David was getting ready for work, and since he leaves at 6AM, we had to make a decision quickly about what to do. My first two labors were long and slow, so he could possibly go to work and get a full day in with no problems...or be stuck on a call and not be able to get home if he needed to. What an adventure that would be.
It didn't take long to know this was definitely the real thing and he should stay home. Grandma came to get the big kids while I whipped up a double batch of waffles so breakfasts would be taken care of for the next few days.
I swept, vacuumed, tidied, finished packing my bag.
We turned on Hulu to catch up on some Grimm. I think we watched a White Collar, too, and eventually Gilmore Girls. I paced around, practicing my hypno-birthing techniques, staying relaxed, calm, and happy. It was like we were on a date except with contractions.
David perfected what he likes to call the Football Roll. I tend to get back labor, so deep pressure in my lower back during a contraction is a great pain reliever. He figured out that the end of a football is great as a pressure tool, and while I was concerned about this crazy notion at first, it really did work. We like to tell people about it in case they, too, can benefit from the Football Roll. (You heard it here first.)
The morning passed without any real urgency to head to the hospital. I hate being there before I need to be, yet giving birth on the side of the road doesn't really sound too pleasant, either. Contractions were getting stronger but not closer together, and that was confusing. They were anywhere from 7-15 minutes apart and had been all morning. I had several texting conversations going on throughout the morning, and I can remember typing to several mom friends, "I don't know when to go to the hospital!"
It was nearing lunchtime when David was thinking we should go in. I wasn't in horrible pain, though. Contractions were strong but still at least 7-10 minutes apart. They took my breath away at times, but I was perfectly fine in between.
It seems like we went back and forth for an hour or so on when we should leave. It was getting close to 1 when I finally felt like it could be OK to go. I think David was relieved.
I don't remember the drive to the hospital. I remember that once we got there, David dropped me off at the door while he went to park the car, and I slowly made my way down the long hallway to the front desk, having one or two good contractions along the way. I felt like everyone in the waiting room was staring at me and I didn't really like that. I just tried to be super calm and act like I was out for a leisurely stroll, stopping to stare at the wall every other minute or so. It was a good disguise, I'm sure. No one knew what was happening.
It took quite awhile for someone to come to the desk. Then when she finally came...oh man, she was the meanest nurse I've ever had the privilege of coming into contact with. She snapped at me for forgetting my wallet in the car (I could get her fired for that, didn't I know?) and for not calling ahead to say we were coming (totally our bad, we just completely forgot to do that). We were pre-registered, though; seems like that should have been one point for us. She made me cry, and I asked David if we could go back home. When he said no I asked her through my tears if she could be a bit kinder. Ha.
She dropped us off at triage where I mentioned I preferred to keep my own clothes as opposed to changing into a hospital gown, and she said something along the lines of, "your midwife is just going to have to deal with you." David left to get my wallet and I cried some more. I was so sad.
This was exactly why I didn't want to go to the hospital. It's so calm and relaxing at home, while at the hospital you can get yelled at by a mean nurse.
A few minutes later the midwife and another nurse came in; fortunately they were both really sweet. And I was dilated to an 8, my favorite thing to hear. For the record, they totally didn't care that I didn't want to change clothes.
The nurse walked us back to our room. I sat on the edge of the bed and tried to hold perfectly still while she worked to put the hep-lock in, but I had to groan through a few really strong contractions. She suddenly asked me, "are you pushing?" and I said, "I think so." She tried to get me to lay back but that hurt too much; hunched over on my side was the way to be.
Things suddenly got very chaotic because the room was not ready for a baby. We weren't even checked in to the hospital yet. But not much later, at 1:44PM, the baby was out. I think we had been at the hospital for about half and hour or 40 minutes. Take that, mean nurse. There's a reason I wasn't thinking about wallets Sheesh.
They handed the baby to me, and at first sight I thought he looked just like Christian except rounder, so I think I just knew that he was a boy. David is the one who checked and made the official announcement. Since we only had one boy name on our list, Jonas David was named right away. Baby Jonas snuggled right up to me and didn't cry, and even though that's the sound you want to hear, there is something infinitely sweet about your baby feeling secure enough with you that he has no need to fuss.
They needed him to pink up a bit, though, so while I snuggled him they gave him a few pats until he coughed and his color started coming in. Then he got so comfortable that he peed all over me. That was sweet.
I just couldn't believe he was a boy. I spent the rest of the day saying, "I can't believe he's a boy. I can't believe he's a boy. Can you believe he's a boy? I can't believe he's a boy."
Then I held him all night long.
|baby brother getting weighed...|
|...and big brother hiding in the window. he wouldn't talk to me|
|feeling a bit more brave|
|2 week appointment|