Before I start writing Carsten's birth story, let's start with a bit of 'practice'. This practice will help determine if you are able to read the rest of this post, or if you are better off skipping this one and waiting for the next post.
So the practice is: VAGINA.
Does reading this word make you squirm? Does it paint horrible images in your brain? If the word VAGINA has you cringing, I'm doing you an immense favor and telling you to stop reading now. Save yourself. If you LOVE the word, that's weird, too, but I'll let you read about it anyway. And if you can read it without feeling a chill and wanting to hurl, then you're most likely safe to proceed with the rest of this story.
Another fair warning. I'm not going to make this birth story all fluffy and magical by saying a beautiful bundle of joy gently appeared from my loins - I'm going to say it like it was. So if you're weak or not up for it, or if you're lame, just skip this post and pretend like you didn't see it.
Friday, February 26th I was supposed to call the hospital at 6:30 AM and see if they had a bed for me or not at the hospital. They were planning to induce. I called and was told there wasn't room for me, but to go to my original 'gina doc (OB) appointment since it was scheduled. I went to that appointment hoping and praying that when she looked down there I'd have a baby hanging on for dear life and ready to drop into her arms.
I lay on the table, already bummed that I wasn't just in a hospital bed spitting a baby from between my legs, but I remained calm and let the doctor check me. I was dilated to a whopping 1-1/2 cm. Big whoop. I had been like that since week 36. I woo the doctor with some jokes, and she takes her skinny ass fingers and violates me some more, trying to 'scratch my membranes', causing my body to go into labor, since she said if I was in labor, they couldn't deny me a bed.
Now I know she was TRYING to help get contractions started by scratching my membranes, but I felt violated and it hurt like a bitch. It felt like I was having sex with the head of a unicorn, and not the kind with soft horns, but more like with a unicorn that sharpened his head stick with a knife blade sharpener, getting ready for a unicorn battle. I got all tense and told her to stop it! She asked if I wanted to go into labor, and I proceeded to tell her to knock that off, and I didn't want the baby out that bad! She stopped. Only because I used our 'safety' word. Our safety word is "knock it the f*** off!". She listened. She almost always does.
So I left my appointment with the instructions to call Saturday morning to see if the hospital was ready for my birth canal. I spent the rest of Friday playing with Taylor, bossing my mom around, making Hubs a tad miserable with my whining, and also napping quite a lot.
Flash forward to Saturday morning. BAM. It's Saturday morning. I slept well and woke up ready to bribe the head nurse into letting me in. I called at 6:30 and they told me to call at 10 when the day-time head nurse got there. At 9:59 AM I called and checked with the supreme head nurse. She told me to get there as soon as I could, because there was a bed ready!
I wasn't really expecting there to be a room available, so I was a little stunned. I told Hubs to get our bags and we were going. My mom thought I was joking, because usually the first sentence I always speak is a lie or a joke, followed by a little truth, and then followed by sarcasm and more jokes and lies. I wasn't kidding around, mom, a baby was coming out of my vagina TODAY! I gave Taylor and my mom lovies and away we went, the 15 or 20 minute ride to the hospital awaited us. I was thankful I had showered and shaved, so my baby wouldn't come out of me thinking it was a slum, but more like a well-maintained yard with a view. First impressions are huge.
I got to the hospital and was checked into my room by 10:40 AM. I was excited to get the room with hardwood floors. Blood looks so pretty against the grain of hardwood. (that's what she said).
My first nurse was amazing. We'll call her NURSEY to protect her identity. She has been a nurse at the hospital for 33 years, and she was fantastic. She laughed at all my jokes, and believe me, I kept them coming. She let me order FOOD because I was hungry and just made us feel at home. We weren't nervous, just wanted to meet the dang baby that had made me SO sick the whole pregnancy. And we wanted the baby to meet us, his awesome parents. He's so lucky.
By noon, I think, I had Pitocin (made of horse semen, mind you), running into me via my IV in my hand. I was having contractions at pretty regular intervals, and Hubs and I were sitting on the bed playing Uno. I was in one of the sexiest hospital gowns ever, with pastel geometric shapes, kinda like the graphic effects some dudes put on the side of their Dodge Neons. I was feeling so hot. Like sexy hot, not too warm hot. My doctor came in to check on me and told me I wasn't hurting enough, so she turned up the Pitocin a bunch. Because she likes to make me writhe around in pain.
Oh, and NURSEY was WAY better at checking my VAGINA to see how my CERVIX was dilating. It was like being taken to a nice lobster dinner first and having some nice beer, as apposed to when my 'gina doc checked me, it was like being fisted by Andre the Giant. I'm pretty sure when my vagina sensed 'gina doc coming, it closed up like a clam shell. Ahem. Anyway.
At about 3:00, my doctor broke my bag of waters. I wish they didn't call it that, because calling it waters is deceiving. They should call it egg flower soups. All chunky and nasty, and warm and gooey. I hated having it broke because it was slow gushes all the time, and felt like I was peeing myself. A bit later I was checked by my nurse and my 'gina doctor and was complimented on my amazing and impressive BLOODY SHOW. Ack! I've never been complimented for bleeding and oozing out of my vagina. I really feel like they were building up my confidence, and it worked. I held my head higher and felt proud of how great of a bleeder my vagina was.
