A few weeks ago, I started taking Owen to Parent-Tot swimming lessons at a local swim school. Owen just loooooves the pool, and this past week we moved our lesson to Saturday so that Noah could take him in the water.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
August 7th, 2010
Once upon a time...
Friday night was pretty normal. We went to dinner with Brian and
Olivia, and their newborn daughter, Sunday. As we left, Malia
lamented that she was pretty sure she was going to go beyond her
September 16th due date. She'd only really developed the "pregnancy
waddle" a few days earlier and while she had been feeling the fatigue
for months, she'd still had the energy to go to the pool to swim laps
a few hours earlier.
We got home at around 10:00pm and we took our time getting ready for
bed, reading in the book THE BIRTH PARTNER about labor signs and how
to tell the difference between active labor and the random
contractions that were supposed to precede the event for a few weeks.
We joked about the book because of all the books wed read, this one
had the information we actually wanted to find, and even though it was
one of the first books we got (as recommended by Amani) wed only just
now really looked at its contents.
By midnight, I was drifting off and Malia noticed a contraction. She
was surprised, and we both were excited to have something we'd just
read about become so real - maybe our baby would arrive on-time after
all.
At 3am, Malia had a contraction that felt different. It hurt. I
woke up a little, but once it subsided, we both tried to go back to
sleep.
At about 3:20, she had another. At 3:40, another - and now we were
wide awake. We'd literally just been reading about how to time her
contractions, so I started jotting down the time and duration,
thinking that this would be good practice for the real thing. Our
doula, Carmen, had suggested that a warm bath would often halt "false
labor" and told us to try that before calling her once contractions
begun. Baths are a hassle, so while Malia took a shower to see if
that would make the contractions subside, I started taking our bags
out to the car as part of the fire-drill.
By 4:00am, she'd had two more...they'd gotten closer together. We
called our doctor, and they said to keep track of the progress, but
that it would likely taper off. By 5:00am, they were coming every
8-12 minutes. Carmen had instructed us to call her when Malia had
felt "10 contractions, 10 minutes apart", so we figured that range was
close enough. She picked right up and started asking Malia questions
about where the pain was and how different movements felt. After a
few minutes of talking Malia through a full contraction, Carmen told
us it was time to head to the hospital - but first she wanted us to
get some breakfast into Malia if possible, because if the hospital
admitted her, she wouldn't be allowed to eat. Thank goodness for
Carmen.
I was feeling pretty smart for packing the car.
Two eggs and some cottage cheese later, and already a full day
sleep-deprived, we put out extra Friskies for the cats, took a deep
breath and walked gingerly away from life as we knew it.
The walk to the car was hard. We stopped twice so that Malia could
focus on breathing through contractions, holding the front fence for
support. Once on the road - it became pretty clear that if we were
moving at all - the contraction pain became unbearable. We made it
to the freeway fast. As soon as we got off the freeway, we got to a
stop light that turned green, right as another wave hit Malia. We sat
at the light, motionless. Thank goodness for early-morning labor and
empty pre-dawn streets. Several blocks later, it happened again, this
time, a van was behind us. I flicked on my hazards right as the
redlight clicked to green, and I steeled myself for an angry tirade or
some honks from the van. They never came. After the light cycled
back to red, the van pulled out from behind us and next to us....the
driver didn't even look our direction. We made it to the hospital
without further complications. We pulled into the parking lot and
thankfully found a spot right near the entrance.
I grabbed the bag we'd packed per Carmen's instructions, but left
everything else in the car. Cell phone included. The drive had been
so stressful we hadn't called anyone to let them know what was going
on.
When we got to the maternity ward, the lobby was deserted. I left
Malia at the elevator reluctantly, but with the intensity of her
contractions, I didn't want to lose any time in finding someone to
help us get her admitted. I quickly figured out that we'd come up via
the visitor's elevator, so I made my way around the corner to the
admissions desk. There, I discovered that there was a door conecting
the admissions desk and the elevator bay, so she didn't need to walk
all the way through the lobby.
