Monday, April 22, 2013

GUS

April 9, 2013 at 6:58 pm
August Meyer Heintz
"Gus"

6lb 9oz
20 inches
I figured, no better day to detail out his birth story than on his due date: April 22.

Plus, I figured I might as well wait until the fumes of the Boston Marathon shooting, the West, TX fertilizer disaster, and my week spent in sheer panic as I spent some time with Northside breast center in radiology (CLIFF HANGER!) dissipate.

Okay, and I haven't opened my computer since he was born, and I readily admit this time away from the computer/voicemails/texts has been refreshing.

Gus's birth story follows much like his brothers': wam, bam...gold medalist in the luge...

...and if that turned you off, you are not a regular reader of the blog.

ABRIDGED VERSION
  • I went into the hospital (at 5cm) after work due to some serial high blood pressure readings and for generally feeling "off." 
  • 6pm (and 7cm) the Dr broke my water. 
  • Sometime between 6pm and 6:58pm I had 3 contractions on top of one another, and asked for an epidural.
  • As the nurse left to start the epi process, I started pushing the baby's head out without the Doctor present. 
  • Doctor comes in.
  • Gus comes out. (It's a boy!)
  • The End.

THE NAME
If it was a girl, she would have been Resi June Heintz (pronounced Ray-zee). Resi is Eric's great aunt, and June is his Gma. But alas, we will save it for a dog someday.

August Meyer:
August is a strong German name (form of Latin "Augustus") and means "majestic, venerable." As with the other boys' names, we figured it wasn't a family name, but upon announcing his birth to my in laws--we find out it is Eric's great grandfather's name! I have *never* been a nickname kind of person, but "Gus" just tickled me. We decided on August/Gus relatively last minute. For some time we had debated Rhys, Meyer, Phinneas, and August. Oscar was on the list, too, but Oscar Meyer was just asking for it.
Meyer is my mother's maiden name and it was a contender for Miles's first name back in 2008. It just seemed to fit and now he has a name that represents both sides of the family.

EXCESSIVELY LONG VERSION OF GUS'S BIRTH WITH PICTURES AND UNNECESSARY DETAILS

I was 38 weeks pregnant--about 2 1/2 weeks more pregnant than I had ever been. And I felt every.single.minute. I wasn't sleeping, I had no appetite, and I generally was a very, very surly pregnant woman. Strangely, around 36 weeks, my contractions started to spread out. And despite signs of impending labor (terms that include words like "show" and "plug"), I was just rocking 4cm, 75% effaced, but with no sign of the baby making real attempts at emerging.

I started walking. I packed my hospital bag. I packed up my maternity clothes to sell. I talked about scheduling an induction a few days before my due date in order to deliver with my OB who was heading out of the country before my actual due date.

Ummm...was I doing things normal pregnant women do?

And do they cry? Because I did a wholelottaboohooing.

The only redeeming moment was realizing my stretch mark was just a scratch.

My 38 week appointment started off with me feeling "off." I was nauseated. And hot. And sleep deprived. My systolic blood pressure was 150. I don't remember my diastolic as those are the things you forget when you skip out of your MSN program (okay, technically it is a leave of absence...going on 6 years). And it wasn't getting better as the appointment went on. So Dr J (aka "Doogie") told me to go to the hospital to get some blood work to rule out things like preeclampisa, etc. I was 5cm, which is enough to admit me, but not having regular contractions that would indicate Gus was coming. But what we apparently haven't learned is that I am atypical.

I finished work, and headed to the hospital with Eric. Doogie had put in orders to put me in an L&D room because, well, he's an OB and apparently an expert in all this labor and delivery bid-ness and knew I was having a baby that night.

I got into the room, and threw down some L&D gang signs.
I got some blood taken, and my blood pressure was measured every 15 minutes.
I was 6cm and, well, in denial that I was about to have a baby.

Eric and I had to take our standard shot (gross Mommy!):
I truly believe that in exchange for complex pregnancies, I am awarded the best healthcare professionals. My nurse for the night, Jenn, was amazing. We were like sistahs from another mistah. We were both from MA, had gone to school in MA and ME, had 2 boys (I was just pressure cooking a 3rd), and runners. And we both loved my OB. Apparently he's the OB to have. I've likened him to Doogie Howser, but upon closer reflection, he's like the totally nice, normal contestant on the Bachelor who goes home a quarter of the way through the series. Except he is happily married and maintains a more reputable job than the run of the mill Bachelor contestant. Although, he does like country music...le sigh.

