I Ll Fuckinb Do It Again

After Marta gave birth to Nico, I think I had a post upward for you all in 2 days. This time effectually, when it was me doing the evacuate-infant-from-body work, it's taken me close to ii weeks. Apologies for the delay, just information technology was A LOT of piece of work. And the recovery has been a lilliputian slower than I thought information technology would be.

But for those of you who have been waiting, here's how information technology all unfolded:

2 weeks ago today, as you might remember, I was quite big. I could no longer see my feet and walking was uncomfortable. I wasn't sleeping much anymore because I'd started having night contractions that woke me upward every hour or so. I was sometimes nauseous and all the times uncomfortable. I wanted this baby to come! Here I am with Walkie the Walker:

I happened to accept my weekly OB checkup that day and then I asked my doctor, a super smart and sweet woman named Dr. Perales, to strip my membranes. For those of you who don't know what this procedure is, it'south basically when the doctor goes into your cervix and, with a finger, loosens the amniotic sac from the sides of the uterus. It'south a process that tin can stimulate labor, if your body is already ready to become into labor.

And apparently mine was. As shortly equally we left the dr.'s role I started cramping, and by 5 pm that afternoon I was having somewhat regular contractions. As it turns out they were actually actually regular contractions, but I'd been having so many contractions on and off for the weeks leading up to this that I kept thinking I was imagining things. It took texting dorsum and along with my doula and her saying that, yes, it sounded like I was in labor and she was heading over, for me to really believe it was all for real.

And I was pretty darn excited. Finally! I was going to take this baby.

Needless to say, I hadn't realized how much more work was to be washed before this baby was going to exist had.

For whatever reason, at home, I only wanted to listen to the song "I Believe in You" by Don Williams. I have NO idea why, merely that vocal came to mind and I suddenly needed to hear it. So for similar an hour I sort of swayed effectually my chamber, sitting down when I had contractions, and listening to that song on repeat.

Meanwhile, Marta was taking Nico to stay at our friends house and my doula, Vanessa, was on her way over.

By the time Vanessa had arrived and Marta was dorsum and had our stuff packed upward, my contractions had gotten more than intense. Vanessa said it was probably time to head to the hospital and I had switched from Don Williams to my hypnobirth tracks.

Hynobirthing, for those of you unfamiliar with this newest strategy in trying to make labor less, well, laborish, is a program that basically teaches you to self-anesthetize and, in your hypnotic, to convince yourself that the pain y'all're feeling is not really pain. As kooky as that sounds, it'south actually pretty effective. For almost of the twelve subsequent hours of laboring (12!), I was able to keep the pain manageable and to really not scream and writhe with each contraction simply by listening to those hypnobirth tracts. Here I am in my somewhat Zen land:

Of course, equally you can see in this photo, I also had outside help.

Vanessa the doula (who also took pictures for us during the nascence) brought forth her bootleg essential oils, which she would shove under my nose with each wrinkle. I was doubtful of this strategy when she first told me about it but I take to say it was quite effective. I'd have my optics airtight and the smells were pleasant enough and stiff enough that at times I could almost convince myself I was in a lush woods somewhere and not half naked in a hospital preparing to push button a seven pound baby out of my trunk.

Vanessa would also bear upon my forehead with each contraction, which was remarkably soothing. And on my other side was Marta, who held my hand and reminded me to jiff. I hadn't realized I'd demand someone to remind me to breath, just I did. And each time she reminded me, I would concentrate again on my breathe, which actually helped quite a lot.

Of grade, by about four in the morn, we were all a scrap tired, no matter how successful our hurting-coping strategies were.

At this point, I was between viii and nine centimeters dilated, simply hadn't "progressed" (as they say in the birthing globe) in a while. This meant that I had "stalled" (over again birthing talk) in the "transition" menses of labor, which is supposedly the well-nigh painful. Information technology'south the menses in which your body is transitioning from contractions meant to push the baby down toward the birth canal and your body actually beginning to button the infant out of the canal.

For some reason, I decided that the reason I had stalled was because my hypnobirth CDs were working too well. I wasn't actually feeling the true pain of the contractions, which was keeping me from progressing. I take no idea why I decided this or why, really, I decided to give up a very helpful technique right about the time when things were about to get crazy painful. Because information technology was also around that same time Dr. Perales suggested she break my water, which can help labor progress. So I gave up my hypnobirth CDs and she broke my h2o and then all of the sudden I was in ALOT of pain.

I was besides very tired.

And I decided I'd had plenty. I could no longer remember why I wanted to accept a "natural" nativity without the utilize of an epidural (in fact even now I can't really remember my reasoning: I remember information technology had to exercise with some sort of claiming or the thought that I would exist able to feel more joy when the baby actually arrived). And suddenly the only thing I wanted was an epidural. I demanded that Vanessa or Marta go club me one and they did, though I was told I would take to look crusade the adult female next door was getting hers.

