Happy Thanksgiving

This will be the last post from this blog - I'll be starting a new one to share our adventures together as a family, but the adventure in pregnancy officially ended last week.

Abigail Marie Weygandt was born on Saturday, November 20, 2010 at 4.21 am in Denver, Colorado at Saint Joseph's Hospital.  She weighed 7 pounds, 13.9 ounces and was 20 inches long.  She is the most precious thing ever and I had no idea how much love would ooze from me instantly for this little girl.  Abbey was born exactly one week late, but as it turns out, she's as sentimental as her Mommy because Abbey was born on the seven year anniversary of the day that Scott and I first met.  Turns out, she was just waiting for a special occasion to make her grand entrance.

I went into early labor four days earlier.  Abbey was actually born a week late, and I was so done.  So ready.  Pregnancy was great and all, but it was definitely time.  We monitored my contractions diligently, but nothing ever really seemed to regulate, although every day the sensations would grow more intense.  Finally, Thursday night, the labor grew to be too much to deal with and we went in to see the doctor for the second time that week and check on my progress.  I thought that my water may have broken, but it was so difficult to tell for sure because (and I'm sorry if this is gross, but, we're talking about giving birth here, so you'll have to deal), there was a lot of other "stuff" going on "down there" and telling one fluid from another was tricky.  But still, my contractions weren't regular.  We had been told over and over again about the 5-1-1 rule - the contractions needed to be 5 minutes apart and one minute long for one hour.  I never reached that.  Not even close.  But after an exam with the doctor we learned that my water "may" have broken, but I was dilated 5 cm and it was time to go to the hospital.

And off we went.  This was around noon on a Friday. 

The doctor had called ahead to let the hospital know we were on our way.  They were ready for us and marveled that I was so happy and smiley for a woman dilated to 5 cm.  I guess they're used to having things thrown at them at that point.  So, one after another nurses and doctors came to talk with us.  Everyone thought that things were likely to move really quickly, so my epidural was ordered right away.  By 2pm, I was feeling no pain, happily numb, telling jokes, and having a grand old time.  The resident OB thought we'd probably deliver sometime between 5 and 7.  We were like, "Awesome!  We can get a good night's rest, it will happen quickly!  How exciting!"

How wrong.

My damn contractions still wouldn't regulate.  Another exam showed that my water had definitely broken, so it was time to get a move on.  They called in the pitocin - a drug to make my contractions stronger and more regular - and honestly, a drug I had hoped to avoid.  But it worked.  For a while.  Within a few hours, I was dilated to 9 cm.  It was almost showtime.

But that's when it stopped.  I couldn't get past that last cm.  They gave me more pitocin, and then things started to get scary.  Suddenly, a team of doctors rushed into our room, flipped me to my other side and started talking in serious tones to one another.  The baby's heart rate was dropping rapidly.  The baby could not tolerate anymore pitocin.  I could also only lay on my right side or else her heart rate would drop.  Fortunately, it was the side facing the television, so at least I had that going for me.

So, we scaled back.  And I labored on.  And on.  And after 3 hours, still no progress.  What's worse was I was beginning to feel the pain of my contractions again - despite the epidural.  Since I had to remain on my right side, gravity was working against me and the drugs weren't reaching my left side.  While half of me was happily content, the other half was not feeling so pleasant.  It sort of defeated the purpose of an epidural and I was becoming very uncomfortable.  So, a new doc was called in, and she had an idea.  We did a saline flush into my uterus to give the baby a little extra cushion since my water was broken.  The baby liked that.  I could move to my other side.  Then, we turned up the pitocin again.  I labored on and eventually felt the urge to push. 

20 minutes in and things started to go downhill.  My epidural was becoming ineffective and I was feeling a lot of pain.  A lot.  Like, seriously, my epidural pretty much wore off completely - I could feel everything.  I mean EVERYTHING.  I wasn't making much of any progress, and the baby was beginning to feel the stress.  Then, the first of the bad news came - and this is gross - but there was meconium in the fluid that they used to flush me.  Abbey took her first poop inside me.  And we didn't know when, and the risk, of course, is that she could have breathed it into her lungs.  And that's bad.  Like way bad.  Plus, I was now running a fever, which meant I had an infection, and that the baby could then have an infection.  Either way, the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU) was put on alert and were anxiously awaiting us. 

