So it seems I have proved myself right about being an awful keeper of the blog. I haven’t kept up with it near as much as I would like to but it’s better than nothing. And once again, you will probably get tired of reading the marathon blog where I end up playing catch up for the last two months.
It really does seem like yesterday that I wrote my last blog…OH NO! I just went back to see when the last entry was and it’s worse than I thought. It really does seem like yesterday since my last blog of DECEMBER 1! And it really seems like just hours ago that I gave birth to our beautiful baby girl, but it wasn’t…it has been a week today! Krosby Fate Barnes (does anyone want to guess how many tears I will shed during this blog, because they are already coming...) was born on April 7, 2011, at 6:39 a.m. She weighed 7 pounds, 8 ounces, was 19 inches long, and lots of black hair! She is everything I ever wanted and more.
For the last few months, I have been watching Birth Stories on TLC and driving Kent crazy with them, or so he says. Now I have my own birth story and ask myself if watching these shows helped me in any way with my birthing experience. My only thought is NO, they did not. If anything, they made my fate in birthing seem just as scary as it was going to be and made me even more freaked out when I heard those dreadful words: “You will not be getting an epidural.” WHAT!!! All I could think about was the people on the birthing shows who didn’t get an epidural who were in so much pain (as one of my friends described a contraction as like “a wolverine gnawing and gnashing at your abdomen”) and the ones who did get an epidural might as well have been sitting on a patio having a cocktail. I wanted the latter of the two scenarios...bad!
It all started smoothly and quietly on that Wednesday morning of my due date, April 6. I had contractions from 8 a.m. until 10:45 p.m. that were exactly 7 minutes apart all day long. The good and bad about these contractions was that they never changed. The never got closer together and they never got more intense. So I opted to go to Target and walk instead of work that morning. After Target, I came home and walked. After Cade got out of school, we walked some more. Cade went to play with the neighbor kids, and Krosby and I walked some more. As I walked, my contractions would increase to three minutes apart. Finally, Kent and I decided we should lie down and try to get some rest, since we didn’t know what the night had in store. At 10:45 p.m., Kent and I laughed about our attempts in getting sleep were probably futile. Not two minutes later, before I even had my night light off, I had my first painful contraction. It was almost like a slap in the face. My contractions all day had been literally at a pain level of 1 and changed with one single contraction to a pain level of 6. There was no build up whatsoever. It was from painless to PAIN. My plan was to stay at home as long as I could in order to try to be more comfortable, but all it took was about three or four more of those to look at Kent and proclaim that I could not and would not be staying at home, and that we needed to call in the army and head to the hospital. So we did. Sharon came to the house to watch Cade and Adrienne hauled her hiney from Fort Worth to help Kent “handle” me during the event.
Our FIRST trip to the hospital was a lighthearted event. Kent was smiling and happy each time I was in pain because he was so excited for Krosby to be here. At this time, I had to concentrate to get through my contractions, but I was still laughing and cutting up in between. As we cheerfully walked in the door, the nurse said, “We have been waiting on you since 5:00.” PREFACE: I called the doctor’s office earlier in the day and asked if I could come in to get checked to see where I was headed into the night ahead. They told me I needed to go to the hospital, and I told them I was not. They said they were calling the hospital and they would be expecting me. I told them again that I would not be going yet. I thought the nurse was just kidding with her stern words, but little did I know she wasn’t. Kent, Adrienne, and I went into the room and shut the door. I look at them and laugh in fear, which I do when I don’t know how else to react, and asked them “Is this really going to be the nurse that guides me through one of the most trying times of my life!?!” Good times!! So the Nazi Nurse (what we called her in the beginning) comes in to check me and says I am 3 cm dilated and 50% effaced. At my last appointment, a week prior I was 3 cm and 80% effaced. Go figure. Anyhow, she said that my contractions where not regular enough, that they were anywhere from 2 minutes to 6 minutes apart, and that I probably needed to go home until something happened or I might could stay and they would walk me to see if that progressed labor. After an hour of more contractions, she checked me and I had not progressed. The option of staying was not presented to us again. She started taking off the monitors and explaining to me that I could take Tylenol PM to try to slow down/stop the contractions if it was false labor. If it was real labor, then they would not stop. Also, if I took the Tylenol PM, I might be able to get some sleep. She said if my water happened to break I could come back. Otherwise, she said not to come back until I had contractions that were 2 minutes apart for at least two hours. I couldn’t imagine going home in the pain that I was in, but it looked like I didn’t have much of a choice. I was discharged at 3:00 a.m. This would be the first time that I had to make sure my big girl pants where on…and buckled tight.
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| First trip to the Hospital Note Smile |
Me and my now army of three (my mom drafted, and had made it down from Fort Worth now) went home and set up camp. My contractions were very painful. I laid in bed with Kent holding one hand, Adrienne holding the other, and my mom sitting on the edge of the bed. I took the Tylenol PM. About twenty minutes later, I started puking. Good times!! I was able to shut my eyes for a minute, and if I was lucky, maybe two during the contractions. This time went by fairly fast in hindsight. I am not for sure what time it was, but during one of my contractions I felt, at the time, one of the best feelings I had all night. My water broke! Then I immediately puked, again. This was such relief because I knew my pain was going to be relieved now that I could go to the hospital and get my epidural. I am not exaggerating when I say that the only thing that was getting me through these contractions from this point on was the fact that an epidural was coming soon. There are some details that I will leave out, as they do not do anything for the entertainment factor of this blog (and that I will surely not forget, as they will pleasantly haunt me forever), but there are others, like the following, that I want to document. So sorry if it’s too graphic. So when my water broke, I could see what I thought was meconium, which is evidence the baby had a bowel movement in the womb. This is common and not dangerous as long as it is picked up on and precaution is taken. Kent could see I was worried about this and ensured me everything was going to be okay. The dog day was soon to be over!! So I thought…
Kent called the hospital to tell them we were on our way. He told the Nazi Nurse (that was slowly losing her status) that my water had broke. She asked if I was still leaking, because if I wasn’t it probably wasn’t my water. I am sorry, Nazi Nurse, I wasn’t leaking anymore water. It all came out while I was puking all over my bedroom. J I then feared that we would get to the hospital and they would tell me my water hadn’t broken and send me home. This was not an option.
