Ah, to be 21 and clueless...

Some people just make you feel old. During my pregnancy, people would ask, "Is this your first?" which made me realize that I was no longer a young 21-year old buck. And, it wasn't wildly inappropriate to think that I might have more than one child at the age of 27.

At the hospital, we encountered a few student nurses who had this same ability for reminding me that I was no longer partying on Water Street.

Some student nurses were amazing - I couldn't even tell they were students because of their undeniable confidence. Other students barged into the room, fumbled with papers and were generally a slow, hot mess. One nurse was so out of it - I felt so bad for her that I tried my best to make her feel comfortable. I was her first c-section patient and I literally heard her hold her breath as she examined my scar. (Girl, pull it together!) 

While she was in the room doing God knows what, Dan asked if I had used my breathalyzer (his term for a breathing devise the doctors had me use throughout the day to improve my lung capacity following the operation). Our student nurses paused and timidly said "It's really funny that he called it a breathalyzer."    From her delivery and tone, I could tell it was funny that he - this new old dad called it a breathalyzer - instead of the actual reference being slightly humorous. Then it hit me...

We are in a hospital. We just had a baby. Therefore, we are old, uncool and it's shocking to think that we get hammered or are any fun.

This same student nurse had to make a house visit to check on Ingrid and I a week later. She arrived with two giggly friends in tow, asked a series of vague questions and they all couldn't get over "how laid back we all were about the new baby!"

I get it. A baby at 21 would really mess up their plans for a career and a life. Then, I realized how thankful I am to have these "good ol days" behind me. The days of drinking cheap liquor four nights a week, sleeping four hours a night, eating junk and overspending are over. Thankfully, they have been replaced with drinking good vodka a few nights a month, cherishing sleep, finding the pleasure in cooking and eating well, in general - having fun being a boring adult with a new baby.

Sorry Rose, that answer won't cut it.

Looking back on our time at the hospital, I honestly enjoyed our time in that small, crappy room. We were able to be cocooned from the outside world, spend time with our new little addition and have our questions answered at the push of a button. After spending six days there, we collected numerous stories and encountered amazing nurses along the way. I personally loved the older nurses the best - they were able to translate my "deer in the headlights" look and offer sound advice - or literally take Ingrid and demand that I take a nap. They were confident, they were capable - they were moms.  

One night, Ingrid was especially fussy and Dan woke me up in a panic when he felt a red, squishy spot on her head. We buzzed our nurse Rose and I attempted to explain her condition as coherently as I could - at 4 in the morning - as my head was spinning with "what ifs." 22 year-old Rose nervously giggled at everything. I needed another pain pill - giggle. I wanted an appointment with the Lactation Consultant - giggle. She needed to take my vitals - giggle. We were worried about this weird abnormality on her skull - big smile, little giggle and then she sputtered something about how this was common with a vacuum extraction.   

Sorry Rose, that answer won't cut it. 

I felt so protective and asked her to contact another nurse to explain to us - in medical terms - what was wrong with Ingrid. She understood completely and did her job well. And of course, this was a very common side effect of a vacuum extraction - she's now "squishy spot" free.

It was a very emotional moment for the two of us - I mean, it was her head! I knew that this bullshit answer wasn't good enough and as a mom, I needed to be her advocate - without being a complete bitch. 

I stumbled across this quote today and although it's a bit "much," it sums up how I felt in that moment: 

"Birth is not only about making babies. Birth is about making mothers - strong, competent, capable mothers who trust themselves and know their inner strength."

What, a labor.

It's hard to imagine - but on April 8 I was still waiting for my water to break or contractions to kick in. That day, my mom and I headed off to what would be my final doctor's appointment. During this visit, I was given a non-stress test where the nurses monitored my contractions (non-existent) and the baby's heartbeat. Unfortunately, the baby's heart-rate was not up to par and my doctor advised me to get induced - right away. He's not one for medical interventions to start labor - so I took his advice very seriously and headed home to tell Dan the big news. 

Friday, April 8 

We packed up for the second time that week (I had a false alarm on Wednesday night) and headed to the hospital with great anticipation and excitement. That day, I was given Pitocin to induce labor. My body wasn't having it - the Pitocin did nothing and my contractions were sporadic and weak. That night we were given three choices: 


Choice 1: Keep going throughout the night and kick up the Pitocin level. 
Choice 2: Keep going throughout the night with a moderate Pitocin level. 
Choice 3: Turn down the Pitocin, get something to eat, sleep and kick everything into high gear on Saturday, April 9, 


We choose option three, Dan picked up some food at Apollo and we settled in for the night - until 1 a.m. when they would turn up the Pitocin to jump start  my contractions. Guess what happened on Saturday? Nothing. I would experience some contractions, then they would go away. Fun. Needless to say, we were both getting restless and wondered what we were doing at the hospital in the first place. Our doctor felt our pain and admitted that if the baby's heart rate was this well during the non-stress test, we wouldn't be here. Going home - at this point - wasn't an option. I felt defeated, I felt restless and I was hooked up to about five different medicines and monitors - I felt like a lab rat. That night we were given two options: 


Option 1: Break my water that night and hope the Pitocin kicks in. 
Option 2: Keep going with the Pitocin and break my water at 6 a.m. 


