On Tuesday, November 15, I went in for a regular OB appointment. As I walked in, I got the usual ribbing about the fact that I was still pregnant. During the appointment, the nurse practitioner brought up the "I" word -- she asked if we had discussed the possibility of induction. I laughed and said that we had talked about it since the baby was measuring big, but that conversation had been based on a very hypothetical possibility since no one had expected me to go full term. After some discussion, we decided that I would be induced on Friday, a perfect day because my favorite doctor would be on call, and it was my PopPop's birthday. (If my PopPop were still alive and Judah had been born on the 19th, I would have totally been the favorite grandchild!)
I started making plans for the two remaining days I had before the baby would come, but I had this niggling idea in the back of my head that God had different plans for me.
I was right.
The next day I woke up feeling fine, but at 10:00 AM I started to feel out-of-sorts. I felt chilled and achy and lethargic. I took my temperature, and it was normal. But as the day progressed, I just felt worse and worse. I took my temperature again in the evening, and it was 100.9, which warrants a trip to L&D to make sure everything is okay with the baby. When I got there, we were checked in and then a nurse came in to hook me up to the monitors. We were delighted to discover that the nurse assigned to us that evening was Rhonda, the nurse who had been present when Isobel was born. Then the doctor came in. She told me that because of my fever, the fear was that I might have developed chorioamnionitis, an infection of the amniotic sac or fluid. The only way to determine for sure if I had developed this infection would be to do an amniocentesis, but since I was so far along, she recommended that I just be induced that evening. Since we had lost Isobel partially due to infection, we agreed.
Rhonda traded duties with another nurse, so she could be present at the birth. Since she had been with us when our daughter died, we were delighted that she would be present at the birth of our child who would live.
They started the pitocin and some antibiotics at 10:00 PM. I had heard horror stories about labor with pitocin, and I was still feeling crummy, so I assumed that I would want an epidural sooner rather than later. However, I was excited to discover that when I had the opportunity to move around a little bit, labor wasn't too bad. I decided to see how long I could go without an epidural, since I was enjoying being able to get out of bed. At 3:00 AM, the doctor came in and broke my water. She had a hard time getting the membranes to rupture. We laughed and I said, "Oh, the irony!" But afterward we wondered if the strength of my amniotic sac was what ultimately saved Judah's life back in June when we thought we were going to lose him.
After my water broke, labor was a whole different story. I thought I might die. I sent Rhonda to get the "epidural man," and the time we waited for him felt like an eternity. After the epidural was finally in place, I said to Rhonda, "I think I'm going to take a nap now." She examined me and said, "Nope, you're going to have a baby!"
Right before I started pushing, Judah's heart started to show some decelerations with every contraction. They put me on oxygen and became very intentional about coaching me to deliver him as quickly as possible. When he came out, the cord was wrapped once around his neck, but the doctor removed it easily and he started crying right away.
They grabbed him and placed him on my stomach, and Scott said, "It's another little boy!" I had a moment of what? I had been so certain that he was a girl! But let me be very clear, I am by no means disappointed! I love being a mommy to two little boys. But I was surprised.
Because of the heart decelerations and the possible chorioamnionitis, they took him away from me immediately and examined him to make sure all was well. Once they determined that he was healthy, they gave him back to me and let me and Scott have some time alone with him. I nursed him in the delivery room, and he latched on right away -- one of the ways he has already proven himself to be very different from his brother. Caden had no interest in eating until he was about three weeks old and couldn't have cared less about nursing until he was six weeks old. Judah is not quite two weeks, and he already weighs more than he did when he was born. Eating is his favorite thing!
We've been trying to settle into a routine at home. It's been great having Scott home on paternity leave -- I'm not quite sure how I'm going to do it without him! He's gone tonight, and I caved and put in a tractor movie for Caden. Those of you who know me know that I don't put the TV on for Caden unless I absolutely must. This was not an "absolutely must" situation -- I just was tired of saying no when he asked.
Caden has been showing some mild signs of jealousy, but on the whole, he's been an amazing big brother. We were getting ready to head out the door for the pediatrician last week, and Judah was in the crib, crying. I heard Caden go up to him and say, "It's okay, Judah, it's okay." I walked in, and he was holding Judah's hand through the bars of the crib. Judah had stopped crying and was watching his brother.
Tonight I sat on the recliner and held both of my boys on my lap, and my arms felt joyfully full. I feel so blessed and so grateful. It will be a learning curve to figure out how to do everything with two boys, but it is a lesson I will be glad to learn.
