entire world to me at that moment. I remember Nate sitting in front of me while I was at the edge of the bed, half crying and half breathing through each contraction. The nurses were being super supportive, too, telling me this was the hardest part and I was doing a great job. I remember feeling pretty proud of myself for making it this far without an epidural and definitely felt more 'in control' than I did with Truman's labor. No screaming at the top of my lungs or yelling obscenities like the chick from The Exorcist. This time my curse words were at a very tolerable volume level and Nate even commented that his ears weren't even bleeding this time around. :)

The OB on call arrived while I was getting my epi and she was very nice, but pretty soft spoken and quiet compared to my regular OB who I adore. She checked me once the epidural finally took hold and I was a 7-8 cm already. I was really confused about why I was still feeling the contractions at all, even though the pain had decreased from a previous 10/10 down to a 5/10. With my first epidural, I was acting such a fool that they cranked up the meds to the point where I was falling asleep and not feeling a single thing even while pushing. This time I felt it all, just at a slightly more tolerable level of pain. I didn't really like that because I just wanted pure relief at this point, but the anesthesiologist convinced me that it was a good thing to feel pressure so pushing would be easier. I was not totally convinced but I figured anything was better than 30 minutes ago.

About one hour after getting the epidural, at 7:30 am, I suddenly felt pain increase back up to the 7/10 range and couldn't talk to Nate or Andrea anymore. The nurse checked me and I was a 9 cm dilated and she paged the OB to say I was getting close. Twenty minutes later, after more killer contractions WITH AN EPIDURAL (the horror!), I had her check me again because I thought I was reaching 'deathly pain' again, and sure enough, I was complete. She even said, 'Oh yeah, you are complete and ready to go' which I guess meant the horrendous pain I felt was supposed to be the urge to push. But honestly, all I felt was the pain and I wouldn't even call it true pressure. I had only been in this room for about 3 hours but it seemed like I had been in labor forever in my mind. I was SO ready to meet our girl and I remember glancing up at Nate and grinning at him, as if to say, 'Here we go, baby! Let's meet this little lady!'

They got the bed broken down so I could effectively push and the OB arrived ready to go. I started pushing at 7:58 am and had to admit, it felt really really amazing to be doing something active during each contraction. I was so motivated by the pain I was feeling, I even decided to push before I felt a contraction hit. So I'd push for the three counts of ten, then I'd rest and realize that 'Oh crap, THIS is when I should actually be pushing' and so I'd do it again. I was totally focused on each push and had no idea if I was doing it right or not, or how close she was to being born. So imagine my surprise when I cracked open one eye during a push and saw her perfect little baby face sticking out of my body.

I gave it one more push and out she came. The OB checked to make sure she was still a girl, asked for her name and both Nate and I said, 'Cecelia Lorene' through the tears and shock that our baby girl had finally arrived. They put her right up on my chest as I had asked, and I was totally in love with my daughter. I also felt a little concerned about her because she seemed so limp and tired after such a quick ride out into the world. She was crying, which was music to my ears, and then they took her to the warming table to check her over. Her Apgar was good at 8 and 8, but she got points taken off for slightly lower tone and color---because she wasn't as pink and angry compared to her big brother was at birth. In fact, she really stopped crying all together over on the table and was just looking around the room, holding onto Nate's hand, and checking it out. The nurses weighed her and then said they'd like her to do skin-to-skin with me because sometimes that helps babies with circulation and crying and I was all over it. I didn't like how pale she looked and I just wanted to hear her wail a bit more.

Sure enough, as soon as they brought her over to me and our skin touched she started to scream and turned the perfect shade of pink. I laughed and commented that it must be a GREAT sign if she freaks out as soon as mommy hold her but they all told me it was a perfectly healthy reaction. She wanted to nurse right away, too, rooting around my chest and when we gave it a shot I was completely in awe with how she just latched on without any trouble, sucking away like a pro. Our little girl might have been a little shocked and tired from her intense trip outside of the womb, but she was going to be just fine. I couldn't stop thanking God for this amazing miracle at my chest. Someday I'll have to tell her what a scare she gave us in her early pregnancy days but for now I'm just so happy she came out on her own, and picked her own birthday.

