Holden Christopher Weber

As I write this, Holden is lying on my chest sleeping. His adorably rounded cheeks cut a curve in what was once just space and air a mere 5 days ago. He is 4 days old. And he is perfect.

Thursday, April 30th, I awoke at 6.45 am after a restless few hours of sleep. I felt crampy and my netherregions felt liquidy (yes this may be TMI for some so be warned). I went to the potty and noticed there was more of liquid. I didn't think too much of this, pregnancy is full of irksome and undignifed leaks and pains, but it did put me a bit on alert, since this was the first quite of its kind. "Baby," I said to Chris.
"Ergh," said the sleepy male.
"I am a little worried my water is breaking."
"What is it like?"
"A lot of fluid, I don't know." How was I supposed to really understand it much less explain it?
I paced a bit, then went back to the toliet to sit in full Thinker pose. At this point a full on gush of fluid came out. I went into panic mode, making a shrill animal-like groan of fear. What if something was wrong, what if it wasn't my water? What if it was and here I am about to have a baby and can I really go through labor? Can I really be a MOTHER?!
Chris came running.
I called the doctor's emergency line, then took a shower while Chris packed our hospital bag (we were a week exactly from our due date and still unprepared, go us!) The nurse who returned my call was the same nurse I spoke with the day before. I had called her because I was experiencing spotting and cramping after my appointment on the 28th, and then had lost my mucus plug on the 29th. I wanted to know if it was ok for Chris and I to go out to dinner or if I needed to be on red alert.
"Oh no," she said somewhat scornfully about the silly question she had said to answer afterhours when all she most likely wanted to do was sit down with a drink and some reality television. "Losing your mucus plug doesn't mean anything. You could walk around like that for 2 weeks."
Whatever lady, here I am 12 hours later sitting on a toliet as a fountain of girl. 2 weeks my ass.
So she tells me it "could be my water" and suggests I go to Dr. Weihs when they opened at 7.45.
Chris throws Cookie Crunch in a bowl, tells me to eat it, eat SOMETHING, because if I am going into labor it will be a long time. He uses a mixing bowl. He meant serious business about this eating thing. I choke a few minature cookies down as he hustles all our things into the car. I watch him as he packs, amazed that he remembers things like the microwavable thermal heating pad and camera cords. Into the car we go.
As if this whole "breaking water" thing wasn't movie-like enough (only 8% of women break their water on their own), it is rush hour traffic. This is after having to wait in the car as an ornery neighborhood goose stands in our way, looking smug, as I freak out and scream at it. I made up a name for him. "Alabaster," I said, "move from our way." He did. Chris looked at this positively and said that he was wishing us luck.
So yes, rush hour traffic, in Austin, Thursday morning. Chris drives about 10 miles on the shoulder of stopped 183. We have on our hazards, I grip the "oh shit" handle in on hand and my stomach in the other. People still flick us off. Gotta love some people. We make it to the office exactly at 7.45. We are ushered into the office, I am told to pee in a cup. As if this is just some ordinary office visit or something. Dr. Weihs comes in quickly, saying she will check me but it could be anything. She looks at the fluid and immediately says that it looks like amniotic fluid but she will check to make sure. Two seconds after she puts her magic fingers in me I feel liquid heat pouring from me. It doesn't register what in the world this could be. "Oh wow there goes your water," she said. I was only 1 cm dilated. I was scared. She told me that I needed to go to L&D immediately and they needed to start pitocin. I asked her if labor was going to be really difficult considering I was only 1 cm dilated and they were throwing me into artificial labor. She didn't answer right away. "It could be very long," she said.
So we leave and pull right next door to the hospital. Chris asks me if we should get something to eat since the minute I got in there they wouldn't let me eat or drink. I think and say ok, yes we should. I call my parents on the way to Waterloo. I tell them what is going on they are amazed that I went into labor early and that my water broke on its own. I tell them I really want them to be here, I want them to come. Chris's parents do not fly and so I knew they wouldn't make it. They say they will look into flights. After what seems like 30 mins I choke down half a breakfast taco. We go to L&D. The kindly man at the front desk greets us. "Kelly's water broke we need to be admitted," Chris says to us. His 80 year old ass literally runs from his seat. He asks me if I need a wheelchair. No, I say, I will walk. I can do this. Are you sure? He says. Yes.
