The Swing of Victory...and the Agony of Defeat

We've discovered a valuable weapon in the "Get Liam to Sleep" crusade - his swing. True, we've known for quite some time that he enjoys his swing, but we had yet to unleash its true potential. When employed at night, the swing can get us around four hours of sleep and once even put him to sleep from 11pm to 5:15am...that's six UNINTERRUPTED hours of sleep. Do I feel guilty for allowing my son to sleep in his swing and not in his bed? Absolutely not. I've long said that whatever works and doesn't hurt the kid is fair game - and that rule applies to all the babies I know. As long as a kiddo isn't being adversely affected, there will be zero judgment from this momma. Liam sleeps in his bed most of the time (and on his grandma the rest), so I'm not really worried about him spending too much time in his swing.

There is one other almost sure-fire way to put Liam to sleep, and that is to take him on a car ride. We have yet to make the 1:30am trek to the car to drive around the neighborhood for hours in hopes of lulling him to sleep, but I have no doubt that if it comes to that, he'll be in that car seat faster than you can say Tylenol PM. I've heard the stories from friends...I have no doubt that one day this will become a reality in the Kamas household.

So...the other day I attempted to put on pants...real pants. I've lost all my pregnancy weight, so (in my mind, at least) it made sense that I could wear my normal pants. Ha...the weight may be gone, but the current shape of my tummy certainly isn't back to normal. Although I could get the pants on (a small victory), there was no way I was going out in public with that much postpartum saggy belly flopping over the sides (hang head in shame). My stomach muscles haven't returned to normal, and until I get the blessing from the doctor to resume exercising, lifting, and all-around normal life in general, there really isn't anything I can do about it. Feeling very defeated, I've opted to continue to wear maternity pants (really, I can't complain too much...stretchy, elastic waist pants are comfortable) when in public and pajama pants when at home. I did manage, however, to wear an old pair of shorts that I found in my drawer that pre-pregnancy wouldn't even stay up. Not sure how to chalk that one up...on one hand, it's real clothes. On the other hand, they might as well be maternity clothes because of all the extra room they (once upon a time) had. Soon enough, I'll be cruising the neighborhood with Liam in an effort to rectify my present situation. Until then, I'll just enjoy my elastic-waist pants.

Baths and Reflections

So the last post pretty much glossed over one of Liam's first major milestones - his first bath. The picture here is actually of his second bath because he wasn't exactly in modesty mode during his first bath, and I'm sure at some point in his life he will appreciate that I didn't publish a picture of his man bits for all the world to see. Knowing that Liam doesn't like being a naked baby, we figured that baths wouldn't go so well. Turns out, he LOVES baths. He just lays in the warm water and doesn't fuss or fidget. He even likes it when Thomas rinses him off with the crab cup with the holes in the bottom that make it like a shower for him. Baths also apparently make him sleepy. We've had naps in excess of 4 hours post-bath. Believe me, even if they say you only need to bathe baby every few days, if a bath gets me a four hour nap, we are having daily baths.

Being almost three weeks postpartum, I've had plenty of time to stop and think about my overall labor and delivery experience. First, I know I owe Aunt Debs an unbelievable amount of gratitude for serving as our Chief of Communications (among the many other things I know she did behind the scenes). Everyone that I talk to says how wonderful it was to get updates...and I know she played a significant role in keeping the crazy to a minimum. Second, I don't care what anyone says, no matter how hard I try to block out the events of July 31 and August 1, I will always remember how much pain I was in (and how good it felt when the epidural finally started working). There was no "magic forgetting" that happened as soon as Liam arrived that people talk about. Oh, it was worth it, don't get me wrong, but not something I plan on signing up for again (by which I mean 37 hours of labor, not necessarily another kiddo...that's TBD). Three, the final nurse in Labor and Delivery (my fourth one...I went through three shift changes during the whole process) was absolutely amazing. She never left my side, except for her quick lunch break, and did everything she could to make sure I was comfortable...and she got all the icky stuff - water breaking, fever, c-section...
all the wonderful parts.

Of course, I can't forget how awesome Thomas was. He got to see a lot more than he probably ever wanted to. I'm kinda confused why they would send a husband out of the room for the epidural (which, really, in the whole process was probably one of the most mundane things that happened), but not for any of the other parts. He could have left if he wanted to during any of the other parts (he toughed it out, though...or remained over on the side...he didn't always want a front row seat to the action), but they don't even give dads-to-be an option to stay during the epidural. Strange...but, whatever. Thomas probably didn't want to see that giant needle. I'm glad I didn't have to see it, but I guess it couldn't have been too big. I saw the (magic!) catheter that was in my back - it was tiny! I did the whole epidural thing twice - nothing to it really. Actually, the whole L&D experience sounds like a MasterCard commercial - Three IV tries, 2 epidurals, 1 c-section - bill TBD (I'm sure it's on its way)...Liam Weston - priceless :)

Ups and Downs

It's been awhile since my last posting and there are a few reasons for that. First, it's fairly important to make sure you aren't in a lack-of-sleep induced stupor when publishing something on the internet for all the world to see (case in point - Thomas has now started pointing out my grammar/spelling mistakes on my blog - a complete role reversal). Second, until last night and today, my days (and nights) have consisted of diapers, formula, laundry and napping (and watching lots of TV on the couch with Frank in the downtime...Nate Berkus at 12 - can't stand him, Days of Our Lives at 1pm - it hasn't changed in 20 years, and Ellen - love her - at 2). Third, the single most exciting event (again, until last night/today) was the celebration that little man's umbilical cord had fallen off and we could finally give him a real bath (bad, bad parents - it fell off on Tuesday and he continued to be "spot-cleaned" until tonight - blame it on sleep deprivation, again).

Bunco was last night, so I got in some good girl time (much needed), but why was today such a big day? After waking up at 7:55am and getting dressed in 5 minutes flat (I told you I could do it, Frank), it was off to the OB to get my two week blessing. Big Event #1 - Little Dude was born 17 days ago - I've lost 33 lbs since then (jeez...why can't it always be that easy?!?). Big Events #2 and #3 - Blood pressure has returned to normal after causing some concern in the hospital and my incision has been blessed by the doctor as "damn near unnoticeable" (I'm paraphrasing...slightly). I can drive again, but no lifting, exercise, baths (very sad), or any other "activities" (sorry, Thomas) until further discussion at the next appointment in 4 weeks. Post-doctor, it was off to Frank's house for a diaper change, feeding, and then running around for errands. This may seem like a small thing to most people, but for the past two weeks, I've seen the walls of my house (with one small excursion to the pediatrician thrown in). It felt good to get out and see the world. Other big events? A stop at Sam's, Space Center Houston (for some last minute space-related essentials for a special not-so-little-anymore dude coming to my house tomorrow), Dickinson BBQ, and Target (truly a big event...it has been WEEKS since I stepped foot in Target).

I wouldn't be true to the intention of this blog (remember, full disclosure, warts and all) if I didn't say that I've been hit with a bit of the "baby blues" the past few days. It's not horrible, and it's completely normal, but try convincing your husband you aren't crazy when you are in bed cuddling your little baby and five seconds later you are crying your eyes out and can do nothing to stop it (and nothing started it). Getting out and about definitely helps, but I'm pretty sure sleep deprivation plays a large role. Your hormones are out of whack and you are supposed to function on the same amount of sleep (or less) the Navy Seal wannabees get during Hell Week? Tom Cruise can bite my butt if he thinks any of this is "in my head". It's real, but fortunately, not debilitating. I feel for the women that get it hard, and am thankful that medication exists that can help lift people out of the funk (again, bite me Tom Cruise...I remember when you were mean to Brooke Shields). Yesterday was a good day (0 tears) and today has been pretty good, too (just a few tears, and some more now as I write this...but, again, I promised to be open). Fortunately, I have a great support system, and got really great advice from some FWBs (Friends With Babies) that it's normal, natural, and they all went through it, too. It actually doesn't bother me too much - most of the time, it's fleeting and I'm happy just as fast as I was sad - but it is hard when a crying spell hits when I'm holding the little man. I don't want him to look at me and see an unhappy person (enter guilt which usually equals more tears)...especially when I couldn't be more thrilled to snuggle up with him. This, along with the sleep deprivation, will soon pass and I'll be back to my (new) normal self. Fortunately, neither the blues nor lack of sleep seems to run much interference on sarcasm (i.e. my sense of humor). No need to send out the cavalry, friends and family, I promise, I'm okay...just writing about it is therapy enough...no need for any Hallmark moments. If I need to talk to someone, I promise, I will. FWBBs (Friends With Belly Babies), I'm passing on the advice that the FWBs gave me - it's fine, it's normal, and I'm here if you need me once you lose the belly.

