the birth of Abraham James (part ii)

... back to the delivery room we roll.

(part one here!)

So, my epidural was acting up and I was starting to worry that it was just going to give up on me entirely. It didn't, thankfully. I rolled around enough (with lots of help from my angel nurse and Simon) that it seemed to sort itself out and to be honest I was still so fixated on making sure the baby came out face down that the contractions were a semi-welcome distraction.

The OB that had come on that morning was super nice and came in once the nurse confirmed that I was complete and ready to push. The nurse said she thought the baby wasn't OP but she couldn't be sure ... which didn't sound promising at all. Commence cuticle chewing.

The good doctor gave me the okay to start pushing with the usual, "this baby is just going to slide RIGHT out ... " chuckle, chuckle. I knew better but started pushing anyway and it seemed like the baby was coming down like a well-behaved newborn ... nice and normal. Praise the good and generous Lord.

Oh, hmm - wait. Maybe not. Suddenly I heard reports from down yonder that the baby formerly known as behaved was what was that? Oh, "direct OP" -- Great. Great. Just great. And not surprising.

I should pause to mention that the doctor on call was a male which was fine but I preferred females (which lots of people tell me is hypocritical since Simon has delivered lots of babies to which I SAY: I'm not offended if you would prefer a lady doctor to Simon .... not offended in the slightest ... ) however, he was really great and I would totally voluntarily deliver with him again. He tried his best to turn the baby (the baby was not having it) and let me try almost every pushing position out there (humility - thy name is pushing positions). I kept saying I was fine if they wanted to bust out the kiwi (the mini vacuum - like they did with Phoebe) and that I was sorry this was taking so long and tried to get Simon to tell me the truth if my pushing was making any progress (he kept saying the proverbial, "great job!!" but I didn't believe him, at all).

And THEN the baby's heart rate started to dip so they strapped an oxygen mask on me and THEN I started throwing up which was a first for me in the delivery room. It was quite a sight. Or, so I would imagine. I had to shove the mask out of the way to throw up into the receptacle Simon was holding, put the mask back in place, push (in some unbearably awkward position), rinse, repeat. More drama than a Lifetime movie. If I had been on the fence about having a baby and walked into my room during these moments-o-delight ... I think I would've been scared childless forever. And ever. Amen.

They announced (more nurses had joined the party - at that point -- the Pope could've waltzed in and I would not have cared and probably asked if he'd mind baptizing the baby in a minute or ninety) that the baby had, "some wisps of hair" which was encouragement enough for me to finally get the job done after a full hour and push the baby out. Woo hoo.

I would've pushed for several more hours and I'd do it all again and again but I was SO happy to have "only" pushed for an hour, to be honest.

Simon yellnounced that it was a boy and they laid the baby on my chest with his back to me (think spooning, I guess) and I kept wanting to ask/demand that they turn him around so I could see his face but I was too busy crying tears of relief and joy to spit the words out. Finally, they did and even if we had 100 more kids that moment of getting to see your baby's (albeit bruised) face will never ever get old. Everyone predicted he'd weigh eight pounds even but let me hold and nurse him for well over an hour before he made it over to the scale (where they announced he was eight pounds and nine ounces making him our biggest baby to date by almost a pound). He had a pretty dark line-shaped bruise on one of his calves from the cord being tightly wrapped around it which explained the variables.

I'll always laugh, like the mom that I am, thinking back to when our angel nurse brought in some food and Abe fully opened both eyes for the first time, stopped nursing completely and turned his massive head to the side to see what he was missing. Coincidence? Probably. But, the timing was hilarious, promise.

Abe and his wisps of hair.

Everyone was asking about names and we told our three choices to one of the nurses who just happened to know a Dominic, Damien, and an Abraham and said she liked all three of them so she'd be no help. She also offered her own suggestions as well. We settled on Abraham (I think Simon was being nice after that little odyssey of a delivery but we've since agreed he's definitely an Abe so his niceness paid off, I guess) and Simon stuck around for a little bit until he ran home to relieve the sitter and grab the kids for a quick visit.

(they were just rubbing sanitizer on the hands - as much as I'd like to pretend like they always enter rooms in prayer formation .... )

And that was that!

I'm tempted to expound on my postpartum room and all of it's closet-sized glory but some things are left rosier in the old memory bank.

I can't believe Abe is almost six weeks old because it feels like he's been around forever and like he was born just yesterday, you know? I know you do.

I'm convinced Bosco doesn't remember a life without him, Phoebe is VERY daring with her attempts to try to pick him up and carry him around (years off my life, every time), Theo and Sebastian still introduce him as, "the newborn baby" to anyone that will listen when we're out and about (which is not often) and Julia doesn't know it yet but she's about to get a little lesson on diaper changing to help this mother out.

:)