OK, so this is going to take awhile to update, so thank you for your patience. Most of my time is spent either at the hospital, pumping, or getting Henry's room ready so the blog has taken a backseat. I started trying to update it last week, but ran out of time, so I'll do this in installments until we are all caught up. As of now, he is doing well.
As most of you now know, Henry Marshall Phillips entered the world on Wednesday, April 25, 2007 at 10:12 am. He weighed 5 lbs, 1.3 oz, and was 18.5 inches long. He has very long fingers and toes and BIG feet--just like Daddy. Henry's feet, in fact, the same size as his shins! He also has his father's ears, but pretty much everything else looks like me. He has a head of dark hair and remains very wiggly.
So I went into labor at about 4:30 am on Tuesday. The day I turned 34 weeks. I woke up with painful contractions and they hooked me up to the monitors, an IV for fluids, and gave me my anti-contraction meds. Unfortunately (for me), my contractions, while intense enough to make me curse and writhing in pain, were not showing up on the monitor, so the doctor did not think I was in labor. It also sucked because it took several attempts to get my IV hooked up and eventually they called a Pediatric nurse to put it in. Around 6am, they gave me Nubain, some pain medication and I passed out.
When I woke up around 9am, it was again to a lot of pain. Because I sensed that this would be the day, I called Sloan and said, "I think today is the day. But the doctor doesn't think so." He showed up an hour later for a brief visit. I also took a shower, blew dry my hair, and put on make-up as I knew birth would be an ugly, sweaty affair and I didn't want to start out in the negative column. I then asked the nurse for some Tylenol to see if this would take care of the pain I was having consistently every 10 minutes that apparently was not contractions as the nurses assured me I was not in labor.
The Tylenol did not work. Eating lunch made me very nauseous and I basically just laid around writhing in pain for much of the afternoon. I was not in a good mood, so my nurse again called Dr. Murray to come check me. This was around 2 pm on Tuesday. Apparently my cervix had opened a bit more, but I was still only between 3-4 cm dilated and she thought these contractions were just Braxton-Hicks contractions and ordered me some Stadol and more IV fluids.
Unfortunately, my IV from the morning had to be redone as it had closed despite the "heplock". So three different Antepartum nurses tried and then they called down to Labor and Delivery. Laurie, my trusty L & D nurse who has been giving me massages twice a week, came up and said she had called the Anesthesiologist to come give me my IV as I'd been stuck enough already. After waiting 45 minutes for the Dr. to come, my nurse gave it one more try and it worked. I hated the Stadol. All it did was make me drunk. It did not make the pain go away, it just made me too tired to complain about it. The Dr. showed up an hour later to give me my IV and I was already in la-la land. Around 5, the pain intensified and I called my nurse to bring me more drugs. I told her that if this wasn't labor, I could not do this for another three weeks to bring Henry to term.
She called my Dr. again, saying, "Poor Mrs. Phillips, she rarely even asks for Tylenol and never complains and now she's cussing, arching her back in pain and banging on the bed rails." They decided to check and see if I had a bladder infection or kidney stones. My nurse gave me more Nubain. But this time it did not have much of an affect. Around 6:30, my nurse called the Doctor and said, "I'm sending Mrs. Phillips down to Labor and Delivery. I don't care what the monitor strips say, she's in labor." I called Sloan to tell him and he arrived shortly.
So downstairs I was still writhing in pain, begging for an epidural. But Dr. Murray said I had to wait until I could get blood drawn to check to make sure all of my blood thinner I was taking to ward off clots was out of my system from this morning. I could not have an epidural if it had not left my system. I began cussing again. Sloan laughed at this as often times I would try to whisper the cuss words or part of them, but say the wrong part silently. He reminded me that it was not the "mother" part of my apparent favorite word that was problematic.
And people kept calling him on his cell phone and my cell phone to check on me. Each ring was met with disdain. "I don't care if it is Jesus on the phone. Tell him I'm in $%#@ labor and not in the mood to talk." He turned off both our cell phones.
Finally, my favorite phlebotomist, Ernie showed up and took my blood. He said he'd put a rush on the order and was gentle enough to find the only vein that hadn't been punctured that day. God bless Ernie!
About thirty minutes later, the anesthesiologist showed up with my epidural and in ten minutes, I was out of pain. I highly recommend epidurals. Over the course of the night, I kept calling the nurse in the ask if she saw contractions on the monitor as I sensed them. She said, "Barely." Hmm. But they kept me on the epidural and flipped me from side to side every hour (so that the epidural worked evenly.) I also had ice packs all over me as I was burning up.
Around 1 am, I sent Sloan home. He had been sleeping on the floor and was coughing up a storm. I figured at least one of us should get some sleep before our son was born and knew it wouldn't be me. He had been coughing for awhile thinking he had a cold, refusing to believe that he has allergies. I kept asking my doctor to explain to him that you could develop new allergies as you aged, and she said, "I'm staying out of this, but she's right." So Sloan went home.
More to come later...
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