Since I apparently get to have my pregnancy (well, post-pregnancy) moment of crazy (and well deserved, I might add) after all, I think I'll chalk this week up in the positive column...assuming I can get at least three uninterrupted hours of sleep at some point tonight.

Liam's Got Mail

Technically, Liam received his first piece of mail months ago when Aunt Debs sent him a postcard from the shuttle launch in Florida. However, a mere 12 days after his birth, and only 11 since we filled out his birth certificate information and a request was sent to the Social Security office, imagine our surprise when TODAY in the mail was his first official, government document - his Social Security card. Apparently, some form of our government manages to function in a timely fashion. I would also like to take the time to point out that the federal government managed to respond to a request even faster than Comcast, and I'm pretty sure Comcast has fewer "customers" to keep up with (Thomas and I have been waiting for our rebate for switching providers since May...after significant battles and numerous phone calls, supposedly it's in the mail).

I guess all we need now is his birth certificate and he'll be 100% official. I told Thomas we didn't need a special birth certificate, but apparently, one with the Texas flag and "Native Texas" written on it will be arriving in our mailbox in the near future. Only Texas would make a special birth certificate announcing the baby as a native Texan - as if the birth certificate stating he was born in Texas wasn't enough proof. Sometimes you just have to laugh...and then order another plain birth certificate because you aren't going to want to hand that one over to anyone that needs a copy.

In terms of my recovery, I'm doing pretty well. I still don't move very fast, and I can't bend way down, like to put Liam in his swing, but overall, I'm pretty functional. It's surprising how fast you can feel better after what is considered major abdominal surgery. I finished one of my prescriptions and actually have a little left of my main painkiller prescription - one that during the first few days at home I took every four hours like clockwork, much like I pushed the magic epidural button every 20 minutes while in the hospital. Lack of sleep continues to be the biggest hurdle, although now I'm also convinced I have carpal tunnel syndrome. My hands hurt a lot when I wake up in the morning and my symptoms are very similar to what Thomas describes, and we know he has carpal tunnel. Apparently, carpal tunnel is very common in postpartum women and it typically goes away. Here's hoping...

I did managed to pull all the surgical tape off my incision this morning, too. They are supposed to fall off about a week after you go home...I was at a week + 2 days, so I decided to peel them off myself. Much like getting the IV or epidural taken out, the worst pain was the fact that the tape was stuck to hair and you just have to suck it up and pull (or have the nurses do it). You know where the c-section incision is (roughly), so just imagine what I'm talking about here...not pleasant. I'm fairly positive I'm going to have a charge on my hospital bill for a back wax...or maybe that comes complimentary with the epidural. ;)

Nights and LPODs

Please forgive any mistakes and/or ramblings that appear in the blog in the near future - although I can no longer claim pregnancy brain, I can absolutely claim shear exhaustion. Since Thomas is back at work, I'm handling the majority of the overnight duty (Thomas still helps out some - but he needs to be able to sleep more than I do). This wouldn't be a problem is Liam slept at night like he sleeps during the day. I think last night I saw some part of every hour on the clock until I finally slept from about 5am - 8:30am. During the day, he's good for 3-4 hours each feeding, easy, but at night, he manages to pee through his diaper and wakes up angry (I would be too). When he gets too upset, he then needs to be fed, whether its been an hour or four. You have to remove yourself from a zombie state and remember when the last time he ate was so you can either give him a full bottle or only 2 oz depending on how long it's been. I learned the hard way the other night not to overfeed him - I was rewarded with baby formula vomit on me from head to toe. That's not something I want to repeat.

