Weighing in at a mere 7lbs 6oz, Amelia Ryan officially joined the party at 12:09 on Tuesday, December 22nd, 2020
Disclaimer: this is long, and probably not for everyone, stop reading whenever you want. No one will even know.
We got to the birthing center in Kailua on Sunday night on the cusp of 41 weeks… though originally I had intended on going all natural it seemed that a little nudge would be helpful. That nudge slowly turned into a full round-house kick into motherhood.
But it was awesome!
I waltzed in at a full 1cm dilated! I could either stick to my anti-drug guns or just try to get things going and enjoy the process. Plus, I may never again get the chance to do drugs, I’m about to be someone’s mother, for Pete’s sake!
We were there to have our baby and by any means necessary it was going to be a great experience!
I got started on misoprostol, the gateway drug…
One dose of fentanyl down, allowed me enough relief to crack some jokes catch some Zs. After the first 24 hours I had gone from a paltry 1cm dilated to a gaping 3cm. It was somewhere in the dark realm of night, that I realized the journey had only just begun. Slowly.
We’d be in for a ride!
Monday night around 7pm we thought “Hey, why not try this cool balloon invention! Oooh, and while we’re at it let’s invite pitocin to the party!”
Turns out pitocin and balloons are a very uncomfortable, and awkward couple.
As things progressed, a few nurses had likened the pushing sensation, to needing to poo. One even introduced herself and in the same breath warned Ryan not to mention anything when/if I inadvertently shat the bed during delivery. Pictures were being painted. Beautifully.
I decided that double teaming the pitocin and balloons warranted the mediation of a numbing agent. But by the time epidural started knocking at my vertabrae – pitocin and the balloons were mid quarrel, I was mid contraction, and my nurse was mid blood pressure read, when I nonchalantly noticed my left hand was the size of a softball. My IV had infiltrated into my already chubby hand and fingers. It was cute.
I’m pretty sure that blood pressure read was a bit higher than my usual.
After a stabbing around in the dark for a while, we were able to reattach the IV in my wrist and carve out a venue for the spinal tap.
I was finally able to once again see the humor in the situation. We laughed, breathed and with what was left of the night, slept.
Tuesday began with another 7:00 shift change. Our savior of a night nurse, Brittany warmly introduced us to the saint, Danielle. And we immediately started planning positions and working with postures.
(Considering all of the insane moving parts, these two girls were the most amazing people and made me love the situation more than I can even believe.)
I was being coached to push – for hours – doing practice positions, and getting checked for the head position of the mystery person trapped inside my vagina.
This was a far cry from the hypnobirthing course with which I had been indoctrinating my husband for months. But like a champ he praised, coddled and coached me through the whole process.
Finally, I was getting there, really close. Like a 9. Transition – true, active labor… epidural’s kryptonite.
Now, I was in pain. Not gradual pain. Immediate, sharp, full-body shaking pain. No more 1-10, yellow-happy-face to red-mad-face, scaling bullshit. Real pain.
Kern feet. Shoved into sternums. My nurse on one foot, husband on the other. It was dainty. Elegant.
We called for the doctor. By the time she put on her catcher’s mit, I was passed ready, and getting a little irritated by the possibility of anything intensifying. My only thought was that if pooping was common, I was going to Jackson Polluck the wall. My magnum opus.
I gathered all of my strength, honed my breath thought I was dying and stacked my pushes in a constipated effort. Suddenly I felt release, the flood gates opened, noise resumed I was back in the room, and I heard Ryan exclaim “It’s a girl!”
Like a light switch, the pain stopped and I was beaming happiness once again! I saw Ryan’s eyes well up as we brought our baby to my chest. It was over. Nine months of pregnancy. 40 hours of induction. All of the interventions. One cord snip. Over in like six mind numbing shoves.
And that’s where it began!
If this experience taught me anything it is flexibility, and the power of perception. It wasn’t my ideal route, as outlined in my three page, color printed, floral bordered birth plan. But it was the most fun, amazing experience of my life! And it brought me closer to my husband than I thought necessary! I anticipate motherhood will follows suit. So, in this next season, I aim to roll with the punches, look for the positives, and enjoy the process because that’s really what determines life’s happiness.
And I am so excited to share my life with a brand new little human and help her enjoy the process too! She seems really great so far!
P.S. – I didn’t even poop!