Due date was March 5th. February crawled by and I never felt that I-need-to-get-this-baby-out-of-me feeling. I desperately wanted to meet him/her, but I never hit that extremely uncomfortable stage. Because of that I was pretty convinced that this baby was going to be late. Really late. I was prepared to wait. Almost too prepared as I had nothing ready until a few days before delivery. Still (7wks postpartum) she doesn't have a nursery. And her clothes remain scattered all over the desk in our loft area. But it works (for now!).
Also, as excited as I was to meet this new miracle, I was also sort of dreading it. New babies equal stress (to me at least). I was enjoying my full nights sleep and was pretty nervous to bring home a new baby to our already chaotic house. And not knowing the gender created a bit of a disconnect for me. I'm guessing that was what I was feeling. Maybe it was the anticipated stress, or that I really didn't have time to daydream about this new life in me. Whatever the case, I felt very disconnected to baby. It was odd feeling so ho-hum about it all while she was baking away. I prayed for her often and was confident that the moment I laid eyes on this child I would fall in love. And I was right!
Her arrival:
It was a Monday. February 29th. Leap Day! I was due in five days. All that day I was having mild contractions. I'd say they were more exciting than braxton hicks, but I wouldn't have been surprised if I was still pregnant in a week. I had my 39 week appointment that day, but ended up cancelling it because I didn't have childcare for Rocco. The last time I brought him with me I ended up in tears by the end of the day. I just wasn't willing to over do it being so pregnant. And my last appointment I had both Rocco and Veda with me so I opted to not have my cervix checked. So at this point I had no idea if I was dilated or effaced at all.
By late afternoon I noticed an every slight bloody show. I vividly remember my midwife telling me that there's no false labor after you see the bloody show. So that was in the back of my head.
We went to bed around 10:30pm and I remember thinking -oh good, I for sure won't have a Leap Day baby since I'm still pregnant and it's 10:30 at night.
12:30am I have a painful contraction. I could surely talk through it, but definitely could not sleep through it. I took note of the time. Ten minutes later I had another contraction. Eight minutes later another. I woke up Joe and explained my situation. I was vacillating back and forth if I should call the hospital yet. A few minutes later I had another. We decided to get things rolling since Rocco came so fast.
I called the hospital and told them that we were probably going to be coming in soon. I texted my midwife (she gave me her cell number because she was going to try to deliver my baby even if she wasn't on call. Freakin LOVE HER!). I texted the photographer. And then Joe called the neighbor, Jennifer, to stay at the house until Joe's dad got here. By this time it was around 1:15am
On the way to the hospital we got pulled over for speeding. The friendly cop let us off the hook and told us to 'drive safe and watch for deer.' Then as we exited the highway the car got a flat tire. Thankfully the hospital was literally across the street from the exit so we just kept on driving.
Joe wheeled me to maternity from the ER and my midwife, Liz, and a nurse, Andrea, were waiting for me on the other side of the double doors. The plan was to do a water birth so I got wheeled to the delivery room with the tub.
They had to monitor baby's heart rate for a while before I could get in the tub. While I was hooked up to the monitor I labored on the bed for about twenty minutes.
Squeezing Joe's hand through every contraction. Liz was amazing as she coached me every step of the way reminding me to not fight each contraction, but to let my body do the work to get the baby down. I would tend to tense up and lift my shoulders to my ears. She would gently lower them and help me relax.
Once the tub was filled and they knew baby's heartbeat was steady I asked if they could check how far I was dilated. I was at seven centimeters. OK, I thought, I can do this, I am almost done. I wobbled over to the tub between contractions and right as my body hit the warm water I felt relief. Being weightless and in warm water was almost like a drug.
I closed my eyes and squeezed Joe's hand through every contraction. Joe was calm and relaxed. I just continued to ask him to pray (in his head). I felt very peaceful and each person in the room was so calm and comforting. Including my photographer who was also praying.
Liz continued to remind me that each contraction was helping the baby come down.
Some contractions were more intense than others. I could feel the baby moving lower and I was hanging on my midwives every word. I vividly remember the two contractions before my water broke. The first was extremely intense, I wondered how many of those I could survive. And the next was very mild. I thought it was strange, but was thankful for the small break.
I remember asking Liz if I had hit transition yet. And how long she thought it would be until I could push. Neither question she could really answer with certainty, but she was affirming and encouraging nonetheless. All I wanted to know was how much longer I had to labor so I could mentally prepare myself. But that's the thing with labor; you just don't know. I couldn't see any finish line. There was no mile markers. All I knew was that I was past seven cemtementers dilated and that I could feel the baby getting lower. I wanted more info!
After the one very mild contraction my water burst open and my body was forced to push. I pushed one hard push and remember saying, "OH MY GOSH THIS HURTS SO BAD!!" I may have even cussed, not sure. But out came our sweet baby. 2:26am
No time for the midwife to put her gloves on. I was so glad it was only one push because I wasn't sure I could handle much more.
I saw the baby and she reminded me so much of Silas that I thought it was a boy. And I also remember thinking how small this baby was. So tiny.
It's a GIRL! It's a healthy, screaming girl. There's my face when we saw it was a girl. I was surprised. Although I had more thoughts of this baby being a girl, if anyone asked me what I thought I was having I would sincerely say boy. Joe was even more surprised a he was pretty convinced it was a boy.
She laid on my chest for quite some time. This is my favorite picture from the night. I was wrapping my arms and head around another girl. How exciting! What a blessing! Veda gets a sister and we get to do the girl thing again.
Here's daddy cutting the cord.
Here is Liz handing Ivy to Joe for the first time. Beautiful!
We finally got her weighed because I couldn't stand not knowing her sats. I knew she was smaller than my other babies, but would have never guess just under 7lb. She was 6lb 14oz. That explains why I wasn't as uncomfortable at the end of the pregnancy.
The photographer left not long after this. Since her time was so short at the hospital she said she would come back in the morning and get photos of our other kids meeting Ivy for the first time.
In the mean time we had to figure out what to do with Joe and our car with the flat tire. It was about 3:30am when I suggested Joe go back home since there was no way his dad could get the kids ready in the morning and bring them to the hospital by himself. And because the makeshift hospital guest beds are never very comfortable. He tried to get a cab, but nothing was available in Hudson, Wisconsin until 5am. So he settled in the pull-out couch/chair/bed in the hospital room for the night. The nurse got him all set up and by the time they moved me to that room he was passed out in his boxers.
Thankfully, Joe's mom ended up helping Grandpa get the kids to the hospital that morning.
Here they are walking in the room meeting Ivy for the first time. They we so excited, but in a bashful kind of way. All smiles.
Ivy had a pink ball on her hat. But I still had them guess if it was a boy or a girl.
Even Rocco was smitten. And he still is.
Love these first pictures of my baby girl and me. So special.
Our first family photo with ALL of us!
Note: I didn't not dress my children. Rocco's polka dot pants, cowboy boots and iron on checker tie. Not to mention his skid mark scabs from taking a dive on the concrete. Just keeping it real!
Ivy Priscilla Antonello
6lb 14oz 19 1/4in
March 1, 2016
2:26am
1 comment:
This is amazing! Crying right here!
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