This is Part Two of Baby Poppy’s birth story. Read Part One if you are a lover of ups and downs, contractions, and me wondering if I’m really in labor or not.
So where was I? Oh, yes, Hubby and I were packing up to head to the hospital. Did I mention that it was about 1:15 am? Did I also mention that the hospital is about 30 solid highway miles from our house? Which takes us about 40 minutes or more? Yeah, ok great. We’re all on the same page then.
We took our car because we wanted our babysitter to have the van if she needed to take the kiddos somewhere. Sitting was really challenging so I was laid back as far as possible, sleeping/resting between contractions and waking up to, you know scream/cry through the contractions as they came. Then I’d go back to sleep.
[Seriously y’all I’ve SCREAMED through two previous labors and this time crying/whining seemed to work better. That and focusing on these amazing scriptures.]
My husband pulled into the parking garage at the hospital just as I was about at the end of my proverbial rope. I told Hubby I wasn’t going to be able to walk into the hospital. So he ran in and ran back out. Obviously time is beyond me at this point.
When Hubby ran back out he drove me up to the door, where we left the car parked (we’re rebels!) and a sweet nurse who had been around the maternity floor a time or two came out and got me with a wheelchair. She asked me some questions – I don’t know what they are.
I got wheeled up to the maternity floor at 2:19 am on October 27.
Before I was all the way in the room, the seasoned nurse asked me if I needed to pee, and I said no. (I think I peed like 95 times during this labor process which was excessive in every way seriously.) But I immediately changed my mind and said yes I would like to pee. And I made it to the bathroom.
As I went into the bathroom the team gathered. I was GBS positive. And hospital policy dictated that I needed an IV which they were fast and thorough and able to put it in quickly, and I was able to even direct them to the correct vein in my arm for a successful IV.
The midwife came in at this point and asked how I was doing. I hate this question while I’m in labor but I never have enough gumption left to sass them on it.
My midwife is a cheerful lady with one of those faces that is always smiling. Which is both an enormous comfort in labor and also super annoying. I’m just saying.
I’m sure other things transpired here. It couldn’t have been much. (You’ll find out why soon.) I do know that they asked me to tell them when I would like to move to the bed. And I looked around. Searching, imploring, thinking for any place to go besides that bed because I was NOT going to that bed. I don’t remember why it seemed so awful but I did not want to go. And that was that. I was eyeballing the shower, wondering how long I could stand up during these contractions.
As I was eyeballing the shower, my very cheerful midwife asked me if I wanted to move. I said no.
Then she asked if I wanted to push and I said no. I would like to note for the story that no one checked me. Just asked if I wanted to push.
I think the seasoned veteran nurse’s spidey senses were tingling. She suggested Hubby come stand by me (the bathroom was getting crowded). And then she reminded me I could scream as much as I wanted but that the extra energy would be wasted when I could use it on pushing.
And for the first time, I listened. I remember specifically during my first two labors thinking that they didn’t get to tell me and I was going to scream and yell and holler if I wanted or needed to.
But this time, I thought “well, what could it hurt to try really?”
I went ahead and started pushing. My water broke on the first push. Which surprised ya know, everyone in the splash zone.
Then I realized why I didn’t want to sit on the bed – there was a baby heading into my pelvis making me very adverse to the whole sitting/laying/being still in any conventional way thing.
So then I started pushing more. No yelling included. 3 contractions (maybe 4) later, and our sweet baby was up on my chest. I picked her up and looked her over and turned and looked at my husband and said “It’s a girl!”
14 minutes. 14 minutes from being on the maternity floor to the birth time of our third little nugget.
I joke that if I had listened to the midwife and waited the entire half hour to head to the hospital that she would have been born on the highway. But I don’t think so. I don’t think I would have been brave enough to push on my own since I had no idea if I was dilated or ready or whatever, since my water hadn’t broken or anything.
So at 2:33 am we welcomed our little girl. She laid on my chest and ate and hung out with me for an hour or more before anyone took her to weigh her or anything. She ate well right away.
Poppy weighed in at 8 lbs 1 oz (my biggest baby yet) and 22 inches long. She’s got a full head of dark hair (not crazy baby toupee hair but fine wispy mohawk hair) and a tiny little blonde patch on the left side of her head that is the same as mine which I immediately upon discovering it, I totally geeked about.
I tried to get them to send us home right away but they weren’t having it with the GBS positive. So we had to stay for 42 hours after the birth. The big kids came and met their sister in the hospital. Although I think they were mostly excited about exploring her crib and climbing everything they could climb.
The big kids did awesome waking up to the babysitter, then going over to a friend’s for a few hours, having daddy time, and then getting my parents all to themselves for a day. That’s like big kid heaven at our house for sure.
When they released us from the hospital, we hit a Chipotle on the way home (obviously).
She is now three weeks old and she’s eating well, sleeping well, (and sleeps well at night). She is such a chill baby which is good because the big kids are WAY into being in her face, and giving her hugs, and waking her up from naps.
So that’s baby Poppy’s birth story. I’ve never written out one of my kiddo’s birth stories before. So this was fun and also hard and also probably something I should print out because she’s my third so let’s face it, my baby book skills are pretty much out the window.