The Hospital Chronicles: Part 1

This part is called, "If I Only Had a Brain".



You know what's fun? Going to the doctor's office with your newborn three days in a row and four days in a week. It's about a hundred bucks worth of fun. So it should be awesome, right? False. On one of these visits, I was still recovering from birthing a 10 pound 3 month old and had the privilege of taking both kids solo. It was stressful. I sweated a lot. Long story short, Mason was doing what Parker did verbatim before Parker was diagnosed with Pyloric Stenosis (the hardening of the pylorus muscle which releases food from the stomach into the intestines).

Side note: this is going to be a short entry because I have just had a VERY long two days that I am pretty sure was actually a week and a half. I don't care what logic tells me. I know how long it really was.

So we go to the Dr. for the last time that week (because it was a Friday and there were no more days left to go) and they end up sending us right to the hospital for an ultrasound to confirm the diagnosis so he can have his surgery. Also, we had 20 mins to get there and the doctor office was 30 mins away. Obviously this makes sense. And I hadn't eaten all day which only added to the gloriousness that was my situation.

We get to the radiology department and this woman greets me and asks if I had been there before and offers us a warm blanket or something to drink while we wait. It was weirdly amazing. And then about a hundred old ladies start gawking over Mason and about how handsome he is and how big he is and bless my little heart for having such a big baby and so on and so forth. So this made the day feel much better than it was. I love cute, old ladies. Especially the ones that see how amazing my children are.

After we do the ultrasound, the doctor calls and tells me it was positive for pyloric stenosis and shortly after sends us up to the pediatric wing. So here's the deal....our pediatrician had left for the day by the time we got in to the office. So we saw a different doctor. After she told me the diagnosis, I asked if she was going to tell our usual pediatrician. Her response: I've already sent her a text.

This is where my brain blacked out from reality. I immediately thought these things...

"What did the text say?"
"Why do I feel like it had stupid abbreviations that middle schoolers use?"
"Did they make a joke? Did they use LOL?"
"Did our doctor send back a sad face?"

These are all things I wanted to know. Mostly about the sad face though.

And that was how the first half of yesterday went.

Finally.

Only I would go into early labor twice and then make it to my original induction date. But we finally had him. And he is so stinkin' beautiful I almost can't stand it. But for the story first...

Disclaimer: If parts (or all) of this doesn't make sense, I apologize and will re-write it when I am not so delirious with newborn baby everything...which I hear is in about 20 years.

By the time my induction day rolled around (taking it's own sweet time by the way) my belly weighed at least a hundred thousand pounds. But I'm probably being conservative. My best friend from high school, Liz got to come over from Tennessee for the birth which was AMAZING. She took such great care of us including taking this picture of us right before we left for the hospital.

I was supposed to look miserable...either Hunter didn't know he was in the picture or he was too tired to care. It was around 6 am which was totally the time we were supposed to be at the hospital but whatever. It all worked out. Now here is a real picture.

Oh wait. I still look miserable...and tired, too. I wasn't exaggerating about the belly, now was I? You thought I was being all melodramatic but I was serious. How there was only one in there, I will never know.

Ok, so we get to the hospital and check in. It was weird to do this without having intense contractions while trying to answer questions like your husband's social security number. They take me back to my room and I get all settled in with the night nurse. Then the nurse who would be taking care of me that day walks in...and this was completely awesome. It was the same nurse I had with Parker! And she was just incredible. She actually recognized my name from my chart and chose to come ride the ride with us again. That was so stinkin' cool.

Fast forward through all the gory details....if you want them, you have to come visit...it's way too much for a blog...

Quick version: I had an epidural which was the best thing I've ever done with my life and then I only pushed for seven minutes. Seven. I was motivated to get that baby out. Holy moly. But he was huge so he wrecked my world. Seems to be what my kids like to do. It's all my husband's fault.

So here are his stats:

Mason Scott West
Born at 11:32 am
9 pounds 15 oz...I would just like to point out how that is one ounce shy of 10 pounds.
21 inches long

My favorite quote of the day came from my dad's girlfriend..."Congrats on your little angel/linebacker". Well said, Susan. Well said.

Out of order a little but my doctor got to deliver him which was so wonderful. When he walked in my room before we got the party started he said, "Where have you been? I've been waiting for you for a month." Join the club, Dr. Jones. Then after we all heard how much Mason weighed, he told me I was real woman. That felt pretty good until my pain meds wore off. Then not so much.

Fast forward to the next day and my old lactation nurse, who was totally not supposed to be working there anymore, walked in the room! She ended up coming back after working some where else for a while. So that was a great surprise. All of my favorite, amazing people from last time were all there this time. What. A. Blessing. And although I am totally wrecked and so sore I want to cry, I honestly couldn't be happier. Mason is perfect and healthy and so beautiful. And Parker is an amazing big brother who loves to help.

I went into labor. Again. But then I didn't.