After an hour of pushing with no pain relief, I was sobbing, exhausted and terrified.  They called in the anesthesiologist to administer some pain meds to give me a break to rest.  The lights turned off and we tried to sleep for an hour.  At around 3am, a team of doctors woke us, examined me, and recommended a C-Section.  I agreed without hesitation.  I was immediately prepped and Scott was given scrubs and we looked at eachother with worry and a lot of love and took a very brave step.

The surgery went well for me, although a C-Section is a major, major surgery.  Seriously.  They move your intestines and stuff.  I know it's performed often, but it's a pretty serious procedure.  Thank God Scott mustered up the courage to be with me and hold my hand through it all because it was the only thing that kept me together.  It didn't take long before we heard our daughter's first scream - a very, very loud scream - and we both melted.

Then there was another turn.  I couldn't see anything, but from what I've heard, a team of doctors quickly surrounded Abbey.  Something was wrong.  She wasn't breathing right.  She was quickly intubated and whisked away to the NICU.  Scott left my side to be with her - the tough part for me was over.  They were closing me up.  The anesthesiologist - a great guy named Adam - kept his hand on my head and reassured me that I was going to be fine and that Abbey was in the best of care.  It turns out that during that first scream Abbey had blown a gasket in her lungs - a small vessel popped and they had to insert a "fan" of sorts to help her breathe.  Soon, I was being wheeled into recovery and Scott came to tell me the good news.  The breathing tube had been removed, and they started an IV line to get her glucose up and administer some antibiotics, but the meconium wasn't an issue and she was doing great, all things considered.  Two hours later, they wheeled me past the NICU to see her and hold her and nurse her for the first time.  She would spend the next two days there with Scott and I visiting her every couple of hours.

Abbey's progress was rapid and she was released to room in with us at the hospital a night early.  It was wonderful to finally have our daughter with us - to spend quality time with her and for us all to get to know one another.  A day and a half later, we were headed home together. 

And now a new journey begins. 

I certainly have a lot to be thankful for this Thanksgiving.  I am thankful for my husband, who is not only the world's best husband, but also the world's best father.  He is so nurturing, caring, funny, supportive and all around the best partner in parenting that I could ask for.  I am in total awe of him.  Never would I have thought it possible to  love him more than I did before Abbey came into our lives, but I swear, the love I have for Scott tripled that day, and continues to grow every hour.  I am thankful to have a happy, healthy, beautiful baby girl.  She is such a delight.  There is nothing in this world that I would not do for her.  I am thankful to have a supportive family and friends.  And last, but certainly not least, I am thankful that today - for the first time in months - I not only can see my ankles, but was also able to enjoy the sweet taste of champagne in celebration of all of our gratitude.  I am also thankful for pain killers because, seriously, C-Sections suck ass.  20 staples.  Ouch. 

Thanks, everyone, for joining me on my adventures through pregnancy.  I've really enjoyed sharing the ups and downs, and I hope that you've enjoyed hearing about them.  The journey will continue, so stay tuned for my next addition into the blogosphere. 

Signing off for now,

Abbey's Mom.

Adventures with Early Labor

As you all know, I've read almost every pregnancy book out there.  Okay, slight exaggeration, but I do feel rather well read on the subject.  And I never skipped over the whole labor/delivery part.  Because, well, you know, that's important stuff.  So, allow me a minute to vent about how they really gloss over this whole business of early labor and how frickin' long it can take.

Did you know that it can last for days!?  WEEKS, even?!  Maybe it was just me, but I'd always heard the stories of, waking up and feeling crampy and then things slowly got worst, and then the next day, or that night, or sometime within 24-48 hours there's a trip to a hospital and then 12-24 hours after that a brand new babe in your arms.

I'm now logging about 60 hours...

My contractions started on Tuesday - they were pretty random, but painful, and definitely different than those Braxton-Hicks contractions.  Having some other fun "labor is right around the corner" symptoms that I'll spare you the details of, I was pretty sure that things were well on their way.  In fact, into early Wednesday morning (4am) we had the go bag in the car ready to go and were monitoring contractions that were owee-wowzee for a good 45 minutes; 6 minutes apart when all of a sudden they just stopped.  Nothin'.  Nada.  We shrugged our shoulders and back to bed we went at 6am.