This whole time I was telling inappropriate jokes, making gross and amazingly astute observations and just basically had all of the staff laughing at me. If you don't believe me, ask my husband. I just couldn't turn the damn funny off. I was on. I was on and I was hilarious.
Finally at about 6:00pm the contractions were hurting pretty bad and I wasn't getting any sort of break in between them. I had declined drugs over and over and over again, I just wanted to get straight to the epidural and shoot this baby out of my crotch. Also, the Portland Trailblazer game was about to come on, and there was no way I was going to miss it. I had Hubs turn on the game and had NURSEY go get me the guy who would poke me in the back with sharp long needles and charge me $2,000.
When it was time to do the epidural, my contractions were coming hard and fast, and I was saying a lot of words like 'bitch' and 'whore' and 'F', but never in front of NURSEY, she was too sweet. She told me she's heard every word ever, but I didn't want to disappoint her. She was like Mrs. Claus. They had me sit on the bed, with my legs hanging over the side, and my sweet husband there to support me as I bent and exposed my spine. I had my head turned so I could still watch the game. Priorities, you know. The nurse was there too, to help me out. The whole time I thought I was going to pass out because it hurt so bad, and I was feeling so faint. The poker from behind had to redo the epidural, but once I was set up and in business, I was doing better. And if memory serves me correctly, the Blazers were winning.
Once I had my epidural, I did lots of napping. I'd wake up and see Hubs on his phone, playing a fishing game that I thought was retarded, so I'd go back to sleep. All of a sudden I woke up and knew it was time to push. We got the night nurse. We'll call her NIGHT NURSE and she was equally as awesome, and she laughed at all my jokes, too. Double awesome.
My doctor was next door helping another slow poke try to deliver a baby, but the doctor said it was okay to start pushing with NIGHT NURSE. So I started pushing at about 10:45 PM. I pushed, and pushed. I told jokes, and some more jokes, even with the stupid oxygen mask on. That didn't stop me, it just made my voice sound cool. Between pushing and pooping on the table, I was trying to will this baby out of me. I was told that if he didn't have his head cocked and all funky, I would have had him out in 3 pushes. But he decided it would be fun to wreak havoc on my under-carriage. He'd show his head a bit and it'd go back in. He was playing peek a boo, only it wasn't cute or funny. At one point they had me try to reach down and feel his head. I exclaimed "oh gosh, he has tons of hair" and the nurse replies "no, you're touching yourself". Zing. One point for the nurse.
Eventually I pushed Carsten out. His whole precious body popped out at 11:41 PM. They put him on my belly and cleaned him up and Hubs cut the cord. I was happy he was out of me. And I was so proud when the doctor told me I didn't tear my vagina. But she said I bruised my vagina. I wanted to see what that looked like, but figured she wanted to go home. I quickly got my 8 lb 12 oz baby boy taken away from me because he had swallowed so much amniotic fluid during delivery, he needed to go to the nursery. Hubs followed. I was high. I had the biggest adrenaline rush ever. I felt so strong and amazing. I was sweating liquid gold, I was so amazing. And then I barfed. And I barfed some more. I had the shakes like crazy and puked my lemon lime jello. And then I went back to feeling awesome.
I wasn't even sure how much Carsten weighed or how long he was, and I was just sitting in the bed waiting for Hubs to come back with him. Night Nurse was hanging out with me in the room, and nursery nurse called me on the phone to tell me Carsten's stats. I can't believe I popped a baby out of my vag. I didn't with Taylor, he had to be vacuumed out, so I was feeling triumphant.
Then I met Carsten again. And he was awesome. It was lovely to see my husband holding our second baby boy. And it was so neat to see Carsten all cleaned up. He wasn't a crier at all. And his curls. His curls were amazing. Like Carrot Top's, only not red, and he didn't have an ugly face like Mr. Top. I was starving, and I didn't want an effing dry turkey sammich. So my NIGHT NURSE brought Hubs and I in some pizza that was in the staff break room. And cookies. She was awesome. She complimented me with the best compliment ever. She said I was the funniest patient in all her years of nursing. SHAZAM. That only encouraged me to keep joking around.
Who knows what time it was when we went to bed, or when we slept, because the rest of the time in the hospital is a blur. I remember feeling proud for pooping on my own, and I remember a LOT of breast feeding and NO sleep. I remember hating the hospital bed, but loving the food. I fondly remember my mom bringing Taylor to visit, and seeing my boys look at one another for the first time, and it really hitting home that I am the lucky mom of two amazing boys that bless my life every day.
I guess to end this post I'll tell you the two biggest things I've learned from this. 1., being a mom to 2 boys is amazing. I couldn't be happier or feel more complete. 2., I'm scared to google image search "VAGINA BRUISE", but I kind of want to. Dare me?