I'm Parental Leave right now, but due to the nature of my business (and, uh, my personality) I have a really hard time staying completely Hands Off. One of the ways I am keeping a toe in the game (who... who is writing these metaphors?) is by staying involved with my networking group (this is aided by the fact that I am allowed- nay, encouraged- to bring the Youngest Spawn along). Well this past week we had a fun little "challenge" during our meeting, in which we were to swap 60-second "elevator pitches" with one of our peers. We had about two weeks to prepare, and I was pretty excited to do my Bit. So excited, in fact, that I volunteered to go first, and my attempts at humor were a great hit (or else my friends have gotten really good at making Pity Laughter sound genuine).
The next person went, and then the next, and we're all cracking up at the impersonations and different twists on the familiar presentations, and it's great good fun.
And then we got around the table to the gentleman who had taken on the role of Jenny O.
He stood up as he normally does but then- then a giant grin split his face as his chin went up, his chest went out, his legs took a dynamic stance and he slammed his fists onto his hips, proclaiming loudly "I'm Jenny Owens!" and I about died laughing (as did the rest of the room).
Try not to judge me too harshly, Gentle Readers who know me in Real Life, when I tell you that until that moment I was actually unaware of the percentage of my life spent in various Power Poses. I've been to my fair share of Corporate Rah Rah Events where they talk about the importance of Power Poses to confidence, and encourage you to get up and get into one, and I've always complied and thought, "Yes, it would be good to do this more often," without realizing that... uh... I do. But as soon as he started his impression of me something clicked in my brain and I realized, Oh my gosh I do do that! Later on one of the others in the room laughed and informed me, "Basically you're Wonder Woman at all times!"
I think I can live with that.
10.25.2019
10.21.2019
Leisurely Thunderbolt: Another Birthing Story
August 18th, 2019
It's 0330, and I'm awake.
Not because of contractions, or anything like that- it's nearly two weeks to my due date, and I haven't had much in the way of Braxton-Hicks this time around. No, no, I'm awake for your standard old middle-of-the-night-pregnancy-pee-break.
I've gotten to the point where I can more or less take care of things in a sort of half-slumber (it's great practice for when the Spawn actually comes along and needs feeding and such), but when I get back into bed I pause- does that feel... wet? The question wakes me all the way up, and I pop back into the bathroom.
Oh. Well would you look at that- I've lost my mucus plug! Huh. Didn't have that experience with TLG. Well, no worries- mucus plugs can come out weeks before the baby. I mean, I saw my doctor on Friday, and he seemed pretty sure there wouldn't be any action this weekend, so I clean things up and head back to bed (for real this time) worry-free.
It's Sunday, but Nathan is only playing one service this week, so I get to sleep in a bit, which means I don't get up until closer to 0800 than 0700. Heavenly! But then, around 0830, I spring a leak.
Huh, I think. I... I think my water's broken? But it's hard to tell, because it's not a gush- it's just a trickle. And really even that trickle is hard to pin down, since I'm wearing a liner. But eventually I do confirm it for my Self (by walking around sans pants for a while, whee!), and so I let Nathan in on The Situation. "It's possible I'm going to need you to stay home from church," I say mildly. Mildly, because I still haven't had even a twinge of a hint of a contraction.
Nathan looks a touch skeptical, and I can't blame him. "Yeah?" he asks
"Well..." I hedge, "The internet says I ought to call my doctor and see what they want me to do, so we'll go with that. You can probably head to the service- if they want me to come in I'm perfectly capable of driving myself since, you know... no pain."
"Cool," says Nathan. "Keep me posted."
I call the doctor's office, and they tell me that they'd really like me to come in within 3-6 hours of my water breaking, regardless of whether or not I have any contractions. The doc explains that studies have shown once you go past a certain amount of time with ruptured membranes but no contractions, the chance for C-section starts to go up, and they'd rather I not have to have a C-section. Turns out I'd rather not that, myself, so although I grumble about induction, I tell Nathan that we'll be heading to the Birthing Center sometime after noon.
