Growing up, there is the constant alluding to the children you may
have in your future. Everything from your own comments of, "My children will
never do that..." to your parents threats of, "I hope you have
children exactly like you." We all know it's a part of the circle of life;
we are pre-programmed to continuously be thinking about our futures, and for
most of us, children are in that big picture. Yet we usually follow up those
ideas with the vague tag of someday. SOMEDAY when I have children... SOMEDAY
when I have my own family...
At 6:09 pm on Friday, May 31, 2013, that hypothetical SOMEDAY
became a TODAY. A today, tomorrow, forever.
Thus we begin the story of the birth of my firstborn.
I don’t know how it happened, but Finn’s estimated due date was,
by pure luck, the day after school let out for summer. I won’t lie… throughout the
last few weeks of school there were several occasions where I basically begged
Finn to make his appearance a little early. While I wasn't miserable, per se,
the fact that my feet were thrice their normal size and the carpal tunnel I
developed in my right hand did not make my days as a teacher the most pleasant.
Ultimately, however, Finn did not make an early debut. A peek into his stubborn side? Perhaps. Earlier in May, Dr.
Murray and I had scheduled a backup plan - also known as an induction date - for
May 31. “Just in case,” she had said. It’s funny... I spent the entire pregnancy
listening to people tell me that there was no way I was going to carry all the
way until my due date, and I honestly believed them. So when May 29 came and
went with no sign of little Finn, I was disappointed. I tried most of the old wives' tales for inducing labor, from going on long walks to eating fresh pineapple. I even went with Carrie to Charlottesville to eat the fabled lemon drop cupcakes at Cappellino's Crazy Cakes that are said to jump start your labor. Nothing.
In the wee hours of May 31, I started having contractions. Seriously.
The date of my induction and I started labor on my own. Typical. The
contractions started around 3:30 am and at that point were hitting consistently
every 15 minutes. While they weren't terrible at that point, they were
certainly noticeable. I took a shower around 4:00 am and tried to distract
myself, knowing that I couldn't go in to the hospital unless a.) they were
happening every 3-5 minutes, or b.) it was 8:30 am, time for our scheduled
induction. Well, the contractions never increased in frequency so we went in at
our scheduled time.
Once we were at the hospital, I met my nurse, Karin, and told her that I had been having
contractions. I changed into my amazingly attractive hospital gown, had my IV
started, and basically waited with Sarah and Nathan until 9:00 when my doctor
came in to break my water. At that point, I was 5 centimeters dilated and 80%
effaced. Within five minutes of having my water broken, my contractions started
coming every 3-5 minutes. I was officially in transitional labor, the worst
phase of it all and feeling everything. Let me just say, to every woman who
willingly (or unwillingly) goes the all-natural route… I tip my hat to you. In
fact, you can have my hat. NO. WAY. Would I ever be able to do that for an
extended period of time. I went in knowing that I wanted an epidural, but I
wasn’t able to have one until I had a liter of IV fluids pumped in my body. At
one point, I looked at Nathan and told him, “Nope. I can’t do this,” and tried
to get out of the bed. And at another time, Sarah and Nay were trying to “coach”
me through a contraction and I said, “Just stop talking.” Haha, I love telling
that part now, but seriously, in that moment it was all I could do to make it
to the other side.
The anesthesiologist finally came in and gave me my epidural which
I found to be quite an easy process, besides having to curl my back through
contractions. Once that was done, I was a happy camper. The only way I knew I
was having a contraction was if I looked at the machine that showed them
happening. At 11:00 am, I was checked again and told that I was 10 centimeters
dilated, and 100% effaced. Nurse Karin said, “I think we’re going to have a
lunchtime baby!” We started alerting the troops that baby Harris was well
on his way!
Well. Turns out Baby Harris had his own plans for coming into this
world. While I was fully ready, he was not. His head was turned to the wrong
side so I spent a couple of hours in different positions trying to get him to
change the way he was facing. We also tried something, entirely awkward, called a passive descent, because
as it turns out, he wasn’t dropping like he should have been. Nevertheless, I pushed for 2 hours trying
to get him to make a descent. Finally, around 5:00 (way past that lunchtime arrival) my doctor presented us with two
options. We could either continue to try different positions to get him to
drop, but that meant additional HOURS of pushing, or we could opt for a C-section.
At that point I was exhausted, running a
fever, and just plain done. Nathan and I decided a C-section was probably in
our best interest. We were ready to meet our son.
The next hour was spent prepping me for the section. They changed
out my epidural medicine for something much stronger that gave me the shakes,
put an anti-nausea patch behind my ear, shot me full of antibiotics and another
anti-nausea medicine and wheeled me out to the OR.
I remember everything from that OR room. I remember how they rolled
me to the table and put up the blue curtain. I remember Nathan being able to rejoin
me once they prepped me further for the surgery and him being in his sterile covering that I told him reminded me of his beekeeper Halloween costume. I remember asking them to move
the surgical light because it was reflective and I could see my abdomen. My
doctor asked my guess on the weight, and I randomly said my bet was 8 lbs, 2
oz. She said her guess was 8 pounds flat. Dr. Murray did an incredible job
chatting with me and helping make me more comfortable. My arms were splayed out on
either side of me, and I was shaking so badly from the medicine that the nurse
had to hold my right arm down the entire time because my blood pressure wouldn’t
take. It was quite an interesting experience.
While I remember everything, it all went by so quickly. Dr. Murray
told me that I was going to feel a lot of pressure, and then before I knew it
he was out. And then I heard, “That is a big baby! He is way larger than 8
pounds…” The nurse at the table said, “6:09 pm. Nine pounds three ounces!” I
looked at Nathan and said, “Did she just say nine pound three ounces?!” No
wonder he hadn't dropped. Then, I heard Finn cry. And I cried because it was
beautiful. I spent nine months worrying that everything that could possibly go wrong would, and to hear his little cry just overwhelmed me in the most tremendous way. They handed him over to Nathan and I immediately threw up in a
bucket. Haha! So much for all that anti-nausea medicine.
Once they finished stitching everything back up, Nathan laid Finn
across my chest and I held him until we made it back to the birthing room. I
was still shaking severely, and I was utterly terrified I was going to drop him
so I handed him to Sarah, who had been waiting in there the whole time. And of course,
she cried too. Our families were finally able to come back and see him, and
that’s when my memories get really foggy. Everyone came in to see and love on
Finn and I think at that point I was just straight exhausted. And full of Duramorph.
Over the next few days we had so many visitors and people that
wanted to come see our little boy. I genuinely loved seeing everyone fall in
love with this little creature that I had a part in making, and carrying for
nine months. All my worries throughout my pregnancy seemed so trivial when he
was in my arms. We finally made it home as a family of three on June 4, where
we continue to learn and grow into this new “normal” that is parenthood.
