Our Cute Little Man (and an explanation)

Why, you might ask, has it taken me a month to post about the arrival of my adorable little man? And why have I taken to posting only once every two months? A few months ago I started getting all these random spammer comments, and it weirded me out a little. I've been sort of avoiding posting since then. Part of me is considering taking this blog private and then starting a new blog where I can talk about doctor and mommyhood with fewer identifying factors. We'll see. But in the meantime, there are more important matters to discuss.

Finn is here! I never wrote my birth story for E, so I'll do it this time around. Here goes (be forewarned, it is long):

With E, I was induced a week after her due date. This, combined with the fact that my mother delivered all of her babies 2-3 weeks late, left me feeling doomed to very prolonged pregnancies. And, with work taking more of a toll the more pregnant I got, I knew I didn't have it in me to last longer than 41 weeks without asking for induction. One article said that a bad mood is one indicator of impending labor. I commented to one of my colleagues that if that was true, I was about to deliver, cause work was making me GRUMPY! But I really wanted to have that, 'honey, it's time to go to the hospital!' moment. It seemed, I don't know...fun? I'm a total sucker for surprises. :)

So I was pleasantly suprised when, while watching SYTYCD (that's
So You Think You Can Dance for the uninitiated) on the eve of my due date, my contractions were just a bit uncomfortable. Nothing major. Only noticeable because this never happened with E. The next couple days were the same. Irregular contractions with a titch of pain. 'Hooray!', I thought, 'Maybe my body is gearing up for this before 41 weeks!' I had my last doctor's appointment two days after my due date.

This is me on my way to my appointment. Little did I know, I was only 24 hours away from meeting baby #2.


I mentioned to the doctor that I was feeling my contractions a bit. I was still thinking that this was just very preliminary stuff. But then he checked me and said, looking surprised, 'You're 4 cm and fully effaced.' Oh! That changed my mindset entirely. 'I'm in early labor,' I thought. My contractions were still pretty mild and 15 minutes apart. I called my mom. She was sure at hearing this news that I would have the baby before she arrived the next day. 'No way,' I thought. Though I did think it was interesting that E had been telling me all week that her baby brother would come the next day. My mom insisted that I stay on the phone until my next contraction came. I told her that a watched pot never boils and hung up.

My sister and her daughter came to join us for dinner (her husband and sons were on a campout). By this point, the contractions were every 8 minutes, and I was starting to use my hypnobabies to get through them. I'm not a serious student of hypnobabies (though I always intend to be), but it helps me with the pain. So does thinking of Disneyland, but I'm kind of funny like that. The evening wore on and I said to my sister, 'hey--do you guys just want to spend the night?' Because I was beginning to wonder if this was real labor. She quickly agreed and we all headed for dreamland.

Make that: they headed to dreamland, and I just headed for bed. I tried to catch some zzz's in between contractions, with varying levels of success. I don't know why, but I didn't want to go to the hospital during the night. I had in my mind that I just needed to make it until 5 am. And that's exactly what I did. When light started to creep through my window, and a minute after 4:59 was on the clock, I shook Chris, 'Honey, I think it's time to go to the hospital." Huzzah! I got to say my line.

We got up and got dressed. I put on earrings because I think it's important to wear earrings while giving birth. At least that's what they told me in medical school. We ate breakfast. "Maybe we should wait a little longer," I said. Contractions were still only 8 minutes apart. And not lasting that long, though painful. "No," Chris said, "we're going." I think after how quickly my sister's babies arrived, he wanted to make sure he wasn't going to end up playing doctor. What a role reversal that would have been!

We drove to the hospital in the early morning light and Chris commented that it was his very favorite time of day. So peaceful.

We got to L&D, and I told the nurse that I was in labor. They looked dubious (which would become a theme) but put me in a room. The floor was otherwise empty, and I loved that. The resident came in, and apparently also thought I looked too calm to be in labor. I wanted to yell, 'It's called hypnobabies, people!" but that would've ruined my zen. But then he checked me and found that I was between a 6 and 7. Ha! He had no choice but to believe me that this baby was on its way.

