Liam is here! Birth story!

And boy was I wrong in my original weight estimate ;)

My little man was born on Monday, Oct 12th at 2:09pm weighing in at 8lbs8oz. I have no idea how we produced such a large child, but we are madly in love with our creation.

I did end up with the c-section as scheduled. Ironically, when I was hooked up to the fetal monitors on the morning of the surgery, I was having regular contractions at 3 minutes apart! I started to second guess things, and my OB even said, if I had wanted, she would have broken my water and I could try and labor. However, he had still not dropped, and she didn't have any more confidence that I wouldn't end up with an emergency (or near emergency c/s) anyway.

My surgery was scheduled for noon and they were running behind. Two separate nurses tried for my IV FOUR times. They blew 2 of my veins right beside each other, which was not pleasant to say the very least, a third in my right hand, and then another in the same arm. I had had enough. I broke down in tears. I was doing so well up until that point, I had very little anxiety - my main concern was my ravenous hunger. They called in a nurse anesthetist who easily got it on the first try, no pain at all, and it was done. I was really frustrated by that point because no one has ever had trouble with my veins, and here I was feeling like a pin cushion. Next, my doctor comes in again and says there is still a hold up, but hopefully within the hour we'll be ready to go. She also then explains that the anesthesiologist that day is going to be doing my meds differently than she thought. Instead of a spinal and then Duramorph (a long lasting morphine shot), I was going to get an epidural which would be left in for about 24 hours. All the docs seemed to think the first option was the latest and greatest, but of course the anesthesiologist on my surgery was old school (he was in his 70's). I was also warned that his bedside manner was bad and that he doesn't talk much. Excellent. For whatever reason, I actually didn't get upset by this, or the big change in the meds.

Around 1:15, we all made the walk to the OR. When I arrived, I actually thought this was some kind of prep room for the epi and that I would be transferred. I swear the OR was the size of my walk-in closet and no bigger. It was like something out of the 1950's... I got seated on the table, while DH was waiting outside. I was to curve my back. It was at this time, the anesthesiologist with his awesome bedside manner, walked in, mumbled his name to me, said that there's a chance this wouldn't work and I'd need to be put under, and that it could also take several tries. Good afternoon to you too, buddy. Then, the nice nurse anesthetist from earlier said that my heart rate was at 150 (no kidding). Then I got the numbing shot which didn't hurt at all, and old-school dude rooted around in my spine. I have no idea how many tries it took (it could have only been 1, but it also could have been 10) but it definitely took a few minutes longer than I thought. Then there was some sort of electrical shock up my side which jolted me and he reprimanded me to sit still. That ticked me off because there was no warning, and it was literally like an electrical shock throughout my entire left side.

I laid down on the table, and they prepped me for surgery, continually asking me if I was starting to feel numb (not particularly). Eventually, the drape went up, and B was brought in. Then they tested me with the calipers and asked if I could feel it. I said yes and that it was sharp. I started to get concerned, but then a few minutes later I realized they were cutting me and I definitely could not feel pain. I could feel all the tugging and then pushing and pulling, which I have to admit was pretty cool. As weird as it sounds, I was glad to have the epi and not the spinal because it was kind of nice feeling my baby being taken out of me, as opposed to having no feeling of it whatsoever. The surgery seemed to go by very quickly, but DH said it was actually a lot longer than I thought it was. Either way, I felt totally comfortable throughout the surgery and I had no side effects during the part where they take the baby out. I didn't have any shakes or nausea. I was told I'd feel a lot of pressure when they were going to take him out, but it wasn't bad at all. When my OB went to take him out, his head came out and he cried immediately, and she said, gently, in her sweet British accent "Not yet..." It was cute. Then he was all the way out and was screaming so they didn't get to suction him until after he had swallowed a bunch of amniotic fluid.