We were admitted to a preliminary holding room quickly, but were
warned that the nurses were just about to change shifts - so we'd have
a short wait. The nurse attached some monitors to Malia and left the
room.
Hours passed.
Minutes really, but it felt like an eternity. Finally, Carmen popped
her head in, and she immediately began guiding us through ways of
keeping Malia comfortable. Ice for a dry mouth, small fans to cool
her brow. Carmen had it all. She grabbed one of Malia's knees and
had me grab the other. When the next contraction came, she showed me
where to push on Malia's back to help with the pressure. I was
stunned by how hard Carmen had me pushing - but it clearly provided
Malia with much needed relief. So we pushed against her and waited
for the nurses to come back. While we waited, Malia decided that an
epidural was absolutely going to be in her future and Carmen coached
us on how to describe her pain level to the nursing staff, because
when they admitted her, wed need to change rooms - and they would try
to make her walk. Sure enough, once the shift change was complete,
Malia's progress was checked and they decided to admit her for labor
and delivery...and asked us to walk to the new room. Malia said that
she was going to need an epidural and could absolutely not walk. The
nurses wheeled her into the labor room and while they got her hooked
up, they ordered the anesthesiologist to come perform the epidural
since she was already dilated 4cm. It was 9am.
By the time the anesthesiolgist arrived, Malia was at 6cm and thus
cleared for epidural. They told me i was not allowed to watch,
because apparently, it's kind of a terrible thing to witness. Malia
sat up and the doctor went to work. Almost immediately, Malia felt
relief. The nurse began a pitocin drip and we were told we'd probably
have about 10 hours to wait. Carmen settled into her corner and told
me that now was a time when I could get some food or some sleep, if I
wanted. I ran back down to the car and got our other bags and my cell
phone. First, I called Paul to let him know what was going on. Then
I called Mom and Dad, who were staying in a hotel in Korea Town. I
called Dan and Nathan next. Important calls made, I went back into
the room. Malia had a table over her bed, and a sheet over the table,
obscuring her lower half. Carmen said, "You missed some of the
action....Malia tell him the good news!"
For three heartbeats, I thought I'd missed the whole thing. But I had
only missed the doctor coming in to check Malia's progress. She was
dilating very quickly and was already at 6cm. Dr. Banooni had been
called in. When we had a moment, Carmen told Malia that she felt
that the pitocin may be too high. She also told Malia how to request
an internal monitor, since the external sensors weren't picking up her
contractions very well, and Carmen felt that the hospital staff might
not see how intense her contractions were and accidentally mis-read
her progress. With the internal moniters in place, it was VERY clear
that the contractions were comeing hard and fast, and the nurse
reduced the pitocin drip.
Dr. Banooni arrived and said that Malia was now at 9cm and looking
great. He figured she'd be ready to begin pushing by early afternoon.
Satisfied that she was in good hands, he took his leave, saying he'd
be back in an hour. It was 11am.
Fifteen minutes later Carmen checked on Malia's progress and realized
that things were ahead of schedule. She called in a nurse who agreed
that Malia was almost ready, and put out the call to find Dr. Banooni
(he'd left the hospital to go get his pants altered). While we
waited, Carmen had me wash my hands and very carefully feel the top of
our baby's head, which was already starting to crown. Dr. Banooni
made it back and we were ready to go.
The delivery bed converted into a kind of chair that would allow
gravity to assist in the delivery. Malia was told to wait until the
next contraction had finished and then to push. And push she did.
With Carmen on one side and me on the other, we both put our full
weight into Malias knees, doing our best to give her something to push
against. After four intense pushes, I saw Dr. Banooni pull our baby
free and for the first time, saw our son. He was tiny, and angry and
in that first moment, looked almost exactly like Gramps. Dr. Banooni
congratulated us on the succesful delivery of our son and then handed
me a pair of scissors. Carmen had shown me just how to do the next
part, so I calmly snipped the umbilical cord between the two clamps
and watched as they handed him up to Malia. In that moment, I was
completely overwhelmed. I had the good sense to control my breathing
so that I wouldn't pass out. It was 12:45, and we were parents.
