Or at least, as unexpected as birth ever is I suppose. Monday night was the full moon. We all joked about how my water would break in a horribly embarrassing place because crazy things and babies like full moons. My water broke at 1:30am Tuesday morning...on the toilet. Crazy, I know. Pop. Gush. Fluid. I wasn't convinced it was my water because it seemed too easy, it didn't continue to gush, and hello, I was on the toilet for a reason. I went back to bed...on top of a towel just in case. Around 4am, I got up to go to the bathroom again (completely normal) and found pink-tinged slime. Hello labor, good-bye mucous plug. I went back to bed. The contractions started at around 5, and most of them weren't too bad. A couple had me deciding that I liked needles after all and I'd like the epidural now thank you. So naturally, I went back to bed. I figured we had a while to go and I wanted to labor at home for as long as I could anyway. Eli got up at around that point, and I informed him he wouldn't be going to work that day. We decided he should just go get his laptop from his office instead. I go back to bed. He comes back, we have breakfast, we pack the car, all very civilized. So far, this is really boring, right? Then Eli finds the paper on my hospital bag titled something like "Go to the Hospital NOW When Any of These Things Happens!!" He skims it then says, "Hey, you meet all eight of these requirements....we should call the hospital." A back and forth ensues. I don't want to be strapped to a bed because my water broke, Eli insisted that there's a reason they make us come to the hospital. He wins. We call and go in.
We get to the hospital at around 9am, park in the wrong area, try again, and finally find admitting. They didn't even check me, just set me up with a room in labor and delivery. About thirty minutes goes by, my contractions are getting closer together, and they finally hook me up to the monitors. One belt is for Dante's heartbeat, one belt is for my contractions. The first contraction hits and Dante's heartbeat drops from like 150 to 50. Serious distress. Me, Eli, and the nurse look at each other for a second. Maybe we moved the monitor? We find his heartbeat again, normal. The second contraction hits and his heartbeat drops again. The nurse immediately starts making me get into weird positions (not just lying on my back) to bring his heartbeat back up while frantically paging the front desk and yelling that she needs help. No one responds for maybe 25 seconds, so she takes off running down the hallway, yelling for help. At this point, I'm feeling a little nervous. The room quickly fills with nurses and doctors (one of whom is mine). They start poking me with things better left unsaid and discussing options. They decide the baby likes it best on my hands and knees, so that's the position I'm stuck in. His heartbeat goes back up for a bit, then another contraction hits and my doctor comes to the head of the bed to talk in a very serious voice. She says we need to have an emergency c-section now because he's not tolerating labor.
I'm now shaking just retelling this part because that was when I started to freak out on the inside. They wheeled me away to an OR room and told me they didn't have time for regular anesthesia. I'd have to be put to sleep. Maybe 15 minutes had passed since the time the nurse ran down the hallway. I had two IVs, they'd taken a lot of blood, eveyone was rushing around. They didn't even change me out of the regular hospital gown, just put a cap over my hair. I remember crying, and my doctor crying, and the anesthetist telling me that I needed to breathe deep and I would feel pressure on my throat. The worst part was right before I went out when I couldn't draw in a breath to do the deep breathing they wanted. I tried to tell him I couldn't breathe, but nothing worked. I woke up in recovery.
Eli was there, but the baby wasn't. He was in the Special Needs Nursery being treated for low blood sugar. Which is where he remains because he's having trouble regulating it himself. It's probably not helping that he refuses to drink from a bottle, so they're feeding him through a tube. He was 5 pounds, 8 ounces at birth, smaller than they'd anticipated by a lot, but he was 20 inches long, which explains the skewing. He's also adorable. The nurses in the Special Need Nursery are calling him a miracle baby because it was a miracle he survived. He had an abnormally long umbilical cord that was wrapped around his neck three times. Every time I had a contraction, he was strangling. My doctor said that if we'd waited another 20 minutes he probably wouldn't have made it. Eli couldn't be in the room when he was born because it was too fast, but he got there just after and cut the cord. He was also able to stay with Dante until they whisked him off to the nursery. I'm still having moments of panic when I think about it.
Obviously, we're still in the hospital. The powers that be finally let me eat and move around today, so I got to hold Dante some more. I'm itchy and sore and sliced open, but I'm so freaking thankful that Eli bullied me into calling the hospital and that my doctor doesn't waste any time when the shit hits the fan. The nurses are impressed with how "easily" I'm moving, but it's become clear that Dante can't come to me, so I have to go to him. I'm sure I'll regret the movement once he's in the room with us and I don't have to move to be near him.
So there you go, after the tamest pregnancy, everything went all crazy right at the end. And now, pictures: