Santiago's birth story. Part three

Born: Sunday July 11th 2010. 9:03 AM. 8lbs 15 oz. 21 in

It has been three months since Santiago was born, and already my memory has started to fade. I can't remember what it felt like to be pregnant at all. I don't recall where my back ached, I can't even picture my swollen belly. My memory of the pain of childbirth is already so dim that I feel like I could have seven more babies, right this instant! Oh can I, please? I've already asked my husband when we can start trying for another one, and he rolled his eyes so hard at me that his eyebrows nearly fell off his face.

But still smoldering hot in my memory are those first few days at home. Oh, but those first days with a newborn are like warfare. Bruised and bloodied on the battlefield of delivery, my body torn and sore, exhausted and aching from every muscle; even as my eyes drooped from the fatigue I couldn't force myself to sleep. I had to catch his every expression, memorize the outline of his chubby cheeks before they changed any further, be alert for every second of his perfect little life. He would latch on and my toes would curl through the initial pain, until slowly I was relieved, I had never felt more alive.

Today I look back on those days--those fantastic, frustrating, horrible, aching, incredible, joyful days--and you know? I can't wait to do it again.

this concludes the birth story of my son, Santiago.

Can we see more newborn pictures now?

I thought you'd never ask!

Santiago's birth story. Part two

"We are having this baby" I said to my husband, my voice was more goat than human. I hugged him tight through my next contraction. I realized that I needed to push. "I need to push, I need to push!!" I cried out. "Go for it."said the nurse. And so I did. "Crowning!" she announced. "Reach down here. Can you feel that? It's your baby's head. Ok, STOP pushing, do your best NOT to push." she said. Yeah, that wasn't going to happen. My body screamed at me to push, I NEEDED to push! She then ran out of the room, leaving me to wonder whether my husband and I would deliver this baby alone.

Suddenly my room was teeming with people scrambling to get ready. The hospital bed had been transformed into a delivery table, and a giant spotlight had come out of the ceiling. Everyone introduced themselves one at a time (like I was going to be able to remember any of their names?), and I was feeling hysterically okay with the fact that these strangers were all face-first in my lady parts. Now I REALLY needed to push and my doctor still wasn't there. My dear husband asked the nurse if she had ever delivered a baby without a doctor present. She said they would if they absolutely had to do it. As luck would have it, my doctor walked in just then.

My labor and delivery went blindingly and excruciatingly fast. I pushed for thirty minutes and I felt every last shred of it. I was begging my doctor to just pull him out. My doctor and nurses were shouting all kinds of directions at me. Relax this! Tighten that! Hold your breath! Now breathe! Now relax! Now turn this way! Push! Finally, while silently pleading with my God to let the next push be my last, I realized that I needed to be the one issuing orders. Only I could bring this child out into the world, and only I knew how that needed to happen. I gritted my teeth, tuned out the voices in the room, and breathed through a glorious, empowering push.

The pain was over. "Ana, open your eyes!" my doctor said, and immediately placed him on my chest. I saw a beautiful little being that screamed in my arms. My husband and I were quite emotional. We examined his chubby fingers, large head, broad shoulders, and mini toes. The nurse took my sweet boy, studied, weighed and measured him. "he is pretty close to perfect" she said. I was proud of myself for delivering a healthy almost 9 pound baby with NO epidural. A four hour labor, now that is something to brag about. As I sat on an ice pack in my recovery suite, staring at this beautiful creature as we nursed together, feeling blissfully happy and under the influence of all kinds of crazy cocktails of new mother hormones. I couldn't stop thinking about the whole experience and looking at this beautiful being in my arms.

Read Part One here.
Read Part Three here.

Santiago's birth story. Part One

{4am Sunday morning before leaving to the hospital}

I woke up on Thursday morning feeling off. It had been a week of low-level, go-nowhere contractions. That afternoon at my weekly check up my blood pressure was high and I was dilated to a two and 70% effaced. My doctor and I decided on labor induction, it was best not to wait any longer. So the induction was scheduled for Sunday at 5 in the morning. I was told to "take it easy" until then. And so I took it easy, for a while, but my heart fluttered on, and as the days passed toward Sunday I felt like hiking the world!