Then I call my Mom to tell her what's happening, and she just starts laughing. See today, August 18th, is my Oma's birthday, and my Opa has been saying for nearly eight months that this baby will be born on the 18th. I kept telling him, "No, no, that's like two weeks early... maybe the 22nd but certainly not before!"
"You tell him this is all his fault!" I growl. But it's a loving growl.
It's a little before 1pm when we pack TLG into the car and head to BurgerVille to grab some on-the-go lunch (this isn't my first rodeo; I know they won't let me eat once things Get Started, and I also know it takes a hell of a lot of energy to birth a baby, so I'm Fueling Up, damn it). We waltz into the Birthing Center around 1:30pm, and I am still 100% Contraction Free.
Well, it turns out that when you show up to the BC not in the throes of Hard Labor there's a lot of testing and paperwork do be done before they'll take you to your birthing room. I get it completed while Nathan manages to keep TLG from braining himself on hospital equipment more than, like, twice...
Eventually we make our way down to my room (I get to walk without assistance! So novel!) where I change into a gown and they start my pitocin drip at the lowest possible setting. It's about 3:20pm, and things are very boring, especially for a three-year-old, so I soon take pity on Nathan and TLG, and send them home. As for me? I work on some embroidery. Yes, embroidery. That's how not-having-contractions I am.
My contractions finally show up around 4:20 (after they've upped the pitocin a smidge), and for all that Common Knowledge is that "oh pitocin contractions are so much worse than natural contractions!" I am here to tell you that statement, in my personal experience, is some grade A bullshit. They feel exactly the same level of excruciating, so I guess I'm glad I'm not one-upping the worst pain in my life?
Mom shows up not long thereafter. This is a bit of a coup for her, having completely missed the entirety of my labor with TLG, despite flying in over a week early (her plane was literally landing as he was being born). She and the nurse sit with me through a couple contractions, and then the nurse asks if I'm ready for my epidural. At first I'm ready to refuse, to wait a bit longer, but then I think, "...but why tho?" For real. Why in heaven's name should I continue to be in pain like this? I think back to them trying to give me an epidural through my continuous contractions. Nope. Far better to get it now, while there are still breaks.
It's about 6:20 when the anesthesiologist comes in to give me my epidural, and immediately I can tell he has a much better bedside manner than The Other Guy. As a result (and possibly because I'm not forced to hold still through contractions) the process is smooth and as painless as possible (although we still have to do the roll-to-the-the-side trick). It takes effect and the doc checks on me- I'm 100% effaced, but only 4cm dilated, so she decides I'm still a ways out, and I send Mom home to relieve Nathan on TLG duty.
As I lay there alone, calmly watching my contractions on a monitor, and listening to Little Brother's heartbeat, I muse to myself what a different experience this is from the last time, when I was pushing as soon as the epidural took effect. The chance to just sort of... chill during labor is... a bit surreal. But nice!
The doc checks on me again around 8:40, and declares me 7cm and fully effaced, but the baby is still stubbornly at a -1 station, which leads to her saying, "I'll come check on you in about two hours if there's been no action."
The nurses keep telling me that I should let them know if I feel an increase in pressure, and a while later I don't feel an increase, per se, but I feel a definite shifting, away from my rectum and towards my bladder. When I mention this they hook up a catheter to empty my bladder, and that's that. Nothing to see here, move along. They ask me again about any increase in pressure, and I say, "I mean, I feel moderate pressure, but nothing like what I'm feeling during the actual contractions."
And then... the quality of the pressure changes again (still not increasing, just feeling different) and I'm getting awful heartburn before each contraction, which strikes me as super weird, but I do the sensible thing and call in a nurse so I can request some heart burn relief. And then for some reason I cannot quit understand, I reach down under the covers to feel around, and it seems to me that my labia are, like, unusually distended, and in fact it sure does feel a hell of a lot like what it felt like when they asked if I wanted to feel TLG's crowning head.
I say tentatively to the nurse, "Um, I think maybe the pressure is increasing?" even tho' it isn't- I just want her to check me, and don't want to look like an idiot if I'm wrong in my suspicions. She glances at the monitor and sees that the baby's heartbeat has disappeared, so she goes to move the monitor- and can't find him at all. Then she lifts up the blankets at the foot of the bed, lets out a shocked gasp along the lines of, "His head is out!", and slams a button on the wall.