Of course, just to add another little worry to the mix: guess who only had time for half of the antibiotics for the positive GBS? Sigh. This again? So they drew her blood and watched her very closely for any signs of infection, but the tests were all negative. She was super sleepy that entire first day but still ate often and well, so I tried not to let that bother me too much--causing me to think 'something must be wrong' because obviously, this little baby is just as tough as her big brother.

I'll write more about my physical recovery in another post, but it's just been so much easier this time around. I only had a very small first degree tear which I'm sure helps a lot in the healing department. But overall this first week as a mom of two has been an amazing whirlwind that I'm surviving just fine, loving life most of the time and feeling sleep deprived and moody a little bit of the time. :) Pretty much par for the course this early in the game, I'd say.

(not the best family pic, but one of the first)
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(daddy's girl already)
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(can you believe the luck of capturing this smile?!?)
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(going home outfit---dressing a little girl is dangerous, FYI)
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(ready to enter the 'Real World'!)
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So that is her story. Cecelia Lorene was born on Monday, May 28 at 8:05am. 7lbs 5oz and 20.5 inches long. Perfect in every way:)

A comparison

Now that I'm embracing my new role as a new-mommy-who-tries-to-run-like-she-used-to-before-the-baby, I've had time to reflect on some things. And by 'some things' I mean a hilarious comparison that I had before I gave birth to Truman. You see, I always wondered how labor and delivery would compare to running a full marathon--in fact, Nate and I discussed it while I was pregnant deciding that it couldn't be THAT much harder to birth a child than run 26.2 miles. Endurance. Preparation. Pain. Achievement. You know, the same, right?

Allow me to pause a second to regain composure. I'm rolling on the ground laughing at that naive assumption on my part. Still laughing. Okay, I'm better now. Let's continue.

So anyway, now that I have officially experienced one hellified birth and one full marathon (and two halfs, but those don't even come close so they are nullified, and I trained for a second full marathon but said baby nixed that plan) I feel that I can provide a complete comparison for anyone else out there who wonders about these silly things. I vaguely remember looking to Nate while I was pushing Truman out of my bod and saying, 'This is way harder than running a marathon. Don't ever let me forget that, okay?'


Ways that giving birth is 1030201 times harder than a full marathon:

1. Um, in a marathon you can stop to walk, to catch your breath, to recollect your thoughts. Heck, if you really wanted to you can quit all together and pack it up for home. When you are in labor there's no stopping the baby train. Trust me, I begged my nurses to give me just a minute to catch my breath in between contractions but the Pitocin won and my sanity lost. True story.

2. You are able to PRACTICE running before the big race. For months you train and run and there aren't too many surprises lurking with 26.2 miles, since you run at least 20 in a trial run before the race. There is absolutely no freaking way you can practice having real contractions to prepare yourself. And no, Braxton Hicks don't count. I falsely assumed that since I was having 'mild contractions' for weeks that my body was practicing for labor. Pretty sure my body had no freaking clue what it was up against and it's probably best that way:)

3. Recovering from a vaginal delivery makes recovering from a marathon seem like a day in the spa. In fact, if you are brave enough you can go to a spa after a marathon and get the kinks worked out of your sore muscles. After shooting out a human from your nether regions? No way is anyone coming near my aching limbs for quite some time. It hurts to walk up stairs after both events but the similarities stop there, my friends. And speaking of recovery, pretty sure you don't tear your lady bits in a marathon unless something has gone horribly wrong. I bet you won't leave trails of blood or pee on the floor after a race, either. If so, you must run a lot harder than I do, my friend:) Did I not mention the peeing on the floor before? Well I did that when I got home from the hospital. Probably my lowest moment but quite hilarious looking back.

4. While running a marathon, you know there is a finite amount of time (or actually, a specific distance) ahead of you. No matter what, you are running 26.2 miles and you can probably estimate how long that will take you within an hour or so. With labor? HA. You have no idea if you'll be in the trenches for a few hours or a few days. For me it was the latter and I don't do so well without control over situations so you can imagine I was a total peach during my induction.