Around 11am, things picked up again.  A call to the doctor and they wanted me to come in for a labor evaluation and we spent a good two hours in the doctor's office.  They strapped the fetal monitor on me to check on both the baby's heart rate and my contractions.  We also had to count the number of movements the baby made. So, heart rate = good.  Movements = good.  Physical exam...eh, not much progress.  But the nurse confirmed that my contractions were "real" and yes, this is beginning labor.  She said it more than once.  I swear.

So, then, why am I still at home experiencing the same damn thing?  Contractions get going, they get more intense and longer and closer together, and then they just fizzle out.  It is the most frustrating thing ever.  And it hurts.  And it's exhausting.  I must have one comfy womb, 'cuz this kid does not want to come out.

I did, however, make the decision to go ahead and take my leave from work, making yesterday my last day.  I am so glad I did because there is no way I could focus on anything else at this point and I am wicked tired and cranky and could easily create a hostile work environment, so it was best all around that I just bow out.  Since I spent the better part of the morning this morning in weepy "get her out of me!" tears, it seems a wise decision, for sure.

And so...the plan now is to see how the night goes tonight, then check in with the doctor in the morning.  But things have been pretty darn calm this evening - despite lots of walking during the day and an after dinner stroll through the mall.  At least Scott and I are able to keep our sense of humor through all of this.  I have to say how grateful I am to have such a wonderful, caring, supportive husband who is not above a good fart joke if necessary.  And believe me - it's been necessary.

Still waiting...and waiting...

A Watched Pot...

...never boils.  That's what they say.  Already, parenthood is teaching me great patience.

Now four days overdue, there is no one who is more anxious about the current situation than me.  And while it's really heart warming to know there are so many people who love and care about us and want to know what's going on, it's an awkward feeling to be the center of such attention.  Especially when you have no control over the situation.  And it's truly impossible to keep up with all the inquiries.  So, the time has come for a blanket update.

A watched pot never boils.

But seriously.  We're making a little progress, and things seem to be happening in their own time.  A visit to the doctor today confirmed that I am in the early stages of labor, and have been for the past 24 hours - but this could go on for hours or days or (gasp) a week.  It's hard to say.  And that's hard to hear.  The not knowing - it's maddening.  What I DO know is these early contractions hurt like a mother and I will most certainly be saying, "yes, please" to an epidural.  Hopefully very soon.

So, the plan is to see how things progress on their own between now and Monday.  On Monday, we start talking induction.  Fingers crossed we see some progress before then.

Thanks, everyone, for all your kind wishes and inquiries.  But I PROMISE to let you all know the happy news as soon as we have news to share.

Still counting...

40 Weeks!

Ta-da!  I made it.  Today is our due date.  We're due.

But as my doctor kindly reminded me yesterday as I must have been gazing upon her with a "please get her out" look, due dates are not deadlines, and babies do not keep to schedule.

That's a somewhat difficult concept for my type-A personality to embrace.  Afterall, I stocked up on diapers four months ago.  Grandma W has been here for two weeks with little to do because I went crazy and completed every "how to prepare for baby" checklist I could get my hands on.  Good thing she has some sudoku puzzles.  We are ready for this little one.  So, baby Weygandt, COME ON DOWN!!

Seriously, kid.  Come. Out.

0 days and counting...

39 weeks!

Yes, the countdown continues.

As does the waiting.

As do the attempts to try to speed nature up a little, to include: long walks, yoga, spicy food, pineapple, pretty much all the old wives tales except for castor oil.  I just can't go there.

And still we wait...

6 days and counting...

Fail.

Last night I went for a long walk with the pups and then we went for Mexican food in hopes that maybe - just maybe - we could speed things up a little bit.  About an hour after dinner, we thought that maybe our trickery had worked.  Some contractions had set in and after a few we decided that maybe we should start keeping track of these.  So, for about six hours last night, I was having contractions about every 10 minutes.  But they weren't strong.  And I had a few this morning, but then they fizzled out. 

Labor.  Fail.

At least for today.  We'll try again tomorrow.

10 days and counting...

Sweet November

Welcome, November!

I've been waiting 9 months for you to get here.  Now if someone else would just show up, we could have one hell of a party.

12 days and counting...