Holy shit.
Friday night was pretty normal. We went to dinner with Brian and
Olivia, and their newborn daughter, Sunday. As we left, Malia
lamented that she was pretty sure she was going to go beyond her
September 16th due date. She'd only really developed the "pregnancy
waddle" a few days earlier and while she had been feeling the fatigue
for months, she'd still had the energy to go to the pool to swim laps
a few hours earlier.
We got home at around 10:00pm and we took our time getting ready for
bed, reading in the book THE BIRTH PARTNER about labor signs and how
to tell the difference between active labor and the random
contractions that were supposed to precede the event for a few weeks.
We joked about the book because of all the books wed read, this one
had the information we actually wanted to find, and even though it was
one of the first books we got (as recommended by Amani) wed only just
now really looked at its contents.
By midnight, I was drifting off and Malia noticed a contraction. She
was surprised, and we both were excited to have something we'd just
read about become so real - maybe our baby would arrive on-time after
all.
At 3am, Malia had a contraction that felt different. It hurt. I
woke up a little, but once it subsided, we both tried to go back to
sleep.
At about 3:20, she had another. At 3:40, another - and now we were
wide awake. We'd literally just been reading about how to time her
contractions, so I started jotting down the time and duration,
thinking that this would be good practice for the real thing. Our
doula, Carmen, had suggested that a warm bath would often halt "false
labor" and told us to try that before calling her once contractions
begun. Baths are a hassle, so while Malia took a shower to see if
that would make the contractions subside, I started taking our bags
out to the car as part of the fire-drill.
By 4:00am, she'd had two more...they'd gotten closer together. We
called our doctor, and they said to keep track of the progress, but
that it would likely taper off. By 5:00am, they were coming every
8-12 minutes. Carmen had instructed us to call her when Malia had
felt "10 contractions, 10 minutes apart", so we figured that range was
close enough. She picked right up and started asking Malia questions
about where the pain was and how different movements felt. After a
few minutes of talking Malia through a full contraction, Carmen told
us it was time to head to the hospital - but first she wanted us to
get some breakfast into Malia if possible, because if the hospital
admitted her, she wouldn't be allowed to eat. Thank goodness for
Carmen.
I was feeling pretty smart for packing the car.
Two eggs and some cottage cheese later, and already a full day
sleep-deprived, we put out extra Friskies for the cats, took a deep
breath and walked gingerly away from life as we knew it.
The walk to the car was hard. We stopped twice so that Malia could
focus on breathing through contractions, holding the front fence for
support. Once on the road - it became pretty clear that if we were
moving at all - the contraction pain became unbearable. We made it
to the freeway fast. As soon as we got off the freeway, we got to a
stop light that turned green, right as another wave hit Malia. We sat
at the light, motionless. Thank goodness for early-morning labor and
empty pre-dawn streets. Several blocks later, it happened again, this
time, a van was behind us. I flicked on my hazards right as the
redlight clicked to green, and I steeled myself for an angry tirade or
some honks from the van. They never came. After the light cycled
back to red, the van pulled out from behind us and next to us....the
driver didn't even look our direction. We made it to the hospital
without further complications. We pulled into the parking lot and
thankfully found a spot right near the entrance.
I grabbed the bag we'd packed per Carmen's instructions, but left
everything else in the car. Cell phone included. The drive had been
so stressful we hadn't called anyone to let them know what was going
on.
When we got to the maternity ward, the lobby was deserted. I left
Malia at the elevator reluctantly, but with the intensity of her
contractions, I didn't want to lose any time in finding someone to
help us get her admitted. I quickly figured out that we'd come up via
the visitor's elevator, so I made my way around the corner to the
admissions desk. There, I discovered that there was a door conecting
the admissions desk and the elevator bay, so she didn't need to walk
all the way through the lobby.
We were admitted to a preliminary holding room quickly, but were
warned that the nurses were just about to change shifts - so we'd have
a short wait. The nurse attached some monitors to Malia and left the
room.
