Monday, January 25, 2010


Charles Scott joined us on Thursday, January 21st, 2010, after me having contractions since the Monday before. After that, plus some pretty excruciating back labor, I ended up going for the epidural. I was too happy to be out of pain to eat too much crow about my natural labor and delivery plan, and it didn't slow anything down-- I was admitted on Thursday morning around 5 AM at 4 cm, and was at 10 cm by about 10:45. I pushed for an hour and a half, and he was born at 12:17 PM. 20 minutes after that, they brought around lunch. It was ridiculously awesome-- a new baby and food all at the same time. I was in seventh heaven.
I could not has asked for a better support team. Michael was absolutely amazing--- he knew exactly the right thing to say and do at every second, and was so supportive when I decided to get the epidural-- he reminded me that it didn't mean I was any less strong, and I was doing what I needed to do to take care of both me and the baby. He watched every minute of me pushing, as well as the delivery, and was there at every moment right by my side. My mother was amazing too-- she was able to give me massage throughout the entire labor and delivery, help hold my legs, and was actually the one to cut the cord.
The hospital was insane--- everyone and their sister was having a baby that morning. We also managed to get there right around a shift change-- even so, we were treated so well. Every single person form the triage nurses to the lactation specialist were kind and supportive and professional and good-humored. My labor and delivery nurse became my best friend in about two minutes, right after she started rubbing my feet for me and bringing me cup after cup of ice chips. Megan, where ever you are, I love you.
He's now five days old. He's perfect. Breastfeeding hurts when your son is a barracuda, and sleeping is a distant memory. Babies this little have outsized lungs and and outsized capacity to poop. Diapers with a wetness indicator on the front are God's apology for 3 AM fussiness. My life is no longer my own. I wouldn't trade it for a million dollars.