So, here it goes:
November 9th, 2009 - Monday
Tom and I went to our weekly appointment with Dr. Echt Monday morning. After looking at the fetal non-stress test results, she said the baby was a 'mini-acrobat' and looked great. However, given my previous history and other factors, asked when we wanted to have the baby as she wanted to induce me rather than let me go full term (i.e. 11/15). I asked about Tuesday... She suggested Monday night as she had a dentist appointment on Wednesday that she really wanted to make =). So, we agreed and then set the wheels in motion to go to the hospital that evening.
Tom and I decided to make the most of our last afternoon pre-baby and went and had lunch at Carlitos. Luckily, Yasmine was able to join us and divert my attention! We ran some errands, I wrote lists of stuff I needed, thought I should do, and probably didn't need to do...
We called my parents who came over with dinner and who were all prepared to spend the night and take care of Cyanne.
(a few final pregnancy photos) (Good Lord, I'm huge!):
We got our bags packed. I wrote out detailed (and I mean detailed) instructions about Cyanne and the animals. Routines seem to be a big part of the Blabey household of late.
A shot of Cyanne pointing to where the baby is - "baby, in there!":
And then, about 6 PM we got a call from Labor & Delivery at Cottage Hospital that they were 100% full. They had no beds. They had no room for me. I was to call at 10 PM to see if a room had opened up.
As an aside, I gave Cyanne a bath and got her ready for bed. I sat with her and read her books, stories and poems. She drank her milk while I read to her. She cuddled her stuffed animals and I cuddled her. It hit me all of a sudden that this could be the last night I'd spend with her when it was just her. Just me and her. In her room. Reading her books. Listening to her milk come up the straw and hear her little swallow. Holding her, snuggling, and then putting her in her bed.
I got her all ready for bed and then stood there, swaying in her room, holding her. And then I just started to cry. I knew her life was about to change as was ours again. But she had no idea what was coming.
She kept saying "night night mommy" "bye bye mommy" and I'd reply with my usual "sweet dreams Cyanne" "I love you" "night night" "We'll see you in the morning" though this last one I kept thinking - wow, I might very well be at the hospital. Let's just say I cried while rubbing her back and stroking her hair as I said good night - she's just the sweetest little girl and still very much my baby.
I called at 10 PM. Still no rooms. Apparently, this week was one of the busiest there... who knew there were so many pregnant women in Santa Barbara who decided to deliver at the exact same time... Valentine's Day babies, maybe? =)
The nurse said I could come in between 12-1AM to see if they had a room free but she was not 100% sure they'd have one. So, me being me, I said I'd rather sleep in my own bed and try again the next day.
So, we focused our attention on the 10th... Baby would get another day to hang out in utero.
November 10th, 2009 - Tuesday
We were ready to head to the hospital. I spoke with Dr. Echt who made arrangements for me to go in at 8 PM. She said it was "absolutely packed" over at the hospital and I wanted to wait as long as I could before going in.
Tom and I decided to make the most of our "second last" afternoon pre-baby. We went for a nice, long, beautiful walk on Haskell's beach with Lucky. Dr. Echt had recommended we go for a long walk to "get the show on the road" and it certainly helped. I started getting much more frequent contractions while we were walking. We had the entire beach to ourselves. Sunny, salt air, and ocean - a fantastic combination. We dropped Lucky off at home and headed to The Beachside for a late lunch...
That night, Tom dropped me off at the hospital at 7:15 PM and he and Cyanne headed to the airport to pick up his mom, Anne, who had amazingly, wonderfully, fantastically flown in from upstate New York to help us.
I checked-in at L&D and surprise, surprise - still no rooms!
So, I hung out in the L&D waiting room with families waiting for good news from their children and/or relatives. They looked at me and said - wait, aren't you supposed to be in a room as a patient and not in here with us? Ah, yes...
10:30 PM - We finally got a room - 3N12. It was one of the 'overflow' L&D rooms as all of their suites were full but we figured, hey, it's still a room! Tom arrived soon afterward after giving his Mom the rundown at home and making sure she was all set with directions, Cyanne's routine, and her own needs. Not to mention the cats' and Lucky's various requirements...
10:30 PM-1:30 AM - Usual hospital paperwork. And... 3 attempts at doing an IV. Repeat 3! I am not a fan of needles. This we know. I really don't like IV's and still have vivid memories of getting one when I came in to have Cyanne.
