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Garrett's birthday last weekend made me a little melancholy, so I will start with him. Because I have, well, zero personal boundaries, this might be kind of graphic for some of my readers, so at the advice of my friend Tina:
READ AT YOUR OWN RISK :)
On February 10th I went to see the midwife, and I swore I had been having contractions the night before. She checked me and said there was definitely going ons, the baby was facing the right way, which was great because until the week prior he had been breech, but no real concern that the baby would come in the next few hours, so go home, relax, and jokingly she told me to clean the living room because she thought she would be by to deliver a baby within the next day. I made an appointment to come back to see her on Valentine's day if there wasn't a baby yet, but I was certain that wouldn't be necessary. I was so disappointed when Valentine's day rolled around and I was still pregnant.
My mom came with me to the appointment so I didn't have to take all the kids in with me. I have had my share of vaginal exams with little people standing at my feet, and I was most certainly not in the mood today. The midwife checked me again. She was really quiet. I was a little concerned, because she is a pretty chatty lady, so of course I asked what was going on. She said that the baby had moved up, further away from my cervix, and where I had been dilated a few days earlier, I was now not. No baby for me today. Maybe not til next week.
Are you kidding me? How to you un-dilate? You can't be less ready to have baby than you were five days before. What kind of evil joke is it for the baby to 'back up"?
I was upset, crying actually, because Levi was almost 2 weeks late and I was miserable everyday after my due date. I made another appointment for the following Monday, convinced I was doomed to be pregnant forever, and went out to my mom. I had hoped to go to the mall to walk or something, but the appointment had taken so long she had to go to work, and I had to go home with the kids. I was in a pretty pathetic mood for the remainder of the day.
Then, as many of you know, that was the day the shootings happened at NIU. I live just up the road from the University, so there was a barrage of ambulances, fire trucks, and police cars zooming past my house for several hours. As the news coverage continued, it took my mind off of my own situation, and I figured I should probably make dinner.
I headed to the kitchen and put Italian sausage in the pan. I remember distinctly what I was making because while I was upstairs having a baby, my dad, brother, and husband ATE MY DINNER!! While making dinner I had an uncontrollable urge to take a shower. I told Brandon her had to finish making dinner so I could take a shower. Although I am certain he thought I was nuts, he did what I said, after all I was 9 months pregnant... was he really going to argue with me?
As soon as I got in the shower, the contractions started coming so hard and fast I couldn't breathe. I got on my hands and knees and tried to yell for someone, anyone, but no noise would come out. I have no idea how long I was actually in the shower. It felt like forever, but was really in the time frame of 5-7 minutes. I heard Charlotte coming up the stairs and Brandon telling her to stay downstairs, Mommy needed to be alone. Luckily, Charlotte doesn't listen when we tell her to not do stuff, so she came in the bathroom by me anyway. I sent her downstairs to get Brandon. When he came upstairs and I told him to call the midwife, he started to ask me questions like "are you sure you are really in labor this time?" "are you timing contractions?"
Logically, and a year after the event, those were probably valid questions, at the time I don't think I reacted quite like he expected. I am pretty sure I informed him in my most calm manner (ha!) I had not taken a watch in to the shower and I have had three other children of course I am in labor. He ran to get the phone, called the midwife, then called my mom.
My mom came over to check on me, and Brandon was running around downstairs trying to feed the three other kids, fill the birthing pool, and talk to the midwife on the phone because she was trying to get to me in a snow storm and during rush hour. My mom was trying to coax me out of the shower so we could go downstairs near the birthing pool. I was adamantly refusing. Finally she just turned the water off in the shower. I told her what I thought about that just about as calmly as I had told Brandon to call the midwife. I angrily got out of the tub, took two steps to the bed, and then headed toward the toilet. I thought I just had to go to the bathroom, but really there was a baby crowning instead.
All I remember of the next few minutes was my mom telling me not to push (I swear I wasn't) and this deer in the headlights expression on her face. Never did she voice her concern, but I think she was afraid I might drop the baby in the toilet. Before I knew it, the baby had come completely out. I unwrapped the cord from his neck, instinctively got all the goop out of his mouth with my fingers, and my mom was calling for Brandon. The midwife who was on the phone with Brandon thought we were kidding.
From the time I got into the shower to the time I had a baby in my hands was less than 30 minutes. It was crazy. We had to wait for the midwife to show up! She checked the baby over, helped me with the after birth, and before she could even fill out the birth record, got a call to go to another birth!! A short while later I realized I was starving. I really wanted and Italian Sausage sandwich... but they had all been eaten!!
Brandon made me something else to eat, and the kids came up to meet the new baby. They wanted to know if NOW we were going to get in the pool in the living room? They had seen Levi being born, so they knew what the tub was for, but this time, they missed the whole thing and they were utterly confused!!
The next week wasn't quite as eventful, although Garrett didn't have a name until he was more than three days old. We simply were convinced that he was going to be a "she" and never came up with a boys name! The kids thought Peter Pan would be appropriate (Mommy did not) The jokes about naming him John weren't very funny immediately post-pardum, but I do have to chuckle about them now. He turned a year old last Saturday and is doing fine. Nearly being born in the toilet seems to have had no negative effects, yet.
I hope that this satisfies some of the enquiring minds :) I am sure I left out all sorts of information that I will think of at two o'clock tomorrow morning. But, you will just have to wait until chapter two, I suppose. I will most likely work my way backwards to Mason, although I may have blocked out most of that one!! Off to make dinner!
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