Atomic Tonic

February 1st, 11:20pm. 5 lbs. 13 ounces, 18 inches long.

White blond eyelashes and eyebrows and at present, a full head of dark hair. Long feet. Delicate features.

THE CUTEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE.

A little busy right now lying around watching her sleep to get into more detail or post photo albums, but to tide you over, her first post-birth round of hiccups, which was KILLING ME. She looked so surprised about it.

February 1, 2005:

2:45am: Wide awake. *tap tap tap* Lying in bed *sigh* another night of not sleeping. I am weary of the not sleeping.

3am: Up to pee.

3:05am: Back to bed. *tap tap tap*

3:55am: Up to pee.

4am: Back to bed....wait. What? I just went to the bathroom. Can't have to pee again WHY AM I WETTING MYSELF. OMG I'M INCONTINENT. *pause* No. Wait. NO WAY.

4:02am: Back to bathroom with mirror.

4:03am: OMG NOT INCONTINENT. (Note: was a trickle and not a deluge and not in bed, not even on the floor.)

4:05am: "Niclas? Wake up. My water broke. It broke! WATER BROKE!"
*blank stare*
Niclas: "Gna?"
Me: "Gna. Right."

4:10am: Manage to figure out how to work my cell phone to call OB's office:

"Hi, this is Duane."
"Hi. My water broke."
"Who's your attending?"
"Dr. Weaver."
"And why are you calling?"
"Well Duane, because my water broke."
"And how far along are you?"
"Almost 39 weeks."
"And your attending?"
"You hate your job, don't you, Duane? DR. WEAVER."

*tap tap tap*

4:15am: Phone rings. "Water broke! I wasn't sure I mean I thought I had just gone incontinent but I'm not incontinent! Also, not in labor! ...Yet!"

4:16 - 6:30am: Lather, rinse. No really, took a shower and experienced my first real, not practice, contraction. Had breakfast, a few more contractions, one a Whopper With Cheese, and headed off to the hospital with three bags, one yoga ball, two books, a Wired magazine, one camera, two lenses and one giant flash.

6:31 - 9am: Random contractions, three walks around the L&D floor, one blue Italian ice, visit from Dr. Weaver and her 4 year-old daughter. "Hi Grace!" *hides behind mother's legs* Contemplate turning on the TV, bored, come on come on, bounce on yoga ball to speed things up. Niclas gets some food. Omelette, egg and cheese sandwich, pear, Diet Pepsi.

9:01 - 9:29am: Visit from Dr. Weaver. 4 cm. dilated, 100% effaced and once she's done with me, probably more like 5 cm. dilated. She tells me the 2 to 4 cm. dilating is the worse. I don't believe her. She also tells me we'll be done by dinner time. Want to believe her. Have to lie in bed long enough for the check, a fetal monitoring and the insertion of the Lego IV drip.

9:30 - 9:59am: One more walk around the L&D floor, IV on squeaky useless pole that Niclas tries to dismantle but the ceiling height won't let him.

10 - 2:29pm: THINGS SPEED UP. Contractions go from random to two and three minutes apart. Some are doubles which certainly last three times as long. Discover that the yoga ball is my friend. Want to marry yoga ball. Will do anything to avoid having to lie in the bed.

2:30 - 2:59pm: Niclas gets a roast beef sandwich and a bowl of strawberry ice cream which he eats from the side of the bed while I heave out contractions on the yoga ball from the foot of the bed. No photo of that meal are you kidding CONTRACTIONS ARE NOT MESSING AROUND.

3 - 3:09pm: The contractions start in at a minute apart and WHERE IS THE MAN WITH THE EPIDURAL. Shaking, not calm, can't get it together between contractions. Anesthesiologist makes Niclas wait outside and has me sign the consent form after the needle is in place. Smart.

3:10 - 3:50pm: Take a nap.

3:51 - 6:29pm: Contractions I can't feel. *yawn* Bored.

6:30 - 6:44pm: Dr. Weaver comes in to check my progress. 8cm. Guess we won't be making the Early Bird Special for dinner. Dr. Weaver says it's time to pull out the pit drip. I am hooked up.