I'm not sure why you can't go back to exercising quickly after giving birth...I'm doing nine pound curls on almost an hourly basis and my back is feeling it. Definitely not ready to go run a marathon, but I think I might be able to hold my own at the weight rack in the gym. All the up and down with the little dude is adding up - maybe I'll have momma biceps by the time maternity leave is over.

I'm not complaining, I love my little man, but I would do just about anything at this moment for eight solid hours of sleep. The lack of sleep is definitely taking its toll - I feel like a zombie. I try to nap during the day, but there is a lot of stuff to do. Thanks to the feedings and the subsequent diaper changing requirements, there is a LOT of laundry. There are also bottles to be cleaned, a baby to be held, and a momma to feed (which only happens on occasion - sleep and baby trump lunch). Fortunately, I have a lot of help. Thomas is great when he gets home from work and Dad comes by during the day to lend a hand and hold the baby. Of course, once Frank gets back from the Indiana trip, she probably won't put him down for two or three days. Now that Jessica has been successfully returned to Indiana, Thomas has been instructed that Aunt Jessica must receive an LPOD message daily (LPOD = Liam picture of the day). She won't see him again until Thanksgiving, and by that time, little man will be almost four months old and completely different...and hopefully sleeping through the night.

Doctor, Doctor, Give Me the News

Today was Liam's first official outing, and I guess mine too. Although I'm moving around, I'm still in some pain from the surgery and can't really get too active or I really start hurting. I'm not going anywhere on my own any time soon...

Since Frank (aka Oma) is off returning Jessica to the land of the Hoosiers, PJ (that's Grandpa - PJ stands for Pa Junior) took me and Liam to the pediatrician's office for the first check-up. Of course, before you can go anywhere, it is very important to make sure you have the essentials in the diaper bag. I apparently have no idea what I'm doing in this department. I didn't have enough diapers for this 2 hour excursion (I thought 2 would be enough), I didn't bring the pacifier...at least I remembered all his paperwork. Lesson learned on the diapers - pack what you think you need and then add four more.

Once we got there and got checked in, it was time for a weigh-in. Unfortunately for Liam, this means naked baby time. Liam HATES naked baby time with a passion. He hadn't really slept that morning so I knew that as soon as he was naked, it would be game on for some serious fussing, especially since lunchtime was right around the corner. He got weighed and measured and he's + 1 inch and +13oz since birth (9 days ago)...my little milk monster is growing very quickly...and for good reason. As soon as the nurse left and we got a diaper back on him the screaming commenced. I did remember to pack bottles, so I managed to get his lunch in him and got him back to his normal, calm self before the doctor walked in.

She looked him over and declared him a keeper. She didn't even blink when I told her how badly the chunky monkey is trying to eat me out of house and home. She just said if he goes longer than 4 hours between feedings, it's not a problem. Clearly, the boy isn't starving. He did have thrush, a common occurrence in babies, but it should clear up after a round of his antibiotics assuming he can keep the doses down better than he did today. Last but not least, it was time for the blood test. I was holding Liam and braced for the worst as the nurse came at him with the heel stick poker-thing. The kid barely even flinched. There was no crying, no tears, no quivering lip, nothing. It's possible he was still in his lunch-induced milk coma, but I expected at least a little fussing. Not that tough little man - amazing. The nurse asked me what number kid this was for me. When I told her it was my first, she was surprised. Apparently, she was more impressed with my performance during the heel stick and subsequent blood-letting than she was Liam's - I guess first time moms don't typically remain as calm as I managed to feign during the process.

Something New Every Day

Every day I learn something new about Liam. He's a week old tomorrow and already I can see him growing and changing. He's doing better during diaper changes (one of the few times he gets fussy with us) and he's awake a little more each day for playtime. He's also already so strong. He can hold his head up and move it around. He loves to focus on lights and people. He knows what is comfortable and what isn't. Today while I was holding him on my shoulder, he completely readjusted himself so that he was laying in my arms, facing me so he could watch me. He just kept pushing and scooting until he got there. Absolutely amazing...I can't believe what such a new little guy can accomplish.

