After the Ordeal....

Yeah, I know, he looks like he's sick of me already, doesn't he?

Here, you can see that Emma Bo Cheeseball loves her baby brother. Her nose is a bit out of joint, however. Mama's attention is too much with the baby, methinks. But Tanta has been just the best Aunt ever. She jumps in and keeps Bo happy and occupied and lavishes the attention on her that she craves. She did the same thing for Bug when Bobo came along and Bug was feeling a bit "off to the side." It all works itself out in the wash, I find.
Bug, on the otherhand, sees Dave as a mere speedbump in the road of life. She thinks he's cute, but he's a baby and doesn't do much, and lets face it, she's eight (almost) and has a life of her own.

So, about the ordeal.

Monday morning, I started having contractions. I wasn't even sure they were contractions, to be honest. I had induced labors both times before and those are REAL contractions. This felt...crampy. I felt crampy all morning and finally called the doctor's office at noonish and asked what was up. (And I felt stupid, too. You'd think third time around I'd know what was going on. I mean, really.) She told me to time them. Time what? How does one time a cramp?

Long story short, I did my best to figure out when the stopped and started, and figured that after supper they were regular and about 8 minutes apart. The on call doctor told me to wait until they were five minutes apart and come on up to the hospital.

At ten o'clock we went up. I got examined and was told I was still only 2 cm dialted and not really effaced, which was what I'd been for the previous two weeks. I was sent home after two hours of monitoring and I wanted to cry. I was pretty sure at that moment that I'd be pregnant forever.

I woke up the next morning still crampy and went off to the hospital again for a scheduled fetal non-stress test. I was 5 days over at that point and thoroughly sick of lugging Dave around. I hurt all the time. I was exhausted. And the new cramps were no picnic either.

So they hooked me up to the fetal monitor again and examined me. No change since the night before, which is when I practically begged for an induction. I think my exact words were "Who do I have to blow to get a big, fat bag of Pitocin?"

Dave moved very little for the non-stress test, and since the baby moving is a big part of the test, Dr. T. opted to move on ahead to the fetal stress test and see what was up there.

So they gave me a wee bit of Pit. and I felt the contractions a whole lot better. What was vague crampiness turned more "squeezy" and like a trooper, his heart rate responded well to the test.

Now, Dr. T could have seen that by maybe 11 a.m. that Dave was tolerating the contractions just fine, but the insurance company (and/or hospital policy) dictated that I could be there until 2 for observation. So he decided to continue the test, upped the Pit a hair every hour and kept monitoring the heart rate. You know, just to be sure.

When he checked me at quarter to 2, I was 70% effaced and had dilated up to 4 cm. So, he admitted me. After all, I had gone into labor on my own because of the fetal stress test. It's a well-documented side effect of the test, after all.

Which is why I love him. He worked the system to make me happy. I might have to send him a muffin basket. Or a bottle of Scotch.

Cute break. Really, he's too pretty to be a boy.

Anyway, I was admitted at two and as I was already receiving IV fluids and Pitocin, they got the pain doc in to do my epidural tout de suite. It took a long time to get it in, but it worked great once it was and I dilated two cm. while he worked. I think the sitting still in one position while having contractions was the hardest part of the whole labor, really.

Once it was in and I was 6 cm, I lay back and contracted. Here's where I lose track of time. I can't tell you how relaxed I was at that point, just letting the contractions have their way with me. The nurse checked me at one point and said it was time to push so I grabbed the handles and did as I was told.

Know how long I pushed? Go on, guess.

Five minutes. If that. I pushed three times with the first contraction, rested for a minute, and then with the first push of the next contraction his head was out. He was sucker-bulbed, cried while still in me halfway (!) and then he slithered out. (No episiotomy, but a smallish tear. A bit ouchy.)

The rest of course, is cleanup. And picture taking.

So, here he is. David Thomas Lacey. Born June 3, 2008 at 6:08 pm. Weighing in at a dainty 8 lbs 13 oz and 19 1/2 inches long. His middle name is after his Dad's middle name, his grandfather's middle name, and his great-grandfather's first name and not the guy from Wendy's. Though if anyone asks, we picked the name because he was conceived in the Wendy's parking lot.

We got home today. I feel like a million bucks, though still a bit like someone beat my nether regions with a stick. But it still feels WAY better than I did on Monday. I can move again. I can breathe again. I can pick up things I drop on the floor.

There will be many more pics of the blessed event forthcoming, but they're on other cameras at the moment. My mom got some great ones.

And baby makes five.