So I've been having more or less regular contractions for a few weeks now. Yesterday they finally got to a point where they were coming every 20 to 30 mins...then every 10 mins...then every 7 or 8 mins. So we called Michelle so she could come get Parker, we notified Grandmommy Brenda so she could pick Parker up from Michelle's later that night, and I threw the rest of my toiletries into my hospital bag. By the time Parker was gone and we were driving to the hospital, the contractions were about 5-6 mins apart which is exactly when my doctor told me to come in. And he was on call. Perfect.

So we get there and the sweet ladies who are checking me in keep asking if I'm okay because I keep breathing through some very intense contractions. (How many times can I say the word 'contractions'? Honestly.) I can barely talk at times and it's hard for me to answer their questions. We finally get back to the triage room where they hook you up to all sorts of stuff and check your dilation progress. About two minutes after all of this is done, my contractions stop. Completely. Just stop. Then a random little blip here and there shows up on the monitor. Then nothing. Then a few big daddys. Then nothing. You have GOT to be kidding me.

Parker's Godmother came up for support and Lauren, massage therapist extraordinaire, came to work on the exact pressure points you aren't supposed to touch on a pregnant woman because it could send her into labor. Then the nurse sent me on a walk for an hour which felt very much like gym in high school when it's raining outside and the teacher just makes you walk circles around the basketball court for the entire period. Except I got to wear a hospital gown. Two actually. One on my front and one on my back so my butt didn't hang out. It's all very dignified.

All of this hard work got the contractions started back up again. Except, get this, the super intense ones were about 7 or 8 mins apart so they weren't close enough to send me back into labor and the ones that were close enough together were the dinky annoying ones that just make you irritable and nothing else. So after three hours and two internal checks I got sent home. How adorable is that?

Now it's the day after and I am consistently having contractions but it's the same deal as when I left the hospital...big, mcnasty ones just close enough to drive me crazy but not enough to dilate me any further and little irritating ones every 5 or 6 mins. I didn't even know this was possible. I do have an appointment with my OB tomorrow so maybe he will take some pity on me and help get this party started.

Also, I hate the term 'false labor'. It's very real, my friends. Very, very real. It's also just dumb and goes away for no good reason. The end.

I think the baby weighs more than me. Pretty sure.

I just want to put a bumper sticker on my butt that says "I'd rather be breastfeeding". Maybe that'll speed up the process.

I had another doctor appointment yesterday. I haven't dilated any more since I went into labor a couple of weeks ago but I am starting to soften. Sounds gross but I'm excited about it. This is a pretty personal blog post so if you don't want to know or you are my dad....the end.

For everyone else...I have stopped having serious appointments with my doctor. Being able to joke with him gets out some of my frustrations without having to freak out or have an emotional, hormone-induced meltdown on a table that has stirrups. I should also note that although I have the best doctor on the planet, he has one major flaw: giant hands. For anyone who has ever been to an Obstetrician, you can see how this is a big time bummer. Also, I apparently have no filter on my mouth these days due to overall exhaustion which seems to make for a good time for everyone around me.

So this was my first official visit where I get my internal checks to see how I am dilating and all that jazz. Always a good time. As he is putting on his gloves and getting ready to start this lovely process, I say:

"When you check me, please be gentle."
"Well, I was planning on getting a running start."
"Funny. But seriously, it is unfair how huge your hands are."

This is where is nurse laughs in shock and looks at him for a response.

"Well you know what big hands mean..."

Awkward pause that I didn't realize was there until after I left the office.

He continues..."it means we don't drop babies. And that's a good thing."
"Yes, that is a good thing. Still not fair though."

After that lovely scene and I was all covered up again, he told me I hadn't dilated any more but the baby is head down and I have started to soften which is all good. Then he asked me if I wanted to schedule my induction for the 24th of this month. I'll be honest. I am pretty sure I made a pouty face and whimpered a little bit. Then I said, "I was really hoping you would say something like, 'You are at 9 centimeters so let's go ahead and do this thing' ". He thought that was pretty funny. Rude.

But I did find out that not only can I stop taking my medicine that stops contractions, but if I get those Big Kahuna contractions without the little, more annoying ones first, the medicine wouldn't stop them anyway. Good to know. And then we scheduled my appointment for next week just in case I make it through the weekend. I don't think I will but my doctor thinks I might.

On another note, we have made some major progress with the house. The guest room is done, the loft is now the playroom we have wanted it to be, and the nursery is done with the exception of the wall decals and hanging of the clock. The only huge task we have left is to sort through all of  the stuff we have purged and start posting it on Craig's List. I have no idea how we accumulated so much stuff that we had no real use for. It's incredible.

We have also taken the car to Autobell for the deluxe-clean-everything-for-me package so now we are ready to move Parker's car seat over and put the baby's seat in there. Weird but cool. I am so ready to have this baby boy.