We had his newborn photos taken today, too. That was an experience. For as much as we put him through, he did very well. However, he didn't let us get away with too much craziness. During naked baby pictures he peed the cushion and blanket we were using and during outside pictures (during which he was diapered) he peed the chair. He manages to wet himself often thanks to the petroleum jelly we have to put into his diaper for his circumcision to heal. It creates a waterproof barrier in the diaper and then it's essentially like he has nothing on at all...very counterproductive. Fortunately, that's healing very well and we can have functioning diapers again soon. I can't wait to see how the pictures turn out - our photographer was amazing! There are just a few more photos we are going to try and take ourselves tomorrow that I want to have. I definitely want one with all three of our hands and Thomas wants one of him in Packers gear sitting in the cheesehead. If we can get it done tomorrow, I'll post them.

It all still seems a little surreal most of the time. I have a baby...I'm a mommy. I keep waiting for the hormones to kick in and for me to go a little crazy. First, I feel that I've earned a little moment of crazy and second I never really went pregnancy bonkers during the 40 weeks (Thomas may feel differently, but I don't recall more than a handful of times when I just went randomly nuts). Of course, given my experiences thus far, I'll probably continue to be atypical. Oh well, not going crazy wouldn't exactly be considered a bad thing. I do get the urge to cry every now and then, but they are always overwhelming tears of joy, like I can't believe that I made the precious little man I'm holding in my arms. The good news is that if I do go crazy, I've got an unbelievable support system - I guess I'm prepared either way :)

Right now, my biggest complaint is my "clubfoot". For some reason, the swelling on my right foot refuses to go down. It might go down some during the night or even during the day, but more often than not, it's swollen up and bears little resemblance to foot...and nowhere, and I do mean nowhere, is there an ankle. Other than that, my pain medication is pretty much keeping on top of the rest. I can tell when I do too much and Thomas still has to help me shower and get dressed, but overall, I'm pretty resilient. I told the nurse I'm "good" at surgery (like you can really be good at surgery) and she knocked on wood. Turns out I knew what I was talking about. Not that I'm signing up for a marathon or anything, but I'm feeling 1000% better than when I was in the hospital. I promise to continue to take it easy until I'm fully healed, but it's nice to feel human again (and to not have a human inside me). I do have to use a stool to get in bed. Not really sure that is safe, but it's the only way I can get into bed without straining too much and believe me, I'm sleeping in MY bed.

Homecoming

We're home!! And it feels so good to be here. All though I appreciated the wonderful staff at the hospital, it is amazing to be back in my house, where no one wants to take my blood pressure, temperature, or ask me to state my name and birthday at various hours of the day and night. Recovering in the hospital wasn't exactly fun-filled. At one point I had a fever and had to have my temperature checked every 30 minutes. Fortunately, it wasn't a true fever, but required me to drink water and juice by the gallon which of course meant I had to get up and go to the bathroom (not fun) every hour. Of course, Liam got to spend most of the time in the room with us, so I had no problem wiling away the hours watching him. Sleeping would have been my second favorite thing to do, but unfortunately, sleeping is not something that readily occurs in the hospital.

So a little more on recovery because it was an interesting few days. I went into the postpartum wing on Monday night after the c-section. I was still hooked up to the epidural so after waking up from the fabulous bonus c-section drugs, I was feeling pretty good. Apparently, the nursing staff thought there was a problem with my catheter and decided on Tuesday morning at about 4am that I needed a new one (woohoo for me). Turns out there was nothing wrong with my catheter, I was just so dehydrated from everything that I was only "going" just a tiny little bit. Amazing, considering at that point I had about 12 IV bags worth of fluid in me. After the catheter went back in at 4am, it came out at 7am and I was told it was time to get up and start moving. Yipes! My first trip to the bathroom was rather public as I not only got to walk my half-naked self over there with tons of assistance and on-lookers, I also got to have my "deposit" inspected by about three different people for both quality and quantity. Fortunately, I passed...whatever that means.

Tuesday was also the day of the sponge bath. There is nothing quite like sitting on the toilet naked while being scrubbed by someone you met two hours ago at shift change. I can't complain too much - it felt amazing - but I'm not exactly comfortable with someone scrubbing up all the goods. And I do mean ALL the goods. What do you say and/or where do you look while someone is scrubbing what she calls "the good stuff"? I tried to take it all in stride, and I was very thankful to be clean, but I could have held out another day when I was finally allowed to shower on my own.

It was a long day of getting up and down and taking my laps around the ward, but at least I had lots of visitors. Even after visiting hours are over, it's hard to feel alone at the hospital. People come in at all hours to check varying things, but to also do very important things like deliver pain medicine. My least favorite visit of the hospital was probably when the anesthesiologist came in at 6am on Wednesday morning to announce that they were taking my epidural and the magic extra-dose button that comes with it away. I knew Wednesday was D-day, but 6am? Really? By 7am, the nurses had taken it away and I was on to oral pain medication only. For a girl that can't swallow pills, this is an interesting prospect. The liquid vicodin was fabulous, but I have to take 800mL (which is equal to 800mg) of ibuprofen. That is a LOT of little liquid packs the nurse has to open when they only come in 100mL size.

Fortunately, Thursday rolled around and we got to come home. Although I'm elated to be home, I imagine Thomas must feel as happy as me if not more. For the entire hospital stay he got to stay on a fold-out chair-bed that his feet hung off the end of. He stayed by my side for practically our entire stay at the hospital (he really only left to go home a few times for clothes and to get food for himself) and witnessed things that would have had most men running for the hills. He deserves a medal because he was definitely in the trenches (get that metaphor?). He took it all in stride and didn't even breathe a sigh of relief and run when I told him if he was uncomfortable doing/seeing whatever it was he was helping me with or helping me through...he just kept going strong. I'm lucky to have such a great guy - he's certainly seen me at my worst, now, and he's still around.

All About Liam

I guess that technically the last posting was really my birth story. Liam probably feels a little different about the process. He clearly wanted out as bad as I wanted him out. He came out with quite the cone-head from the several hours he spent working his way out until he got stuck. Apparently this is where all the pressure I was feeling was coming from. We also found out after the c-section that his umbilical cord was tied in a knot. The doctors and nurses couldn't believe that he had showed no signs of distress during the labor process. In a previous ultrasound, he had a nuchal cord, which meant it was wrapped around his neck. At that time, the doctor told us not to worry, most babies have that at some point and it almost always resolves itself before delivery. We were at 26 weeks, so there really was no reason for concern. Sometime between then and his birthday, he managed to swim himself into a knot (not really sure how he had room to do that). During the stress of labor, it would have been very easy for his knot to cause serious complications if it cut off his oxygen supply. Thankfully, Liam is one tough little man and although we had a c-section, it wasn't a true emergency like it easily could have been.

In his first few days of life, he's been the best baby. He softly cries when he has a dirty diaper, wails when you change him, and then stops instantly as soon as the new diaper is back on. That's really the only time he fusses. He takes down more formula than all the other babies in the nursery. He loves to snuggle up against you. He has a little bit of hair that ranges somewhere between dirty blond and brown. His eyes are blue, at least for now, but they have a small inner ring of brown which probably means they will change colors at some point. He loves people and has no problem being passed around the room - which is a good thing because he spends very little time not being held.

Little Liam gets to go home today and meet all his furry brothers and sisters. This will be an experience for all involved, I'm sure. I'll just be glad for a change of scenery after spending the past three days in this hospital room. Come and see us :)

Liam's Birth Story

July 31 - The Beginning
Thomas and I had just finished watching Back to the Future (parts II and III), and while Thomas drifted off to dream world, I stayed awake, like usual, watching TV. When 3am hit, I decided to call it a night, turn off the TV, and try to get some sleep. No sooner than I had got back from the bathroom and laid down, I started to feel contractions. After our false alarm the prior weekend, I figured I'd lay in bed for awhile and see if anything came of it. Very quickly they started coming fast and in what seemed like a measurable pattern, so at 4am I woke Thomas up and told him it's time to start timing contractions. Based on our timing, they were coming roughly every 3 minutes and lasting about a minute. I would like to take a moment to point out that the "go to the hospital when your contractions are 5-6 minutes apart" rule never, ever, ever applied to this pregnancy. My contractions were NEVER that far apart. So around 5am we made the call to head to the hospital fully convinced that this was the real deal.

