It all began with me dreaming I was in labor. That's right. I was contracting in my sleep. The contraction that woke me must have been strong enough to finally rouse me. My immediate thought was that it was false labor. I thought this for a number of reasons, the first of which being that I have had three children prior to Ty and all of them were either late or born on their due date, never before. The other main reason being that I hadn't felt any contractions of this type before with this pregnancy and it seemed reasonable to think it was just "practice."
I lay in bed for three or four more contractions and didn't bother to time their length or how far apart they were. Fortunately, I was so amused with the whole dream scenario, I had woken Theron up to tell him and he had started watching the clock from that moment on. He told me my contractions were only five minutes apart. (Say what?!) When you're half asleep, time has a mind of it's own. To me, it had felt like at least 15 to 20 minutes had passed between each contraction.
With the dawn of this revelation I decided to get out of bed and walk around. If history had taught me anything, it was that changing what I was doing usually put a quick end to false labor. If I was lying down, walking around stopped it. If walking around was causing it, promptly taking a load off made it stop. If it was the real deal, NOTHING stopped it and walking sometimes made it come on harder and faster. That's what happened.
Things progressed more quickly than my mind was willing to process for the second time in my child-bearing years. I think I was in a bit of denial over how this seemed to be happening to me AGAIN. Theron kept pushing for the all-important phone call to the poor sap who would get driven from their warm bed to come be at the house with the children. I kept saying, "No, no, no. Let's make sure, first. I mean, what are the odds this is really happening now?"
Finally, even I couldn't ignore the obvious. Theron called the sap (Actually, a dear friend who was really our only option because all closer friends were sick or had family in town and were out of the question.), then he called the doctor, then he called my Mom and then, when I started to really get panicky that we weren't going to get to the hospital in time, he called our elderly next-door neighbor to stay at the house until our sappy friend arrived.
I was pacing outside by the Suburban, waiting for our poor neighbor to finally stroll over to our house. The cold air felt AMAZING and the contractions felt like torture. The pressure was intense and I was greatly fearing a delivery in the car.
Theron got us on the road and every bump was anxiety inducing, as was every deceleration in our speed, no matter how necessary I knew it was. I remember praying on the exit ramp to the hospital, "Please God, just keep this baby in me till we get to the hospital. Please let the next contraction be mild. Please God, please." And He heard me. The next contraction was inexplicably mild. It was long, but it barely hurt and there was no pressure. I could have wept. Because by then we were wheeling into the parking lot of the ER and people were fleeing from the front of the vehicle. Theron missed the way in closest to the door and had to make a sharp turn that caused him to jump a sidewalk dangerously close to an old woman who looked VERY annoyed at us. I was motioning wildly for her to get out of the way and as she moved all too slowly, an ER security person started to make his way hastily over to us. It crossed my mind that he thought we were crazy, but then the car was stopped and I was flying towards him with all the inertia my body possessed. "I'm in labor!!!!" I squealed. His eyes opened wide, he put his arm around me and herded me into the ER. "Do you need a wheelchair?" he kindly asked. "YES, YES, YES!" I said through another gargantuan contraction. "I'm afraid I'm not going to make it!!! Please hurry!!" To me, the world around me was moving at a turtle-like pace. No one was moving fast enough. I had been through this and I knew, with now alarmling clarity, that I had very little time to get to Labor and Delivery.
I was perched on my right hip in the wheel chair as the nurse behind me sleepily wheeled me toward an elevator. The doors closed and we began our ascent as another contraction wracked my body, this time the pressure was too much. My water broke. "Oh, great," the nurse behind me muttered sarcastically. My relief was intense. I almost laughed at her and instead, opted to apologize profusely. Polite to the bitter end.
We made it to L and D and we were blessedly wheeled into the room of a nurse who didn't force me to lay down immediately. She assessed my position and said, "Oooo, you are ready to give birth! You're sitting' on one hip." She told me to get undressed and asked if I wanted her to check me squatting or in the bed. I was floored I even had a choice. My birth experience with Sully was spearheaded by a nurse who obviously did not believe I was having precipitous labor and was as enthusiastic about making me lay on the bed for monitoring purposes as Sully was about arriving with break-neck speed.
I'm always amazed at how modesty just leaves the building when I'm in the throws of labor. I was naked in seconds, mindful of how little time I had between contractions and how soggy my drawers currently were. Another contraction hit and when it passed, she checked me. "You're ready to push, honey. You just have a little lip there." Well, color me shocked. "You should probably get on the bed now." I practically hopped onto the bed, which got a laugh from all the nurses. I think they expected me to feebily extend my hand and crawl onto the bed with zero energy or enthusiasm. I knew getting on the bed meant the beginning of the end of my phsyical torment, so I was only too happy to do it.
The next contraction was pretty obviously push time. The nurses were bustling around and two doctors had come into the room, neither of whom I recognized. I didn't care. I was just glad to not be in the car. I did notice at one point in the process that they were very unfazed by everything that was happening. They took in my groaning and exclamations with all the excitement that comes with watching paint dry. I pushed. I felt the baby come down, but not enough. This I will maintain until my dying day, pushing contractions feel a thousand times better than the contractions that come prior. Physically, they aren't as painful and, mentally, you know the end is near. When I had Sully, I was in labor for a whopping 2 hours. He came out in one push. I barely felt the burn. Tyson took three pushes and he may have taken longer than three, but I was not in the mood to feel that particular kind of burn a moment longer. In the last contraction of his labor, I pushed for all I was worth and he finally came out. That burn at the end is just tremendous. I remember screeching, "It burns!!!!" And I remember mentally giving myself a pep talk. "Stephanie, you can do this. It hurts, but it's going to be over soon. Just push him out and the burn will be gone."
I also remember not being so polite when the resident lady doctor was examining me for tears and pushing on my belly to make the afterbirth came out. "I just had a baby! Could you be more gentle!" She shared a glance with her nameless cohort and proceeded maybe a tad more cautiously. I suppose my skin should have been a little thicker and I should've been less whiney. Hindsight is 20/20...blah, blah, blah. I only had 4 stitches. Not too shabby for an hour and 15 minutes of labor.
We're all doing great. Ty is a lovely, handsome, typical newborn. He's tiny. He weighed in at only 6 pounds and 2.5 ounces. He's 19 inches long. I guess that's par for the course, since he came 2 and 1/2 weeks before his due date of February 22. He's now dropped down to 5 pounds, 13 ounces. He's my smallest baby and when compared to Quinn, who was my largest, he seems like a real shrimp. Fortunately, he's a good eater and I have no doubt he'll plump up in no time.
We continue to praise God for giving us our amazing family and giving us healthy children and safe deliveries for each of them. We're humbled, as always, by His goodness to us.
Congratulations Steph and family! Tyson is beautiful :)
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