6:45 - 7:44pm: Contractions. I can feel the pressure but not the pain. They feel like the Braxton-Hicks contractions all over again.

7:45 - 8pm: Feeling sort of sick. Tell nurse I'm not going to, but I feel like I could vomit. Know what this means.

8:01 - 9pm: Start pushing. Niclas has to hold my right leg as it feels like a pork loin to me. So much for him staying above my waist. Nurse has the other leg. Dr. Weaver arrives to check things between contractions and INSERTS A CATHETER. The indignity of it all and Niclas is watching over her shoulder "So that's where that is!" I welcome him to the one part of my anatomy he was not previously acquainted with. Also, tell someone to close the armoire doors on the TV at the foot of the bed my god the surface IT'S REFLECTIVE. Conversations between contractions with nurse, such as:

"Do a lot of women come in here with Birth Plans?"
"Some, sure. They all end up having c-sections."

9:01 - 10:45: Pushing. Dr. Weaver is in and out to check progress. When not with us, she's down the hall with her kids. Have to snap fingers to get attention of Niclas and nurse to hold my legs. *snap snap* "Contraction coming." "I don't see it on the monitor," Niclas says. "BUT I CAN FEEL IT HOLD MY LEGS." Nurse is all "Push! Push harder! Come on Michelle, you can do it!" Niclas counts to ten on each push. "One, two, three, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten." And I'm thinking, YOU'RE BOTH SO BUSTED.

10:46pm: Dr. Weaver lays down the law. I've got 14 minutes to get this kid out or she's going to use other measures. (Other measures: vacuum or c-section NO PLEASE NO I'll push the Chrysler Building out of my vagina to avoid a c-section.)

10:47 - - 11:10pm: *PUSHING* Dr. Weaver leaves the room and for the first time since I met her back in June, I don't want to see her again.

11:11 - 11:20pm: *SWEARWORD* She is back and all business. She should consider coaching weight lifters. "Push. HARDER." Calls in the troops and all of a sudden there are 5 other people in the room. "Do you think we need one more?" "I think we need one more." One more nurse comes in and grabs the suction end of the vacuum while Dr. Weaver attaches the cup to the top of the baby's head. *PUSHING* Legs over head, hollywood light on private parts, Pediatrician in the corner with bed-head. I can feel her head IT IS RIGHT THERE and then I hear "I need to cut" and then, THEN, *SNIP SNIP* and pop, the head is out, then the body, 11:20pm.

11:21 - 11:30pm: Nose and mouth get suctioned and we hear the first sounds from the Fist of Fury as she's whisked across the room to the Dr. with bed-head. Niclas follows and tells her our story in Swedish over the Pediatrician's shoulder.

11:31 - 11:50pm: Dr. Weaver pulls out the placenta like she's playing tug-o-war and shows it to me -- the sac membrane feels thin and sturdy. Then she sews me up. The sewing takes forever. "You're going to have to tell me later how bad things are down there." "Oh, it's not that bad, I'm a perfectionist." Want to believe her.

11:51: Fist of Fury is in my arms, Dr. Weaver is out the door. Bright lights are shut down, crew departs. "It's a wrap!"

Next Installment: I try to walk on Dead Legs.

A common conversation among people standing over a baby is the "Who Does It Look Like" game. Before Matilda was born, we were sure she'd have blond hair because, hello, have you seen her father? As her head got closer and closer to the outside world, Niclas kept up a running commentary -- "When you push, she's right there. Is that blond hair? Is she blond? Wait, can you push again so I can see if she's blond?"

As it turns out, she was born a brunette. She looks like me in that her head is small, but that's about it around the face. She looks like Niclas around the thighs (Actually, the poor thing seems to have inherited the worst combination of our thighs. Short from me and thick from him. Mini skirts may not be the wave of her future).

At 8 weeks old (tomorrow), she looks like herself, thighs aside. She does share my dislike of the cold, however, and she seems to enjoy the water, provided it's warm, which she must have acquired from her ex-swimmer father.

*My rack shot milk onto the coffee table last week, FROM THE COUCH. Aside from that, it's boring even to myself these days. But for the sake of record-keeping, I've had four clogged ducts since Matilda's party. Dues: Paid.

My water broke with Matilda 10 days before her due date. A broken bag of waters is a pretty clear-cut start to labor. My first real contraction, after a call to my OB, a shower and some breakfast, about made my eyes pop out of my head. The ones that followed were not quite as outrageous, not for a few hours at least.

This time my water is intact but I'm pretty sure things have started. Today, day three of the stronger BH contractions, I'd be willing to say they are no longer Braxton Hicks and are indeed early labor. They've continued all day regardless of my activity. They are too far apart to bother timing. They are painful but workable. I don't have to stop what I'm doing. They've slowed down for periods but they've never conked out altogether. My mucus plug continues its disgusting southbound travel. Things are emptying out. There's a bag of snack-sized Twix in the kitchen. I've only eaten one (instead of the entire bag, which is how that would have played out last week).

I've put a call in to my mother in case things pick up and we need her to come over in the middle of the night. I don't think it will come to that, though. I think things are going to remain at this level through the night. But I don't think I have a chance in hell of avoiding birthing this kid by day's end tomorrow. 10 days early. Just like Matilda.

(Watch. Now that I've written it down, the contractions will curl back up and not show their face again for a week. Will serve me right.)

Water broke at 11. Freezing cold by the time Niclas returned with my cell to call the OB. Contractions right behind them. Too many to count in the span of a shower. Matilda awake and screaming. Will post what we can here.

We're home. We're all fine. Matilda loves her sister to the point of jumping, literally, for joy.

Linnea Beatrix Rose. 6 pounds, 13 ounces. 19.5 inches long. Born 12:14am, February 7th.

The birth story, it's a good one. Stick around.

Of note before we begin: My labor with Matilda lasted 20 hours. I went into labor with her open to a non-medicated birth. I got an epidural 12 hours into it which most certainly slowed things down. The epidural was so strong I never felt the urge to push and could not feel anything when I was pushing. It took just over three hours to get her out.

I went into this labor knowing it'd probably go a little faster. I also wanted to try a little harder to go drug-free.

Tuesday morning, February 6th, I wake up thinking "That's it! Today's the day!" Get up with Matilda, have breakfast. Vacuum the downstairs, mop the kitchen floor, oil the butcher block island. Clean up the toys and books and magazines. Plump the pillows on the couch. Then I sit around while something but nothing happens all day. Go to bed at 10 assuming things are *thisclose* but not quite.

Twice contractions wake me up. I wonder if I'll be able to get much sleep.

Wake up gushing water. Jump out of bed and note the clock -- few minutes before 11. By the time I return from the bathroom, I am freezing. Shivering uncontrollably. Goosebumps on my legs. Call my OB who asks if I'm ok as I sound paniced. I say I am fine but taken by surprise. She reminds me that contractions don't start just because your water breaks. I tell her I know that but seeing as I've already had three since I dialed her number, it's safe to assume I'm in labor. She suggests I time them and she'll call back in half an hour. Hang up with her and call my mother who lives half an hour away. Tell her to get a move on. Get in the shower as we have 30 minutes to kill and I am still freezing. Give up counting contractions in the shower once I hit double digits. At this point, they are significantly more painful than they'd been all day. I tell Niclas that the difference between before and after your water breaks is the width of an ocean.