We rush into the hospital for the second time – no cutting up, no making light of the situation, and I didn’t even pretend like I could walk. As I sat in the wheelchair, Kent, with more patience than I have EVER seen him have (as he has also pointed out), re-registers me. Okay, we pre-registered 30 days before delivery and we had already been officially admitted just hours before, for which we had hospital bracelets on to prove. The pain was unbearable and we sat and answered the same questions over again, taking even more time than the last. When the now not-so-Nazi Nurse checks me, she happily tells me that I am between a 5 and a 6. My one and only question was: “Do I have time to get an epidural?” She said, “Yes, the anesthesiologist can be here in 30-40 minutes.” Okay, I could get through this. I COULD do this, as long as the relief of an epidural was on its way. My nurse, Carolyn (yes, the used-to-be Nazi Nurse), came in and told me I had to have a bag of fluids before I could get my epidural. What?? There is no way that is happening. That drip………drip……….drip……..could not possibly drip as fast as it needed to. I was completely fixated on that bag, and it was not a good scene. THEN, she tells me she has to take blood and get lab work back before I can get my epidural. I knew, inside at this time, that I wasn’t getting the epidural. But I wasn’t going to face the music until I had to. I started pulling up my big girl pants once again.
The nurse wasn’t in the room much. My army fought through each contraction with me. It didn’t take too many more contractions before I was feeling the infamous “pressure.” I said it quietly a few times, because I didn’t want to jump the gun as it had only been a matter of about thirty minutes since the nurse told me I was a 5 or 6, that someone needed to get the nurse to check me. I managed to get the point across a little louder and Kent went to get the nurse. In the throes of labor (a term that I completely understand now), Carolyn began to check me. Her face said it all. I started refusing to accept the truth I already knew. “Well you aren’t going to want to hear this…” Before she could even finish, I am refusing out loud over and over shaking my head back and forth. No No No! This is not happening! If she could have slapped me in the face, she would have. Carolyn, who I now understood was the rough motherly type that didn’t kiss your boo boos but made sure they were cleaned up, told me I was almost fully dilated and did not have time to get an epidural and I was going to do it, and do it quick. This time, Adrienne and Kent helped me pull up my big girl pants and my mom cinched them tight.
As I pleaded that I had to push, I was shut down for a good long while it seemed like. That was the hardest part. I had to push, I couldn’t not push. Somehow I did it. Carolyn was called back in the room. She told me I could start pushing if I promised to push just as good for the doctor when she came in. I said yes. So she started on the real pushing with me and working on getting me ready for the doctor. Every push felt like it should be my last and result in my baby girl entering the world, but it didn’t. Seconds later, it seemed like, the baby’s heart rate fell from being in the 140s to around 50. Carolyn was able to stimulate the baby by rubbing her head and got her heart rate back up. Our one O.B. nurse and nurse’s assistant were running around like crazy at this point. It was very hectic. She got her heartbeat stable and announced that the baby was not happy and it was time for her to come out. So we continued our synchronized pushing a few more times. Carolyn then informed us with a half-disappointed, half-worried scowl that there was meconium, and a fare bit of it. I had told her in the beginning that I thought there was, but she said she didn’t think so. This worried me to no end. We were at the very end and just now figuring this out. Just when I thought we couldn’t get any more serious about pushing, we did. After about 30 min of pushing with the nurse, the doctor came in. It was go time and I couldn’t be more ready to have this over with and my baby in my arms. The first thing I said to the doctor was, “Just pull her out!!” She laughed. Well, of course she laughed. She was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed from the good night’s rest she just awoke from and the Starbucks she had on the way to the hospital. She laughed again and said, “Well, if you can get the head out, I can help you the rest of the way.” So I did just that and Krosby was born within a few pushes.
I was completely unmedicated, drained, sleep deprived, and on cloud nine. Krobsy was here, after nine short miraculous months of growing in my belly. She was here. Her father and I could not have been happier and more proud. Kent was an amazing coach. There is no way I could sing his praises enough. Hopefully, he knows this and won’t forget how much we need him. However, he could have been a little more competitive. :)
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| Grabbing Daddy's fingers |
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| Kent giving Krosby her first bath at home |
Cade is a natural at being a big brother. He is transitioning well and, more than anything, probably happy he has gotten to watch TV more often than normal when we are busy with visitors.
I can't leave out that Cade "won the lottery" as he likes to say. Everyone put in there guesses of date of birth and weight for Krosby weeks before her birth and Cade won! To a tee, he was correct on both the date and the birth weight down to the ounce. He is really proud of this and we were amazed. Uncle Craig said he was taking Cade to Vegas!
I have struggled with only a few things this week.I have had a hard time with just the thought of not being able to spend as much time with Cade this week. I have struggled with the amount of time I have to spend in the bathroom (I will leave out these details). I already have frequent thoughts of Krosby getting older and it makes me sad. I love her innocence. One of our favorite shows, Parenthood, is getting to me more than it usually does, along with other emotional pulls of the heartstrings. I have only felt overwhelmed once, which lead to a crying spell. Oh, and Krosby’s poopy faces and grunts make me incredibly sad. I think I will have to get used to that pretty fast since she is doing it so much!
The dog days are over! Our sweet baby Krosby is here and the perfect addition to our family.
