Oh my friends. What a story I have to tell you. Sit down, make yourself cozy and enjoy THE LAST birth story to be posted on this here blog (because I cannot do it again, I tell you I cannot!!)
This was slated to be kind of a busy week. Nathan was scheduled to have surgery to remove the hardware from his arm, Ryan was getting ordained, the Weed Grandparents were coming into town for the ordination and to help with the surgery.
I had begged them to come help with the surgery before we knew about Ryan's new calling because I knew how very very pregnant I would be and how really hard the last surgery was, and I was 4 months less pregnant then! PLUS, given my propensity for having babies a little early, I thought it was a real possibility that I could be in the hospital with Nathan and all of a sudden need to get to a hospital myself! Of course I would need Ryan with me, but I'd need someone with Nathan and someone else to be with all the other kids... we would just be stretched too thin. My need for adults was great. So I cajoled and pleaded and begged and they graciously agreed to make their 4th trip to Boise in about as many months!
SO, on Tuesday night, they made it here with about half an hour to spare before Ryan was supposed to be ordained. Got that done. Check. Tuesday evening, I had a doctor's appointment where he checked me and delivered the disappointing news that I was only a 2 (total nonsense) and hadn't changed much at all since the last appointment a week ago and he was not at all optimistic that I'd be having the baby any time soon. Bummer. But with that news, I felt pretty confident that I could be the primary adult at Nathan's surgery. I really wanted to be there for him and with him. I feel like it's the end of a journey that I needed to make together with him. I was the one who took him to the emergency clinic that first night when he was in shock, holding his broken and bloody arm, and saying over and over again, "I need help. Mom, are we getting some help?? I just need some help." I was the one with him for that first scary long surgery. Then I was the one with him over the coming months when everything was so overwhelming and hard. I really wanted to close the loop and be the one with him at this final surgery.
I admit I didn't sleep well that Tuesday night. You know how it is when you have something SUPER early that is CRITICAL that you DO NOT MISS your alarm for? Well, that always messes with my subconscious and I can't sleep well. So I was "up" (I put "up" in quotes because getting "up" presumes that you were ever really "down" and being SO pregnant I don't sleep well anyway, and I was anxious about the surgery. So there really wasn't much sleep for me at all that night) at 4:45, even earlier than I needed to be in order to get him to the hospital by 5:30. Yes, a.m. We got to the hospital, got all checked in and waited. However, unlike the other surgery, this one was on time... early even! Unlike the other surgery, this one was SHORTER than they told me-a mere 42 minutes as opposed to 3 hours! I think because he was under anesthesia for such a much shorter time, he came out of it really easily, which was also different from his first surgery. Everything with his surgery went as smoothly as it possibly could have, which was amazing. We got him home and settled by about 11 and worked on taking some Christmas decorations down.
By about 2, I was feeling crummy. Of course I was. I "woke up" at 4:45! So, like a bum, I told the Weeds that I just needed to go take a nap and hey, thanks for cleaning my whole house for me while I sleep! Embarrassing. But whatever, it had to be done. I went to lay down, and as my head hit the pillow, the last thought I had was this, "Well, the only thing left is to have this baby." Meaning, I had checked everything else off my list. Christmas, done. Ordination, done. Nathan's surgery, done. The last big job was to have the baby.
I slept for a few hours, then had to get up to go to another doctor's appointment. Yes, two appointments in two days. I was desperate to have the baby and he agreed to strip my membranes, even though it looked like it would be a futile effort. You know how that procedure is. If your body is ready, it will help and if it's not, it's totally useless. Well, I had had them stripped the day before and it didn't work, plus he said he wasn't at all optimistic that it would work the next day, but he's a kindly man dealing with a very pregnant gal and he agreed to try it anyway.
I left the house, still feeling crummy even after my nap, and as I was walking out to the car, I had one contraction. Eh, no big deal, one contraction in a sea of dozens over the last few weeks, right? As I drove the 25 minutes to the appointment, I had two more contractions-kinda hard ones. Ones that if I had my choice, I wouldn't be driving during, but I was on the road and there was no choice, so of course I just kept driving and dealing with the pain. I arrived at the office and had to stop once as I was walking in because I had another contraction and it was too hard to walk through.
Finally, I got into his office, and as I was waiting to be checked, I had one more contraction. Kinda painful, kind of just annoying. When he got in there to check, that contraction had just subsided, and as I lay back and put my feet up, my legs were shaking. He looked at me somewhat quizzically, I said, "Sorry, I just had a contraction and I can't help shaking." He went in to check/strip my membranes and said, "Well, no need to strip your membranes again. You're a 6 and you're in active labor. We're skipping triage and sending you directly to labor and delivery."