They brought him around the curtain for B and I to see and it was the most amazing, yet strangest experience I've ever felt. This baby belonged to me, but yet I didn't recognize him; however, I loved him immediately and intensely. This was when things started to get a little rough. All of a sudden, I started to have chest pains, and I actually thought I might be having a heart attack. It was difficult to breathe, and the pain was so intense. It was taking away from my experience of watching my new baby, and I was frustrated. I was told they were giving me meds but they didn't work, so they ended up giving me Versed (sp.?) which has amnesiac properties. It made me immediately drowsy. I was so scared that I was gripping B's hand, to the point where he was staying with me at first instead of going with Liam to the nursery. I didn't intend for that to happen, but I was so out of it, I didn't even realize he was still there. At some point, I was completely out, and he did go to the nursery. I woke up in the recovery room, which was the same room I had started in. I don't remember how much time lapsed but it seemed nearly immediate that B and my baby boy came in together.

Then, the process of what I'd like to call Uterus Crushing ensued. Every 15 minutes for a couple of hours, a nurse came in and pressed so hard on my stomach, I thought I was going to pass out. They all said it was for my best interest, and I believed it, but it was really torturous. It did work though, because by the end of the night, my uterus was under my belly button, and most of the big clots had already been passed.

I was transferred to the post-partum unit when my pain was under control (which was probably an 8 or so for a while). The first night was really rough, I'm not going to sugar coat it. I was confined to my bed due to the epi, the catheter and the IV. I couldn't eat food, and was on a liquid diet which didn't curb my ravenous hunger. The pain meds maybe took the edge off, but I was so confused as to why I had this epidural which didn't seem to take my pain away, but made my right leg completely numb, which was annoying. They also put leg compressors on me, which compressed my legs every 45 seconds or so (like a blood pressure cuff) and I wasn't a fan of those either.

I slept for maybe 30 minutes the entire night. I fed Liam the best I could - I had a lot of colostrum but I couldn't get him to latch well (which ended up being my fault, as I was doing it wrong). I was so hot... I could have sworn my room was 90* but B was wearing a fleece and practically shivering. The next day, I was sleep deprived but excited to be able to get out of bed and start the recovery. About noon the next day, my epi was removed, the catheter was taken out, and I was able to get out of bed. It was like learning to walk again. The first few steps were torturous and I felt like my stomach was splitting in two. I never thought I'd feel better. I was told I could get my IV out after I peed twice, so I drank about 8 glasses of water and peed. I was at least glad to not be attached to anything anymore. As the day wore on, and we had way too many visitors, I was feeling crappy. I also got behind on the pain meds. I went to bed and hoped for the best. I got a little more sleep than the previous night and felt a little better when I woke up. We had fewer guests and I really focused on learning to breast feed, having several visits with the lactation consultant, who was very helpful. By the evening time, my milk had come in (just over 48hrs which I thought was really fast).

The next day, which is when I was scheduled to go home, I was feeling pretty good, but I was emotionally not ready to go home. Before going into the hospital (having never spent the night in the hospital before) I was planning for the minimum stay. I would have never predicted that I'd actually ask for the full time my insurance allowed. I'm grateful that I did. I was so well taken care of at the hospital, my room was amazing (it was twice the size of the OR I was in!), the food was good, and it was all I could ask for after the birth of my baby.

I came home 3 days ago, back to reality and virtually pain free for the most part. I weaned off the Percoset 2 days ago, and I'm so glad I did. The constipation was ten times worse than the incision pain. They kept offering me a prescription or Colace in the hospital and I really should have taken them up on their offer about 3 days after Liam was born.

Liam is now a week old, and I'm easily able to move about through the house. I am so much more mobile than I anticipated, just a week out. One of my favorite parts of coming home was getting on the scale, and seeing that I've lost about 20 of my 30 pregnancy pounds.

I couldn't be more enamored with my new baby and this week was worth it a million times over. I may be a candidate for VBAC next time around (though very unlikely) but I would do this over again (not for a while though!) in a second.

There's my story and I'm sticking to it!

Here are some photos!

By day 2, Liam was handling his own pacifier. This boy is STRONG. The 2nd pic is of his first bath.

1 week post partum:













Liam is 1 week old