Suddenly there are four or five very serious, fast-moving, efficient people in the room, swarming around me, and one of them says, "This is happening right now!" and by the time Nathan has made it the eight feet from the couch to my bed, the baby has been born!
And then the doctor walks in, looking very shocked at the situation at hand.*
But my eyes are all for my new son, who is a dramatically darker purple than his brother was, and then they're toweling him off and putting him on my chest and he's red as a red, red rose, and softer than a moth's wing, and I coo and call him my Sweet Velvety Thing. Later I will take note of his lovely dark hair, so like his father's, and his adorably cleft chin, so like mine, but for now all I can do is love him unreservedly.
*(Nathan later jokes that we should get a discount since we didn't have an MD do the delivery.)
It's 0330, and I'm awake.
Not because of contractions, or anything like that- it's nearly two weeks to my due date, and I haven't had much in the way of Braxton-Hicks this time around. No, no, I'm awake for your standard old middle-of-the-night-pregnancy-pee-break.
I've gotten to the point where I can more or less take care of things in a sort of half-slumber (it's great practice for when the Spawn actually comes along and needs feeding and such), but when I get back into bed I pause- does that feel... wet? The question wakes me all the way up, and I pop back into the bathroom.
Oh. Well would you look at that- I've lost my mucus plug! Huh. Didn't have that experience with TLG. Well, no worries- mucus plugs can come out weeks before the baby. I mean, I saw my doctor on Friday, and he seemed pretty sure there wouldn't be any action this weekend, so I clean things up and head back to bed (for real this time) worry-free.
It's Sunday, but Nathan is only playing one service this week, so I get to sleep in a bit, which means I don't get up until closer to 0800 than 0700. Heavenly! But then, around 0830, I spring a leak.
Huh, I think. I... I think my water's broken? But it's hard to tell, because it's not a gush- it's just a trickle. And really even that trickle is hard to pin down, since I'm wearing a liner. But eventually I do confirm it for my Self (by walking around sans pants for a while, whee!), and so I let Nathan in on The Situation. "It's possible I'm going to need you to stay home from church," I say mildly. Mildly, because I still haven't had even a twinge of a hint of a contraction.
Nathan looks a touch skeptical, and I can't blame him. "Yeah?" he asks
"Well..." I hedge, "The internet says I ought to call my doctor and see what they want me to do, so we'll go with that. You can probably head to the service- if they want me to come in I'm perfectly capable of driving myself since, you know... no pain."
"Cool," says Nathan. "Keep me posted."
I call the doctor's office, and they tell me that they'd really like me to come in within 3-6 hours of my water breaking, regardless of whether or not I have any contractions. The doc explains that studies have shown once you go past a certain amount of time with ruptured membranes but no contractions, the chance for C-section starts to go up, and they'd rather I not have to have a C-section. Turns out I'd rather not that, myself, so although I grumble about induction, I tell Nathan that we'll be heading to the Birthing Center sometime after noon.
Then I call my Mom to tell her what's happening, and she just starts laughing. See today, August 18th, is my Oma's birthday, and my Opa has been saying for nearly eight months that this baby will be born on the 18th. I kept telling him, "No, no, that's like two weeks early... maybe the 22nd but certainly not before!"
"You tell him this is all his fault!" I growl. But it's a loving growl.
It's a little before 1pm when we pack TLG into the car and head to BurgerVille to grab some on-the-go lunch (this isn't my first rodeo; I know they won't let me eat once things Get Started, and I also know it takes a hell of a lot of energy to birth a baby, so I'm Fueling Up, damn it). We waltz into the Birthing Center around 1:30pm, and I am still 100% Contraction Free.
Well, it turns out that when you show up to the BC not in the throes of Hard Labor there's a lot of testing and paperwork do be done before they'll take you to your birthing room. I get it completed while Nathan manages to keep TLG from braining himself on hospital equipment more than, like, twice...