He leads us around the hospital past registration desk, getting us lost and wasting time. But he was nice so we thank him as he tells us all about his grandkids. The grouchy woman at the nurse's station was not nice. She tells Chris to go register like we were stupid for getting lost. He is brisk back but runs off to check us in. I go into my room. Room 54. Area 54. It is the same room that was used as a model during our hospital tour. I am alone in the room for a few minutes. I take in its space. It is innocuous and still. It holds no meaning but I know that this room is where I will deliver my son, where I will fight and fight to extricate him from my body, where I will cry and yell and experience joy and fear. The nurse comes in, Sarah. She is nice and I am calmed. They hook me up to all sorts of wires. They have to try twice for the IV and blow the first vein. Ok, little rocky start, but I know my veins are hard to poke from being in the hospital previously, so I forgive her. Sarah starts the pitocin at 9 am and I wait. Chris changes into his "I love my nerd" shirt and favorite pajama pants after he showers. I tell him he should shower, he was hesitant. But it woke him up and he looked much more calmed.
At this point I am scared of the pain to come, the unknown ahead, and my blood pressure reflects it. They dip my urine to make sure I didn't just develop pre-eclampsia over night. I haven't. I am just nervous, shocker. The contractions begin and I have to keep peeing and pooping constantly. I handle them ok. I try to remember the lamase classes and how to breath. Chris breaths with me. I am super conscious of his comfort. For some reason I was opposite of how I expected to be in pain. You see in the movies all these angry women curses their husbands. I wanted him to be happy, at ease, I inquire often about him. His positivity buoys me. I get periodically checked by the nurse and Dr. Weihs (who had a funeral to get to, greaaaat). I am progressing. This is good. At noon I have a contraction so bad while peeing that I get that feeling like I am being poisoned. That I will fall on the floor in a white heat and pass out. I ask them please please for narcotics if not the epidural. Nurse Sarah checks to make sure the epi is ok. A half hour after requesting the epidural the anesthesiologist comes in. She is a pretty blonde woman. She is very kind. I loved her. She preps my back as I lean on the side of the bed, arching my back like a cat or trying to. My feet are in Chris's lap and he holds them. My head is lodged firmly in my hands. They give me the local numbing agent. It feels like an angry bee from hell. She inserts the needle and I feel pressure. More terrifying, I start feeling poking and jabbing IN MY SPINE. I tell her this and she administers more numbing agent. I do not feel it again. The worst thing about the epi was the strange crunching bone sensation that goes along with it, and the rooting around in your back, and how long it takes. It took about 5 mins for her to work in there. That was awful. But when she was done, ohhhh ohhhh how I loved her. It's not that you get stoned from it, it is just numbing affecting your lower half. But the lack of pain is so relieving that you feel like you just mainlined heroin. Or whatever I'd imagine that would feel like. At this point I am talkative and bantering with Sarah and Chris.
At around 5 pm I am no longer bantering. The pressure from the baby's head is so great it is almost worse than the contractions. It is difficult to explain how pressure can be painful, but oh how awful it is. It is like you are taking a crap the size of a planet. You feel the baby entirely in your butt. It is strange.
I dilate to 9 centimeters and am almost ready to push. Sarah tells me my pushing should be very short since he is so low. This is when the epi machine starts to scream at us. I realize now that what was an easy labor now has taken a terrible turn. There was a kink in the catheter and the medicine wasn't going into my back. I am feeling more and more pressure. Another anesthesiologist comes in. Tells me he might need to re-do it. This makes my heart sink. But he manages to splice the wires and it is working. He gives me a huge boost of medicine, knowing that I am minutes from pushing. My legs promptly go numb. I begin to feel loopy and begin singing Lionel Richie's "Dancing on the Ceiling" to the ceiling. When it is time to push, I pull on my legs and they feel like slabs of meat. They certainly do not feel like mine. And I have no pain or pressure to push into. It is a pointless effort. The clock restarts.
The epidural is turned completely off. I know I should be scared but I want to meet my son so badly that it doesn't phase me. I want to feel it, I want things to progress. When I feel the urge to poop a planet again an hour later the pushing commences. This is when the second blunder occurs. The doctor on call comes in, puts her hand (yes her hand, thank god for the epi) into my vagina and tell me that the baby is slightly transverse and that each time I am pushing he goes forward, then back into his twisted position even though she tries to turn him. A baby in this position can not be delivered. She tells me that we need to consider the possibility of a c-section.
This is not welcome news. It is around 8 pm and I have been going through this since 6.45. I did not get this far to go into surgery. She has this infuriatingly serene calm about her, but she's also a bully. I do not like this doctor. But at least this anger gets me more motivated to get him out my way.
