Truman's Birth Story

Here I am again, oversharing.

My mom got in on Saturday, March 2 (two days after my due date) and there was no sign of baby. I wasn't really having anything more than Braxton Hicks contractions. I was dilated to a three, like I had been for a few weeks. And Baby Boy was riding high (really high) in my ribs, and posterior. I wasn't too anxious, despite being uncomfortable. But as the weekend wore on and I didn't have a baby, or even contractions to indicate he would come any time soon, I started to get a little frustrated.

Monday I had an appointment scheduled and Sharon, the midwife, stripped my membranes. Since this baby was so high, she said she felt like she was going for my tonsils. And having had my tonsils removed, I felt like she was really searching for them!! But nothing was really progressing. I had dilated to a four. She told me if nothing had happened, I could come in on Wednesday and we'd try again. A little while later she was telling me I could come in Tuesday afternoon. But that week was busy for the midwives. She checked her calendar and told me to come in the next morning, to fill a cancellation of someone who had already had her baby. So it went from Wednesday, to Tuesday afternoon, to Tuesday morning.

That night we walked the mall to try to get something going. And did a little shopping, including the new hard drive (hooray!).

That walking must have done something, because that night I laid in bed, timing intense, uncomfortable and frequent contractions. I had to do some moving and breathing to handle them. I told myself if things were continuing like that, we'd head to the hospital at midnight. Well, the next thing I knew, I woke up and the contraction timer was still going, saying that contraction had been almost an hour long! Things had obviously calmed down and I got a decent night's sleep.

Tuesday morning Chris stayed home while my mom, Millie and I went rifling through junk at Surplus and Salvage to get some frames for a gallery wall. And I convinced Mom to get two books at the library, since Millie takes long naps and she didn't have anything else to do to pass the time.

On the drive home my mom was telling me how I'd better hurry. I told her I still had an hour until my appointment, but then I checked my phone and I had the appointment down as 10:40, two minutes away. I called scheduling and it was confirmed that indeed, my appointment was at 10:40, not 11:40 as I had thought. I called Chris and he met us in the driveway. We kicked out Grandma and Millie and raced to the doctor's office.

As I was sitting on the table, waiting for Sharon, I asked Chris, "What are we doing here? What can she even tell us that will make it worth our time? 'Oh, you're going to have a baby!' Yeah right, nothing is happening." I was getting frustrated.

Well, when Sharon came in and checked me, she started laughing. I was confused: is that a good laugh or a bad, sympathetic laugh?!

"Deidra, you're at a six or a seven!" She told me that when I said I'd had strong contractions but nothing was happening anymore, she hoped that they'd been really productive contractions, and thank goodness they were! She told us that we should go home and get our things together, eat lunch, and meet her at the hospital, but not to take too much time.

We did just that. Hawaiian haystacks (we ate these things for days while my mom was here; apparently I can't estimate food for more than three), loading the suitcase, and pulling Millie out of her crib for some last minute snuggles with her as our only child.

I'm really grateful that it's worked out both times that I've had an appointment and the midwife tells me to head to the hospital, then called the hospital to let them know I was coming. Because if I headed to triage telling them I was having contractions every 10 minutes or so, and they weren't really bad, I don't think they'd admit me. It's nice to know that when we walk through those doors we won't be sent home without a baby.

A snow storm was rolling in, and it was just starting to blow and whip around some flurries as we walked to the ER (about 12:30). We got settled in our room and got cozy. It all felt so familiar and comforting. I was particularly glad to know that Millie was at home with my mom and all was well on the homefront.

I refused the saline lock from the get-go, and it was great to be unencumbered and comfortable. Sharon arrived, we chatted a bit and she went to change into her scrubs. The nurse told me she would be there until six, but she was sure I would have a baby before shift change.

Sharon came back, we chatted. When a contraction would come on, I'd stop talking, breathe, and then resume chatting when it passed. Sharon said she wouldn't be able to tell I was having a contraction if she wasn't paying attention to my breathing. The nurse told me that I might be having the easiest labor she'd ever seen. (I decided to gladly claim the title.) For a while I resisted having my water broken. I knew that after that happened, things would probably get intense, and I wasn't sure I was ready for intense. Time wore on, and I got tired of nothing happening. I was dilated to a nine but not fully effaced, and still talking and hanging out.