Eventually we make our way down to my room (I get to walk without assistance! So novel!) where I change into a gown and they start my pitocin drip at the lowest possible setting. It's about 3:20pm, and things are very boring, especially for a three-year-old, so I soon take pity on Nathan and TLG, and send them home. As for me? I work on some embroidery. Yes, embroidery. That's how not-having-contractions I am.
My contractions finally show up around 4:20 (after they've upped the pitocin a smidge), and for all that Common Knowledge is that "oh pitocin contractions are so much worse than natural contractions!" I am here to tell you that statement, in my personal experience, is some grade A bullshit. They feel exactly the same level of excruciating, so I guess I'm glad I'm not one-upping the worst pain in my life?
Mom shows up not long thereafter. This is a bit of a coup for her, having completely missed the entirety of my labor with TLG, despite flying in over a week early (her plane was literally landing as he was being born). She and the nurse sit with me through a couple contractions, and then the nurse asks if I'm ready for my epidural. At first I'm ready to refuse, to wait a bit longer, but then I think, "...but why tho?" For real. Why in heaven's name should I continue to be in pain like this? I think back to them trying to give me an epidural through my continuous contractions. Nope. Far better to get it now, while there are still breaks.
It's about 6:20 when the anesthesiologist comes in to give me my epidural, and immediately I can tell he has a much better bedside manner than The Other Guy. As a result (and possibly because I'm not forced to hold still through contractions) the process is smooth and as painless as possible (although we still have to do the roll-to-the-the-side trick). It takes effect and the doc checks on me- I'm 100% effaced, but only 4cm dilated, so she decides I'm still a ways out, and I send Mom home to relieve Nathan on TLG duty.
As I lay there alone, calmly watching my contractions on a monitor, and listening to Little Brother's heartbeat, I muse to myself what a different experience this is from the last time, when I was pushing as soon as the epidural took effect. The chance to just sort of... chill during labor is... a bit surreal. But nice!
The doc checks on me again around 8:40, and declares me 7cm and fully effaced, but the baby is still stubbornly at a -1 station, which leads to her saying, "I'll come check on you in about two hours if there's been no action."
The nurses keep telling me that I should let them know if I feel an increase in pressure, and a while later I don't feel an increase, per se, but I feel a definite shifting, away from my rectum and towards my bladder. When I mention this they hook up a catheter to empty my bladder, and that's that. Nothing to see here, move along. They ask me again about any increase in pressure, and I say, "I mean, I feel moderate pressure, but nothing like what I'm feeling during the actual contractions."
And then... the quality of the pressure changes again (still not increasing, just feeling different) and I'm getting awful heartburn before each contraction, which strikes me as super weird, but I do the sensible thing and call in a nurse so I can request some heart burn relief. And then for some reason I cannot quit understand, I reach down under the covers to feel around, and it seems to me that my labia are, like, unusually distended, and in fact it sure does feel a hell of a lot like what it felt like when they asked if I wanted to feel TLG's crowning head.
I say tentatively to the nurse, "Um, I think maybe the pressure is increasing?" even tho' it isn't- I just want her to check me, and don't want to look like an idiot if I'm wrong in my suspicions. She glances at the monitor and sees that the baby's heartbeat has disappeared, so she goes to move the monitor- and can't find him at all. Then she lifts up the blankets at the foot of the bed, lets out a shocked gasp along the lines of, "His head is out!", and slams a button on the wall.
Suddenly there are four or five very serious, fast-moving, efficient people in the room, swarming around me, and one of them says, "This is happening right now!" and by the time Nathan has made it the eight feet from the couch to my bed, the baby has been born!
And then the doctor walks in, looking very shocked at the situation at hand.*
But my eyes are all for my new son, who is a dramatically darker purple than his brother was, and then they're toweling him off and putting him on my chest and he's red as a red, red rose, and softer than a moth's wing, and I coo and call him my Sweet Velvety Thing. Later I will take note of his lovely dark hair, so like his father's, and his adorably cleft chin, so like mine, but for now all I can do is love him unreservedly.
*(Nathan later jokes that we should get a discount since we didn't have an MD do the delivery.)
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