We try the climbing the rope trick. No go. At this point, Nurse Sarah, who stayed late because she wanted to see Holden born (we hit it off) has to go relieve her babysitter of her daughter. Nurse Stacey (i am spelling it like this because it reminds me of my dear friend stacey k!) comes in. She tells me that if I am not too numb I should try to sit on the middle of the bed, where there is a dip in the plastic mattress thing. So I sit on the edge and Chris sits on the remaining part of the bed. I lean into him and push down, hoping gravity will help me. It feels stupid and I don't believe anything is happening until Stacey tells me that she can feel his head dropped into the birth canal. He is still twisted though. Doctor comes back in, tells me that since he hasn't turned from my pushing yet a c-section is getting to be a more solid possibility. I am more mad and scared now. At this point it is 10 pm and my mother comes into the room. I am buck naked, exhausted, my head hangs into my chest as I sit in the pushing position. "They want to c-section me" is the first thing I say to her. She asks me if I would like to put clothes on. No, I want to do this naked. I don't tell her that this whole birthing thing is to me the closest I can get to feeling like an animal, which obviously humans are, and this is the way I am doing it. Stacey tells me that I am going to push him out. That I can do it. She has seen dead-end cases. Women so tired they just give up and give in. She sees that is not me. Between Stacey, Chris, and my Mom, I have a great team. And for some reason I find endless reserves of energy. I block out my exhaustion and I push even when people have stepped from the room. I watch the printout of the contractions, and when they hit their peak I push to high heaven. I know I am making progress when my ass feels about to rip open. Stacey had me lay back and she checks me. With genuine excitement she tells me she can feel his head. Chris holds one leg, Mom holds the other, and I push against them. I push so hard I see space, stars and galaxies and all. I think about aneurysms and blood clots. I wonder if I am about to die. After a few pushes that come from a force greater than the Santa Ana winds, I see his head in the mirror. He has little tiny hairs all over his head. Chris begins a shrill excited refrain. "I can see him I can see him baby he's almost here you can do it!" My Mom is making little yelps and encouragements. I push again, and he crowns. The fucking (yes, I didn't like this woman) doctor is apparently having a drink down the hall or something, despite knowing I was close, and it takes her about 3 mins to get in the room, put on her gloves, and walk over. "HELP ME!" I yell at her over and over again. They were telling me not to push, that the doctor had to catch the baby. Sure, I will not push while this head just sits here destroying ever semblance of my former vagina. Thanks. Finally she gets down there and I am allowed to push. I close my eyes and concentrate. I push as hard as I can and the head comes out, or so I am told. I push again and someone yells that a shoulder was out. I push again and I feel enormous relief.
He is out. He is on the table and he gives a cry. Chris and I look at each other and begin to spontaneously erupt into uncontrollable crying and indiscernible animal noises. Holden is placed on my chest. He hair was slightly matted with blood and he had some in the folds of his face. But he doesn't smell bad or look crunched up or anything. He looks like the perfect combination of Chris and I. He has Chris's eyes and my nose. My bottom lip and his top. His chin and my facial shape. After his one cry he looks around, observing everyone. He doesn't panic and go wild like most infants you see on birthing shows. He just kinda looks around taking in the world. After some time they place him on the warmer and get his weight. He is a lucky baby: 7 lbs, 7 ounces, lucky 7s. 20 inches long. A big baby. If he had gone to his due date, or as predicted, over his due date, he would have been over 8 lbs. It was utter chaos in the room with the doctor rushing in, so I am not sure if 11.45 is really his official time of birth. But we are going with that. I had said this whole pregnancy I wanted a May baby. He was 15 mins from a May baby. And the rebelliousness starts! Haha. Actually I've always wanted a baby born on the last day of the month or the first, whichever. So that works too. ;) Yes, I am weird with numbers.

He is a perfect angel. A very content baby aside from when he is getting his diaper changed or is awake and wanting to be held and not being held. He already can pick up and turn his head and he rolled over on his side in his crib. He is going to be a handful. It is hard to get frustrated even when he is being fussy, though. He opens his huge blue eyes and stares you down. Everyone we meet talks about how beautiful and calm he is. We have such a lovely little soul in our lives!

Ok I am getting tuckered out....will post more of the last 4 days in a bit.

Mama for real!