Father's Day 2010

welcoming our man

He's here!

Liam Michael Smalley

May 25, 2010

9:40 p.m.

8 lbs. 10 oz., 23 inches

We love our man beyond belief. It was quite a journey getting him here (in more ways than one), and I know I will never, ever be the same, now that I have my two babies with me forever. In my overwhelming moments, I know that at least if I died tomorrow, I would have known true love in my life in so many forms, through my husband and the gifts of our two children.

I'm one for gory details, and I have been yearning to write down Liam's birth story since he was born, as it has been the thing it has taken me the longest to adjust to and recover from. Let's just say his birth was NOTHING like Maura's. Here goes...

So, I was supposed to be induced on Monday, May 24th. My mom came into town on the Friday before to help take care of Maura while we were in the hospital. All weekend I was having major contractions and lots of cramping and pressure, and I almost thought for sure I would go into labor on my own. Needless to say, I didn't. Monday morning arrived, and I called the hospital at 6 a.m. as instructed to confirm that they would have space for me. I was told the Friday before by my favorite nurse when I was at the hospital for an NST that there is always a chance that the induction would be delayed or bumped if L & D was too full, but that it rarely happened. She said sometimes people were delayed a few hours but almost never were bumped until the next day.

Just my luck of course, at 6 a.m., they said they had had a crazy night and to call back at 9:30 when they would have a better sense of when I should come in. 9:30 I call, they say to call back in 30 minutes. 10:00 I call, and they tell me to come in for an ultrasound and biophysical profile and then they would decide whether it was necessary to induce me right then or whether I was safe to come back tomorrow. We loaded up our bags, kissed Maura goodbye, and headed to the hospital, only to be home 3 hours later after all the tests came back fine and they determined I could wait until the next day.

I tried to be so understanding and nice to everyone I saw at the hospital, because they all felt terrible about having to delay me after such anticipation. I was, apparently, a once in a long while exception to the general practice of everyone getting induced on their actual scheduled day.

In the end, Tuesday morning came along fast enough and we were off. I was excited more than anything else, and convinced, after my past doctor's appointments and my dilatation, that things would go moderately well, if not quickly and smoothly.

Of course again, I was wrong.

I was hooked up to the pitocin by 9 a.m., and when they came in to check me to get a baseline, I started to get a little nervous. I hadn't dilated any further, was no more effaced, and the baby was high, higher than they originally thought. My Bishop Score was a 5, which basically means on a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being the most likely for a successful induction, I only had a 50% chance of success (meaning a vaginal delivery without a c-section).

The morning went well, fairly slowly in fact, with the contractions picking up but not too painful. I was dilating slowly, but they pushed for the epidural earlier rather than later in case I shot up fast, which they were still thinking would happen. So by 1 p.m., they were there to numb me up. Which, given the days track record, again did not go well.

They couldn't find the "sweet spot." It took a full hour and two attempts to get the needle in the right place, and right away, I knew things weren't going to go well. I never got fully numb like I remember I did with Maura, and within 10 minutes of them letting Jay back in and them cleaning up,I started to feel like I was going to pass out, likely a combination of the epi and of my vasovagel syncope. Sure enough, they took my blood pressure, and it was low -- like 65/40 low. VERY low. They all kind of panicked and I started crying, knowing it wasn't good. Within a minute they had given me meds to keep me from passing out and to help the nausea, which was unbearable. They kept telling me that this was normal, that lots of people had issues with blood pressure and epi's, but it still felt very surreal and I was very worried I would lose consciousness.

After about a half hour they stabilized me, although my blood pressure remained low, and between contractions that I still felt, I tried to rest. I was really out of it for a while, and my next real memories were around 5:30 p.m., when they checked me again and said I was 10 cm and that it was time to push. I remember being shocked, thinking I wasn't really ready for it yet, because I didn't have that distinctive pressure that signals it's time. But again, my delivery with Maura was so easy because she was so small that I kept trying not to compare.