So... Rosi from New Zealand came in and I'm thinking - well, she's older, she must be good at this. Um. Let's just say my veins and her techniques did not work well together. Before she tried in the right arm, she was taking her time, looking at my veins, rubbing, tapping softly, and I finally said, "You know, if those don't look like they'll work for you, you can try the other side where I had the IV last time..." Rosi: "No, I'm just methodical." Hmmm... So, lidocaine shot (which burns/stings like something wicked) in, some rooting around, Kristen grimacing in pain, and no success.
Move on to the left arm. Round 2. It was awful. More lidocaine. I'm literally grabbing my thigh as hard as I can while she's moving this LARGE needle around trying to get into the vein. No dice. I'm thinking - I can't believe she tried twice and neither worked. Please let this end.
So, she says she can't do it and our first nurse came in - Michele. We love Michele. Michele has IV skills. She said Rosi "stole her favorite vein" but she'll make it work. Still didn't feel good but no where near as bad as the previous 2. IV was in.
Michele was our first L&D Nurse. She was fantastic.
She hooks me up to start the saline drip. Very cold sensation as it runs down the tubing and into my arm.
Then, she checks me - approximately 3 cm dilated. She says we could either go Dr. Echt's initial route: cervidil to soften the cervix and then do pitocin later on or we could just dive right in with the pitocin drip (to increase my already present, though mild and irregular, contractions).
After calling Dr. Echt at around 1:30 AM - to which her response was "you haven't started her on anything yet?!? She was supposed to start at 8 PM!" - they went straight to the pit. drip.
So, from 1:30 AM onward, Michele came in every 30 minutes to check my blood pressure and to up the pit. drip little by little.
That makes for a less than restful sleep. By comparison, lying next to me, Tom looked relatively comfortable on the 1960's era cot the hospital staff managed to scrounge up for the occasion. Michele was thrilled having secured it for me running in to say, "I got it! You have to grab these suckers before they're gone, especially when it's this crowded!" Good - because otherwise he would have been sleeping... where, exactly? In the desk-like chair with wooden arms, I suppose.
November 11th, 2009 - Wednesday
8 AM - Dr. Echt comes to check on me to see how things are progressing. She walks into my room, we have the Today show on and I am reading Bon Appetit magazine. She says "Oh come on now, you are not in labor! What's going on here?!"
Kristen: "well, wait a minute. I am having contractions you know."
Dr. Echt: "well, we'll just break your water now and then you'll really get this show on the road."
So... around 8 AM she breaks my water (which, interestingly enough, was much less painful this time than it was with Cyanne). Lots of water... Good job baby with keeping the fluid levels up!
The contractions were close enough together at this point, we were waiting for them to get stronger...
I was about 4 cm dilated and the cervix was "still pretty thick" according to Dr. Echt.
8:15 AM - Our second nurse, Liz, arrives. We also like Liz. Liz seems like a pro at this sort of thing. Calm, motherly, fairly no-nonsense. Starting off well.
9:45 AM - Anne arrives to hang out after dropping Cyanne off at preschool. She said Cyanne did a great job waking up in the morning, asked after us (note: this is only the 2nd time in her entire life she has woken up and we were not there), and then went about her usual routine. She did great at the drop-off at school too. That's my girl =)...
Anne brought some beautiful flowers (lilies, roses, daises etc) which really made me feel happy. These provided an excellent focal point for me later...
So, we were chatting with Anne, hearing more about the goings-on in Cooperstown, Tom was talking about things in SB.
10:30 AM - ish: All the while, my contractions started to pick-up.
They were getting stronger and closer together. And I'm thinking: Okay. I remember how this went with Cyanne. It took me forever to get from 4-7 cm. This must be the same. I'm going to tough it out and then when it just gets to be too much and I'm probably heading into 'transition,' I'll ask for my trusty epidural. Or, maybe the fentanyl for a start and then move onto the epidural.
Tom's rubbing my back. We're hanging out. I have no back labor as I did with Cyanne. This is a true blessing...
The contractions are getting stronger and much more painful. I decide I need to go to the bathroom.
It is 11:45 AM.
Anne decides she's going to go back to the ranch and await our call, maybe pick up Cyanne and bring her to the hospital to see us as I'll likely still be in labor etc...
So, she leaves around 11:45 AM. I go to the bathroom.
