meet sam: the rest of the story

He's finally here.

I sent out an email to friends and family this past weekend - hopefully everyone who reads this blog received it. If not, let me know. I had trouble with my address book and I'm not sure if the word got out to everyone. Anyhow, the email was rather short and simply directed people here to see some pictures of Sam.

But I thought that I would write down "the rest of the story" here. Perhaps I'm writing this down more-so for myself than anyone else; I don't want to forget any of the details of the day. Please feel free to skim this entry, should you find that I wax too verbose.

I woke up the morning of June 10th (which was my due date, by the way) with really painful contractions that were about 25-40 minutes apart. They progressed throughout the day, and I tried to distract myself by working, playing MONOPOLY on the Nintendo, and watching an episode of LOST with Jeremy. Finally, we went to the hospital at 10:10 pm, when my contractions were about three minutes apart. The nurse hooked me up to different monitors to track the progress/intensity of my contractions, and also to monitor the baby's heart rate. At this point, I was dilated to a "4" and was completely effaced. We sat in a hospital room for about an hour, so the staff could verify that I actually was in labor.

The contractions were so, so, so painful. Wow. We turned on the TV to a documentary about an Abstract Expressionist group in California (as opposed to the infamous New York school) during the 1950s. I thought that the documentary would be more distracting, interesting, and less annoying than the "Tonight" show with Jay Leno, which was our other option. I don't know why I even bothered to care - I really don't remember anything about the documentary because the contractions were so horrendous. My legs started to shake uncontrollably around 11:30 pm and I felt very nauseated.

When the nurse came back, she checked me and I had dilated to a "5". However, she told me that my Group B Strep test had come back to the hospital as "positive," meaning that I would need to be hooked up to an IV of penicillin for four hours before the baby could be delivered. I had been informed by my doctor that the test results had come back "negative," but the nurse double-checked the records and verified that I did indeed test "positive." That being said, the nurse explained, "You are definitely progressing in labor, and normally we would break your water to help speed up the labor process at this point. However, we can't do anything like that tonight, since we need to keep you in labor for at least four hours." At this point, the contractions were so painful that I immediately requested to get an epidural - there was no way that I was going to sit through four hours of contractions while the penicillin was administered.

And the epidural made SUCH a difference. It was SO great. My legs stopped shaking and I didn't feel nauseated anymore. Plus, I was able to sleep a little bit and get ready for the actual labor. I was worried that I would find the administration of the epidural to be too painful to bear, but I couldn't feel anything because I was in the middle of a contraction when the medicine was administered. And honestly, if I could have felt something, I think it would have paled in comparison to the pain of the contractions.

So, after I received the epidural, Jeremy and I just hung out in the hospital room, waiting for the four hours to end. At 4:00 am, the nurse came in to check on me and my water broke on its own. I began pushing at 6:00 am, and Sam was born at 7:36 am. The process of pushing is another story in and of itself - it is so much harder than I thought it would be! I felt like I was running a marathon. When we watched labor videos in our prenatal class, I quietly had scoffed at one mother who couldn't push for the full thirty seconds, especially since the nurse and doctor were having her push for ten second intervals (I thought, "C'mon, it's only ten seconds!). However, I now can see why that woman was so exhausted. It was so completely and utterly draining.

And by the time my doctor recommended that we use a vacuum cup to help expedite the labor, I was all for it. Before I went into labor, I didn't think that I wanted to have a vacuum used, since it can give the baby a cone-head for a day or two. However, I would have agreed to whatever the doctor suggested at that point. I just wanted it to be over.

It is such a strange feeling to have something leave your body that is alive and wiggling. But, at the same time, it's also very beautiful. Jeremy and I both started to cry when the doctor pulled out Sam and lifted him onto my belly. He was just so perfect - and I was baffled that my body had created this new piece of life. It was such a happy and peaceful moment to look at him. I felt like the world stood still for just a few seconds, and then time started up again when the nurse whisked away his little body to be cleaned and weighed.

8 pounds, 5 ounces. 20 inches long.

While performing the routine checkup, the nurse observed that Sam was breathing a little bit quickly. They didn't seem too concerned, but they wanted to monitor his breathing for a while. He was taken to the ICU, where he was hooked up to a breathing machine. Jeremy was able to go up there with them, but I was taken down to a hospital room instead. My legs were dead-weight because of the epidural, and the nurse told me that as soon as I had feeling again, she would put me in a wheelchair and take me to the ICU. But my legs stayed numb for a while, and I ended up staring at the wall for two hours, not knowing if my little baby was alright. I finally was able to call and get an update from a nurse in the ICU, and Sam was brought down to my room shortly after. He's doing fine.

We stayed in the hospital for two nights. We were anxious to try and go home on Thursday, but the doctor wanted to monitor Sam a while longer, partially because of the trouble he had with his breathing. I was so glad to finally bring him home on Friday morning.

And now, we are all recuperating and trying to get used to the new sounds and schedules that have entered all of our lives. The days have passed by so quickly; Sam's needs determine the whole course of the day. I used to measure my productivity by the amount of tasks I was able to accomplish, and I realize that I won't be able to measure that way now - at least for a while. My whole focus now is on sustaining a new little life. And trying to get some sleep for myself, whenever I can.

update

Contractions are 10 minutes apart.

"R"

I have never felt the need to justify to my friends why I don't watch rated "R" movies. More than once, my refusal to discuss my reasons has led to awkward situations with friends, ex-boyfriends, etc. I guess I feel like LDS people should respect and understand my decision at face-value. Plus, I just don't want to be confrontational by presenting my reasoning. An incident that happened this past weekend made me think more about justification, why I feel like I don't need to justify myself, etc. Although I still don't feel like a justification is necessary, I thought that I might divulge one particular, personal reason why I don't watch rated "R" movies.

Up until I was seventeen, I was rather proud to admit that I had never seen a rated "R" movie. I realize that now the Church has advised members to simply avoid films that are violent, immoral, etc., but when I was in high school, it was very clear that rated "R" movies should be avoided. I was happy and proud that it was easy for me to follow this counsel.

Then, at the end of my junior year, I started to become friends with some of the popular "skater" kids at school. I was excited to get to know this circle of kids better, and ended up gong to prom with one of the boys in the group. Sometime around prom, I finally was invited to hang out with this group after school. When we arrived at one kid's house, everyone immediately agreed to watch a rated "R" movie. I wanted to speak up and say that I wasn't comfortable with that, but I felt awkward since I was the newcomer. I don't even remember what the movie was about, or why it was rated "R", but I was disappointed in myself for being such a coward. I remember trying to stare at the floor during the movie, get glasses of water from the kitchen, and trying to do whatever I could to not pay attention to the show. I felt so awkward and uncomfortable for not speaking up. Ever since that time, I have been especially determined to not watch rated "R" movies, I guess as a way to redeem myself for my cowardice as a teenager.

So, friends, it's not specifically because of "the only thing" or "just one part" in rated "R" movies that I'm trying to avoid. It also has nothing to do with me questioning your good judgment. It's something more. I continually need to prove to myself that I'm not the coward that I was in high school. I have other reasons for not watching rated "R" movies as well, but hopefully this explanation will suffice.

to snore or not to snore

This Martini painting makes me giggle; it looks like St. Martin is trying to stifle a snore in his sleep. However, over the past few days, I have decided that snoring is no laughing matter. I always knew that pregnancy would leave my body physically changed, but I never imagined how the effects would spread into my sleeping habits. Over the past few months, a snore has been creeping into my sleep by creeping out of my mouth. It started out as a little wheeze, but the other night it (apparently) was so bad that Jeremy got up to sleep on the couch. I was so horrified that a) I was snoring and b) I was snoring loud enough to estrange my husband that I couldn't sleep for the rest of the night.

