I had an appointment on January 10 after school. The doctor warned me that I might be a little uncomfortable after my exam, but to go home, rest, that hopefully I'd go into labor soon, but that she might see me next week. I set up an appointment for the following week, and went to Nonny and Poppy's for corned beef and cabbage dinner. I came home and ate some more--this time Cocoa Krispies. I probably laid on the couch and watched tv, because I'm pretty sure that is about all I did in my downtime during those pre-kids days. I went to bed, fulling expecting to go to work the next day.
At about 11:00 I woke up with my first contraction. My initial instinct was to get out of bed and I remember getting much more uncomfortable when I stood up. My first thought was, "How am I ever going to go into work tomorrow? I feel awful!" Little did I know that I would not be going to work again until April! Jeff and I timed the contractions, I took a shower and the contractions got worse while I was in there. They were about 4-5 minutes apart and I couldn't talk through them. By this time it was about 1:00 and we called the doctor. I got an on-call doctor who said to stay home until they were 2-3 minutes apart for about an hour (despite me reminding her that we live 45 minutes away from the hospital). She assured me that I was in early labor and that I had a long time before I needed to be there. I know I laid on the couch for a while, at which point the contractions slowed, and I got frustrated. I started pacing around our house, doubling over with every contraction. They continued to get worse, so we made the decision to just go to the hospital, despite what the doctor said.
I think we left our house around 4, and I know Jeff drove very quickly to get to Highland Hospital. The contractions were 2-3 minutes apart for our whole ride, and they were very painful. Sitting in the car was incredibly difficult. I wanted to, no, I needed to, walk and move to make myself more comfortable. Things happened very quickly when we got to the hospital. They checked me and I was 7cm dilated, and I was terrified that I wasn't going to get the epidural in time. Somehow, I remember talking the nurses into finding the anesthesiologist, who was supposed to give someone else her epidural first, and getting her to come do mine first. I sincerely apologize to that other woman. I hope she was able to get her medicine...
Once I got the epidural, I was instantly more comfortable. We hung out in our room and just waited for things to happen. We would watch the monitor showing the intensity of the contractions and laugh about the fact that I couldn't feel them. What an odd sensation...and, in my opinion, the only way to properly go about having a baby! When my doctor came in at around 8:00, it was as though the skies opened up and the sun shone straight into my room. I felt such relief, knowing that a familiar face was going to be there for the rest of the time, and that she was going to be the one to deliver my girl. By a little after 9:00am I was ready to push, and Claire was born at 9:28. She weighed 6 pounds 5 ounces and was 19 inches long.
I'd like to say that I was sobbing with excitement and joy, but really, I just felt relief. I was so happy that the hard part was over that I didn't even cry...just rested my head for a moment and looked at my squirmy, skinny, wrinkly, beautiful baby girl. I couldn't believe I was holding her...that she was here and in my arms. We had asked our families not to come sit in the waiting room while we were at the hospital delivering Claire. I know that some were upset by this, but it was still one of the best decisions we could have made. I have such special memories of that delivery room, after everything had been cleaned up and the nurses and doctors had left...just Jeff, Claire and me, alone in the room. Our little family, bonding. Claire and me, practicing nursing, and just quiet, peaceful moments.
Despite the fact that I had a lot of experience taking care of kids and had been around quite a few babies, taking care of our own baby (while in immense amounts of pain, mind you) was a whole other story. I was worried about doing something wrong and so nervous to be on our own with Claire. We got into a little bit of a groove in the hospital and worked through the little problems. Claire had trouble latching on, but we discovered that if I undressed her to help her stay awake, held her in position and moved her towards me while Jeff held her mouth open, we could get her to nurse. Awkward? Um, yeah. But it worked. Jeff was the champion burper and could get that little girl to burp, no problem. I'd feed her, then pass her off to be burped.
We were scheduled to be discharged from the hospital the morning of January 13. I did everything in my power to extend our hospital stay just a little bit longer. We weren't ready to go home! We didn't know what to do with a baby! How would we ever manage this? I took my time in the shower, slowly packed up our belongings, and prayed that the nurse would forget about us. Maybe they'd look at me, realize I was an unfit mother, and decide that we needed an extended stay. A remedial parenting class, perhaps. Certainly, we couldn't be trusted to leave the hospital and bring this baby home!
Eventually, after I even got someone to bring me lunch, they pretty much kicked us out. They gave us some information packets about taking care of a newborn, a book about breastfeeding with the lactation consultants' numbers, and sent us on our way. We loaded the car and I sat in the back with Claire. Still in so much pain, I had to ride home sitting on the boppy pillow. I held hands with my baby, stared at her all bundled up in the car seat, and felt so lucky. Yes, I was scared. I had absolutely no idea what to expect when we finally got home with her, but I knew that I was lucky to be her mama. This beautiful little girl was all mine, and we were going home...
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