Awkwardness with the Alveys: March 2013

Our little fat baby boy has been shaking up our lives with his presence for a little over two weeks now. I've been really meaning to write about what was going on with the pregancy and then delivery for a while now, but it's taken me the two weeks to muster the energy to stay awake while he is taking a nap.

At the beginning of my pregancy I had every intention of taking lots of belly pics. Then I realized, who the heck wants to take pics of themselves ever rapidly expanding; plus, I was always way too tired to strike a pose for a photo op the last few months. I also really wanted to get one last belly pic before we went to the hospital too, but I'll get around to why that didn't happen in a few. So here are the last few pregancy pics that we have of me.

I think I'm about 30ish weeks here.

After my baby shower, I think I'm 37 weeks in these two.

So on to the birth story. (So, I could make this really detailed, awkward, but funny; however, I'll try to refrain from giving too much info.) Friday, February 22 was my last day of work, and I was so glad because I was really struggling to make it through the school day. I pretty much just rolled around in my wheelie desk chair and prayed my water didn't break in front of the kids the last few days. Saturday we had a funeral to go to. (James's grandma had passed away.) So, we were really praying we could make it through the funeral without baby deciding it was time to come. Luckily we did. Sunday I had a ton of conractions, so I thought for sure we would end up at the hospital, and I was so ready, but about nine that night the contractions stopped. Monday, nothing. Tuesday I had a dr. appointment, and nothing much was going on, so he said if I hadn't started by myself by Monday he would consider inducing me. I was for sure that would be the case since I wasn't having really any contractions since Sunday. Then Wednesday happened.

Wednesday morning James left for work about 7:30, and I couldn't sleep after that so I laid in bed and watched Parenthood on Netflix till about 10ish. Hadn't felt a single contraction so I went downstairs, ate breakfast, took a long nap on the couch, and then ate some lunch, called my mom, sat down in the livingroom about 2 to watch some more Parenthood. As I was drinking some water, it went down the wrong pipe and I started coughing. Bam! I was for sure I had just peed my pants a bit. I literally sat there for five minutes scared to move because I thought either 1 - I did pee my pants and I don't want it to get all over the couch or 2 - my water just broke and I don't want that to get on the couch. I decided I had to do something, so I finally stood up. Skipping the awkward details . . . I called my mom because I still wasn't sure. She told me to call my dr. but I was in denial, so I told her I wasn't having contractions so I'd just wait and see what happens. I really didn't think my water had broken. Sat down to start watching Parenthood again, stood up about ten minutes later to get a snack, and Bam! Well either my water did break or I kept repeatedly peeing my pants. So, now I'm freaking out. I called James to tell him, and then called my dr.to see if I really did need to go straight to the hospital even if I wasn't having contractions yet. The nurse said yes! As James is on his way home from work to pick me up, I'm awkwardly walking around the house trying to pack last minutes things without "peeing" my pants every two seconds. So, that's why we didn't get a last belly pic before we left for the hospital because I was just trying to get out of the house and into the hospital without looking like I really did pee all over myself.

Get to the hospital about 3:00, dialated to a 4, need antibotics because I was Strep B positive, having contractions but they still aren't painful. My dr. gets to the hospital about 6:30, dialted to a 5, they have me wallk around to get my contractions going. That doesn't work. Dr. comes back at about 9, still dialated to a 5, contractions are mildly uncomfortable but nothing painful, dr. tries to talk me out of an epidural since I'm not really in pain, but I'm positive I want one. Dr. sets up epidural but doesn't give me meds yet, hooks me up to pitocin to get my contractions more consistent. Fifteen minutes of that and I'm begging for the epidual meds. Lower half of my body goes numb, can't feel pain, try to take a nap, ha! About 12:30 epidural stops working, dr. comes back and gives me a higher dose, dialted to a 10. Epidural still not working, and about 1 they tell me it's time for me to start pushing. Thinking, "I'm not ready for this. I need pain meds! Is it too late to ask for a C-section?" Two and a half hours of pushing, feeling everything the whole time, had to use the vaccum to get him out, but FINALLY at 3:37 AM, we got him here.

After he was out I remember listening for his cry, which I heard. I remember trying to see him, but the dr. had passed him off to the respiratory therapist who was blocking my view of him. At that point I started blacking out. I couldn't see. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I remember telling my dr. that, and I vaguely recall the nurse running around the room it seemed like to me. At some point I turned to James and told him I was really scared, that I didn't know what was going on. He leaned over and told me he had just given me a blessing, and I was going to be fine. After puking in one of those stupid little bags, which is really difficult to do when you are laying down, I finally started to come back around. I couldn't have made it through all of that without James: counting to ten, feeding me ice chips, wiping the puke off my face, telling me that I could do it.

Even though getting him here was hell, now we have this cute little guy.