Two weeks ago, everything changed.
But let me back up.
On Saturday, October 19 my cousin got married. It was a beautiful day and a beautiful ceremony, and I felt like total shit. I couldn’t really put my finger on what was bothering me, but I couldn’t get comfortable. Like when you have the flu, sort of, and everything aches. We got home, and I took a four hour nap.
The next day our moms came over to help us get things ready for our induction later that week. They cleaned and laundered and organized, while I sat on the sofa telling them where things went (and tried not to sound like a tyrant). I took on a few little chores that didn’t require much bending or moving, and when we were all done I was happy to sit on the sofa and watch what ended up being some disappointing football.
But instead, around 5pm, I started getting this weird pain in my tailbone. Like, over and over. But it’s nothing, right? The baby is coming on Thursday. But wait, no. There it is again. Maybe I should say something? Nah. It’ll go away. You just overdid it this weekend.
After about 30 minutes, I told Mike and my mom I might be having contractions, but I wasn’t sure. But they were random so no need to panic. I’ll download an app real quick and start tracking them!
And wouldn’t you know it? Two hours later they were five minutes apart, and it was time to call the doctor who told us to head over to the hospital.
We took our time — made sure we had everything. I took a looooooong hot shower, and we got to the hospital at 9pm.
By 10 they confirmed, yes! you are in labor! things are progressing! we’re admitting you! you’ll be leaving WITH A BABY!
My water broke, which was weird, and — unfortunately — bloody. But they said it wasn’t cause for concern, because Gus’ heart rate was strong and constant. Sometimes that just happens.
By 12, they said I could have my epidural whenever I wanted it. Yes, please, I’ll take that five minutes ago.
With each contraction, which was every two minutes at that point, it felt like my tailbone was going to explode alien-style through my back. Turns out my labor progressed very quickly. I went from two to eight centimeters dilated in only a few hours, so when 1:30am rolled around and I was still waiting for that epidural I sent Mike out to JUST. FIND. ANYONE. WITH. DRUGS.
Turns out, they were eating sandwiches.
He kept that little bit if info to himself until I was properly medicated.
By 2am I was happily numb from the waist down. I even took a little nap.
But 30 minutes later, there was trouble.
Gus’ heartbeat started dropping with each contraction, and I stopped dilating. They were worried there could be an issue with the cord being pinched or wrapped around him, and combined with the bleeding earlier and my sudden lack of progress, we were headed to the OR.
Fine by me. At that point I just wanted the baby delivered healthily and happily. Take it away, doc — I trust you.
By 3am the decision was made, and by 3:30 I was rolled into the OR and prepped. Mike got to sit with me the whole time, and at 3:57am August William Schall had arrived (and sounded a lot like a kitten).
He was small — we expected that. Five pounds and 8.5 ounces. He scored a nine on his Apgar test, because he’s awesome. He was wide-eyed and Mike held him next to me for the next god-knows-how-long while they put me back together.
We spent the next five days in the hospital, which I won’t bore you with — in a nutshell: so many tests and nurses. Breastfeeding is hard and stressful (we’ve got it down now, but that first week involved a LOT of tears from all three of us).
I do not know how people do this without supportive husbands/partners and mothers.
Mike went back to work today. Already? Wait, it’s been two weeks? My mom took a week of vacation to help me this extra week, and Mike’s mom makes sure we have food to eat every day. I would not be functioning without them.
Gus is amazing. Once we got the kinks worked out, he turned into a Milkasaurus Rex, and I am a certified milk machine.
Like, when we left the hospital he weighed 5lbs. 5oz. Today at his two-week checkup he was 6lbs. 11oz.
And now, if you’ll excuse me, the milk machine is up. (My boobs haven’t been this popular since my junior year in high school. HEY-O!)
*please pardon any typos. I HATE typos, but I’ve been reduced to single-handed, app typing in between naps.