Okay, focus. That tangent was just about as long as it took to push this kid out.

While waiting for Doogie to drive over after his office hours, Eric and I decided to play Words with Friends WITH EACH OTHER ON OUR PHONES. (Nerd alert). We had 2 games going b/c the wireless was so awful.


(Do you see "FETAL" in there?)

Although I didn't really feel them, I decided to text an image of my contraction pattern to Doogie to make sure he didn't stop by Starbucks for a coffee or anything...Mama getting antsy!

Doogie came in, determined I was 7 cm, broke my water, and then changed into scrubs and went to go do some charting.
You know...no biggie.
We also all put in our weight bets.
Note: Dr J/Doogie had an unfair advantage...he's done all my ultrasounds and apparently has some sort of degree in this area. Eric took the easy way out and bid $1. Bob Barker would be proud.
So this is when I sort of panicked...like, I knew I was going to have a baby. But most other times my water has been broken (it's never done so on its own) when I am essentially crowning, so I had no idea how labor would progress.

So I got up, went to the bathroom, and took one last bump shot:
Nurse Jenn told me to sit up, Indian style (ie, "high Fowler's") and, well, wait. Eric modeled another position she said helped get the baby ready to deliver:
I married him. Willingly.
 I asked her what I would need to do to get an epidural. We discussed that our "safe word" was "Poodle." No matter what, if I said "poodle," get the anesthesiologist and shoot me up. Anything else, tell me to shut up and take it like a woman. I thought I might want to consider one...I had already done natural childbirth the last 2 times. I had nothing to prove.
Nurse Jen left the room for Eric and me to discuss.
BAM!
Contraction
WAM!
Contraction
SHAZAM!
Contraction

Wasn't there supposed to be breaks in between these suckers?

Jen started to come back in and I was all:

"I NEED AN EPIDURAL! POODLE POODLE POODLE POODLE!"

Now, I am not sure that is verbatim. I think I just said that I had no break between contractions. Eric put his hand on me and I said "please don't touch me." (Minding my manners even in transition.) Jen started to show me on the monitor how I had no space between contractions and said she would push fluids into me and in about 20 minutes I would have an epidural when I started to feel a baby's head come out of my body.

"I NEED TO PUSH!"

And that is when all placenta broke loose.

Jen screamed "PRECIP!!!" (which means precipitous labor).

I remember starting to involuntarily push and notice, hey--I can see across my room and across the hall into another room and see a guy standing. Yes, I totally remember thinking that while trying to keep Gus's head from flying out. At some point, a privacy curtain must have been drawn. Hell if I know when or how!

Next thing I know, Dr J and all sorts of people are in the room, and tearing open packages. Dr J was all "JUST GET ME SOME GLOVES!" and then asked Eric to throw back one of my legs.

Push...head...small push (Bwahaha...anyone who has had natural labor and delivery scoffs at any mention of controlled pushing)...and he was born and put onto my chest.


 It was nuts. But perfect.

My doctor gave me a huge hug...and then started the God awful task of sewing me up. Gonna be honest, there was some minor damage like I had the previous two times. And I contend it hurt more than delivery. But I got through the pain with many shots of lidocaine and jokes about "parts modeling." There is a reason I am Dr J's favorite patient--his words, not mine.
 Admission: I replay Gus's birth night in my head all of the time. I loved it. Sure, those 3 contractions were UNBEARABLE and if I had to do it for another moment I would ask for general anesthesia...but there was something magical about this delivery. I think after 38 weeks, months of bedrest, and even moments of pleading with the forces not to be pregnant and not even feeling like I wanted a 3rd child anymore (yup, I said it)...it all culminated in this perfectly orchestrated evening.

I fell so madly in love with Gus from the moment he was born...and as I write this with him breathing sweet milk puffs in my face, can say that we all are just smitten.

Welcome earthside beautiful August!

 Mahna meets August

 Miles's hand/Gus's hand

 Doting big brother (and his "big brother" button)



 Daddy

Felix takes a peek

 All my boys' hands


 My sweet Gus

 (I know you wanted to know about my voids...)

   
 ...and COMPLETE!

5 comments:

  1. So sweet! Love it!!! (let's hope the eventual dog mentioned in the first part is not a poodle)

    ReplyDelete
  2. Such a sweet, short tale. Congratulations!

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  3. Love this! Brought back memories of my super fast "baby-is-coming-NOW" delivery. :) Control? What control?

    ReplyDelete