Lily is growing so fast.  She is quite a good sleeper — I find myself getting some zzz’s from about 11:00pm to 4:00am these last few days, and I hope it continues this way!  That’s a 5 hour stretch, folks.  Woot.

Her birth story:

(The following is primarily for me to go back and read someday.  It’s long and detailed, FYI.  Skip it, if you so desire.)

I posted that I was 2cm and hoping to get through the weekend so that my doctor would be back on call.  My mother flew down on Friday night to keep me company and be around just in case.  Thank goodness for moms.

Monday morning came around and I asked for an appointment to “get checked” and see how 48 hours of walking around slightly dialated had affected me.  They gave me a 1:45pm slot, and my mom and I went to Nordstrom Rack to shop while J was in preschool and the husband was at the office.  Just before the appointment I ate some tacos at Sharky’s Mex, not realizing that this would be my last meal before heading off to hospital.  (Luckily, I never did puke for this birth.)

My OB told me that I was at “almost FOUR” and I just couldn’t believe it.  I had a few sparse cramps but nothing that I could call labor.  Really.  Maybe I had felt one contraction followed my 10 hours of nothing.  I started to worry that my water would break and someone would be catching my baby as she launched herself out in the car.  So, my doctor suggested an augmentation, which is just a fancy word for “inducing someone who is already dialated”.  She told me to get my bag, arrange for care of my older child, and head on down to the hospital within an hour or two.

“I’ll break your water and we’ll put you on some pitocin and have a baby today.  How’s that sound?”  It sounded good…but I was scared that pitocin would hurt like a MoFo.  Didn’t that mean I would probably have to ask for an epidural?  I really wanted to go without, like I did with my first birth.  I had seen The Business of Being Born.  Pitocin equals epidural.  She assured me that they’d start with just a little pitocin.  Okay.  I trusted my doctor.

Accompanied by my husband and my mom, I walked into L&D like I was going to the dentist.  No pain, no horrible anxiety.  Just, hi, which room do I go to?  Already this experience was vastly different than my first time.  My doctor was chatting with the nurses as they hooked me up to monitors and got my IV started.  Yeouch, I hate needles.  No one can find my damn veins.  Seriously I had an ice pack on my left wrist where they failed to find a good vein, and annoying discomfort on my right wrist where the fluids and pitocin were going in.  Another needle in my spine sounded like a no-go.  “I know I’m weird,” I told my nurses.  “I hate needles.”  It was 4:30pm.  Now we just waited for things to happen.

At 7:00pm, after resting my eyes and calmly thinking good thoughts of an awesome, successful birth, I decided to turn on the TV and watch Jeopardy.  The 3 of us played along, trying to guess the answers.  I had been hanging out at 4cm for several hours and was starting to wonder if my fears of baby girl “flying out” were foolish.  The nurses hardly made any appearances, probably because I still had an ice pack on my wrist — a larger grief than the contractions coming from my uterus.  They upped my pitocin a wee bit.  The nurses’ shift changed over and my nurse from last time, Barbara, walked in.  What luck!  She didn’t remember me until I mentioned the major vomit-fest 2 1/2 years ago and it jogged her memory.  It’s not common for them to call the janitor when a mother pukes, but I was special!  By the time Wheel of Fortune got under way, I was starting to get cranky and grunty.  I told everyone to be quiet.  They checked me again and I was finally at 6cm.  ONLY SIX?  How can this be?  I am super-fast birther.  At least I thought so.  Maybe we jumped the gun.

They offered me an epidural.  I said No Thanks.  They offered me an IV narcotic.  I said, Yeah that sounds good.  I was hurting.  Oh boy, it was beginning to hurt like a bear.  I was given some Stadol, which made the room spin, but it made me feel sort of high and loose in between contractions.  As I squeezed the death out of my mom’s and husband’s hands, I told them that I loved them so much.  Then I started to yell and cry from the pain.  My mom distracted me by talking about this pretty Michael Kors bag that we saw at Nordstrom Rack.  I started to laugh.  I almost bought it.  Maybe we should go back.

The next couple hours went by fast.  I started to beg for the contractions to be over.  I was ready to have this baby.  Go get the anesthesiologist, I said.  I’ll take the epidural.  But by then, I was at 8cm.  They called my doctor over, and she arrived in minutes.  I remember telling her, “I am so glad you’re here.  I was getting ready to leave.”  I don’t know if I was being a comedian or if that was the Stadol talking, but I was genuinely glad to see her.  I was so happy, so ready to push.  They set up the stirrups and I was almost giddy.  I pushed hard for about 15 minutes and out came her head, then her body.  My doctor told me to look down but my gowns were in the way.  I couldn’t see her.  I craned my neck to see what my husband was already looking at.

And then, there she was!  10:00pm on the dot.  All wet and just seconds old.  She didn’t get whisked away like her brother did.  No meconium in the fluid this time, so I got to admire her for a few moments.  OH, I was in awe.  I felt joy right away.  I had succeeded having another baby and, not gonna lie, I was really really proud.

The broken clavicle was discovered by the pediatrician the following day.  Apparently it is not uncommon and will heal on its own over six weeks.  She is supposed to keep her right arm down, just to be on the safe side.

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