Not "Real Labor", NICU, & Dad Quotes

This is going to be the best blog post ever. Why? Because BECKETT IS FINALLY HERE!!! This means a few things: 1) I’m not pregnant anymore. 2) The earth is now graced with the most precious little person in the world. 3) I will force all the world to look at endless pictures of him.

If you aren’t interested in the story of his coming into the world (and no I’m not going to give disgusting details…no one wants to hear that) then skip to the bottom and view precious pictures before moving on with your day. Otherwise, here we go:

Not “Real Labor”

A week ago Friday night, I started to have contractions that were lasting at least 1 minute and were 5-7 minutes apart. They weren’t painful, but they lasted until Sunday night (72 hours to be exact). Sunday night around 5:30pm I started having actual labor contractions…

I waited 2 hours until they were 2-3 minutes apart (and hurting) before I went to the hospital.

They get me set up in a room and start monitoring me. After about an hour, they inform me that they aren’t sure I’m in “real labor” because I’m not progressing like normal so they let me walk around the halls for a little bit, where I stopped every 2 minutes to hold my stomach during the death-grip contractions.

Side thought – how is it that waiting for something to cook in a microwave for 3 minutes seems like an eternity, while 3 minutes between contractions seems like 10 seconds?

I get back to the room and they check again. It’s like 11pm at this point, and they are still saying, “Well…for first time moms, it’s hard to tell when ‘real labor’ is happening. You’d probably be more comfortable…….{they say a bunch of crap here but I don’t really hear because I’m having another death pain}………..going home and coming back when you’re feeling strong contractions.”

It’s truly a miracle I didn’t kill anyone. Long story short, I insisted on staying at the hospital despite their patronizing “first time mom” comments, so they put me on some serious pain meds to let me sleep. About 2 hours later, I call a nurse in and tell her she needs to check the progression again. Sure enough, I had progressed a substantial amount (since I was definitely in labor) and she goes, “Oh! Well, it looks like you are in labor so we’ll go ahead and admit you…”

After being officially admitted, I spent the remainder of the night in a severe morphine-induced coma. I kept waking up long enough to ask Taylor, “Am I going to be awake when Beckett gets here? Will you tell them to wake me up if I deliver him?” I was so terrified I’d miss everything because of how groggy and high I was. It was certainly not the labor I’d heard about.

Even when Mr. Epidural came into the room, I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I kept thinking, “Come on, Sarah, keep it together. He will only be in the room for 10 seconds. Keep your eyes open. Don’t let anyone know how doped up you are. That’d be so embarrassing.”

At one point, I called the nurse in to tell her that my tongue was “pulsating” and every time I dozed off, I woke myself up by making sucking noises. If that’s not high, I’m not quite sure what is. She just laughed and walked out of the room.

After 18 hours of labor (and other exciting details I will only speak of if prompted), little Beckett came at 11:55am on Monday, August 22, 2011.

 

After a few days and a lot less swelling, I think he might be the cutest thing in the world. He is so precious and I’m just a wee bit obsessed with him.

About 3 hours after we got him home from the hospital, Beckett had a fever of 100.9 and we were told to go straight back to the Baylor ER. I started sobbing from the first time I saw the temp on the thermometer.

He was evaluated at the ER then transferred to Cook Children’s Hospital NICU. They brought the scariest transportation vehicle imaginable:

While at the ER, they tried to stick an IV in his tiny veins. On attempt #8, they finally had one stay. I was handling myself semi-decently until the IV incident. Hearing my 2 day old baby screaming for upwards of an hour frazzled me to no end.

At the NICU, they hooked him up to endless machines and monitors. He was monitored for a possible infection for 48 hours (the longest 48 hours of my life).

I know I looked like a blubbering freak with my streaked make-up and inability to keep from audibly sobbing, but I sure didn’t care.

I asked the neonatalogist how long I could stay at the hospital and if I could essentially live in the waiting room between visits. He took one look at me and said, “Well, one of the main things he needs is a healthy mom…and you look prettttty raggedy.” Ha!

We had to leave him up at the NICU for 2 nights – the hardest thing I’ve ever done. During visits, I had to scrub down and put on a gown and glove just to hold my baby. I have an unbelievable amount of compassion for families whose children spend extended amounts of time in the hospital. It was an incredibly emotional place.

They think Beckett’s mix of jaundice and dehydration may have been enough to cause a fever; otherwise, he had some virus that is gone now. Either way, he was discharged with a clean bill of health.

Taking our healthy baby home from the NICU was really humbling. We walked past all these parents in gowns and gloves at their baby’s bedside just counting down the days, weeks, or months until their little one could go home, too. Some families had been there for several months with babies born 3+ months early. Man, it was a hard experience, and we only endured it for 48 hours.

I kept telling Beckett that if he really didn’t like his nursery that much, he could have gone a less dramatic route than developing a fever to get out of there.

Taylor is the proudest, most smitten dad you’ll ever find. He went from never changing a diaper to a full-fledged baby whisperer within minutes of Beckett’s birth.

He also says some really hilarious things to the babe, some of which I’ve documented for my enjoyment. These are all private conversations between Taylor and Beckett:

• You’ve got a Super Trooper ‘stache going on. Don’t go crying, meow.
• Once we get those peanuts out of your cheeks, dude, we’ll be good to go! 
• We need to see some stool, Buddy. Get that butt workin!
• You just want to be left alone – you’ve got a little daddy in you, afterall.

We’re completely, helplessly in love. I hope you enjoy the endless photos and stories to come of our newest Brooks addition.

Here is another just to whet your appetite: