(Well, at least for Mrs. Molly Morris I know it is ;)
***
The contractions started at 3:30 AM on March 26th, shortly after Roma left for work. At first, I tried to sleep through them, but they wouldn't let me sleep. As I lay in bed contracting, I slowly got to thinking, you know, this might be the real deal. So I started timing the contractions and then did what any Millennial would do: I googled "true labor pains." You know, just to be sure.
The contractions were consistently between seven and five minutes a part. And, perhaps more telling, their intensity was growing. Around 4:15 AM I closed the computer, finally convince, and figured it was time to get my ladies up. I woke Sarah up first. She'd been been eagerly awaiting this wake up call for weeks. So much so in fact, that she'd practically been sleeping with one eye open. The poor girl was exhausted with expectation. It was only appropriate that I wake her up first. We got my mom up second and then I called Roma at work and told him it was time.
I remember two things vividly about getting out of the house:
Vivid Memory One: I grabbed a large fistful of pretzles & with slight panic, shoved them into my mouth thinking, when will I get to eat again??!! (You should also know that later, after I was admitted, I ordered broth and juice to tide me over. Would have probably also ordered a burger but the nurse said liquids only...)
Vivid Memory Two: My brother Jason, who like my mom, happened to be in town, told me to "have fun." In his defense, he was half asleep; but still, have fun?
Have fun?!! Considering the mechanics of what was about to happen, who's pre-delivery send off is have fun??!!
***
I went from pretzel pounding and funny well-wishes to the car.
As we were pulling out of the driveway, my mom prayed. There was something about that prayer that suddenly made it all very real. I can't explain it more than that. You'd think that contractions would make it real, and they did-- in the physical sense of things. But that prayer, that prayer made it emotionally real. I remember blinking back tears and swallowing a lump in my throat and feeling an overwhelming sense of wonderment, thinking: Holy cow, I'm having this baby today. I'm meeting this baby today. Life is about to radically change. I hope I'm ready for this... I hope she's OK in there... I hope we live through this... (OK, I know, I have a bit of a flair for the dramatic.)
***
Once we got to the hospital, I was taken into the maternity ward for observation. They had me change into a gown and they strapped both a fetal heart monitor and a contraction monitor on me. I was 2 cm dialated, which was only a half centimeter more than I'd been dialated at my doctor's visit earlier in the week. The nurse said they would watch me for a couple hours to see if I continued to dialate and if it was indeed, necessary to admit me. When I was finally given the opportunity to walk around and "encourage things along," you best believe I was pacing those halls. The last thing I wanted was to be sent home with no baby.
All the pacing paid off. I was formally admitted to the hospital around 9 AM. I spent much of the morning breathing deeply through intensifying contractions and listening to Eleanor's little beating heart on the monitor. It's funny, for nearly ten months I'd just accepted that that little heart was beating strong inside of me. I'd never worried about it. But once the fetal heart monitor was strapped on me and I could hear her little heart, then suddenly I couldn't not worry.
I didn't really have a birth plan, however, around 5 cm -- and about seven hours into contractions -- I opted for an epidural. And lordy, lordy, I'm glad I did. It would be another four hours before the doctor came in and broke my water and Eleanor finally arrived. Even with the epidural, those four hours were painful and intense-- though not as painful or intense as they could have been.
The epidural was not without it's own drama of course. There was something about the sounds of a hole being drilled into my spine that made me super light-headed. I nearly fainted. I had to lie down...and then I farted, basically on the nurse who was trying to help me. It surprised us both I'm sure, but it didn't phase her. Seasoned vet that she was.
Once I was epiduraled up, I spend the next few hours watching March Madness on TV. Then, as I mentioned earlier, the doctor came in and broke my water. After that, it was game on.
The contractions intensified. Eleanor's heart rate started to drop whenever I the contractions came, which was frequently. The nurse had me rolling from one side to the other trying to keep Ellie's heart rate within the desired range. Turned out the ambilicle cord was wrapped around Ellie's neck. Had I known that, I can only imagine how panicked I would have been. As it was, I was super nervous.
Anyways, the doctor finally came in to check my dilation. I was at ten centimeters and it was time to go. Roma, my mom and Sarah stood on my left side, the nurse stood on my right. Roma was up near my head, swooping down to give me kisses and shove the oxygen mask "firmly" on my nose. (Bless his heart, I think he thought it needed a vacuum seal to work.)
I pushed for a total of ten minutes and then, there she was-- screaming and a bit purple. I cried. Roma cried. My mom and Sarah cried. It was just a beautiful moment.
As I held Eleanor, I was amazed by everything about her, but particularly by her long, skinny fingers with their perfect little nails. Those long fingers, those perfect nails, they reminded me of my late grandma Eleanor, Eleanor's namesake. (Here we are together in December 2004, just hanging out:)
My grandma has these long fingers and these perfect nails and I swear, my little Ellie-Els was born with her great-grandmother's hands. Maybe her hands will dance across the keys of a piano too someday, who knows? Ellie's hands have since plumped up as she's become a bit of a chunkster, but for me, they will always be her great-grandmother's hands.
Anyways, so goes the story of Eleanor's birth. She was born 6 lbs, 8 oz and 20 inches long. At her two month check-up, she weighed in at 12 lbs, 8 oz and was 24 inches long. She went from being in the 76th percentile for height to being in the 92nd percentile. Funny little anecdote there...
We were at the doctor's office and the nurse had just weighed and measured Eleanor. The nurse was sitting down at the computer while I was standing up next to the table where Ellie lay coo-ing at herself in the mirror. The nurse said:
"Wow, she's really grown. She shot up to the 92nd percentile for height."
"Yeah, well, we were kind of expecting that to happen eventually," I replied.
"Oh," said the nurse, "Is her dad really tall?"
"Uh... yeah, I mean, I suppose he's tall"
"Oh, but you're tall too I guess."
You guess? Do you run with a lot of 6+ women little nurse lady??
Too funny.
Anyways, here's my big girl today:
We will be down in California next week saying hello to our friends and family in San Jose. It'll be Eleanor's first trip to the Golden State & her daddy's first time away from her. I'm sure pictures and stories will follow :)
The best part of the embarrassing balloon? Jackson was obsessed with it. He spent 80 percent of his time flaunting it as he ran around the campsite with it tied to his pants.
