On Saturday, September 1st, with 40 weeks plus three days of pregnancy having come and gone, Steve and I pulled out the early ultrasounds I had done in Italy, thinking that perhaps the due date I'd been given was off. Of course we know/knew that the due date is an approximation (Hendrik just happened to be right on time) but it still got us wondering - could the date be off? A week off? I pulled out my favourite pregnancy guidebook (purchased in Japan) and found that dating by ultrasound is more accurate than by the first day of the last period... but still, the ultrasounds stayed out; I'd take them to my next doctor's appointment on Wednesday. And so the day went by; we went to Freddie and Shanti's in the afternoon, had beef and rice for dinner and gave Hendrik his bath, and wondered wondered when baby sister would come. I had a few small twinges late in the day, but thought nothing of them; they weren't contractions and they weren't anything like the Braxton-Hicks I'd felt before. We went to bed around mmmm maybe 10:30, and this is when it all really started. Steve was still awake (I think?) when I shot up to sitting, cartoon-style; did my water just break? Something had just happened, but I wasn't sure what. So we got up and fussed a bit and called triage to explain, and they thought it best if we came in for an assessment. There were no regular contractions, but if my water had indeed broken, then, depending on who-knows-what, they might need to keep me at the hospital. We called Freddie and Shanti at 11:10 and they were over within minutes. Off we went to the the Ottawa General, both of us wondering... is this it? Is it happening? Eeeeek!
And the answer to that question was yes... and no. We had a bit of a deja vu, sitting in a room that was almost identical to the one we waited in prior to Hendrik's arrival, and we couldn't believe that we were back there again ready to (hopefully) welcome baby #2 into the world. So we waited and waited, and talked to nurses and then a few doctors, and it came down to this: with no regular contractions and minimal dilation, it might be best to wait it out at home. Or, as the doctor put it so nonchalantly, "Go home! Get some rest, sleep a bit. Then, you know, come back say... ooh, after lunch. Have a nice meal, and then come back when you're feeling ready." Hendrik came pretty quickly, so Steve and I took his advice with a grain of salt, knowing that we probably wouldn't even make it to breakfast. But whatever... it was the middle of the night and we both felt better about resting and waiting at home as opposed to the ghastly cramped labour lounge (pfffft - lounge) that we waited in the last time we (/I) did this childbirth thing.
So we were home around 2am and both got in bed. I lasted mmmm not so very long in there as my contractions started getting worse and worse and closer and closer together - it was out in the living room for me. Steve managed to catch a few zzzzs before I woke him up around 4:45; I'd been timing things and it was all getting too painful and condensed to seem like a trip back to the hospital should wait too much longer. So we called - bless their early-rising hearts - Zella and Elspeth, and Elspeth was over here by 5:15ish... it was all going down! Crikes.
We were admitted at 6:45 and had a few fabulous nurses with us in the room as I progressed through early labour. When we arrived - or was it the very first time we arrived at the hospital? - I was asked about pain relief, and I stuck with the same plan I had with Hendrik: I wasn't completely opposed to the epidural, but I wanted to try to do it without. Ouf... why?! It was as if I completely forgot that there was an option to take away the crazy intense pain that I felt for what seemed like a bazillion hours of labour; I shook, I puked, I made crazy ridiculous sounds and screams and screeches... oh, man, it was intense. I did ask for the nitrous oxide which helped a bit, but man... if there's a next time to all of this I need to seriously reconsider pain medication. Anyways, eventually they figured that my water hadn't completely broken, so they needed to help me out (um, yes) and rupture membranes for me BUT... since it seemed like that might mean an imminent delivery, they wanted to wait until a senior doc was available to attend the birth. AND all of the senior docs were tied up in the OR, so we had to wait. And wait. And wait. Finally, the resident got the go-ahead to rupture, and after that things happened fast. I wanted to push, so I did. And this part (like much of the rest of it) is blurry; I remember nurses and people scurrying around and a frenzy-flurry of activity and people and people telling me to slow down and stop pushing, and then Steve telling me to slow down and stop pushing but I couldn't! I had to push, and three minutes later at 8:58 am our dear babe was born (without a senior doc in attendance). I have to say that my first emotion post-delivery was shock; the labour was so intense and crazy for me (was it just the pain? not sure) that I couldn't take Alana right away... I needed a minute. Steve cut the cord (I have no memory of this) and then I took her on me; "my baby!" I said, with such tenderness and relief - that she was healthy, that labour was over - to have her here with me, with us.
After the rest of it all we both had a look at the placenta and the attached bag - man, that thing is crrrrazy. It's kind of enormous, and the bag that was attached to it still? Also crazy. It was home to our baby for a total of 283 days. After Alana was weighed and cleaned, we were left alone in the room, and it was lovely. We talked to Hendrik on the phone a few times, and then were moved to a semi-private room where there were little teeny pockets of peace and quiet, and I was able to get a bit of rest once Steve went home for lunch. Some of the highs and lows from the two days we spent in the hospital:
Highs:
- Hendrik and Steve and Grandma and Grandpa coming to visit everyday; I really really really missed seeing and hugging and holding and hanging out with Hendrik, and it was so good to see him every day.
- some of the nurses...
- getting flowers from Hendrik and Daddy: "Dear Mommy and Alana, So happy to have you join our family!! Love Daddy and Hendrik" - melt my heart!
- moving into a private room for night #2
- having visitors: Steve, Grandma and Grandpa B, and Zella and Elspeth
- feeling beyond happy, beyond lucky, beyond blessed to have two healthy kids and a wonderful husband as my family... and,
- leaving the hospital as a family of four....
Lows
- cluster feeding
- noisy, bad neighbors in the semi-private room
- some of the nurses... (eg: while I'm feeding Alana, but crying because I'm so tired - says a student nurse, "Let me take her, I'll just give her a bottle at the nursing station. I can take her right now if you like." - !!!)
- cluster feeding cluster feeding cluster feeding
And then we were all home together! Marg and Bob stayed for a week, and that was amazing - to not have to think about cooking or housework or anything other than taking care of Alana and spending time with Hendrik. He had a great time hanging out with Elspeth on the morning Alana was born - reading stories, watching polar bear videos and eating Shreddies (these are the highlights, relayed by my cousin Elspeth). I do have to note that we put Hendrik to bed in a cloth diaper for the very first time on the night that my labour started; so she was in for a bit of a surprise when he woke up with an unconventional nappy on. (She put a disposable on backwards in the morning, so maybe it didn't really phase her that he was wearing a reusable pocket diaper. She, in her mid-twenties, is, understandably, not well versed in diapers.) And that's about it! Alana is closing in on three weeks old now, and is doing really well - eating, peeing, pooping, sleeping, and not fussing too too much. And that leaves us all a bit sleep deprived, and living in a different world... we're a family of four! And life is gooooood....
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