Here comes Oswald

My goal for this birth: Get in, push (not cut!) the baby out, get out. 

Preferably over the weekend to make the most of Husband's five days off.

I also kind of wanted to have a midwife assisted natural birth because the other two times I had to have OB's and too many needles in my spine. But man, oh man, did I love that epidural. So maybe a midwife assisted, drugged up birth.

This being my third time around, I opted for the most dramatic birth experience yet. Chalk it up to making this birth memorable rather than letting it blend in with his sister's birth stories (here, and here).

Contractions start Wednesday afternoon. 

Wednesday evening is spent at the Libratory trying to distract myself with pizza (but just one piece so I don't throw up during labor) and games. 

We put the girls to bed with a warning that Gramma might be here in the morning. 

We try to sleep (haha). 

We call Gramma at 4:30ish in the morning.

Dramatic event #1: Husband left our car at work so we rode to the hospital in Red Rock's brand new truck. Thank you waters, for not breaking.
Dramatic event #2: I forget my wallet containing my ID and insurance card so we turn back unnecessarily because apparently hospitals don't care who you are or how you're paying.
Dramatic event #3: We totally forget to call the OB to get permission to go to the hospital, so we arrive to blank stares and skeptical nurses.
Dramatic event #4: There is one room left. It has no jacuzzi tub.
Dramatic event #5: My nurse is a man. 😒
Dramatic event #6: In the two weeks between me getting the paperwork ahead of time and me going into labor, the hospital changed their admission paperwork. We had to redo all of it. They lost some of it. We didn't even sign the "permission to treat" form until a week after we had been discharged when they mailed it to our house with a "pretty please sign" note attached.
Dramatic event #7: The nursing assistant forgets how to put an IV in and sticks me five times before finally getting something that would semi-work, but mostly get kinked and start beeping at us.

I want labor to progress quickly so that we can get in and out of the hospital and on the road to recovery as fast as possible. 

Therefore, I do not sit. 

I do not lay down.

I pace.

 (in a 2 foot by 2 foot square because that's how long the cord is on the monitor that I must never take off for fear my uterus will rupture where baby #2 was cut out.) 

I have read the statistics. 

I know it is not a likely event. 

I would like to take off the monitor, which doesn't even work half the time

 (husband became an expert monitor reset button presser).

Keith (my man nurse) says no. 

No jacuzzi. 

No freedom.

No food.

 (due to said risk of rupture which would require surgery which requires an empty stomach)

 But all the orange popsicles my little heart desires.

My little heart desires 5 of them.

Me standing in my two foot by two foot square

Goal: Have baby before noon

Because of this goal, I let them break my water. Here's a hint: Don't let them break your water. Although it is surprisingly comforting (if completely disgusting) to be covered in warm bodily fluids (as close as I could come to my precious jacuzzi soak), it brings on serious contractions that make you want to die. Hello, epidural.

Dramatic event #8: Keith thinks I'm too far along for an epidural. 😒 Keith knows nothing. I get my epidural.

Dramatic event #9: Despite the epidural (during which husband has to step out and Keith thinks he can hold my hand to calm me down during a contraction 😒 ), I get the most severe pain I've ever felt right over my cesarean scar. Forget those statistics, I am sure I must be rupturing. I become obsessed with baby's heart rate, which is mostly fine. But I continue to ask about it every 30 seconds and Keith fails to hide his annoyance.

Dramatic event #10: The OB comes to examine a possible rupture, finds nothing. But calls to prepare the OR because I am seriously dying. And Baby's heart rate is now plummeting. I decide I will have no more children because I am surely going to die in childbirth. Laying on my side brings baby's heart rate up suggesting that the cord is around his neck.

Dramatic event #11: I can no longer move my fingers. The midwife seems annoyed that I'm hyperventilating. I think I'm breathing, but apparently I'm not. I am put on oxygen.

Forget the OR, it's time to push.

Dramatic event #12: They cannot find the midwife. When she finally comes, she smells delightful, having just come from the shower. She brings a midwife in training with her. OB stays to monitor possible rupture. Keith is still around, but seems to know I wish he wouldn't be.

Baby's heart rate stabilizes.

I can move my fingers.

Baby is halfway out - enough to unwrap the cord from around his neck

Dramatic event #13: I run out of energy. Super awkward. You would think they could just pull him the rest of the way out, but no. So glad I was still numb.

Time of birth: 12:31 (so close)

Dramatic event #14: Nurses fail to accurately record shots and tests they have or haven't given our baby. Also, they record him as a female. We set them straight on all accounts.

Lucy gives Baby Brother her beloved Ducky and Paci

We try to rest

We visit with family and big sisters. 

We sleep. 

Final dramatic event: They wake us up at midnight to move us to another room.

We spend Friday convincing and reminding many doctors to discharge us.
We make it home for dinner Friday night. 🙌