Well, let's say MOSTLY back.
You see, there is a new man in my life and he simply takes up all my time. In case you're out of the loop, I finally dropped the excess poundage I've been acquiring over the last ten months or so inthe form of a child.
Our little boy finally made his grand appearance shortly after 6 p.m. on April 11th. But the story of his borth begins a little bit before that. When I last wrote, I was due to go back in to see the doctor on Monday the 10th. As scheduled, Owen and I went in for our appointment. Things hadn't changed much. Actually, they hadn't changed at all. But my doctor asked me if I would like to be induced sometime during the week. I told her that would be fine, that I was about ready to unload the little man. She had Owen and I wait in the exam room while she called over to the hospital to see what night would be good for me to be admitted for the process to begin.
She returned a few minutes later to let me know that I would be admitted that night. Yikes! So we went home, got the last few things ready, took a nap (believe it or not!) and then returned to the hospital to be admitted at 6. The doctor came to see me at around 7:30 at which time she put a small tab attached to a shoelace-type thing on my cervix. The idea was that this drug would help "loosen things up" so that I could be given an induction drug in the morning.
As it happened, though, I awoke with contractions at 3 a.m. We were in full swing labor by morning and by noon I was crying in near hysterics (between contractions, that is. During them, I was too busy being in excessive pain) and asking for my epidural. Unfortunately, my labor had not progressed enough to be able to get it. The cervix must be dialated to 5 cm in order to have an epidural without slowing the labor and I had not yet made it to 2.
Instead of the epidural, the gave me an injection of a pain killer to "take the edge off." Believe me when I say that it didn't take the edge off a dog-gone thing. All it did was let me sleep in the 3 minutes between contractions and forget how bad one was before the next one hit. It didn't dull the pain at all.
At 4 p.m. the doctor stopped back to check my progress. I'd still not reached 3 cm dialation and still couldn't have an epidural. Also, I was again crying between contractions as the injection had worn off and I was no longer sleeping between them. I was also completely exhausted. I mentioned to the nurse that I had a pounding headache and, apparently, when you have exhibited signs of preeclampsia, this is bad news. The doctors was there in what seemed like minutes and presented me with my options: 1.) keep going as we had been, 2.) try to seppd things up with pitocin or 3.) skip all the nonsense and proceed directly to c-section. We chose option 3 and, seemingly within minutes (it could have been longer, in the meantime I had been given another injection to dull the pain), Owen, my mom and I were in the operating room.
Normally, only one support person for the mom is allowed in the O.R. during a c-section. But Owen and the nburse managed to convince the powers that be that he was prone to fainting and so they needed to have my mom there as well. After making sure everybody was in the right place (the anesthesiologist told my mom "You sit THERE" rather emphatically after she stood up and got a little too close to seeing the backstage magic behind the curtain) things were under way. It all seemed to go really quickly to me, but by then I could hardly keep my eyes open.
When it was all said and done, Samuel was born at 7 pounds, 1 ounce and was 19 1/2 inches long. My mom got to cut the cord - her first! (Owen took a pass...apparently he didn't want to faint)They showed him to me in the operating room once he was out and all I could do was cry. I've heard people say that they hated having c-sections because they couldn't hold the baby right away after it was born. I didn't mind, though. Not that I didn't want to, but I was really glad for Owen to get to have that time (which turned out to be about 2 hours) with him. After all, I'd had 10 months with him...and Owen was dying to have a turn and I think he deserved it.
Sam is now 11 days old. He is not potty trained yet, even though his dad is convinced he is a genius who is already meeting the developmental milestones of a baby who is a month or two old. I don't care one way or another. He is beautiful and, though he has his moments, he is by and large a very good baby. I look at him and can't figure out how something so amazing could come from us. To me he is definite proof of the coexistance of God and science. The visiting nurse says he is doing very well. He was back to his birth weight in under a week (it usually takes about 2) and she feels that, given his bone structure, he is going to be tall. I say: bring it on!
I am recovering from the c-section pretty well. I was scolded by the visiting nurse on Monday for not taking it easy enough and causing myself to bleed. Though the tissure around it is still very swollen, my incision in is closed and the swelling is definately going down. I can't wait to be back to my "old self" again, though I know it takes time.
We have dozens and dozens of pictures, all of which, I believe will soon be up on Owen's website. As soon as that happens, I'll be sure to let you all know.
I promise to do my best to keep writing, but for the next few weeks, please understand that it's a gigantic triumph if I can get a shower. Blogging figures in a little way down the list. I already have some great stories to share and will do my best to do so ASAP.