And not surprisingly, I'm a little late getting this post up since Matthew was born about three weeks ago, but hey--I'm getting it posted before his one month update, so that counts for something, right?
But before I delve into Matthew's birth story, I have a few "back story" bits of information to share (and I promise to throw a few pictures in as well since that's probably all you are here for anyway)
Backstory One: When I was pregnant with Garrett, my doctor brought up getting induced. I was 41 weeks and 5 days and rationally I knew the induction conversation was coming, but I still remember leaving that appointment in near tears. Labor was something that was supposed to happen on its own, and it felt like I had failed because I needed to be induced. Add to that all the horror stories you hear about inductions--the contractions being worse, the increased likelihood of needing a c-section, etc--and it's safe to say I was pretty much a wreck the rest of that day. Fortunately, Garrett ended up coming on his own (and in relatively quick fashion!) later that night, so I didn't actually need the induction (full birth story here). Fast forward 2.5 years later and the same situation presented itself with Connor; while I was a little more mentally prepared to schedule an induction, I was still dreading it and was equally glad when he came on his own the day before the induction was scheduled (although I was not glad that we almost didn't make it to the hospital for his delivery--full story here).
Backstory Two: When I found out we were pregnant with Matthew, I called my OB to schedule my first appointment only to find out he had retired. We weren't terribly surprised by this, but it kind of put us in a pinch for finding a new one. After some recommendations from a few trusted friends, we picked a new OB and scheduled our first appointment. At that appointment, she asked about my previous pregnancies and deliveries, so we shared with her all the quick and chaotic details about Garrett's and Connor's births. She chuckled a little over the craziness of their deliveries, and immediately followed up with a comment that she would like to see this baby born in a much more controlled environment, perhaps by breaking my water at one of my last appointments and then sending me over to the hospital to be admitted. Darrell immediately jumped at this plan (the prospect of having to "catch" the baby terrified him), and I was surprised to realize that I was also okay with this plan.
Backstory Three: At Christmas with my mom's family, my sister and I got to talking with some of our female cousins about babies and labor and delivery. My sister was sharing about the birth of her second child and how she was supposed to be induced with him (mostly due to gestational diabetes) but that she complained enough to the doctors and nurses at her induction appointment that the rescheduled the induction for the following week and she went into labor naturally before then. She then proceeded to basically bad-talk inductions and all the issues/problems with them, and after a few minutes of this she turned to me and halfheartedly apologized because she had forgotten that I was planning to be induced. I laughed a little bit, and responded with "Let's have this conversation again after you've almost delivered a baby in the car and we'll see if you still feel the same way about inductions"
Now the fun (and actually relevant) part. At my 37 week appointment, my OB went ahead and scheduled my induction for a few weeks later when I would be 39+2. She had said from the start that she was never going to let me go past my due date, and my gestational diabetes diagnosis pretty much solidified that the induction would happen sooner than later in my 39th week. Despite my rationalizations that an induction made the most sense and was ultimately the safest choice for me and the baby, I still had a fair amount of doubt and reservations in the days leading up to the induction. Nevertheless, we showed up at 7:00 on our scheduled day to get things going. I'd had been dilated since my 37 week appointment, and was up to 4 cm that morning, which was a good start to the induction. By the time they got all the monitors set up and everything ready to go, it was probably around 7:30 when they started the pitocin. Despite all the horror stories, I didn't really feel anything, and Darrell and I proceeded to walk laps around the labor and delivery wing. Every 30 minutes or so we had to report back to our room so they could increase my pitocin, and it was at one of these "checks" that our decision to have an induction was solidified. The nurse was adjusting my monitor and asked how I was managing the contractions. I responded that I hadn't really been feeling any, at which point she looks up at me (hands still on my belly) and says "well, you're having one right now". I laughed a little and joked "well, I guess I'm managing them fine then!". She then checked the record on the monitor and told us that my contractions were coming about 3.5 minutes apart. At that point, Darrell remarked that he was so glad we were already at the hospital, and I must say, I had to agree. We continued our walking routine until 9:15 when my OB came to break my water. I was warned that the contractions would likely start to pick up soon, and sure enough, around 9:50 I had my first "real" contraction that I could identify the beginning and end of. At this point we were still walking laps as best we could, but I was also stopping in the room more frequently to sit on the birthing ball for a little bit. It was on the birthing ball (probably around 10:30) that I had my first contraction that I couldn't easily breathe or talk through, at which point Darrell immediately called for the nurses (he had been instructed to do that; for some crazy reasons the nurses didn't exactly trust my ability to be able to recognize what was happening in my body and they wanted to be sure that I actually had my baby in the room and not in the hallway or something). They had me get in the bed so they could check me, and I was nearly at 8cm. I immediately asked if it was too late for an epidural, and the nurse laughed a little. When she realized I was serious she leveled with me--she told me that she would certainly call the anesthesiologist if I really wanted her to, but she felt fairly confident that if I could power through for another hour or so the baby would be here, versus running the risk of slowing things down by getting the epidural (or, even worse, getting everything prepped and ready for the epidural but then not being able to get it in before it was time to push). Darrell shared her sentiment, so power through I did. They were able to give me some sort of localized numbing shot into my cervix that was supposed to help numb the "ring of fire" sensation, although it's hard to say exactly how well that worked. After a few position changes (my cervix had a "lip" that was stuck and not moving out of the way), some seriously long contractions that made it really difficult for me to be able to figure out when to push, and some wonderful coaching from Darrell (a student was serving as primary "catch", and I think it was her first catch because she wasn't exactly giving me any cues to how baby was progressing, so thankfully Darrell stepped in to let me know where the head, shoulders, etc were), Matthew was born at 11:16 and I very happily solidified my status as "Boy Mom". The post-birth stuff was a little messy and they had to keep the pitocin going to force my uterus to contract back down (as well as give me some sort of shot in my leg to help with the bleeding), but it's amazing how much easier it is to tolerate those shots and stitches when you have the sweetest little baby on your chest to cuddle.
We've been loving life as a family of six, and I can pretty confidently say that our family is finally complete!