Now, this may be way too much information but as I'm sitting there, all of a sudden everything gets much much much much much worse. That whole "what is your level of pain on a scale of 1-10?" question is running through my head as I'm frantically gripping the metal bar next to the toilet (now you know why they have bars all around L&D rooms - for poor laboring mothers to grab onto and swear like a sailor). I'm thinking - Good God this is painful. I'm trying to do the breathing we learned in classes.... but oh my lord it is painful. I manage to do my thing and then stand up (while pushing my lovely hospital caddy with my IV drips ahead of me)...
Tom has been pacing outside the bathroom door listening to me moan, breathe and vocalize my pain...
I come out and say "I need Liz. I need to see her right now. I need my epidural. Right now..." Turns out, Liz is down the hall with another girl getting her epidural ready. I really need Liz...
Another nurse comes in and I'm standing there doing this jig. I'm basically hopping from one foot to the other holding onto the side of the bed with all my strength and I say, pleasantly, to this other nurse: "I really need an epidural. How long until I can get an anesthesiologist?"
She looks at me and says, "Sweetie, the entire hospital is full. There are people in the ER waiting for rooms. The OR's are full. You're looking at at least an hour."
AN HOUR!?!
I'm sorry but frankly, you should just lie to a pregnant woman in pain. Hope of pain meds is one thing that keeps us strong. But no, she told me the truth and it was not okay.
This is when my language becomes bad and Tom says "it's okay. Say whatever you need to."
"Jesus Christ, this really hurts. Can Liz PLEASE come in? Liz PLEASE!"
My mother should be proud - throughout, I did manage to maintain my "please" and "thank yous."...
Also, when you're in this much pain everything is relative. I'm standing there in my lovely delivery panties and huge pad (which I was told to wear post water breaking), back of the hospital gown wide open to the door... I didn't care.
And then finally - after what seemed like an eternity to me but was probably only a few minutes, Liz comes in. I say "I really, really would like an epidural. Please. Or at least some fentanyl. Something... this is ridiculously painful."
She says "Okay. But, I need to check you before we can get you anything. Let me just finish up with the girl down the hall and I'll come right back to check you."
She paused.
There must've been something on my face. Some look of pain. Something about my labored breathing. Something about my saying "oh my god this hurts, it really hurts" while gripping furiously onto the bed handlebar and swaying from side to side or hopping from foot to foot - that made her reconsider.
And inside I just knew. I just knew this baby was coming. And soon. Liz had told me early that morning contractions start all across your tummy. Then they move down and get lower. The very last stage is the sensation that you're going to have a bowel movement and that the baby is very low.
This last part is how I felt - standing there...
Liz said: "On second thought, during the next break between your contractions, lie down and I'll check you." Magical words...
So, I do so - painfully.
Liz reaches in and the look on her face was entertaining - if that's possible at that moment.
"Oh wow. Oh, okay. Wow. Okay. Wow. Well, you're fully dilated. 10 cm. Your uterus is WIDE open. Okay. We're going to have this baby. Now..."
I knew it.
She said some word or shouted some word out to the hall that must be code for "Baby's arrival is imminent!" - get this show on the road!
I say to Liz - in my immense naivete - "I'd like an epidural!" - knowing full well this was not possible.
"Sorry sweetie, you're just going to have to do this naturally."
"Um. What?? No. Can I please have at least the fentanyl?"
"Sorry sweetie, the fentanyl is a respiratory suppressant for the baby" - at this point I enter another contraction and she tells the rest to Tom - basically saying that they can't give me anything because the baby will already be under enough stress coming through the birth canal.
No drugs. I can't believe I'm not getting drugs. I'm having a baby for goodness sake.
My thoughts are ranging from oh my good lord this is painful to oh my good lord I'm going to deliver naturally - how did this happen?? - to I'm going to have a baby to where's Dr. Echt??? - to the ring of fire. That's what it feels like. A ring of fire - everything burns and stings.
Liz wants to check the position of the baby so she says "PUSH!" and I'm looking at her and I say "Really, wait really? you want me to push??" So, I push. Wow. I think the 'ole pain meter would be about a 10...
It burns and stings and then I'm breathing and huffing and puffing and trying not to make too much noise. I was actually quite quiet.
Tom's standing there saying "What can I do? What helps?" I don't even answer because frankly, nothing helps aside from removing the baby from my body... I'm just gripping my right hand to the hospital bed bar and my left was crushing Tom's hand. So every contraction that came, I'd squeeze his hand (poor guy) as hard as I could.
And so Liz goes to call Dr. Echt - apparently, she'd called her to tell her I was ready to go and that she'd call her back to let her know how far I had to go.
Well, let's just say after I started to push Liz said: "Get Dr. Echt. STAT!!! Tell her to RUN!! The baby is coming!!!"
