After my husband (Matt) and I got married last year (a year ago this coming Sunday, actually!), it didn't take very long to get pregnant. It was a little bit of a surprise, right in the middle of a heated campaign--but a much needed joy at the time, all things considered. And then... we miscarried. To say we were devastated might be an understatement, as anyone who has been through that can relate. However, much to my surprise, about 6 weeks later... let's just say "fertile Myrtle" would be an accurate description of me, apparently. Of course, I didn't realize I was pregnant until after almost 4 weeks of walking pneumonia and some pretty heavy-duty drugs. That was my first concern as soon as I figured out I was pregnant. And then, of course, my concern was that I would miscarry again. Luckily, I didn't.
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| My little dude at about 8 1/2 weeks |
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| And little dude at 20 weeks |
Strangely enough, our due date ended up being our first anniversary--28 April. Like all new moms, I was excited--and had a whole brood of excited first-time grandparents (since this is the first grandbaby on either side)... and with a whole posse of excited friends enjoying the ride, I ended up chronicling the "baby bump" every week on Facebook. These are the first and last pictures from that silliness--at 10 1/2 and 36 1/2 weeks, respectively--56lbs later.
I barely made it to my baby shower (on 6 April), and I wasn't sure I was going to make it, to be honest. When I was about 32 weeks, I started having preterm labor which sent me to the hospital and got me put on Procardia to stop that. Then my husband went out of the country for a few weeks, and rather significant swelling started. I figured that was just typical of pregnancy, so I wasn't worried about it. Of course, the day after my husband got back stateside, we had an appointment. And back to the hospital we went, this time with a diagnosis of preeclampsia. And back to the hospital we went thrice more that week (35 weeks into my pregnancy), along with two doctor's office visits that week. Things seemed to quiet down after that. I probably didn't need to go in as much, but both my doctor and I were being hyper-vigilant.
Week 36 seemed fairly normal (except one false labor scare, but that was quickly and easily resolved without yet another hospital visit--I told them I absolutely was not going back to the hospital until it was D-Day), so I expected when I went in for my visit on Monday, 8 April, everything would be fine and dandy. But no. I was dilating (just 1cm at that point), and they sent me back to the hospital.
Since we had finally (barely) reached 37 weeks, my doctor wasn't worried if I was to give birth then. In fact, he decided to induce me the next morning, so they gave me some medication to get things ready for the induction at o'dark thirty on Tuesday. My momma made yet another trip up from Colorado Springs to be with me, and my husband's mom was there most of the afternoon, but when it seemed like we were waiting until the next day, my mother-in-law went home. Then the contractions started getting worse--to the point where my low pain-tolerance couldn't handle it and they gave me a shot in my biggest muscle (oh, joy) that was supposed to last for several hours. It made things tolerable for maybe two hours. Did I mention I have an incredibly, incredibly low pain tolerance?
When that stopped working, the nurse reminded me I couldn't have an epidural until 4cm, and I was creeping up on 2cm at that point (more like 1.5). Yeah. Like I was going to make it to that. My poor husband and mom--I think I may have scared both of them. I certainly scared myself. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect pain like that, and we had barely gotten started!
By the way--I never would have been able to do this without my husband and momma there. So a huge thank you to them both... I don't know what I would have done without them during my labor.
And, while we're off the story-line a bit, let me take a moment to digress here. I have a lot of respect for those who give birth naturally... but there was no way on God's green earth I had ever given serious thought to doing that myself, despite the efforts of many to convince me otherwise. I knew I did not have the pain tolerance to handle it. By the way, those who say the sciatica is worse than childbirth are a bunch of liars. I've had sciatica, more than once, and with my low threshold for pain, it was debilitating at times--but not even remotely in the same universe of pain as labor. Oh, and those who say you forget the pain afterwards? HA! Not even close. It was worth it, absolutely, and I intend to do it again for at least one (probably two or three) more children, but I will never forget this pain. Now--back to the story.
I literally couldn't breathe through the pain. Did I mention back labor sucks? Well, it does. And then, it felt like something ripped. Oh, that was my water breaking--right around 9pm. That wasn't supposed to happen. I was supposed to be induced the next day! The nurse checked and, sure enough, I was progressing. And because of the level of pain, I got my epidural at 2cm. So there. Did I mention that I have a really low pain tolerance? Yeah. Really low. Things started progressing fairly quickly after that, and by 11pm, I'd hit 4cm. But it wasn't quick enough.
My little dude didn't like it in there without the amniotic fluid, and went into distress. And so an emergency c-section happened--which, to put it mildly, freaked me out. Not at all in my plan. I'd never broken a bone before, never had stitches--the worse thing was having my wisdom teeth out, which was a surprisingly pain-free experience for me--I don't think I took any of the pain medication they prescribe for me because I didn't simply need to. Besides, in my little OCD mind, I was loving the idea of a 4/9/13 birthday (because 4+9=13). So, just to mess with me, my sweet and wonderful little Erik Torsten joined us at 11:55pm on 8 April 2013. He weighed 6lbs. 6.9 oz. and was 19 1/4" long.
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| My momma took this picture while they were cleaning him up and doing all the fun post-birth stuff |
When I saw him, all my plans didn't matter anymore. All the pain--much as I still remembered it (rather vividly at that)--didn't matter anymore. All the worries, fear, and doubts didn't matter anymore. My little dude--my son--born 3 weeks early, after a lot of grief the last month plus of my pregnancy--was as perfect as I could ever have hoped for. Watching my husband's face when he saw Erik was incredible. And wouldn't you know--my little dude smiled at me before they took him away so I could get stitched up.
We spent a long four days in the hospital, getting released on the following Friday. Lots of family came to meet this special little man, and on Wednesday the 10th, he was baptized (just because that's what I wanted, there was no particular rush other than I didn't see any point in waiting).
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| After the baptism with Pr. Wolfmueller |
We had a few scares--me spiking a fever and still having high blood pressure, and Erik losing more weight than they were comfortable with--but nothing terrible. And now my sweet little dude, at 15 days old, is back up past his birth weight, and in the words of his doctor last week, he really is perfect (and looks exactly like his daddy). It has been the most incredible 15 days of my life. What an experience for me and my husband--I feel like it has made us closer as a couple, and I've been blown away by watching him be a father. I have been so blessed with the most wonderful husband and son possible. I couldn't ask for more or better. And I am so excited to be celebrating with my husband our one year anniversary on Sunday, 28 April.
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| My favorite picture of my two favorite men |
And, just because I'm a proud momma, here are a few other pictures of my little dude.
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