By this point in Xander’s life, I’d already written a handful of posts about him. Poor Luna. Already getting the Second Child Shaft (but, then again, with Xander I wasn’t teaching two online courses in the weeks leading up to and immediately following his birth, so…).
We are all adjusting to life as a family of four (five, sorry Tonks. AGAIN.). Luna is such a different baby than Xander was, which shouldn’t be surprising at all, but is. If she’s awake, she’d better be nursing. If she’s asleep, she’d better be nursing. Ha! Oh, my. She hates being set down, being away from the boob, and pacifiers. She’s mixed about swaddling, but we kind of force it on her because, COME ON, I gotta shower at some point, right? (RIGHT.) She’s starting to have those periods of quiet wakefulness and oh, I love it. She just opens her eyes and looks around the room. When her gaze falls on me I swear she tries to smile (but mostly it turns out like a surprised O! shape).
Before too much more time passes, I thought I’d share the story of how Luna came to enter the world. Well, just part of it. Nine months of that story is rather dull, in my opinion.
So. Friday night, the first of this month, I was scrambling to finish some grading that had to post by midnight, and grumbling my way through more irregular Braxton Hicks and prodromal labor pains. Nothing felt DIFFERENT, though, so I wasn’t paying much attention. I promised myself a big bowl of chocolate ice-cream when I finished. So, I did my best to ignore Twitter and powered through thirty-ish partial essays. By the time I finished, it was past 11 and I was too tired for ice-cream (HERESY!), so I just went to bed.
… and proceeded not to sleep. I had a few stronger contractions, but, again, nothing regular, and nothing I couldn’t breathe or talk through, so…you know. MORE OF THE SAME. And, yeah, it must be admitted that I was not taking this gracefully. I was whining and crying and cursing and telling John how much my life sucked and would always suck because I’d always be pregnant and it wasn’t faaaaiiiir.
Around 2AM the smoke detector went off. Just twice. Enough to wake us up completely. Well, I was already awake (pregnancy insomnia, yo – SUCK IT). It went off enough for me to poke John awake and demand he go look at it. I’m kind like that.
He did, and it never made another peep. Around 2:30 I gave on sleeping and took my pillows out to the couch to sulk some more. And then…my water broke. I told John, who was still awake from the fire alarm check, and he started to call our babysitters and neighbors so SOMEONE could come watch Xander, because I was being stubborn and refused to put him in the car to come with us (not to hang out, but to meet our sitters there and buy us some time). I was also trying to convince John that despite every warning from every doctor in the practice, I was CERTAIN that we had plenty of time. PLENTY! I wasn’t even contracting yet! See? AM FINE! Let’s hang out and wait.
Luckily, our neighbor listened to our middle of the night message and high tailed it over to our place to hang out while our OTHER sitters drove over. Still though, you know, NO BIGGIE. JUST LEAKING AMNIOTIC FLUID EVERYWHERE. Let’s get a snack!
Got in the car, went back inside for an extra bottle of water (I was parched, OK?), and John proceeded to speed and run red lights (cautiously! Don’t worry! I mean, we live in VT, which is on it’s own not crowded, but even less so at 3:15 AM.). I continued to tell him it’s not a big deal, really, we have time! Don’t get a ticket!
He, wisely, ignored me.
We got to the hospital at around 3:20, spent 10 minutes getting from the ER entrance to our room, and Luna was born at 3:48.
You guys. It was intense. I mean. Xander was fast, too. Three hours from water breaking to delivery. But less than an hour!? I didn’t really think that was possible. Of course, yes, I’d been in labor for weeks, I was dilated to 5 for at least a few days. But still! An HOUR!? Total? Obviously, no meds, no IV for my Group B Strep, no “waiting” to push. I think the worst part, in all honesty, was the post delivery stitching. Done by a med student. Who tried to tell me that it hurt because the numbing solution “didn’t work.”
BUT ANYWAY. That was it. The whole shebang. Like last time, the actual delivery and pushing parts are a little fuzzy (you do tend to get rather, uh, FOCUSED on the task at hand). But I do remember yelling “I don’t want to!” when my midwife prompted me to give another push. And I do remember (only somewhat shamefully) kicking the stitching med student and yelling at her to “JUST STOP IT.” I may have said please. But I doubt it. John told me later he’d never heard anything quite “like that” in regards to my yelling. I guess I’ll never manage to have a L. Ron Hubbard approved Silent Birth. But, again, NON MEDICATED PUSHING. You try not yelling.
The post delivery time was kind of weird this time. I mean, we had Xander to think about. So John split his time between me and Xander, and I just sorta…hung out in the hospital, continuing to dial the number for room service until I had acquired quite the collection of meal trays. I was close to having to stay for an extra day or so, because I had some delayed bleeding issues, but that got resolved quickly, and Luna was healthy despite the lack of antibiotics (it’s not like she hung out in the birth canal for all that long, after all), so we got to leave after a little over 24 hours.
And that’s where we are now. Home. As a family of four (FIVE. TONKS. GOD.). And it’s still pretty mind-blowing that I am mother to CHILDREN. More than one. A son and a daughter.
But, of course, it’s mind-blowing in a wonderful way.