We're Two of a Kind

Sunday morning, April 1, 2012 at 5:30 am, I woke up. We had a fun time with Alyssa and Andrew the night before at Cheesecake Factory and I wasn't quite ready to open my eyes. Thing was, some cramping was going on in my stomach and though the pain wasn't dyer, it was enough to disturb my slumber. I had had cramps before, similar to these ones even, periodically over the last 4 weeks so I wasn't real concerned. I laid there, watching Peter sleep, for two hours noting the pattern, frequency and strength. I knew if this was it, Peter was going to need as much sleep as possible stored up.

The contractions were regular and every now and then, painful. The true test however was the shower. The contractions always went away when I got in the shower. Before I got out of bed, the thought crossed my mind, "If this is labor, I don't think I'll be able to keep him in until midnight; April Fool's it is!"

Well, the shower didn't change anything. Knowing my time had come, I figured I better shave my legs. Have you ever shaved your legs with contractions? It was a challenge and required frequent breaks but we made it. Surprisingly, Peter woke up to the shower and came in.

"How's it goin, babe?"

"Uh, I think I'm in labor."

"Oh. How far apart are the contractions?"

"I don't know."

"Well, what do you think?"

"Honey, can you let me finish in here and then we'll lay down and time them?"

"OK."

With the iphone in hand, we timed the contractions. I didn't really know what I was doing because I'd never been in labor before. Peter had the notes from the doctor on how to tell and when to come in. At our appointments she always said I wouldn't be able to talk through them. I certainly wasn't at that point. I didn't have relief between contractions; it was more like a dull pain between mildly intense pain. So, we timed peak to peak. After 3 contractions, we determined they were 2 minutes apart and it was time to go. I blow dried my hair, put some make up on, made the bed, and straightened up the house. Peter did a great job packing the car. Then we headed to the hospital.

By this point, we'd already called our moms and siblings. Mom knew if the house phone rang and my number was on the caller ID, her grandson was coming. When she answered, all I had to say was, "I'm calling on the house phone!" I still wasn't in that much pain, not nearly the pain level I would have expected based on all the stories I'd heard.

We arrived at the hospital at 8:30 and entered through the ER. A nurse then escorted us to the Labor and Delivery area. She was talking all about her labor and I really wasn't interested in being sociable. As we rounded the corner, there were my mom and dad. They would beat us to the hospital! I waddled up to the check in and said, "I think I'm in labor." Right away I got a great impression from the staff. Penny, who I would end up spending all day with, took me to be examined.

This was my first time in the hospital as a patient. Never before had I laid in the bed, worn the gown, or been stuck with an IV. Let's just say: increased anxiety! For the first time, panic crossed my mind; they might turn me away for not being in "enough" labor. Not to fear though, I came in at 6 centimeters! I was pretty proud of myself for getting that far with little pain and no drugs. I was wheeled up to my room. This was it. Next fear: the IV and epidural going in.

Tiff showed up soon after and we chatted, settled in and answered "no" to all the nurse's medical questions. I was still in very little pain. I survived the IV and the epidural guy was due to come in any minute. I told Penny I needed to use the bathroom and she said, "No you don't, you just went 45 minutes ago. If he comes in and you're in the bathroom, he will leave. He'll think you must not need it very bad." Well, that kind of ticked me off! Sorry Penny but you don't know me or my bladder...But their wasn't much I could do about it.

I asked how painful the needle was and she told me women aren't worried about the pain because the contractions hurt so bad. I took the hint and shut up. I didn't want them denying me the drugs just because I wasn't in pain. I knew it would get worse and I didn't need to be a hero that day.

The epidural guy was the same guy I had met when I checked in and I liked him. He told me what to do and I told him to keep talking so I'd be distracted. Peter was a great support and guess what? The epidural was no big deal! The IV hurt more! Once that was finished, sweet relief flooded over me. You would have thought I'd already delivered. I think I was more scared for that then the baby part...

More and more family trickled in and soon the waiting room outside my door was full, or so I was told. For an hour, we talked and waited. When a SWAT team of nurses rushed in, that's when I got scared. Two times I had a long contraction (4.5 min) and the baby went into distress, dropping his heart rate to the 50s. They didn't know the cause and the doctor said if it happened again, we'd be going in for a c-section. She didn't want to wait to find out if he'd recover a fourth time and since I was only at 8 cm, I was still too far away from pushing.

Tears streamed down my face. My body was doing so well! Baby just couldn't handle it. Strike 3 came and went and I was quickly wheeled to the OR. Terrified, my only consolation was that I'd see my baby in 20 minutes. Peter had to wait outside while they got ready. I hated being away from him at such a scary moment. Penny got right in my face and comforted me, Dr. Audel explained everything I needed to know and the epidural guy pumped me with drugs, kept me distracted, rubbed my head and put Chapstick on my lips. I was well cared for by all.

I felt a sharp point and yelled out in a panic, "I can feel that!" They pumped more drugs and tested again. "I can still feel that!" They thought they might have to put me under completely but then I was numb enough and they began the procedure. Operation Fetch Blake! Peter was beside me the whole time, some how he captured amazing still photos, and a video of the whole birth, all without me even knowing he was multitasking. He felt very present.

Then, we heard the cry. It was overwhelming. All I could see of Peter between his mask and hat were his eyes spilling over with joyful tears. The tears of a new dad. I told him to go to Blake and hold him, hold his hand. I'll be fine. His son needs him. The two questions I asked the doctors as they pulled Blake out were, Is he a boy? and Does he have hair? Yes to both.

They cleaned him up and finished working on me. At 9 lbs 5 oz, 21 inches long, everyone thought he was big. I thought he was perfect. Not pudgy, not scrawny but lean and long like his daddy. From when I first heard his due date, I'd said, "He's going to be an April fool's baby." It was going to be God's reminder to me, "Don't be foolish, I make the plans not you." Baby Blake was God's idea and man are we thankful for the surprise!

Believe it or not their's more details to be told but I think that covers the story well enough. Everyone had to wait two hours to see us and Blake while I was in recovery. Peter and Blake bonded while I waited for the drugs to wear off. I have never shaken so violently in my life; it was miserable. I hadn't eaten anything all day and would have paid way too much for a glass of water. Blake scored an 8 and then a 9 on his apgar test, loved getting his hair washed and had to have a few ounces of formula at first because his blood sugar was low.

We stayed in the hospital until Thursday afternoon, entertained probably about 100 visitors, and Peter never left our sides. He slept on the pull out couch and then each morning, the three of us would be cuddling in my bed. We are loving this thing called family.