Men-folk warning: This is one of those blogs you probably won't care to read...unless you want details about centimeters dilated and epidurals. Just sayin'...feel free to skip:)
Monday morning of last week, we had a doctor's appointment scheduled at the high risk hospital. My doctor referred me there so that I could have a better chance of a normal delivery. They have a shoulder-distortia specialist on staff. (See what comes of a nearly 11lb first baby?:) Did you even know doctors with that specialty exist?
At the appointment, we reiterated that we would much prefer inducement to waiting for delivery and running the risk of a c-section based on the baby's size. Here, c-sections are recommended for asian women at 4kgs. A week earlier, Silas was reading about 3.8kgs. She said I was around 1 or 2 cm dilated. Better than I hoped. Then she agreed to induce...no fight, we didn't have to pull out all our arguments. Just an, 'ok. let's go ahead.' Happy. Nervous. Excited.
In typical asian fashion, she said we could just come on over to the hospital whenever we were ready to get things rolling. Monday night, Tuesday morning. Whenever I'd had a chance to have my dinner and take my tea. Hilarious. No appointment needed. Just show up.
And so...we took my mom over to see the old city in case we didn't have another chance. David went to the grocery. I fixed spaghetti while my mom played with Jude. We ate, we packed, we tucked big brother into bed. And at 9:30pm, we checked into the labor ward. It was such a different experience than rushing out the door for Jude. More time to get nervous, to prepare. I couldn't take a nap that afternoon...and I knew we couldn't wait until morning. I wouldn't sleep anyways. Silas was a'comin.'
It is, apparently, cleaner to remove shoes and wear communal flip flops when entering any ward here. I don't know why the communal flip flops gross me out so much. They do. I packed socks, thankfully. Hubs bought me Return to Cranford to celebrate the occasion. My mom gave me both seasons of Downton Abbey to keep me entertained. But, I needed something with a little more pep and action on such a night. Not so complicated and concentrated. My movie of choice for the delivery? The Fugitive. How can you ever get bored with Harrison Ford and Tommy Lee Jones, right?
At 11pm, they stripped my membranes. At 3:30am, not much was happening. I alternated between sleep and The Fugitive. Harrison Ford was making a lot more progress in his endeavor than I was in mine. I was starting to think that an asian inducement might take 4 days.
By 7:30am the hospital brought around a traditional indian breakfast...of idly and spicy curry. My last meal before birthing:
Around 8am, my contractions were 5 minutes apart. They broke my water and by 9am or so, we were looking at 2minutes apart and no more movie. At 9:30am I asked for a walking epidural. My doctor asked if I was sure...seemed pretty close and she thought I could make it. I told her I was over all that...and just to bring my new best friend, the anesthesiologist on into the room.
Let me park here on epidurals. Some of you may remember that with Jude I was hoping to deliver naturally. In mid-labor, I thought to myself, why on earth am I doing this without pain medication? And I never looked back. (Especially after that 11lb baby was weighed.) I didn't even slink past my friends from that natural child birth class afterwards. I just looked them straight in the face and said...I'd do it all over again. I loved that epidural. This time I decided to have a 'walking epidural.' I was really glad to have that epidural, girls. But I have discovered that I just do not want to walk after I birth babies. I prefer loss of feeling. And next time, I'm going all out...no walking epidural for me. Just give it to me straight. Say what you will. I just really wanted to express that. I can tell you frankly that I expressed it quite loudly to my husband and doctor during the delivery.
Back to the story.
After that point, it's a bit of a blur to me. I remember yelling things at David. I remember that his hand was a little wounded from an overly zealous squeeze or two. I remember looks of shock on quiet indian faces at my outbursts. And then I remember that sweet little bundle they put on my chest...crying and squirming. And we were in love.
I was thinking a few days before the deliver about how odd it felt to have another baby on the way. I admit, the word 'invasion' popped into my head. We were a happy little family. Jude is a joy. We felt complete in so many ways. I wondered how more love could come, more room for more happiness together. I wondered if there was a place for him. And I felt a little unmotherly about the feeling. So I prayed and asked that God would do that miracle for us. That He would give more love. Because He is love. And isn't that the amazing thing about Him? It just never ends. When you think it is too full, it pours over and spills out. You find the cup expanded and the fountain unending.
God is good. This is his gracious gift. We are grateful.