Reasons why giving birth is 201040 times sweeter than running a marathon:

1. Dude, you get a baby as a reward not some stupid cheapy medal ( although I do cherish my medals so I shouldn't discount them so quickly).

2. The pinnacle moment of seeing your child for the first time trumps the magic of crossing the finish line after 26.2 for sure. Both are amazing, but birth wins this one.

3. Did I mention the baby? Yeah, a tangible baby that will be the center of your life for about 18 plus years is pretty sweet. Seeing your husband as a dad is even more indescribable. I'd say giving birth is more life-changing than running a marathon.


Ways that they are sorta kinda similar:

1. Cheerleaders and coaches. Whether it's random strangers on the sidelines of a race or nurses yelling encouragement while holding your leg behind your head and staring at your va-jay-jay you are going to have some outsider support during these feats. And ultimately, my husband was my star cheerleader both times---words can't express how wonderfully he filled that role.

2. Pain. Lots of pain. Enough said.

3. Mental anguish. Playing mind games with yourself is always fun.

4. Allowing your body to do things you never thought possible.

5. The feeling of accomplishment, the rush of endorphins, and the sudden urge to barf everywhere (I guess the last one doesn't always happen but it's possible).

6. People who haven't experienced these feats just won't totally understand what it's all about until they are there.



So let's look at some visual comparisons for funsies:

The BEFORE of a marathon. All happy, chipper, and a lot nervous.
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And the BEFORE of labor. Stylish hospital gowns and rockin' IV poles included with the giant baby belly (and swollen jowls):
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The WORST I looked during a marathon:
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And you cannot see a picture of me looking my worst during labor because there were no pictures of that nonsense. Only lingering memories of dripping sweat, screaming obscenities, and a similar facial expression as above plus about 40 pounds of anger directed at anyone who dared to talk to me:)

Me after the marathon, showing off my prize:
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And after birth. Although I look like a large Mack truck parked on my head for awhile, check out that 'medal' of sorts. WAY cooler, no? :)
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The aftermath of a marathon, all cleaned up and ready for a big dinner that night.
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PS-I kind of hate that girl up there considering her physical appearance. I guess running for hours each week is a lot different than housing a human for 9 months and packing on the el beezies, huh? Ah, the luxury of having time to run for hours each week...

And the aftermath of birth, the next day with my little medal of honor. Yeah, not quite as tan, thin, or put together but honestly more contented than I ever thought possible.
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What a difference a year and a half makes, huh? It's amazing that two major life experiences can be so vastly different and yet somewhat similar.

Of course, I want to do both again in the near future despite the pain---I've already forgotten how bad each hurt in the moment and am totally up for it again. Also, I am absolutely not making light of the accomplishment marathoners experience because running 26.2 is frickin hard as heck. Kudos to anyone who can rise to that challenge. But I just wanted to point out that I erroneously thought since I was a marathoner that labor wouldn't be too much more challenging. And I wanted to laugh at my former idiotic self for that thought.

So no, my friends. Running a full marathon is not comparable to giving birth---at least in my humble opinion, after my own personal experiences. But boy is it fun to compare:)

Truman's Birth Story

Throughout my pregnancy I absolutely loved soaking in all things birth-related. I wanted to read stories of other women so that I could better prepare myself for all of the possibilities that lie in the birthing process. I wanted to hear both easy and difficult, positive and negative, long and quick, natural and medicated, vaginal and cesarean, and happy or scary stories. And yet, reading all of those stories could never have totally prepared me for my own experience. Giving birth to my son was one of the most intense, joyous, painful, emotional and surreal experiences of my entire life. No matter what I write here I could never put into words how amazing it was. But I will do my best to capture at least some of the dream-like world that is Truman's birth story.

And if words aren't enough, here is his birth in pictures. 

I'll start from where I left off after my 'Hospital Fun' post. If you do recall, the end of my pregnancy was rather chaotic with bedrest due to Pre-Eclampsia then the decision to induce at 38 weeks. You can look at my story in one of two ways as far as speed goes: two whole days full of induced labor with a 4 night hospital stay OR you could focus on the fact that from the time my water broke to the time he was born was a total of 3 hours. THREE FREAKING HOURS for a first-time pregnancy is insanely fast, right? I'm still reeling from it:)

So as I said in my last post, I was feeling more positive about the second day of induction because I had more cramping and the contractions were now more intense. Nate was doing homework in one chair and I was painting my nails, doing crossword puzzles, and attempting to flip through a few magazines to keep my mind at bay. Oh, and I was going to the bathroom like it was my full time job. At 11:00 I rolled my IV pole and pregnant self into the bathroom yet again and felt the infamous POP when I stood back up from the toilet. I thought to myself, 'Did I just imagine that?' and waited for the gush of water but instead I just felt the urge to pee again. It took me a few seconds but I finally realized that this was not pee because it wouldn't stop and was a little bloody. I yelled to Nate, 'Baby? I think my water just broke!' and my head started to spin with the implications. I was not going to need the nurses to break my water like we thought! This was really happening on it's own and maybe a C-section wasn't in my future after all. As I came out of the bathroom Nate had already called the nurse and was standing there with the cutest look on his face: both excited and nervous and ready to do the darn thing already.

The nurses got me in bed to check me and I felt my first intense contraction. I was 2.5 cm dilated, 70% effaced and at a -1 station which was already a lot better than my measly 1 cm and -3 station from the day before. My best friend, the blood pressure cuff, spit out a reading that had my nurses worried with a big fatty 155/102. They mentioned the possibility of Magnesium to prevent me from having a seizure but thankfully I didn't need it because apparently it makes you 'feel like crap', as per my nurse. Could it really get much worse? Um, yes. Yes it could.

The contractions went from intense but spaced a few minutes apart to FREAKING INSANE and just a few seconds apart. I was doing my best to stay relaxed and in control, breathing through each contraction but I wasn't catching a break in between. And that, my friends, is the beauty of Pitocin running through your veins for two whole days: less space between contractions = no time to wrap my head around what was even happening. By 11:45, just 45 minutes after they last checked me, my nurse said that I sounded like a person who was much further along than 2.5 cm and they wanted to check again. I told her that if I was still only 2.5 and in this much pain they might as well just knock me out because I would absolutely die. Sure enough, I was at 5 cm, 80% effaced, and -1 station. The nurses were sort of freaking out about how quickly this was going and I said I needed something to make me more comfortable. They knew that I really wanted to avoid an epidural for as long as possible and respected that decision offering me Stadol instead to 'take the edge off'. It was supposed to feel like a cocktail and I was totally craving an ice cold margarita at this point if it meant getting a little relief.

As they left to get the meds things went from bad to worse with my pain intensity. I seriously cannot describe the amount of pain I was feeling but all I can say is if you imagine the worst pain in the world you have to multiply that by about 100 to even come close to what I felt. I was crying, screaming, hoo-ing and haa-ing, and finally succumbed to cursing like a sailor. I am not kidding when I say it was like my evil twin emerged and spouted off enough obscenities to last me a lifetime. The funny part is that I would apologize to Nate and the nurses in between contractions, saying, 'I'm sorry I'm being so loud and obnoxious and obscene but I just can't help it!' I absolutely could not remain in control of myself and began to feel very anxious, telling Nate that I had heard Pitocin sometimes causes uterine rupture and I was worried that's what I was feeling. He informed me that I HAD to stop being so negative, that I could do this, and everything was just fine. I wanted to believe him but I informed him that all I wanted was just a minute break to catch my breath and collect my thoughts. Nate, with good intentions, said, 'Well you aren't going to get a break right now, baby' and I almost cut through his heart with my death glare. All I meant was I needed the contractions to slow down enough for me to regain composure but it was a total lost cause at this point. They couldn't turn off the Pitocin because they were worried it would slow me down too much but promised not to amp it up anymore. Gee thanks! :)