And in waiting, someone (Marta or Vanessa or mayhap the nurse) convinced me to go checked ane more time to see if I had progressed. Because the reason I wanted the epidural was because at that point I was convinced that I would NEVER progress and that I was stay similar that, in pain at 9 centimeters, for the rest of my life. Some part of my brain realized that was unlikely, though. Then I agreed to exist checked one more fourth dimension. Which meant that when the anesthesiologist arrived to do the epidural, we told him nosotros'd decided to wait until I got checked again. He was loud and rude and hurried and responded by saying, "Well tin can y'all at least make full out the paperwork now so it will be done when we come up dorsum?"

I immediately hated him and decided he would never come near my body.

And merely similar that the question of the epidural was resolved. I would not take one because the anesthesiologist was the devil incarnate. And and so we told him to get out and we went back to my hurting with somewhat more than resolve than before. Luckily a few minutes later Dr. Perales came in and said I was at 9.5 centimeters with just a "lip" left (no idea what that means) and then a half hour later the nurse checked me once again and said, "You're ready to take a baby!" which meant I was at x centimeters, which meant I was ready to push, which meant I wanted to cry (but was in and so much hurting I couldn't quite muster the tears).

Within minutes the whole room changed. Nurses were bringing in equipment to assist with the birth and they were rearranging the bed to get me into a better position to button and information technology was like, well, like things were really happening. It was only when the nurse said, "Ok, let'due south showtime pushing and I'll call Dr. Perales once information technology's time," that I realized that pushing might too be something of a painful affair.

I arraign TV and movies for this, but I actually thought that you merely pushed in one case or twice and the baby came out. I hateful, I knew that the contractions were long and painful, but I had somehow convinced myself that the pushing part was a quick sort of pain, the nativity amounting to a few screams and tada! a babe.

That is so non the case.

I pushed for, I call up, an hour. And in that hour information technology dawned on me that this was, in fact, the most painful office of the whole affair. Fifty-fifty my hynpobirth CDs couldn't save me. At one signal the woman on the CDs was saying "and now your baby slips out of you like on a slide" and I wanted to hitting her. What actually saved me in the terminate was Dr. Perales. First she used some sort of towel or rag and had us each pull on one end when it was time to push. This was, if you recollect of it, kind of like playing tug of state of war, simply in a much less carefree way than we did in simple school. Also I recollect I pooped at one point while we were pulling (and I was pushing). But information technology was constructive in that it showed me how I had to button to get the god damn (I mean sweet, darling) baby out of me.

When tug-of-war stopped working besides, Dr. Perales brought over a mirror and then I could run across the baby come out. I had rejected this option at first crusade information technology seemed a little too hippy-dippy for me, simply I can't tell you how helpful information technology was. Because without the mirror, basically I just felt A LOT of pressure and pain and, basically, my insides beingness split apart, and no sense when it would end. In fact at one point I decided I was going to tell everyone that I couldn't do information technology anymore and that I wanted a C-section.

But with the mirror, I could meet her footling head every bit it inched its way down and, eventually, out. Which gave me promise. And hope can be a rare fauna in a laboring and commitment room.

But, friends, allow me tell you lot, she did finally came out, get-go her head and with another push her shoulders. And that was probably one of the most blissful moments of my life. I am going to cry just thinking of it now. Because up until that point I think I was convinced that I had an alien growing inside me. No matter how much I knew she was a real infant, I couldn't really believe she was real until she was out and crying and being placed in my arms. Too in that same moment all the intense pain I felt was suddenly relieved, and so there was relief mixed with joy mixed with surprise mixed with exhaustion and it actually was fucking incredible. It's that feeling, I call back, that makes women accept multiple babies.

After I had her in my arms, I said "Oh my god" virtually 10 million times and Marta was right at that place beside me and I call up maybe we cried or possibly not, only either style, information technology was a cute moment.

And and then the doctor was sewing me upwards and Marta and I were talking nigh names (we decided on Manuela so afterward we switched to Frida, which is her name now: Frida!) and then I felt high as a kite (there is a rush of hormones after giving birth that totally blisses you out) and Marta was dead as a tornado-battled kite because nosotros had, you lot know, been up all dark. Then she slept and I held the baby named Manuela but afterwards to exist named Frida and I was actually and truly then very content.

And I all the same am! More in the coming days/weeks about my new life as a nursing stay-at-domicile mom 🙂

But for at present, here she is. Fiddling Frida, who will be two weeks erstwhile tomorrow:

And here she is holding hands with her big sis, who she adores:

And here she is asleep on my chest while I write this blog postal service:

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Source: https://thisqueerfamilia.wordpress.com/2016/11/07/i-did-it-and-ill-never-do-it-again/