We got up to Labor and Delivery quickly and were happy to find that our nurse was the same nurse we had the prior weekend during our false alarm. I was checked and it turned out I wasn't exactly in active labor, but I was looking pretty close. They had me go walk around the hospital for an hour and then come back to be checked again. The contractions were still coming fast and furious and I was having trouble walking, but I was determined not to be sent home...again. Back up to L&D for another check (did I mention how much I HATE being checked?). I had made very limited progress and was told I could stay and they would admit me, but that meant no food, no nothing until he was born, or we could go home, take a bath, take a Tylenol PM, eat some lunch and come back later in the day. So, by 10am, the Kamas family was back home.

I took a quick bath (which did nothing), took a Tylenol PM (also nothing) and laid in bed. I made it as long as I could...but I was in so much pain I couldn't stand it anymore. So at noon, I had Thomas make me some buttered toast (which was about the only thing that I could even fathom keeping down at that point) and by 1pm we were back at the hospital. Let me just say, I am in absolute awe of anyone that can go through childbirth without taking meds. Laboring at home for 3 hours just about did me in. I was ready to call uncle.

The good news is, when we came back this time, we went right back to our old room, got checked, and turned out, I was STILL not in active labor - only 3 cm dilated (I don't like this term "active labor"...it's all labor, no matter how many centimeters dilated you are), but I had made enough progress and was in enough pain that they decided to admit me and give me drugs (woohoo!!)

July 31 - Just Getting Warmed Up
I got my first round of drugs and was in heaven. I managed to get a good solid hour to hour and a half of sleep which was much needed after being awake since 9am Saturday morning. It also helped with the pain, which was much appreciated. Of course, by this time the call had gone out that I was admitted to the hospital and the troops were gathering at the hospital, by text, Facebook, you name it. Of course, during this time, you still get checked what seems like every 15 minutes, which I reiterate, is AWFUL. I was making progress, but nice and slow. I managed to go a little bit without any additional pain relief for a little bit, but I was soon begging for another round of drugs. When they brought the IV bag that had worked it's magic just a short bit ago, I was like a new woman. And then...it didn't work. Apparently, the first round is the most effective, and then after that you build up a tolerance and it doesn't work so well. Not what I had in mind.

I labored a little bit longer without drugs because they were trying to decide if an epidural was the right course of action. I was still a little early on in the process to really get an epidural, but I was once again begging for relief. A compromise was made - I would labor a little bit on the ball (which helps change your position) and then take a nice jacuzzi bath - and then we'd see. The ball helped some, although I have to say there is nothing quite like sitting on a ball draped in a pad (because you are leaking some pretty icky stuff) and rolling around in front of an audience. Those that know me know I'm not really a modest person. I'm pretty open and I'm not afraid to ask OR share. The whole labor and delivery process tested my mettle (more on that later).

By the time I was in the jacuzzi tub, I was basically convulsing and crying through each contraction as Thomas looked on in absolute terror. True, I had been in a significant amount of pain prior to this moment, but this was another level. Thomas helped me out, got me back on the ball (we were at least alone this time) and called for the nurse. Finally, we got good news - the epidural was on its way! Absolutely amazing how fast I can become a happy Becky at the sound of that word. Around 11:30pm, the anesthesiologist arrived and Thomas was thrown out of the room. The epidural was relatively pain free - honestly, the initial numbing shot hurt more than anything else - and it really didn't hurt. However, the doctor was having a really hard time locating the correct space in my back. Finally, he got it in, but I knew I was in trouble when he said, "I tried but I couldn't really find a space. We'll cross our fingers and see what happens. I'll come back if I need to." Well, crap. That did not sound promising...nor was it. Even after he came back and added a significant of medication, still only minor relief. Not the glorious, amazingness I was told to expect. Grrr....

August 1 - Sweet Relief
After more shaking and convulsions and the changing of the months from July to August, nothing was happening. I was stuck in bed with a catheter (even more awfulness) because I had an "epidural". About 1:55am, I was convinced that I had peed myself, and since this is pretty much impossible to do with a catheter in, I was a little freaked out. A nurse came and checked me and said it looked like my water had broke...that had to mean progress! Nope...another nurse checked and said she could still feel my bag of waters AND that I was still only a four...rapidly approaching the 24 hour mark and all I'd managed to do was dilate two centimeters? And this is with contractions coming every 3 minutes? This is so not how labor is supposed to work!