Hours passed.
Minutes really, but it felt like an eternity. Finally, Carmen popped
her head in, and she immediately began guiding us through ways of
keeping Malia comfortable. Ice for a dry mouth, small fans to cool
her brow. Carmen had it all. She grabbed one of Malia's knees and
had me grab the other. When the next contraction came, she showed me
where to push on Malia's back to help with the pressure. I was
stunned by how hard Carmen had me pushing - but it clearly provided
Malia with much needed relief. So we pushed against her and waited
for the nurses to come back. While we waited, Malia decided that an
epidural was absolutely going to be in her future and Carmen coached
us on how to describe her pain level to the nursing staff, because
when they admitted her, wed need to change rooms - and they would try
to make her walk. Sure enough, once the shift change was complete,
Malia's progress was checked and they decided to admit her for labor
and delivery...and asked us to walk to the new room. Malia said that
she was going to need an epidural and could absolutely not walk. The
nurses wheeled her into the labor room and while they got her hooked
up, they ordered the anesthesiologist to come perform the epidural
since she was already dilated 4cm. It was 9am.
By the time the anesthesiolgist arrived, Malia was at 6cm and thus
cleared for epidural. They told me i was not allowed to watch,
because apparently, it's kind of a terrible thing to witness. Malia
sat up and the doctor went to work. Almost immediately, Malia felt
relief. The nurse began a pitocin drip and we were told we'd probably
have about 10 hours to wait. Carmen settled into her corner and told
me that now was a time when I could get some food or some sleep, if I
wanted. I ran back down to the car and got our other bags and my cell
phone. First, I called Paul to let him know what was going on. Then
I called Mom and Dad, who were staying in a hotel in Korea Town. I
called Dan and Nathan next. Important calls made, I went back into
the room. Malia had a table over her bed, and a sheet over the table,
obscuring her lower half. Carmen said, "You missed some of the
action....Malia tell him the good news!"
For three heartbeats, I thought I'd missed the whole thing. But I had
only missed the doctor coming in to check Malia's progress. She was
dilating very quickly and was already at 6cm. Dr. Banooni had been
called in. When we had a moment, Carmen told Malia that she felt
that the pitocin may be too high. She also told Malia how to request
an internal monitor, since the external sensors weren't picking up her
contractions very well, and Carmen felt that the hospital staff might
not see how intense her contractions were and accidentally mis-read
her progress. With the internal moniters in place, it was VERY clear
that the contractions were comeing hard and fast, and the nurse
reduced the pitocin drip.
Dr. Banooni arrived and said that Malia was now at 9cm and looking
great. He figured she'd be ready to begin pushing by early afternoon.
Satisfied that she was in good hands, he took his leave, saying he'd
be back in an hour. It was 11am.
Fifteen minutes later Carmen checked on Malia's progress and realized
that things were ahead of schedule. She called in a nurse who agreed
that Malia was almost ready, and put out the call to find Dr. Banooni
(he'd left the hospital to go get his pants altered). While we
waited, Carmen had me wash my hands and very carefully feel the top of
our baby's head, which was already starting to crown. Dr. Banooni
made it back and we were ready to go.
The delivery bed converted into a kind of chair that would allow
gravity to assist in the delivery. Malia was told to wait until the
next contraction had finished and then to push. And push she did.
With Carmen on one side and me on the other, we both put our full
weight into Malias knees, doing our best to give her something to push
against. After four intense pushes, I saw Dr. Banooni pull our baby
free and for the first time, saw our son. He was tiny, and angry and
in that first moment, looked almost exactly like Gramps. Dr. Banooni
congratulated us on the succesful delivery of our son and then handed
me a pair of scissors. Carmen had shown me just how to do the next
part, so I calmly snipped the umbilical cord between the two clamps
and watched as they handed him up to Malia. In that moment, I was
completely overwhelmed. I had the good sense to control my breathing
so that I wouldn't pass out. It was 12:45, and we were parents.
Holy shit.
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