My nurses returned to the room after hearing Julia-The-Evil-Twin's screams throughout the hospital. They said that they were worried this was happening way too fast, that I was wearing myself out and wouldn't have the energy to push--which they thought would be very soon according to how I looked (what, I didn't look like a supermodel at this point then?). Before they could even finish their sentence I said, 'I'll take the epidural, just as long as it doesn't stall my labor. I cannot do this much longer and will die before I have to push.' From that point until the time the anesthesiologist came is a total blur but I know they were trying to get me to sit up at the edge of the bed and I literally could not move or even open my eyes the pain was so severe. Once they did get me up to place the Epi I informed them that I felt like I could push right this second, which of course scared the heck out of them. He finally got the Epi in me somehow at noon and I know it took a few contractions to work right away because I remember yelling at the poor guy about how it was NOT working and he needed to re-do it. Just a few minutes later I felt the immense relief that everyone talks about to the point where I was falling asleep in between contractions. I could still move my legs because it was a 'walking epidural' but the pain was gone--only pressure. I am told I had one helluva epidural and I have to agree.

The nurses checked me at 12:20 and I was already at an 8. They frantically paged my OB who was not on call that date but wanted to deliver me since she started the induction process, which basically makes her my favorite person in the entire world (aside from that anesthesiologist that I verbally assaulted). I don't remember anything until she entered the room at 1:00 with a halo around her head and took one look at the monitors to say, 'What is that all about?' I was so out of it I had no idea what they were talking about so I asked Nate to translate it for me. Apparently my BP had dropped to the 130s/80s after the epidural which is still high but lower for me, and baby's heart rate dropped into the 90s. So she gave me epinephrine to raise my pressure and had me try a few different positions to get baby better aligned and his rate back up. Somehow I maneuvered my exhausted and partially numb body into all fours, then both sides but none of them worked. Finally my OB suggested I give a practice push, even though I still had a small 'lip' of my cervix left at this point and that worked. Baby's heart rate went back up and I was completely dilated all of a sudden, but not before I peed all over the doctor. FABULOUS, right? :)

So there we were, ready to push at 1:00 after my water had broken at 11:00. My OB told her assistant to cancel her patients back at the clinic for the next hour because she was guessing it might take me that long. In my overly-fatigued and dreamy state I thought she was joking and it would take about three pushes then be over. I have no idea why I thought that but let's remember I was pretty much having an out of body experience at this time and wasn't thinking clearly. The OB and nurses kept telling me how amazing I was doing for a first time mom and thanked me for being athletic, but my epidural was so strong that it really did make it hard for me to time the pushes. Eventually I asked them to turn it down a bit so I could really focus because all I wanted to do was sleep. Then all of a sudden my OB says, 'How do you feel about looking in a mirror for this?' I never in a million years thought I would be okay with that but heard myself say, 'Oh, why not?' so they wheeled in a giant full length mirror for me to get the view of a freaking lifetime. The image of my lady parts in that position will forever be burned into my retinas but I can honestly say it was freaking incredible to look down and see my son's head ready to emerge. I heard Nate say, 'Look, he has more hair than I do!' and he was holding my right leg and head coaching me through each push. And yes, Nate was even watching in the mirror which I would have never predicted but it totally made sense at that moment.

I had to push with every ounce of strength in my body to get his head under my pubic bone but once that happened I could see he was almost out. At this point I asked if I could just keep pushing without waiting for a contraction because I really wanted it all to be finished, and my OB sort of raised her eyebrow in astonishment and said, 'Go for it!' I had been pushing for just a little over an hour just like she predicted.

With Nate on my right, my nurse on my left, and what seemed to be another 10 people in the room waiting for baby to arrive, I pushed my son out of my body at 2:11 pm and saw the most beautiful human being in the entire world for the first time. Both Nate and I were crying and in such shock the doctor had to ask, 'Well? What is the name?' I muttered, 'Truman Anthony' and could not believe he was finally here. The took him over to the warming table to clean him off and I told Nate to go with him as I could not move my eyes from that side of the room watching my baby boy. I have no recollection of what my OB was even saying to me at this point, other than I had a small second degree tear, because all I could do was try to wrap my head around this whole experience. His cry was loud and he was pinking up right away. When I asked how much he weighed and Nate told me '7 pounds 10 ounces' I was floored. I totally prepared myself for a 6 pound baby because he was a whole 2 weeks early but at 7.10 he was bigger than I was at birth (I was 7.8) and longer than me at 21.5 inches. His lungs were completely normal, his Apgar scores were 8-9, and my baby boy---who I spent inconceivable amounts of time worrying about his early arrival---was totally fine. I asked how much longer I'd have to wait to hold him and they said they were done with their assessments and brought him to me. Again, the tears started to flow as I stared as his preciously greasy and perfect face. I looked up and Nate and back to our son with the purest sense of joy I've ever had in my life.