Good news came at 3:30am with the arrival of the anesthesiologist again. In 15 short minutes, I had a true epidural. My legs were tingling before I even managed to get completely back in bed. Other than some slight pressure and Liam moving around, I felt nothing! So I did what any sane pregnant woman in the throes of a 24 hour labor would do - I took a nap...and it was HEAVEN! Even after I woke up, I was still blissfully pain free. Now this is what I'm talking about. At one point, I was starting to feel some mild pain, and in came an anesthesiologist, added some medication and it went away. Miracle of miracles! Finally, life was good.

Now, enter the next several hours where I get checked almost constantly, especially since I was on Pitocin to really kick-start the contractions. Apparently, dilation is not exactly a clearly defined term. I'm not sure how that works - isn't a centimeter a centimeter? That's not exactly up for debate - those are measurements - they don't change. At any rate, there was some debate between doctors and nurses and had my numbers anywhere between 4 and 7. Seriously? Come to find out, there was debate because I was getting very swollen on the inside and the measurements were actually bouncing back and forth. How much luckier could a girl get? Apparently lots...

Next up on the agenda was a fever, complete with two more IV drips and a suppository Tylenol. Lucky me! And I got to learn that epidurals block pain but not pressure, and Liam had decided to push his head down on my bottom areas like no other. I was on my side moaning in pain, unable to do anything except focus on the agonizing pressure that I could do nothing about. An anesthesiologist did come in and try to give me a little more medication, but it was short lived. I know there were people in the room, but I honestly couldn't tell you who was in there. I remember at one point looking at the nurse and saying, "Honestly, I'm at my limit both physically and emotionally. I don't know how much more I can take." I'm sure I threw in my best pleading puppy dog eyes, too.

Vaginal delivery is the ideal way to deliver a baby for both mother and baby, and since the baby was not showing any signs of distress, we were still going for it. But things just kept stacking on top of each other. I wasn't progressing, my fever wasn't going away - and just like that, my doctor walked in and announced I was going in for a c-section. I asked the nurse, "how long?" and her reply was, "We'll be back there in 20 minutes, they are just cleaning up an OR because we've had 12 c-sections today." Wow...it finally hit me - it was time to meet Liam and all the agony of the last 36 hours was coming to an end.

August 1 - Liam's Delivery
Once you get on the c-section docket, things begin to happen real fast. I was given even stronger medication in my epidural to help numb me from the ribs down (where was that earlier?) Thomas put on his scrubs and off we went. I don't remember a whole lot about the process. I do know they wiped my face with a cold cloth and then my belly. I could feel the wipe but not the cold...strange. Same thing once the procedure began. I could feel the cutting, but there was no pain. I could feel the stretching, but there was no pain. I could feel...PAIN! I started yelling that I could feel what they were doing (turns out my epidural hadn't numbed all of my insides), but within 5 seconds (if that), I had good stuff pumped into my epidural and squirted into my insides and I felt only pressure. About this point, Liam started squirming around uncontrollably, so I figured it had to be about time for him to pop out. Then the anesthesiologist asked me if she could give me something that would sedate me and I probably wouldn't remember much of what was happening. Yes, please.

After that moment, here is what I remember: I heard Liam cry as he came out and I cried, too. Thomas asked if they were happy tears or pain tears (happy). And then, I was headed to my recovery room. Pictures tell a much different story. I apparently was coherent enough at one point to lean over and kiss Liam as we had our first family picture that you see below. (Please don't look to close at my gross face - I had been in labor for 37.5 hours at that point and it is beyond nasty and greasy).

The first time I "remember" seeing Liam was when Thomas showed me pictures. It wasn't until I was in recovery and more coherent that I got to see him for real. My beautiful baby boy, worth all 37.5 hours and then some, was really here.

Of course, there are a lot more details, but I think I've assigned enough reading material for this blog. I'll be writing some more this week about recovery, and all the things that are going on with our precious bundle. Thanks to everyone for the well wishes and congratulations. We are so blessed to be surrounded by amazing friends and family.