Baby Vicente's Birth Story

Three Months Post Partum

Hi, world! Given the fact that I haven't contributed to this blog in months, it's safe for you to assume that yes, I had the baby! Vicente Valero, IV was born on April 15, 2013 at 1:23 a.m. It's been a whirlwind of sleepless nights, poopy diapers, and breastfeeding since then, but I've loved every single minute of it. I officially went back to work this week! It's been rough, but I'm sure I'll acclimate in due time. Before "mom brain" gets the best of me and too much time passes, I wanted to record my birth story. Without further ado, here's how my perfect baby boy entered our lives...

Due Date: April 19, 2013
Actual Birth Date: Monday, April 15, 2013 at 1:23 a.m.
Weight: 7 lbs, 8 oz
Height: 20 inches
Apgar Scores: 9 and 9

Friday before I went into labor, I vowed that I'd do everything in my power to give birth before the weekend was over. I walked for miles. I ate spicy food. I drank loads of raspberry leaf tea. And yes, I got busy, too. I awoke on Sunday morning a bit disappointed, resigning to the fact that I'd be pregnant forever. The hubs went into the lab early to get a some work done, saying that he'd return in time to take me out for a late lunch around 2. I decided to rest on the sofa until then. I started watching Sex and The City on TV and fell asleep. When I woke up, it began. Here's a timeline of events:

12:45 pm - As I sit up from my nap, I feel a pop, followed by a gush of warm fluid. Lo and behold, it's my water breaking! I'm not experiencing contractions yet, aside from those pesky Braxton Hicks I've been having for months. This is literally one of the most exciting moments of. my. life. I know without a doubt that I will be meeting this baby in the next 24 hours. I call Vicente to share the good news, and tell him to hurry home. I phone my doctor's office to let them know my water has broken. Unfortunately, Dr. H isn't on call so I'm forwarded to another doc (who would ultimately deliver my baby.) He tells me to come in to the hospital as soon as possible.

I call mom, who doesn't pick up because she's in church. I send her a text:  "Call me ASAP. My water just broke!" She promptly returns my call and gets on the first flight to Baltimore.

1 pm - I tidy up the house and finish packing my hospital bag when Vicente gets home. I'm still not having real contractions, although I do feel cramping. Vicente takes Maddie out for a quick pee and throws a few last-minute items into his suitcase.

1:45 pm - We leave for the hospital, Greater Baltimore Medical Center. Still feeling crampy, but not experiencing any painful, regular contractions yet.

Checking into the hospital!

2:08 pm - We park in the hospital garage and check into the L&D ward. The receptionist was very friendly and asks me all sorts of questions about my water breaking. She insists on taking a photo of us. At this point, I want to punch her in the face, but I oblige. (I'm so glad I have this photo now!)

2:20 pm - I'm taken back to the observation area for monitoring to determine if I'm truly in labor. Once they confirm that my water did, in fact, break and I did not, in fact, pee all over myself, I'm finally admitted. I'm 1 cm dilated and 75% effaced. The monitor shows my contractions, but there's no regularity. I can definitely feel them now, but it's only at a 2 on the pain scale.

2:45 pm - I get settled in a private room where I'm expected to labor and deliver. We're there for no longer than 20 minutes when I realize there are ants all over the place and we request a room change.

4:30 pm - Since my contractions still aren't regular or increasing in intensity, I'm hooked up to a Pitocin drip to kick-start the process. Things get real pretty fast. My pain shoots from 2 to a 7 in mere minutes. My contractions get stronger and much closer together; on average, about 1.5 to 2 minutes apart. The whole experience starts to consume me and I get a little panicky for the first time in my entire 39.5 weeks of pregnancy. Real contractions, like Braxton Hicks contractions, tighten your entire abdomen. It's not unlike a Charlie Horse that might wake you up at night. However, unlike BH contractions, labor contractions are accompanied by epic pain. Before long, I can't talk through them because I'm so focused on breathing through each peak and resting in each valley. As I'm battling through each contraction, Vicente watches the Master's on TV while texting our family with updates. Sometime during these foggy hours, I spew out an Exorist-inducing, evil-laden speech at my poor husband. Looking back, I try to feel bad for him , but I just can't muster up the sympathy. He promptly rushes to my side to do whatever possible to get me through this. And he does a great job.

5:30 pm - A sweet nurse drops by to tell me my platelet level is around 94,000 and if I want to get an epidural, I should do it before 8 pm when the "good" anesthesiologist ends his shift. She tells me the other anesthesiologist on the next shift - let's call him "evil" - has a strict policy to not administer epidurals to patients with platelet counts below 100,000. I tell myself to contact the Vatican later to have this woman sainted. Her foresight spared me a very painful, mother-earth birth. Something I just wasn't prepared for. Although I applaud women who go this route. (Remember, I suffered from a condition during pregnancy called gestational thrombocytopenia...or, low platelet count. One of the unfortunate things about this condition is that it could impact one's option to get an epidural during delivery. Apparently, it increases your risk of bleeding, and some anesthesiologists get nervous about sticking GT patients with a needle if that's the case.)

7 pm - I'm given an epidural by a man who looks suspiciously like Santa.  It only takes one stick and the epidural is in. Only half my body is numb at first, so Santa has to readjust the needle until both sides are equally numb. Life is beautiful again. I can't feel a damn thing. The trade-off is that I'm paralyzed from the waist down and can't mobilize. If I need to change positions or roll from side to side,  the nurse has to do it for me from now on.

7:30 pm - I'm  3 cm dilated. The nurse continues to increase my Pitocin dosage in 20-minute increments to help the contractions progress. Mom arrives around this time.

8:30 pm - Holding steady at 3 cm.

11 pm - Despite the numbness in lower my half, I still feel contractions, only without the pain. I also begin to feel an enormous amount of pressure down below. The nurse tells me this is a good sign. It's getting close to go time. I'm now 7 cm dilated.

11:30 pm - Vicente's parents arrive.

Midnight (April 15th) - I feel a lot of pressure and now, the urge to push. I'm finally at 10 cm! The nurse goes to fetch the doctor and Vicente's parents clear out of the room so that the pushing can begin.

12:37 am - With mom on my right and Vicente on my left, each holds one of my legs as I start to push. It's harder than I ever imagined. There's nothing one can do to train for this marathon. With each contraction, I push three times while my audience of nurses counts to 10. Aside from free divers, I have no idea who can hold their breath for this long during prolonged periods of physical exertion.

1:20 am - After almost 40 minutes of pushing, the doctor asks me if I want to feel the baby's head, which has finally crowned. With a tentative "yes?" I reach down to feel a PERSON entering into the world. Talk about an out-of-body experience. Something is attached to me, but it isn't me? I can only feel the top of his hairy little head, but it gives me the motivation I need to finish the job.

1:23 am - VV4 is born! They immediately place him on my belly and dry him off. I cry along with my baby, and the only thing I can say is,  "Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God." I'm amazed to look at my beautiful son's face for the first time. I love him so much that its indescribable. After a minute or two, the nurses whisk him over to an incubator in the corner of the room to run his APGARs, weigh him, etc. While he's wailing in the corner, I deliver the "afterbirth" (gross), but keep my eyes glued to that pink, squirming little bundle on the other side of the room (the baby, not the afterbirth). I keep asking Vicente and my mom to describe what's going on and what he looks like. After 15 minutes of sheer torture while I wait to hold him again, the nurse brings my diapered, otherwise naked, little boy back to his mama to enjoy some skin to skin time. These moments are pure heaven.  He latches on like a pro and nurses for the next hour.

It was a wonderful labor and delivery, but there's nothing glamorous about it. I left out the particularly gruesome aspects of childbirth (aka: blood and guts and fluids and stuff) because a woman has to maintain a little bit of dignity. All I can say is that the moment you hold your sweet baby in your arms for the first time, life is never the same. And it's never better.

Here are some pics from LABOR DAY.

Almost time to push

First family photo

My sweet angel. Eye goop and all.