Here it is folks...the much anticipate "birth story" of my youngest little penis--Samuel Alexander Nichols. I had complained for WEEKS over my pregnancy...I was miserable, I was tired, and I wanted to NOT be pregnant very badly. Of course, not at the expense of my son and his health. For that reason, I only prayed for an easy and safe delivery...but seriously, he needed to come out of my body. My doctor kept measuring me as further along than I was and with a history of birthing toddlers, I had no reason to doubt him. For safety reasons, I was scheduled to see a specialist on August 4 for ultrasound confirmation. Didn't quite make it to that appointment...
On Sunday, August 2...I had a goal--I was 36 weeks pregnant, 1 1/2 cm dilated, and had about a week until I was considered "full term". With Zachary, I started walking, swimming, running, jumping, etc. at 36 weeks, the day I hit my 37th week, I was sent to L&D to birth my son, I had done enough work to make it go time. He was a healthy and thriving little boy...easy labor, easy delivery, time for it to happen with Sammy. Michael and I decided to go about our normal day...we went to the mall and did some window shopping, took the boys to Toys R Us, then on the way home, decided to stop by "The Domain" for some more window shopping and walking...kept the boys out of the house and all of us together as a family. We were sitting at Borders when all of a sudden...I had to go home NOW. Seems that my digestive track was not cooperating, and, I would personally like to return to that Borders some day. Once we got home, I was able to clear out, grab a book, lay down, and relax--Michael even made my dinner time favorite--PB&J with a side of Fritos--life was good. At 8:30pm, contractions...wtf?
I did what I was supposed to and started timing them...when they got to be about 2-3 minutes apart, I told Michael we needed to get ahold of our emergency babysitting contact (which happened to be one of my best buds, Tommye). We raced to get Tommye, who took us to the hospital and took the boys, my car, and herself back to our place. Once settled, the nurses went ahead and muppeted me--letting me know I was still, only 1 1/2 cm. Alright, I'm going home AGAIN--cool, I'm only 36 weeks, I know this can still go south if his little lungs aren't mature enough. My doc suggested I sit tight for an hour, get checked again, then go home--Michael and I sat tight and watched bad television for the hour...my contractions weren't too terrible, so, I assumed home was our only option and let Tommye know she would be heading back shortly.
The hour came and went, Michael and I were prepared to go home--until I was informed I was now 3 1/2 cm. WHAT? I was admitted, IVed, and prepared to have a baby--shit. Again, sleeping in a hospital is not something that is easy for me to do. If I turn one way with all the monitors on me, something is bound the slide off--which causes the nurses to come in and mess with me some more. I have learned to just lay there and do what I can to not move--labor is already exhausting enough without broken sleep. Every few hours my nurse would come in, poke at me anyway, and was forced to check my dialating process. Let me mention, for those that have not had the luxury of being checked because you have not had children or are male--these nurses and doctors basically fist you...they don't buy you dinner first, not even a compliment on your hospital gown or hair. Just a snap of the latex glove, (unless you have an allergy, then I assume they use some other kind of glove...I don't have that problem), tell you to spread 'em and "RELAX". First off--there is NO relaxing when one is getting that done to them...Secondly--if you CAN relax, there is no wonder you are pregnant...whore.
I hit the 5 cm mark and around 11am, things just kind of...stopped. I was still contracting, but, no more dialating, nothing. My doctor, who I absolutely love--seriously, if you're gonna have someone up in your vag, he really is a great doc--gave me two options: Go home and wait to go into labor OR stay, have my water broken, and wait for Sammy. I considered the first option...but, I remember my last doctor telling me that at 5cm, it is no longer safe to be up walking around. You run the risk of your water breaking, the cord falling through, and having an even bigger mess on your hands. Although I was terrified of Sammy being a bit undercooked, I felt like I didn't have any other option but to have my son...if I had gone home, water broke, I knew my history, which was, a baby within 2 hours of broken water. Could I risk getting stuck in I-35 traffic at rush hour? I was in a hospital, can't get much safer than that. I opted to stay...and at that point, only pray that Sammy was mature enough to handle the world a little early.
The rest of the labor went pretty quickly...my water broke around 2:30pm, I got my epidural at 2:45pm, and at 4:30pm, I knew that Sammy was coming....SOON. Sure enough, I got that "feeling", and told the nurse she better get Dr. Brown NOW--those 30 seconds felt like an eternity as the nurse had to literally hold Sammy in...he was coming, and he wasn't waiting. Dr. Brown got as far as a pair of gloves and saying "alright, go ahead and pu---nevermind". There was Sammy....but, not the screaming little piglet I was expecting...he was lifeless, pale, limp. As a mother, we all listen for the first cry--I didn't get that. Instead, I saw a room in panic, the doctor cut his cord, and him being pumped with oxygen. I kept asking why he wasn't crying...why isn't he crying?!?! I was given a generic answer, to put me at ease, then I heard a squeek come from my little Sammy--and he was taken away very shorty after. I didn't hold him, I didn't really even see him, I just knew he had arrived at 4:41pm on Monday, August 3rd.
It wasn't until later that evening when the NICU doctors let us know that Sammy had to be intubated and was going to be transferred to Dell Children's Hospital in Austin. I delivered at a new hospital in Round Rock, they did not have a 24 hour practitioner in the NICU and felt his care was best in a specialty hospital. When they rolled Sammy in before he was transferred--he was tiny, actually, only 5lbs 6oz... I saw him through an incubator in a mass of tubes, wires, and monitors. I touched his little hand and suddenly wondered what I could have done to prevent this. I asked to be released after 24 hours (the minimum limit), Michael and I went straight to the other hospital, and I was able to hold Sammy, who had made a miraculous turn around. He had been excabated that morning and was now only using a nasal canula, which he was being weened off of. The rest of that week is a blur...Michael and I spent as much time at the hospital we could--fortunate that there were child care facilities for the older boys...who were confused and concerned for their little brother. I can't remember ever being that exhausted, physically, mentally, or emotionally, but, also aware I had to stay strong for my 4 little boys. A mother will bare the guilt for things that are out of our control, it isn't logical, and no matter how many times I was told it wasn't my fault, I kept replaying my entire pregnancy over and over..."If I hadn't complained, if I hadn't gone swimming that Saturday, if we hadn't walked the Domain, if I had just stayed home". Fortunately, Sammy came home a week after his birth, healthy, happy, and other than his hard beginnings, a perfect little baby boy.
Two and a half weeks later...I look at my son and that week is a distant memory, hell, the whole pregnancy is a distant memory. The first few days after he came home I was trying to transition him from bottle to Mommy--that was not very much fun--but, essential (I'm an odd advocate for this...shocking to many, I know). Again, now I don't think the kid would even know what to do with a bottle...children really are resilient. Our lives have calmed down enough to where I'm back to cooking dinner, washing and folding laundry, scrubbing my kitchen, and whipping my older children. Sammy is a well mannered, sweet, and adorable baby--I always said he was getting it all out during my terrible pregnancy...but, he threw a whammy at us during his delivery. Michael is an AMAZING father...not that I ever questioned that. The boys think he's adorable and told Michael and me that we "did a good job". I love my little family...and before anyone else asks--NO, this isn't the last one, YES, we are crazy, and NO, we aren't trying for the girl...I like being a boy mom--hell, at this point, I wouldn't know what to do with a girl anyway :)
Peace my bebes,
Andria
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