We were running out of things to talk about. I had forbidden Chris from playing Plants v. Zombies during my delivery, but was starting to think that he might as well! I felt guilty for taking Sharon away from her office and afternoon appointments when nothing was happening.

Finally I could take it no longer, and about 4:00 Sharon broke my water. Things started getting a little bit more intense, and I would really have to focus on my breathing to get through contractions. I really wanted to be able to stare out through the big windows at the snow that just kept coming, but trying to focus on it made me dizzy. But it was a beautiful site when I wasn't having a contraction!

At one point I told Sharon that it felt like I needed to go to the bathroom. She seriously replied, "Please don't. Not without me there." The attitude was that once this baby came, he would come quickly. She also told Chris that with the next baby, if I even mentioned that something felt a little bit funny, I should probably just go to the hospital. Because not many women are dilated to a nine and handling contractions like I was.

Things continued to increase in intensity and I stopped paying attention to the clock, or anything beyond a contraction and resting in between. Our nurse left us with shift change at 6:00, and still no baby.

I had relayed to Sharon my concerns with labor and delivery: a posterior baby (like his sister) and tearing that made recovery awful (probably related to delivering a posterior baby). She did all that she could to help both situations, as well as getting me to fully effaced before I was worn out. Baby Brother had gotten in position correctly and was no longer posterior. Which is probably why labor seemed like a cake walk in comparison to what I knew previously.

I don't really remember much from here on out. I know Sharon told me I could try pushing if I wanted to, in hopes of getting my cervix fully effaced. I tried a few times with no result, and one time she coached me to push. I flatly stated I did not want to. (She was okay with that.) At one point I told her, Chris and the nurses that they had to tell me how well I was doing. I needed to hear that I could do it.

Then I felt the urge to push, pushed maybe four or five times (do women actually have the presence of mind to count at this point in time?!?), and then at 8:03 pm we had ourselves a beautiful little boy! The first thought I had was the he looked very much like a Hartwell, with his recessive chin. (Funny enough, that was one of my worries while pregnant with Millie, but I hadn't given it a thought while pregnant with him!)

Chris cut the cord, we snuggled and I tried to focus on Truman instead of being stitched up. I do think that having an epidural would be nice after delivering a baby, because local anesthesia doesn't quite do enough. Far and away my least favorite part of labor or delivery.

They took Truman away to wash and weigh him. Perfectly chunky at 8 lbs 5 oz, 20 inches long. Chubbers wasted no time, latching right on and going to town. By the time we left the hospital, he was weighing in just an ounce shy of birth weight. 

Brand new.

Right after his bath. This is a Hartwell baby, through and through.

A few weeks before he was born a friend told me she hoped I had a big baby (because Millie is anything but).  She got her wish. Lucky me. In the hospital I couldn't get over this chunky baby being mine.

Millie and Grandma came to visit and meet Truman the next morning. My mom had Millie all dolled up and I got choked up seeing my baby suddenly looking so big.

Millie got to push Truman's bassinet from the nursery back to my room. She talked non-stop the whole way. The nurses all got a kick out of her.

Millie had known Truman's name since we had decided on it, even though we hadn't told anyone else. Somehow, that made it seem like he was even more her baby. She was in love with her "Baby Toomey" that she had waited so long to meet.

Our family of four.

I snapped this picture with my phone, and I'm so glad I did. I think it's just about the sweetest thing.

Truman's timing was all wrong, in that my 48 hour discharge time was 8:00 pm. Millie would already be in bed, and we would get home just in time for us to start getting ready for bed. So we did something I thought I'd never do after having Millie. We went home early. (A testament to how much better I was feeling after Truman's birth.) We waited long enough for me to get my massage and the roads to get plowed, then we were off to rejoin the world beyond our cozy cocoon.

My guys. Awwww.

Snuggled up with mom

Our little froggie, ready to go home. Being the second child has some disadvantages, but at least we remembered to pack socks and a blanket for him!

I'm going to take the liberty to speak for Chris, too, when I say that we're so grateful to be a family of four. Nights have been rougher than I remember them being with Millie (see: Truman likes to eat and Two kids can tag team waking up), but it is good to have our two munchkins. Millie loves her brother, and we love them both. We had a lesson on family history recently and I was just so glad to think that both of our children are already sealed to us for forever.