I must interject and say that both doctors I had been with that day manually checked my belly and said they though the baby was around 7 lbs...

So in my head, we started pushing out a 7 lb. baby. The nurse called the doctor and the pediatrician (when they broke my water there was meconium in the fluid so they needed to take precautions), and I started pushing. Everyone geared up and turned out lights and prepared the warmer and was ready to go.

Within about 15 minutes, I knew it wasn't working. The doctor had an irritated look on her face, the nurses were sort of half helping, and I could just tell I was a ways a way. Sure enough I was, the baby was not coming down. They told me I needed to labor down and save my strength for when I could really push him out. So I sat up and stared to labor down.

At which point, my epidural wore off.

The pain was unimaginable. For the next three hours and 40 minutes that I labored down and pushed, I was the woman everyone dreads. I was screaming, moaning, losing my sense of reality, floating in an out of awakeness, blood pressure dropping, crying, ready to give up. They had to bring the anesthesiologist back to give me more of the epi, but my blood pressure was so low they didn't want to do too much. I remember focusing on Jay's face, as we were often left alone since it was taking so long. I remember the doctor and nurses telling me not to scream, that I was wasting my energy, to get mad, to keep pushing, and I thought for sure (as I imagine most woman do) that I couldn't do it any more. They brought out a mirror to let me see the head coming down, telling me to look for motivation. I looked; all I could see was swelling and blood and pure pain. It was truly, truly bad.

There was all of a sudden talk of shoulder dysplasia, a "big" baby, a baby stuck and unable to "turn the corner." I snapped out of it at the point that everyone in the room, maybe 6 people, all looked at Jay and said "TURN YOUR HEAD!" I saw the scissors come up, and they told me I had torn but the baby was lodged and they had to cut me open. I know they gave me a local; I could feel everything.

3 hours and 40 minutes after I started pushing, out he came with a huge scream from both of us, almost 2 lbs. bigger than anyone expected. I was literally delerious with relief. They took forever to get him to me, like more than a half hour, and this time they didn't let Jay cut the cord. He wasn't in distress, but because of the meconium, they had to give him oxygen and a few more tests, it seems. I just kept asking for him, wanting him in my arms. I was so hot, so tired, and my placenta was taking forever to come out. They kept telling me I had to keep pushing, and I at that point, I didn't care if they had to stick their arms up me to drag it out. I wanted it over, and I wanted my baby.

And then I got him.

He was perfect. Huge. The tallest baby anyone had seen. My mind was finally clear. He looked up at me, so alert, so ready for me. I was in love all over again.

The only thing that seemed the same as Maura's birth was the deleriousness that followed having him in my arms. Jay fed him while they kept cleaning me up, we made some calls, they gave us a new room, I took a shower, Jay and I cuddled in the tiny hospital bed while he went to the nursery for the night.

There are tons more details, but you get the idea. It was tough, amazing, sad and happy all at the same time, to put it mildly. I never hesitated or was concerned that I wouldn't have enough love to share with two babies. And that has remained my reality.

We came home from the hospital early, and there have been the standard adjustments, maybe even amplified more because Maura was such a different baby in so many ways and he's not a typical second child in that way. He's more alert more awake, more vocal. I'd forgotten how anxiety provoking a newborn's screams can be. But after a tough two weeks, I can say I feel strong, ready and happy. None of the tears like last time. Less of the anxiety. To be honest, I worry more about Maura than him. She's a wonderful big sister, pretty much ignoring him save a sweet attempt at covering him with a blanket or handing him a binkie. I've tried to rest, to spread myself between both children and Jay, and to take care of myself. It's been wonderful, in ways I will never be able to fully express, to have this time with Jay and the babies. Of course, I can't imagine how I'll ever return to work. But I will and I know we'll adjust all over again. But right now, even though I'm tired, unshowered, and at the moment, wearing a nightgown over my capri cargo pants because I was having hot flashes but am too tired to get fully ready for bed, I know these moments are the best of my life, and I feel lucky that they are mine.