I literally started to cry. I was so relieved that it was finally happening, and that I was already basically at the hospital. I had been SO worried about how it would go down this time. Which is silly, right, because I've already had FOUR other childrens. I was scared to have Nathan, no question about it. Never done it before, plus you always hear how it's the worst pain ever, I mean, who wouldn't be scared? But after having Nathan, I realized that yeah, it hurts, but you're going to make it and it's not going to last forever, so it's really okay. I wasn't worried or scared for the labor with Cody, Leah or Spencer. HOWEVER. Having SPENCER changed all that. I didn't realize it until I was getting close to the end of this pregnancy, but having Spencer was actually kind of traumatic. It was SO fast, SO chaotic, SO out of control and SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO Painful. I was scared of something like that happening again. I was scared that I wouldn't get myself to the hospital in time (after all, Spen was born 40 minutes after driving into the hospital parking garage. This includes all check in and triage time. So I REALLY didn't have a lot of time to spare.) I was worried that I'd be the lady who has a baby in the car-terrifying! I was worried that even if I did get there, I'd get there too late for an epidural, as happened with Spen, and then I'd have to go through that level of pain again and I just didn't want it! So, to be told that I was a very reasonable 6, and to know that I was a wheelchair ride away from the hospital was SO relieving that I started to cry.
But can we just take a minute here? Let us COUNT the contractions. I HAD FIVE from the time I left the house, until I was in his office, oh, 45 minutes later. 5 contractions. In 5 contractions, I went from a nonsense peasly little 2 to a 6. Can we all take a second to imagine what would have happened if I hadn't had an appointment with him that night? I'll tell you what would have happened-nothing. I would NEVER have gotten myself up and out of the house after FIVE contractions. Five contractions is nothing. Five contractions could still go away if you just lay down. FIVE CONTRACTIONS. Please! What woman who has ever had a baby thinks that 5 contractions is worth getting in a tizzy about?? NObody, that's who. So what a blessing that I had that appointment or all of my fears just might have come true!!
Please note that this also means that I literally drove myself to the hospital while I was in active labor, so that's cute.
They wheeled me down to the hospital, I gleefully skipped the triage ladies and went straight into a labor and delivery room. On the way, I called Ryan's office. By this point, it was 5:45, 15 minutes before he gets off of work. I spoke to one of the secretaries, "Hey, Krista, when Dr. Weed gets done, could you just have him come straight to the hospital instead of going home?" Pretty for sure that she screamed and dropped the phone. He didn't wait the last 15 minutes, but came straight over.
I kept telling the nurses, "Hey, I want an epidural. I want an epidural. Is the epidural guy here?" Of course they have their little procedures to go through first, so I had to wait awhile. At one point the nurse asked me, "Are you in pain?" I was like, "Uh, YEAH...?" She goes, "Oh, well you're dealing with it very well, I couldn't really tell."
Hm. This lead me to a new conclusion. I have realized that my problem might be too high of pain tolerance. That's why I didn't get myself to the hospital sooner with Spen-I was just dealing with the pain. That's why I wouldn't have bothered about those 5 contractions, I would have just dealt with the pain.
Anyway, eventually the epidural guy came, gave me a smokin' great epidural and I was SO SO SO relieved. SO relieved. I made it to the hospital. I got an epidural. Whatever else happens is CAKE. My guess is that less than 10 minutes after I got the epidural, I was ready to push, but my doctor wasn't around, so I had to wait a few more than that. What do I care, though? Because epidural. Amazing. When he got back, he checked and said, "Yep, you're a 10, let's have a baby!"
Two easy little pushes later, she was out. 7:39 pm. Perfectly convenient for everyone. Ryan didn't have to miss work. I was the last patient of the day for my doctor, so he just stayed and delivered. Grandma and Grandpa Weed were home with the kids. I didn't really think to call and tell them anything, so pretty much the first they heard from me after leaving the house to go to my appointment was this:
(When Spencer saw this picture, he said, "Oh! That's the baby I got!")
Little Grace was here. And by little, I DO mean
little. 8 pounds. 8 POUNDS! A RUNTY 8 pounds. Sorry to disappoint anyone who was hoping I might top my feat with Spencer. (Side note, although
this baby did not win any awards for size, I was STILL getting credit for Spencer's size at the hospital while I was there this time, including settling a debate between two nurses whether all extraordinarily large babies MUST be born C-section. Ha ha. Nope!!) Sheesh, never have I had one so small. When nurses would come in, they'd often say, "8 pounds, what a good sized baby!" Good sized?? RUNTY you mean!! She's definitely the runt of our litter, but we kinda like her anyway.
So there you go! That's the story! Do you even remember where this story started? It started at 4:45 in the morning. In the hospital. With Nathan. It ends 15 hours later, in the hospital. With Grace. HOLY COW CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT??? I had a baby the same day I took my kid in for surgery. I had to answer questions to get him checked into the hospital at Zero Dark Thirty in the morning, such as, "Does he wear dentures? Does he have hearing aides?" And a few hours later, I was literally answering those same questions for myself. The irony! It's all a little crazy, right?
So that's the story, and I shall post with many many more pictures soon!