Do you know what is ridiculous? Moving. Yes, friends. M-O-V-I-N-G. Remember I was pregnant, exactly 39 weeks pregnant. "Do you know what is ridiculous?" my husband asked. To which I shoved a cinnamon bun in my mouth and waited most patiently for his response. "Packing with a pregnant woman!" Oh, but he was right! Here he was, filling box after box and loading the U-haul, while I spaced out contemplating what I wanted for dinner. In my defense, I couldn't help it. I needed lots of snack breaks, I couldn't lift heavy things, and I didn't bother bending over because, tell me, what was the point? I couldn't lift anything. I was supposed to "take it easy" remember?

I woke up at 3:30 Sunday morning having contractions, I finished packing my hospital bag and got into the shower. I started timing my contractions.... four minutes apart, and suddenly I felt the need to go to the hospital immediately. I didn't really know why, I was still feeling just slightly off, and my tingly heart flutters felt wrong.

I was admitted to Labor and delivery at 5am with really high blood pressure and contractions every four minutes. The nurse hooked me up to the fetal monitor and started the whole admission and history process, she proceeded to check me-- I was dilated to a four and 80% effaced. It was at that moment I realized that this was indeed the real thing. I was in labor. The day had finally arrived. Today was the day I would meet my son! The nurse placed the IV and dutifully sent the first dose of Pitocin through my IV. "You are already in active labor so we'll do a low dose of Pitocin, we'll go slow" she said. I had heard nasty rumors about that Pitocin garbage, about the painfully long contractions, the too-short breaks between, and the marathon of labor that accompanies. I had spent months preparing mentally and spiritually to understand natural pain and felt somewhat enlightened on the subject but I was intimidated by the potential pain, at that moment it seemed so daunting.

My husband and I decided to take a nap. We were so exhausted from moving into our new house the previous days, we thought it was best for my body to go into labor well-rested. It was 7am now and after only two doses of Pitocin I was starting to really feel my contractions. Hot and heavy and tight, they'd swoop over me and I'd have to stop talking, stop thinking even, to focus. I looked at my husband in excitement. Now these are contractions! And they were coming on fast, every two minutes. I breathed through them and I felt alive. My husband got up from the hospital couch-bed and assumed his father-to-be duty of holding my hand during contractions and feeding me ice chips. And then another contraction hit and I couldn't sit still anymore. I needed to writhe. So I scooted my bum on a chair and swayed my knees in the air and even in the middle of the ridiculous pain my husband and I started laughing at how silly I looked.

And then, suddenly, I was there. You know, there. That point where it is too much, too hard, and you are shaking and scared and you feel like you can't do it? If I had hours to go I knew I needed an Epidural, because these contractions were making my teeth hurt, and that meant they could get worse. From everything I'd read, I knew it was transition. Or, I knew it could be transition. But what did I know? this was my first baby, and I'd probably be here until Kingdom Come. I knew something was happening, but I didn't know that I knew for sure, and ouch ouch ouch! my brain wasn't working anymore. I was sweating and shaking and I was thinking horribly irrational thoughts, like maybe I was about to die! Maybe he might never come out!

It was 8:30am now, still swaying on the chair, fluid started leaking down my legs and worse, into a puddle on the floor. At that point in my life I had never felt more physically uncomfortable. My husband ran to find the nurse."Her water broke!!" he yelled. The nurse rushed in, I was moaning and groaning "am I getting close?" I asked "Let's get you back on the bed and I'll check you, but I'd say you are very close" she said. "Well, what am I at?" I asked in frustration. I was starting to get incredibly demandy about things. She stared at the ceiling. "Ten!" I was indeed fully dilated and effaced.