Welcome to Mommy Mondays, my designated day of the week to dissect all things pertaining to parenthood. As of early October, I'm now a mom of two. Which makes me an expert.
For the last trimester, baby boy had been measuring big. Really big. I was terrified I was going to have a ten pounder on my hands and my body does not seem equipped for that kind of pressure. So in my 39th week, we decided to induce.
Having now experienced a surprise delivery and an induction, I can't really say which I prefer. There are pros and cons to each. I was definitely more prepared with the induction, which has done a lot for my mental state. The house was organized, my nails were done. But the induction hurt more, I think. (Not the recovery, mind you. Just the delivery).
We checked in to the hospital on Tuesday night at midnight. I got that needle stuck in my back right away and the small loveseat in the room changed into a cot-like bed for The Gorilla. Poor thing was suffering through a nasty cold, which was bad timing all around, especially since he so rarely gets sick.
As far as spaces in which to labor, our room had the most beautiful view of the Hollywood Hills. I don't know why, but there was something very comforting about watching people walk and drive through LA from the hospital window. It makes you feel less isolated, a bonus since I find childbirth to be very lonely, no matter how many people are in the room.
(If you happen to watch the Rachel Zoe project on Bravo, I noticed that we shared the same delivery room. Oh, Hollywood.)
I labored through the night with little to nothing noteworthy. At 8am, the doctor arrived and broke my water. We thought things would move fairly quickly after that.
They did not.
One side of my epidural worked better than the other side, so for hours I kept trying to even that out, to no avail. My parents - who had flown in from Oklahoma the day before - arrived in the afternoon, unfortunately around the same time that my pain level cranked up about ten notches. From 3pm to 5pm are hours that I'll gladly block from my mind soon. Lots of pain and groaning and eventually tears. To this day I don't understand why my epidurals (for either birth) didn't numb correctly. Or why, for both births, when it was time to push a doctor arrived to give me a extra "push" dose and all of the sudden all was right with the world. It's very strange and none of my other friends have had this experience.
But around 6pm, it only took a few pushes for Pirate to make his grand entrance. I was in love, relieved, and exhausted. In that order. That part of the birth experience appears to be universal.
We had the most wonderful delivery nurse. If this were a place for toasts, I would raise a glass high for A., who made me feel special and cared for and not stupid for all twelve hours of her shift.
After that everything was pretty ho hum. Not for me, I was enamoured with my new baby, but for story telling purposes there's not much more to see here. I spent the next couple of days in a plastic hospital bed, with a window that looked out into a courtyard, watching terrible E! tv. I almost never watch E! normally, but my brain was so tired and I just wanted something mindless. The Kardashian wedding fit that bill, as did a new show about the real lives of soap stars.
Friday morning we were released into the LA wilderness with our son. It was a sunny October day, just short of exactly two years from the day we brought our daughter home. This time we arrived home in a different car, to a different house, to a beaming big sister.
The very best kind of time marching on.