I don't know what's happened - I never snored before I got pregnant. Perhaps all of the weight gain, swollen face, awkward sleep positions, and five pillows have something to do with it. I really hope that I go back to silent sleeping in the next few weeks. I don't feel incredibly ladylike when I know it sounds like a chainsaw is revving inside my mouth.

in case you're wondering

For those of you who see me on a regular basis, you may notice a change in my wardrobe. I lately have been sporting an assemblage of burgandy, teal, black, and chocolate brown tones, not to mention a few grays. My dear friend Quatorze has given/lent me a collection of clothes that are too big for her, and I am eternally grateful for her kindness. They are really cute clothes too, and now I don't have to wear any frightening maternity styles. Jeremy commented today that I "actually look comfortable" in my clothes for a change. I actually feel comfortable too...

Don't worry - if you see me walking down the street, there is no way that you could mistake me for Rachel. These clothes look fabulous, but they will never function as "my colors" the same way that they do for Rach (how could they, when these colors have already pledged their allegiance to Quatorze?). If you still have a hard time telling the two of us apart, just remember that I currently have a bowling ball in place of a stomach - it's a dead giveaway.

Thanks for keeping me clothed, friend!

some things i learned on the DC trip

J and I just got back from a great weekend trip in DC. We had a lot of fun with the Bowen family - thanks for organizing this get-together, Annette and Scott! On the return flight home, I started to make a mental list of some things that I learned and experienced on this trip; I thought I'd write some things down here. I have to admit, I started making this list when I was a little bit irritated during our return flight (see #1), but I want to stress that the overall vacation was fantastic.

#1 - Bring earplugs whenever flying a red-eye or late-night flight. With my luck, I will have Mr. Chatty McChats ("The World's Loudest Talker") sitting behind me, speaking at the top of his lungs while everyone else in the cabin is trying to sleep. Honestly, who even chats with their neighbor during a red-eye flight? Or, on the return flight, luck will place me behind a 380 pound, 6' 6" man with sleep apnea. This man snored so loudly and horrifically that an apologetic flight attendant was handing out earphones to muffle the noise. This huge man was convulsing so violently with each snore that Jeremy kept wondering if he should wake the man up...

#2 - Go and see "St. John's Passion" performed in the National Cathedral on Palm Sunday. With period instruments. And a counter-tenor.

#3 - It is not worth your time to the National Gallery expressly to see 17th century Italian paintings. You will be sorely disappointed and only spend about 10 minutes in that gallery. However, it is worth your time if you couple that activity with seeing the mid-20th century works in the East Building of the National Gallery. Barnett Newman's "Stations of the Cross" is amazing.

#4 - It is a good idea to learn about the Smoke Monster from LOST before watching episodes from this season. Thank you, Nathan, for filling us in as we dined over Peruvian food...

#5 - George Washington had only one tooth (of his own) when he was sworn into the presidency.

#6 - The Mount Vernon estate has a beautiful view of the Potomac River.

#7 - Our galaxy will one day collide with the Andromeda galaxy. The two galaxies will likely converge in a graceful, dancelike interplay (which will take place over billions of years). We watched a depiction of the whole event on "Cosmic Collisions," a film in the Air and Space Museum. So cool.

#8 - It is not worth my time to shop at H & M while pregnant, even if the store has a maternity section. No matter where I look, the "regular" clothes always look cuter than the maternity clothes (actually, I think maternity clothes often look frightening), and it is depressing to see that none of the cute "regular" clothes fit me right now. So, I should avoid H & M stores until August or so.

#9 - The Marriott Courtyard in DC has some nice pillows.

#10 - The American Indian Museum's cafeteria has a great lamb and rosemary sandwich.

mystery solved (?)

Last night entailed a debate regarding the lyrics of a song from Disney's "Cinderella." No one could assert whether the song is titled "Bibbity Bobbity Boo" or "Bippity Boppity Boo." I wondered if there was a mixture of the two: "Bibbity Boppity Boo" or "Bippity Bobbity Boo."

What do you think? After forming your own opinion, click here to see the actual lyrics. At least, I think these are the true lyrics - a Google search will bring up dozens of variations.