That's when he broke the news that my doctor wasn't on call. I go to a solo practicioner, who I LOVE, and hadn't realized that since my last delivery he had joined a coverage group for weekend calls. I wanted to cry. I chose my doctor because he is very 'non-interventional', very skilled, and very kind. And I was about to be delivered by one of 5 doctors whom I'd never met? But I soon learned that disappointments often make room for us to see God's attention to detail. Because you know who walked in my room a few minutes later? The doctor on call, who happened to have been a resident when I was a med student. A resident whom I had loved and who helped train me. A resident who was so kind, and also of the 'non-interventional' school of thought. A now-doctor who loved soccer/football so much that he would sit and talk about it with Chris between contractions. A doctor who rubbed my shoulders while the epidural was going in. A doctor who said, "Wait, I know you!" even after all these years. Not only did he remember my face, but he remembered that I was LDS and that I'd had a boyfriend in South America on a mission when he'd known me. "That must be you!" he said to Chris. Good thing it was. ;)All I could think was, 'Holy tender mercy, Batman."

I got up to walk the halls and get things moving. My nurse told me that all the other nurses kept saying, 'are you sure your patient is in labor? She isn't in enough pain." HYPNOBABIES!!

And, really folks, don't judge a contraction by its cover. Do I need to writhe on the floor to make it believable?

My sister had come to the hospital by then, and brought me a flower (that she made) to wear in my hair. Isn't it wonderful to have a sister who knows that having a flower in your hair really does help things go more smoothly?



I hadn't decided if I would go the epidural route or not this time. My very wise sister, who has delivered two babies naturally, told me that there comes a point where the contractions don't get worse, just closer together. That's the point where people get scared, though, and get the epidural. I think she's right. Because there came a point where I got scared that they were going to get worse. And I called for the epidural.

In my mind was the ghost of contractions past. It must be said that contractions with Pitocin (like I had with E) are a totally different beast than contractions without. The first time around, before I got the epidural, I remember sitting there, pitocin at full throttle, just focusing on not dying from the pain. This time, I felt more in control. But I kept thinking it would feel the way it did with pitocin, so I said, "I guess call for the epidural before breaking my water." The anesthesiologist got there faster than I expected. The doctor checked me right before and I was an 8. I was about to say, 'I'm an 8?! Then don't bother...' but he was already set-up and I was too tired to change my mind. "Will you judge me if I get the epidural?," I asked my sister. I already knew she never would. Luckily, he only gave me a light epidural, so I would still be able to push effectively.

Here is my support team. Don't let their relaxed look fool you--they were very effective:


About an hour later, it was time to push, and a few minutes later, Finn arrived. Sweet, sweet, adorable, Finnian Scott. 8 pounds 8 ounces of adorable.



Waving 'hi' while being held by Aunt Wendy:


Meeting Big Sister:


Though she hasn't been entirely okay with the new world order, E has never taken it out on 'baby brutta'. Just us. ;)


My little bundle:


Awake!


And that, my friends, is how we doubled not only our numbers in the kid department but the size of our hearts to love them (apparently it happens between the final push and the first cry). My mom arrived shortly thereafter, and my in-laws brought E to visit that afternoon. It all went smoothly. The rest of the hospital stay was uneventful (but it must be mentioned that I had cable TV!! All to myself! Can you say HGTV marathon?) and we went home the next day. We are all kinds of grateful.

There are a lot of things to write about, like the transition to two kids (yowza!), or my first 'is there a doctor in the house?' moment, but I'll save that for another day. I am feeling a bit 'writey', so maybe I'll actually pen those thoughts in the coming week. 'Til then, I'm off to go kiss my babies. May the sleep be with you (and with me!).