No one likes a numb butt...at least I assume

Well yesterday was a crazy day. I've been experiencing these lovely things called Braxton Hicks contractions for a few weeks now and late Monday night they blossomed into full fledged let's-get-this-party-started contractions. All night they were basically saying "Braxton, who?" but I was too tired and delirious to notice. Nice, right?

By the time I managed to get ready in the morning, I was having hot flashes and couldn't seem to concentrate on anything. Needless to say I felt just a little bit off. Just a little. So I finally called my doctor's office and his nurse told me I needed to get to the delivery center of the hospital as soon as possible. Oh. I was just hoping to come in and have a friendly chat with my OB. But the hospital seems way more fun.

So after a few frantic phone calls to friends (whatever, I was totally calm) we found a couple of people to watch Parker for the day so we could go find out what. the. heck. was going on.

Super long and boring story short, they slowed and eventually stopped the party with a combination of rest, fluids and some magic pill. Now, using the phrase "magic pill" sounds pretty irresponsible. But after sleeping only an hour or two at a time for several weeks, your brain starts to turn to mush. Plus, Hunter was there to think for me so he knew what it was and all that biz.

The on call doctor also told me that I am on modified bed rest for the rest of the pregnancy. This is what my brain did (simultaneously and immediately): ah, rest...wait, I have a two year old...this isn't going to work...it's going to have to work because mamma needs some rest and this baby has to bake...I still don't see how this is going to work. I can only imagine the vacant look on my face while my brain worked through this problem.

And this is where is gets really personal. So if you get uncomfortable with details of this nature, I'll see you next post. Otherwise....

So part of this deal of making sure I didn't have the baby yet were internal checks by my nurse. She had to do this twice. Then, when we were getting discharged, my nurse went over my instructions again. When she got to the part about pelvic rest (basically no hanky panky) she looked at Hunter and said "sorry". So that was pretty funny. Then Hunter responded with, "Why does everyone around here get more action with my wife than me?" Nicely done, sir. Nicely done.

So now I'm sitting as much as possible which is keeping the contractions away but it really make your butt numb. And on that note, I'll bid you adieu.

I call this one "Birth Control"

Randomly and foremost, did you know that you can be hungry and uncomfortably full at the same time? It's a phenomenon called "I have a ginormously huge baby in my belly" or "Massivitis" for short. Just thought I'd share that fun 'lil tidbit.

And now to attempt a more chronological thought process....

This past week and weekend was great. My husband was home for the weekend for the first time in about two months so we got to spend some much needed time together...along with our child...and unborn child...and his mother. But the point is, we still got to be in the same room together and have conversations...that were public and shared.

And apparently Parker can now eat at restaurants as long as they are short trips, they have applesauce or chips or fries and we hide the iPad (or pie pad as Parker calls it) in the diaper bag for an emergency back up. But I'll take it. So come the end of May, we only have to wait two more years to see the inside of a restaurant again. But I'm secretly hoping I will go into labor like tomorrow, my doctor will magically be on call, and my baby boy will be fully developed and ready to go. So we'll see if insanely specific and unrealistic dreams do come true.

We also got to go to church for the first time in about forever this weekend. It felt great to be back despite the fact that I am pretty sure Parker cried for daddy the entire time in the nursery and I kept having to sit when everyone else was standing because apparently it wasn't my turn to breathe. But it was still totally awesome to be there again.

With the nicer weather finally getting here, I've been able to wear shorts again which feels fantastic. One of the first days I experienced this freedom, I was sitting on the couch staring in disturbed fascination at my abdomen when I told Hunter I had two questions.

"Can my belly get any bigger and could my legs be any whiter?" He pointed to my belly and said 'yes' (I disagree strongly) and then to my legs and said 'no' (I am in complete agreement on that one).

Abruptly, it's time to go because my contractions are getting a wee bit out of control and it's sucking the last coherent parts of my brain away. Doesn't that sound delightful? Now who's ready to go get pregnant?

A Wee Bit 'O Time Has Passed

So I haven't posted in a while because I was trying not to be a Negative Nancy. Not that any pregnancy is a walk in the park of beauty and comfort but this one has been a wee bit rough and tough. I won't go into the boring, drag me down details...just know that this feels so drug out that I'm starting to feel like a baby myself.

Which brings me to my dream from last night....well one of them. When you wake up every two hours on the dot to pee you tend to have a lot of dreams. So in this one dream, I apparently only had three weeks left of this pregnancy and I was being so over dramatic about wondering how I could make it that much longer. I felt like I was going to explode first, can the baby even have more room in there because there is no way my belly can get any bigger, I might just stop breathing...totally normal concerns. Then I woke up. You know how you feel when you wake up mid-week and think it's a Friday and then realize it's totally not? This was way worse than that. Six weeks is the reality. Six, my friends. For the math geniuses out there, that would be double the time in my dream. Big. Time. Bummer.

Seriously though, if I don't have this baby soon, I might actually explode.