My parents were in the waiting room and came in shortly after, which was exactly how it was supposed to be. Nate got to hold Truman next and the grin on his face immediately made him a candidate for 'Best Daddy of the Year', in my opinion. The rest of the evening was spent staring at Truman, visiting with my parents and also Nate's parents, and stretching out my sore biceps. Seriously, they were the most sore part of my entire body from pulling my legs up to my chest and even 5 days later they are still not back to normal. I could barely even nurse Truman for the first day because it was so painful to hold him in my arms but of course he was a total trooper and showed me exactly what needed to be done for him to get his food.

Speaking of him being a trooper, poor little buddy had to have a full vile of blood taken from his arm right after delivery. A little heel prick wouldn't do because they needed to do a full blood culture. I was Strep B positive which is no big deal except you have to get 4 rounds of antibiotics in before you deliver so that the baby doesn't risk getting a serious pneumonia. Well because my labor went SO fast the nurses didn't have time to get all 4 rounds in so they had to test and watch Truman very closely. The mean lab tech could NOT get his tiny vein and even called him 'a little fart' as she was trying. Even though I was out of it and tired I kind of wanted to rip her head off for hurting my mister man which means I'm definitely a mom. My own mother went over there to supervise to make sure she didn't hurt him too much and although his little hand is still bruised he acted like it wasn't that big of a deal at all.

I think throughout this birth experience one thing resonates with me and that is Truman is one tough little bugger. Two weeks early? No biggie. Tons of Pitocin? Eh, whatever. A quick and intense labor? Barely affected him. It's as if he's telling me, 'Mom--chill out. I'm okay. Just relax' and I think I needed to hear that from him:) I love him more than words can describe and the black-out pain I went through to get him here was well worth it.

So there you have it: a birth story that is both long but short, and very intense. I'm not disappointed in myself for getting the epidural because in all honesty, there is no way I could have survived Pitocin-laden contractions for much longer without going certifiably insane. Of course, next time I'm hoping to avoid an induction (Pre-E can kiss it and stay the heck away from me forever!) and maybe that will be different for me, giving me more time to catch my breath and focus between 'natural' contractions. But the ultimate goal for me was to have a healthy baby and possibly even avoid a c-section. You can bet I'm pretty satisfied with my experience when I get the privilege of holding baby Truman every day.

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The Birth Story in pictures

Before I can put it all into words (still trying to gather my thoughts on this amazing experience)...let's view the birth story in pictures:

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hello contractions...
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This is why I'm hot:
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again with the contractions...bottom line shows them:
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Oh, Pitocin. Why are you so awful/amazing. More to come:
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And then, he was born! Just like that. HA HA HA. Stay tuned.
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My little egg head:) Scoring high on the Apgars with an 8 then a 9. He knows how to make his PT parents very happy.
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My OB is rather happy to have him out, too:) She canceled office visits to run up to the hospital and deliver me when she wasn't even the one on call. Did I mention that I love her?

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First picture of Daddy and Truman:
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Mommy and Truman. Cannot believe I'm posting this on the internet. As Nate says, 'I've never seen you looking THIS tired.' I know, it's warranted and all, but hello bags under eyes!
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Our first family picture. A sweaty mess...
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The next morning, with my parents. Proud grandparents #1!
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And Nate with his Mom, proud grandparent #2. Don't worry, Grandpa made it to visit multiple times, too, but had to work so they missed their whole family shot this date. Boo!
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First time we saw his eyes really open up and little expressions like this:
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Sigh. I could go on with more but you get the idea. It was amazing, awful, and the best day of my entire life the day my son was born. So surreal that I still feel like I'm dreaming when I look into his eyes. I can't believe he is all ours and we get to keep him!

Off to stare some more...
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