Why, yes she is.
And Liz then turns to me and says "Stop. Don't push. Pretend you're blowing out birthday candles."
Excuse me? Birthday candles? I'm hating the cake I'm picturing in my head. Hating the candles. I can't blow out freaking candles. This is insane... I'm trying to gently puff and I finally say "I can't, I just can't. I need to push."
Meanwhile - they are very unprepared. We hear them getting the delivery cart ready. Unwrapping tools, whatever will be needed. "Should we take this chair out of here, it's pretty cramped in here?" "Let's move the table." "what else do we need? Let's see, oh she already has this in here..."
Hello people - now is NOT the time for rearranging the furniture in the room or cataloging your supplies - the baby is about to arrive.
They bring in a light so Dr. Echt can see - "Now, how does this turn on, again? It's a new one, anybody?" "I think it's under here somewhere..."
I'm moaning and trying to figure out how not to push... and the nurses are working with the electronics.
And Liz takes pity on me (or simply realizes the futility of trying to hold off the inevitable) and says "Okay, just go ahead and push. Push!"
I take a deep breath. I push once.
They manage to get one stirrup up and slip my right leg into it. Tom's holding my other leg. They slip a paper/towel underneath me.
I hear a far off voice going "She's crowning! She's crowning. Where is ECHT?!? Tell her to run!! FAST!"
And I push again - the head it out.
Liz has one hand below my bottom and one hand still trying to figure out the stupid light.
I push again - and whoosh...... Liz pulls the baby out in one fluid, sweeping movement.
The time is 12:10 PM.
The baby cries a nice strong, healthy cry.
They put the baby immediately on my chest. She's beautiful. I'm in shock. I'm shaking.
These are photos taken immediately after she was born:
And then... Dr. Echt arrives. She throws open the door, looks from my legs up to my chest, shock flashes across her face, and says, "I missed it?? She already had the baby?"
Yes... It happened kind of quickly.
Dr. Echt then delivered the placenta (and said, as an aside, I assume jokingly, "you know, I don't normally delivery the placenta if I didn'tdelivery the baby...") and then had to give me some local anesthetic so she could suture up the 1 degree tear. I was amazed I didn't rip really badly given how fast she came out. There was no resting in the area to stretch it all out as they recommend... Still, being stuck with needles to administer the local didn't feel so great but again, it's all relative...
Tom cut the cord.
I laid there with Maritt across my chest looking down at her and then over to Tom. It was simply wonderful.
She was with me until 1:20 PM when they took her to the nursery to be weighed (7 lb, 8 oz), measured (20 inches), tested (glucose was good - 63 (normal = 40-80)), temperature was 98.6 etc.
While lying there with Maritt and after she left, I was shaking quite badly. Dr. Echt kept saying it was due to the adrenaline of doing what I'd just done...
Tom went with Maritt to the nursery. Liz brought me lunch of some sort. I think I put some update on Facebook with my phone. And sadly, I checked my work email and honest to goodness - responded to one work email... I enjoyed the peace and quiet of the moment and waited for Tom to return with Maritt.
1:45 PM: My Dad arrived to visit. He visited with me while I was still in the L&D room. Liz made me step-out while they cleaned me up a wee bit.
2:30 PM: Move to the Maternity ward. We got the LAST private room! Thank God.... The hospital was so full, the nurses weren't sure we would get a private room. Liz said she worked hard and got us the last one. I was so, so happy to hear that.
4:15 PM: Anne brought Cyanne by to meet Maritt for the first time. We gave her the Elmo stuffed animal from Maritt. She LOVES Elmo so this was a good move.
5:30 PM: Judith Muller (who married us and baptized Cyanne) from First Presbyterian Church came by to visit with and congratulate us.
While Judith was with us - Tom and I looked at each other and knew that we'd decided on a name. We'd been discussing it the past couple of days and then during the period between when she was born and when she went to the nursery, we kept looking at her, studying her face and saying name possibilities over and over. Maritt seemed perfect. So, we decided to name her Maritt Williams Muir Blabey.
Maritt: A family name from my mother's side. I believe Maritt was my grandmother, Nanny's, great Aunt from Norway.
Williams: Family name from Tom's mother's side.
Muir: My paternal grandmother's maiden name (Margaret Gillies Richmond Muir).
Blabey: the last name...
And that... is Maritt's birth story and entraince into the world.
Welcome to the world Maritt. We love you very much and can't wait to see what each new day brings.
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