So by now, you all are aware that our son, William (Will) Wells Kauffman came a bit early on August 5th. And as of today, he is 2 weeks old. He is doing very well, minus some weight gain issues.
What most of you don't know is the story of how he arrived--it is not dramatic, but I want to get it all down so I remember it while it's (somewhat) fresh.
The Saturday before he made his debut, Greg and I went on a walk (one of many we took the last month) and as we returned home, I felt little Will drop--literally--a bit lower into my pelvis. The plus side? I could eat more (still had heartburn--but it was nice to eat). The downside? The hip/lower back/pelvic pain that followed. OW.
I officially truly entered "miserable." I wasn't sleeping--wide awake at all hours of the day and night (I would kill to feel like that now). I would lie awake and literally stare at Greg, willing him to wake up so I could talk to someone. Plus this awful pain! I was pretty mad on Tuesday, August 4th, when I woke up to pouring down rain...and it poured...and poured...and poured...all...day...long. How was I going to get my walk in? I'd tried spicy foods to move things along. Nothing. Walking was the only way we were making progress! My solution? Bake.
I made applesauce cake. And then I made Magic Cookie Bars. And then Greg and I decided to go to yoga. My facebook status update that evening read something to the effect of: If I hang upside down, maybe the little boy will swim faster the other way?
That yoga practice was excruciating. My back, my hips, the general discomfort of bending forward. YUCK. I actually felt pretty decent hanging upside down, which I did 3 times in pinchamya before class started.
Greg and I returned home. I tried to eat dinner--couldn't. The heartburn was too intense and nothing was calming it down. And then I started getting contractions.
Around 8:45, we timed them until about 10, and then they stopped being regular...they started coming every 15 minutes, but more intense. I remember being excited with each one--about 4 hours later, I realized there is NOTHING exciting about contractions. :o)
At 11:30, Greg and I called the doctor, just to see what she said. The doctor on call, Dr. Choi, was enjoying her second night back after about 7 months of maternity leave. I'm sure she was THRILLED to get my call. :o) She told us to try and get some rest, keep our eye on it, etc. After all, I was only 37 weeks.
I did go to sleep. And at 2:30 a.m. when I rolled over, I heard a pop, felt an instant gush, and immediately became nauseous, only because I knew this was it...my water broke...baby was on his way.
Greg apparently became nauseous too. He turned white as a ghost. I'm sitting on the toilet, and Greg is laying in bed. I say to him, "Sweets, you gotta get it together! You gotta drive us to the hospital!" And within 10 minutes, we were out the door with a hand towel between my legs. Really, I needed about 4 bath towels. I had no idea the amount of "water"!
The ride to Good Sam was a blur. I wasn't having too many contractions, I could breathe and talk through them.
Good Sam is in a perpetual state of "under construction," like most hospitals in the country. We park where it says "Maternity Admissions" (there was a sign for valet parking. Yeah, that doesn't exist at 3 a.m.) and go in the only door available--the ER door.
I look at the ER admissions lady, and with water literally gushing down my leg, I ask her to direct us to Maternity.
She ROLLS HER EYES, and then she SIGHS, and she says, "I will THIS time, but NEXT time, you need to park on level 5, take that elevator to the blahblahblahblahblah" because I tuned her out. Clearly--not going to be a next time, at least not for the next 9 months. Direct us to the freaking elevator lady.
So I'm sitting in L&D admissions, and we're wrapping up a few paper work items, and the contractions REALLY start to come. They take me to triage...and they are coming even faster. Greg wasn't allowed in there and there were 2 nurses. They were SO nice and patient--I couldn't answer their questions anymore. They checked me when I got in--4 cm. Within 20 minutes, I was at 6 cm. In this process, they also couldn't get an IV in me. They tried my right hand, then my left. Then the other nurse tried both hands (left hand is still bruised). They tried my left forearm, and by then I'm crying (nothing at all exciting about those contractions), and they decide they should just get me to the L&D room. Away I go.
Now there are 4 nurses. They are debating on what to do with my veins. I'm now screaming (I asked permission first, of course). Greg is white as a ghost, almost passed out several times, and they send him to the waiting room with orange juice (he couldn't handle seeing me in pain and not be able to do anything about it). Now my face is buried in this poor nurse's chest, I'm screaming b/c my contractions are coming every minute and lasting for a minute. God bless her, seriously. (In between contractions, I remember mentioning something about this not being anything like "A Baby Story." They laughed. I also kept apologizing--for screaming, for everything, and the nurses also found that funny.) FINALLY someone gets an IV in me (they didn't want to put it by my elbow b/c they wanted me to be mobile. I told them it was okay if it was in my elbow, just, please, do IT!). FINALLY the anesthesiologist shows up, and I could care less about how that was painful or not--I don't remember--it felt like my stomach was being ripped open, who cares about my spine? Once that epidural was in though--holy cow--I felt 2 more contractions and then it was BLISS.
Greg came back in, I was comfortable, and we watched "Anchorman" to help us pass the time. It was about 4 a.m. Greg's sister and dad arrived, and I called my mom again only to find out she was on a plane. (She initially, in her panic, purchased a ticket from Cincinnati to Newark instead of vice versa, and had to pay $150 to change it once airport security pointed out her mistake..."Um, ma'am, you are already in Newark...this ticket isn't going to get you anywhere." She called later that afternoon and got her $150 back.) :o)
Around 9 a.m., it was time to push!
Oh, and Dr. Choi got to go home at shift change at 7 a.m. She said she actually got more sleep at the hospital and thanked us for that. :o) So Dr. Gardner delivered our boy. She said, "Sure is nice when they declare their own birthdays." :o)
I pushed for 40 minutes, and little Will came out in all his glory at 9:40 a.m. I attribute the fast delivery and easy pushing to yoga. I kept that core strong for 9 months, and was able to push him right out!
They kept asking if I wanted the mirror. I kept telling them no. On the last push, Dr. Gardner said, "This is it, here's his head, look!" So I open my eyes and laugh through the last push because a slimy mushy alien head was emerging and it seemed a little funny. I thought Greg was laughing too, but really he was crying next to me. So then I started crying, and then we were a family. :o)
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