Brady's birth

Disclaimer: This is a blog post about labor and delivery. While I have omitted the graphic details, there will be talk about dilating, contracting, pushing, etc. If this offends you, proceed to the pictures. Mostly, this blog post is for my own personal reference to re-read before deciding to have any more children.

Friday morning I began having contractions.  I went on a nice long walk around 3pm with some girlfriends and the contractions became very regular and frequent (every 2 minute), although not painful at all.  They slowed down after the walk, and Eric and I decided to walk around the mall that evening and we had our last meal as a family of two.  We came home and I tried to go to bed, knowing this may be my last opportunity for a while.  That plan went out the window as my contractions became more frequent and uncomfortable and we decided to head to the hospital around 1 am.  The doctor checked me and when she did, my water broke.  The water contained meconium which basically means Brady took a poop inside of me.  I did the same thing to my mother, so I guess this is what they call karma.  Basically, when he came out, he would need to be taken immediately to be suctioned out to ensure he did not ingest the meconium.  I was rechecked at 7am and I had progressed from 2 to 3 cm.  The doctor assured me that I was progressing nicely and was completely effaced.  My dreams of a very quick delivery were quickly fading.  I had what I thought was a decent amount of pain within that first 5 hours, but it was nothing compared to what was to come.  I went in to the hospital resolute to have a natural delivery and there were many times throughout the process that I cursed myself for being so stubborn.  From 7-11 am, my pain level was 9.5 on a 10 point scale and from 11-1, it was a 17.  I know it hurt Eric to see me in so much pain and at one point (completely unprompted), he told me he would keep our room clean for a year.  I brought this up to him later and I think he was surprised that I remembered this in my delirious state.  Oh, I will remember.

At 10 am, the doctor said I was about 4-5 cm dialated and he would be pleased if I progressed a centimeter an hour from that point on.  He might be pleased, but I didn't share his feelings.  The thought of 5 more hours was unbearable and in the next two hours, my instincts told me I was progressing faster as there was just no way things could stay this bad for much longer.  The doctor came back in at 1 pm and checked me.  He said I had progressed very quickly to 10 cm and it was time to push.  I could have kissed him.  I pushed and pushed but once again, Brady did not want to cooperate and felt very content to stay where he was.  When I pushed on my back, Brady's heart rate dropped, so I began pushing on my side.  They gave me some oxygen to help Brady's heart rate.  I have participated in many intense sporting events in my days, but never have I worked so hard as I have in that two hour period.

Humorous side story: My doctor was fantastic and sat on my bed for about an hour of the pushing (rare for doctors who are known for "just catching").  His casual demeanor can not be understated, however.  In between contractions, he'd turn his head to watch the TV that was directly in front of my bed.  It is possible that Brady's first glimpse of TV was Lethal Weapon (not sure which number).  While I don't remember this conversation, apparently the doctor turned to Eric and said, "That actor always plays the bad guys in movies." I do remember them talking about Carolina Basketball...I did not tell them to shut up, not because I lacked the desire, just the physical capacity.

Back to Brady...he finally "turned the corner" and the doctor told me to stop pushing (easy for him to say) as a rush of people came into the room to prepare.  Everyone in the hospital heard me as I made the final pushes.  Brady finally arrived at 3:13 pm.  The feeling of relief was amazing but was tempered by the silence that followed.  The cord that was wrapped around Brady's neck was quickly cut, a tube was quickly put down his throat, and he was taken to the side room to be worked on.  We heard the nurses count out the seconds that he wasn't breathing and as 15 seconds turned into 60, we were worried.  Finally, after 90 seconds, Brady let out a beautiful wail and we let out sigh.



"Put me back where I came from!"

He was worked on for a while and before he was taken away to the special care unit, I was able to hold him for about 20 seconds.  It didn't take that long to fall in love.  He had a rough first couple hours and the doctors were concerned about his rapid breathing.  He turned the corner quickly though, and by about 6:30, he was cleared to be reunited with his proud parents.  The pain of the day was quickly forgotten as we spent the first of what will surely be many nights wondering how we got to be so lucky.

"Wasn't I worth it, mom?"

Yes, little buddy, you were.