I put some clothes on and post to the blog on the laptop Niclas has perched on the bathroom sink. Then I fall to the floor with a contraction. And another. And another. And they just. kept. coming. and I am roller coaster. Not on a roller coaster. I am the roller coaster. Screaming through them like a triple loop amusement park ride. My hair is wet I didn't have time to comb it it's falling in my face and I'm sweating. Matilda comes into the bathroom wide-eyed and scared. I tell her I'm ok. In pain but it's ok. I'm going to have a baby. OB calls back. Niclas relays to me her question. How far apart are the contractions? "Are you kidding?" Another one hits and I'm on all fours on the floor rocking forward and back and I can't bend my arms but resting on my elbows might be better than my hands but I can't move them can't do it howling through a loop and I can feel my body pushing. I don't push back but it's happening anyway. I'm screaming that I want an epidural as soon as we get to the hospital. "Niclas tell the OB that tell her to get that set up I can't do this." Matilda is screaming back at me. Niclas is running up and down the stairs getting ready to go. Matilda chases after him. Comes back in and I'm still howling and now she's wearing socks. Niclas is trying to decide if we're waiting for my mother or if we're taking Matilda with us. Yes. No. I don't know and another one hits and I'm screaming and she's screaming back and I think for a second that I might feel better if I got on the yoga ball and another and another and my mother arrives. Niclas is back upstairs can I get downstairs? I do. Somehow I do. Fall to the floor in the living room for another loop, banging the floor with my fist. The car is on the bags are in it and I get down the stairs without a contraction. Get it the car, front seat facing backwards, kneeling.

We live three minutes from the hospital. Somehow the ride is ok. I get into the lobby at L&D and drop back to the floor. On all fours. Niclas tells the woman behind the desk that I'm in labor. She says yes, a little, huh? White clogs come out, ask if I want a wheelchair. No. No, can't sit, let's go. I get up and walk till another contraction hits. Then I drop back to the floor. On all fours in the hallway of L&D, screaming for an epidural. White clogs takes us to the first room, up and down the whole way, it finally occurs to me that Niclas needs to push on my lower back as hard as he can HARD HARD HARDER. Up and down, into a room. HARDER. On all fours on the floor at the foot of the bed, now there's another pair of shoes, crocs, but where's the epidural. They need me on the bed. I wait for a pause and climb up, still on all fours. They can't get the monitor on to check the baby's heartbeat I can't stop looping I hear the nurses discussing the whereabouts of my OB (not there yet) and I see crocs pull out a glove and some lube and no way can you check me, don't you dare. White clogs tells me she has to, I know this but I AM A ROLLER COASTER. She checks me "She's complete. Head's right there." White clogs tells me there's no time for drugs. I know this too but there's nothing? Nothing I can have? The roller coaster, it's blowing my mind and it loops again and I'm lying on my side howling and clogs is trying to get me to breathe and not push, no pushing and I'm not, not really, but I am I can't help it and then the OB arrives, she's putting on a mask and they're turning me over and the baby monitor, it's resting on my belly they didn't even have time to fasten it but at least they have the heartbeat. They break down the bed and raise it up and they're telling me to lift my butt and then I get to push really and the head, it's crowning just like that and it hurts oh my god that hurts. I reach my hand down between pushs and feel her there, just like that, she's right there, her head. I'm begging them to help me (how?) and pushing as hard as I can because I know the pain is going to get worse before it gets better and it has to get better and help me! Do something. OB tells me she's going to give me a shot of novacaine and it's just like at the dentist, the needle stays in too long and she wiggles it around and then I can feel slightly less and I see her pick up the scissors but I can't feel it and then the pressure releases and the head is out.

OB tells me to push slower, not so fast and I feel her pull down and then a body, an entire body, arms and torso and legs falls out of me.

An entire baby. OB puts her on my stomach. A baby. An hour and 15 minutes after my water breaks, a baby, crying, pink, blonder than Matilda was. Niclas cuts the cord and there's a real live person on the outside of my stomach who was just on the inside. She's bubbling and needs a few hits of the bulb syringe as she came out so fast, her lungs didn't have a chance to get squeezed empty. But she's perfect and out and I'm fine. Totally fine and now I can see the faces of clogs and crocs and we're all laughing and my OB is giving me a hug and I'm thanking her for showing up on time and Niclas pulls out the bag of skor bar I made for the staff and crocs is eating it but she's allergic to peanuts and the skor bar, its got almonds not peanuts but still, where's the key to her locker in case we need her epi pen?

Linnea Beatrix Rose
6 pounds, 13 ounces
19.5 inches long
February 7, 2007, 12:14am