I went with option two - knowing that the c-section clock would start ticking the moment they broke my water. Day three - Sunday, April 10 - I finally started having regular, strong contractions around 3 a.m. at 6 they broke my water, at 8:30 asked for my epidural and by 3 p.m. I was dilated to 10 cm and was ready to get this show on the road. After pushing for two and a half hours (the max amount is three hours), the nurses knew something wasn't right and my doctor confirmed their suspicions - baby was face up and wasn't going anywhere soon. Due to her position the options were to attempt a vacuum extraction - and if that failed, a c-section. Then, everything was a whirlwind - Dan had to change into scrubs and I was wheeled into the operating room. Nurses were literally falling over as they scrambled to get this baby out. After a failed vacuum extraction and a failed attempt to numb my lower half - the doctors ended up putting me under for a c-section. I remember my doctor explaining the reasons why we had to do this - and how I'd be able to have VBAC someday. As they say in the south, "Bless his heart" - but at this point, this baby needed to come out and I was "over" my fear of a c-section! I would later learn that this little nugget wasn't going anywhere - she was wedged in such a way that c-section was the only option. 


On Sunday, April 10 at 6:35 p.m. Ingrid Stone Atkinson was born. I loved all 19 inches, 6 pounds, 12 ounces of her the moment I saw her in Dan's arms. I thought having a c-section after days of waiting and 14 hours of labor would be a nightmare - but the result was worth the waiting, pain, pushing and frustration - a cute little bundle, our daughter Ingrid. 

Ingrid Stone Atkinson - one week old.

Sitting, Waiting, Wishing.

Waiting for a baby is weird - I'm ready to be a mom and stop being pregnant. I can't plan anything or really go anywhere but trust me, I've tried all of the natural induction methods and now it's just a waiting game.

If I don't go into labor before Friday, I head back to the doctor for a non-stress test. They'll measure the fluids around the baby, check the heartbeat and movement for almost an hour and we'll discuss induction methods at that time. My goal is to not use too many unnatural methods to get the labor going - but we'll see what happens. My doctor validated my feelings of disappointment on Monday when he asked if I was ready for the baby or if everyone else calling and emailing was the true reason behind my anxiety. It's a combination of both. Dr. W reminded me that I was only a few days overdue, asked me to chill out and at least try to enjoy these last baby-free days. Easier said than done. I'll attempt to do that today and can't wait to call, email and tell everyone the good news very soon.

40 Weeks

I just responded to my 80th "Did you pop out that baby yet" text - with a hopeful "Not yet" and I'm left wondering - "Will I ever have this baby?" Of course, the answer is yes, but sometimes I think I will be pregnant forever. I know how insane that sounds, but right now I feel a bit insane.

I have all of the signs of labor - which I won't gross you out with - except for regular contractions and my water has yet to break (this only happens to a small minority of women).

Thursday was my last day of work and it felt a bit strange. In your early 20s, work is the defining thing in your life and up until a few months ago, it was a pretty big deal to me too. Baby trumps work, but I do need to work in order to provide for baby. So, although everyone is encouraging me to focus on this new number one priority, I'm left with little to do besides rearrange and refold teeny tiny onesies until he/she arrives - to kill time and keep me from going insane, I'm going to continue to search and apply for jobs until he/she arrives.

My mom is in town for the week and, if possible, I think she wants the baby to arrive more than I do. She's here until next week Saturday and if that baby doesn't arrive by then, I'm afraid she'll miss her train and continue to wait! It's been really nice having her around - she's been cooking and cleaning up a storm!

Speaking of storms, today is extremely gloomy, rainy and blustery day. I was hit by an odd hail storm on the way to prenatal yoga and thought this would be a perfect day for a baby - there's nothing better to do. I drilled my instructor for any and all yoga induction techniques - she just said raise your arms and hope for the best. Now I understand why woman partake in those weird natural induction techniques - you literally have nothing else to do - and come on, it's hard to just sit around and wait!

I'm trying to enjoy these last few days before the baby arrives - cooking, cleaning, reading and hopefully sewing a few baby items. I really enjoyed the Happiest Baby on the Block and I'm now searching for other baby books to read. Feel free to post a comment with any - and all - suggestions.

Here's the last round of prego photos - next time I'm hoping to post pictures of our new little bundle!

Pouring coffee for Dan - I can't wait to really enjoy a hot cup of coffee (sans guilt) soon!

40 Weeks - swollen face and feet, and ready for a baby! 

What's your guess? Either way, we'll find out soon enough!