My Birth Story

tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-829478402654347779.post-25595057372247023872008-06-26T07:19:00.009-05:002008-06-26T08:13:27.540-05:00My Birth Story<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_PfQgUJY-x0U/SGOU4QQNLCI/AAAAAAAABd4/Z1lXHAOUOcY/s1600-h/MDS+girl.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_PfQgUJY-x0U/SGOU4QQNLCI/AAAAAAAABd4/Z1lXHAOUOcY/s400/MDS+girl.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216176487581690914" border="0" /></a>There's something to be said about putting a story down into writing. Although we would never forget something as amazing as the births of our children...details do fade. I'm glad I'm getting to share my story with you guys! So here goes... I was SO excited about having a baby that I read two “what to expect during pregnancy” books even before I got pregnant. I knew I wanted a girl more than anything in the world that I even researched of “ways” to conceive a girl. I took my basal temperature every morning, used up about 5 pregnancy tests (consecutively, mind you), and finally I had a bun in the oven. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_PfQgUJY-x0U/SGOS0_XrvvI/AAAAAAAABdI/r0k1ElQHJV8/s1600-h/L.C.+Ultrasound+1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_PfQgUJY-x0U/SGOS0_XrvvI/AAAAAAAABdI/r0k1ElQHJV8/s320/L.C.+Ultrasound+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216174232486788850" border="0" /></a>At four months, when for the first time I had an ultrasound and saw my baby…my heart skipped a beat. And when the tech told me I had a girl, happy tears rolled down my face effortlessly. I had my doctor check twice if she was a girl and asked him at EVERY appointment afterwards (just because I had accumulated so much pink stuff by then!) Then 9 months later, one Thursday morning I woke up and my water had broken…or so I thought. A-HA! By then my underwear didn’t even fit anymore, so I resorted to wearing my husband’s boxers and they were soaked. I thought it was weird that I didn’t feel anything and I wasn’t having any contractions. Did I pee myself? You know when you look like you swallowed a basketball and can’t see your legs…those are NOT the times to trust yourself! My husband’s like sniffing around and he says, “Honey, no, that is definitely not pee!” (gotta love him eh?) <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_PfQgUJY-x0U/SGOTnCLb_ZI/AAAAAAAABdQ/xWtQ6bUYCuo/s1600-h/1+day+old.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_PfQgUJY-x0U/SGOTnCLb_ZI/AAAAAAAABdQ/xWtQ6bUYCuo/s200/1+day+old.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216175092234190226" border="0" /></a>The doctor (stand-in) calls me in to check and confirms that it’s NOT my water that broke, but that it was a mucous plug that came out. But I was already 2 cm dilated and she said that I will probably deliver soon. Next morning (Friday), I went to see my own gyno and I think I was already 3 cm by then, but still no contractions. He tells me…”Jojo, I will be out of town this weekend, but I think you might deliver as early as tomorrow, so I’ll break your water and try to get this baby out tonight.” I was SO excited because at that point, I just wanted her out – I was in so much discomfort, what with the sweltering August heat and peeing 80 times a day. I got to the hospital around 4pm, and was just waiting around for a room…ALL the babies decided to be born that exact weekend so they were completely swamped. I started having light contractions then and by 8pm the Doc broke my water and told me to go to sleep. The contractions started getting stronger and stronger by each hour, about 6 random people coming in sticking their fingers in me, and the doctor asking me if I want an epidural. I had already decided that I wanted to go natural and I didn’t want to change my mind. IT HURT A LOT. I’m not going to lie, it’s the kind of pain that is so hard to describe…but one I knew that would make me into a mother. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_PfQgUJY-x0U/SGOTz3k_zAI/AAAAAAAABdY/SxOzxbDKvCw/s1600-h/with+daddy.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_PfQgUJY-x0U/SGOTz3k_zAI/AAAAAAAABdY/SxOzxbDKvCw/s200/with+daddy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216175312726903810" border="0" /></a>My husband and my mom were there with me holding my hand while I cried out that I wanted to die…just the look on their faces showed how helpless they felt! My mom kept telling me that countless of women go through this and you’re not going to die! By 7 cm, I gave in a little…I waited with agony and said ok if it doesn’t happen soon, I might just have to get the epidural…so the nurse said ok, and after a while checked me and said “you don’t need it, you’re already fully dilated!” <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_PfQgUJY-x0U/SGOUBcQdBkI/AAAAAAAABdg/c6VjVHS1B3w/s1600-h/close+up.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_PfQgUJY-x0U/SGOUBcQdBkI/AAAAAAAABdg/c6VjVHS1B3w/s200/close+up.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216175545911150146" border="0" /></a>My doctor was with another patient performing a C-section, and here I am already starting to push with my mom holding up one leg, the nurse holding up the other, my husband holding my head and me screaming as loud as I could. I was so nervous the baby would come out without the doctor…at the last moment when I could feel the pressure of her head just there after 30 minutes of pushing, he rushed in. He slapped me on my thigh really hard and yelled at me to stop pushing. Good thing he did, because I was just distracted long enough for him to cut me – I felt a quick hot slash and my daughter plopped out at 4:30 am Saturday morning, August 18, 2007. B. had to cut our cord twice because it was so rubbery and hard. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_PfQgUJY-x0U/SGOUSvDEakI/AAAAAAAABdo/_cMcEptmgDA/s1600-h/with+mommy.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_PfQgUJY-x0U/SGOUSvDEakI/AAAAAAAABdo/_cMcEptmgDA/s200/with+mommy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216175843013061186" border="0" /></a>In evidence of just how shallow I am, here’s what happened next: I still haven’t seen the baby and the first thing I asked my mother is “Is she a girl?” – Yes. “Is she pretty?” – Beautiful! God…if I was a better person, I would’ve asked “Is she ok?” first like other moms…but I didn’t. Then they put (more like threw) her on my chest and I just couldn’t believe my eyes…I cried, my husband and I glanced at each other in awe, and I’ll never forget that moment – she had finally arrived. This part here maybe TMI but I just want to include it because I have no shame. My doc starts sewing up the episiotomy WITHOUT numbing me…oh…my…god. Then he had to leave because of that other c-section. Another physician comes in and started delivering the placenta. WHAT THE HELL IS THAT? Why the hell didn’t anyone tell me that delivering the placenta was like having another baby because you push it out too? Man after that…I had to be sewed up AGAIN! Then it was finally over. My amazing little girl was 8 pounds 1 ounce, 20.5 inches long and instantly became the love of our lives.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_PfQgUJY-x0U/SGOUhiQob2I/AAAAAAAABdw/I0JNFCXlRcU/s1600-h/1o+months.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_PfQgUJY-x0U/SGOUhiQob2I/AAAAAAAABdw/I0JNFCXlRcU/s320/1o+months.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216176097278324578" border="0" /></a> Jojohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09769253823997260519noreply@blogger.com