JULY 24, 2007

On July 24, 2007, our lives changed forever. Beautiful little Elizabeth Lindy squeezed her way into this world. To put it bluntly, we are smitten.

To catch up a little bit since the last post on July 18, 2007... Life was just clicking along. There are remnants of those feelings of excitement, wondering what day my water would break, or when I might start to feel real contractions. I remember spending a lot of time online, trying to look for clues to the puzzle of the birthing process. I dragged information out of other moms and dads, comparing my pregnancy to others, grasping at similarities and tossing out anything that might mean our little girl would wait more than another few days to appear in the flesh.

Let me tell you a little story. I think it's a good one. On Friday, July 20, BK and I hooked up with some of our good friends and stormed the Dane County fair. I did a lot of watching and eating, as might be expected of a responsible pregnant woman at the fair. BK and the rest had a good time on the "Shocker" (jokes aplenty were made, trust me), until some stupid kids started yelling for a second go, and the Shocker Jockey obliged. After that it wasn't much fun. BK squealed, tried to keep the smile on his face, and then eventually gave up and just looked blank. The rest of the gang fared better. Next was a 22-second ride through what they described as the most lame spookhouse in the whole big world. Then some more food. Then Tommy and BK irritated a carnie by speaking loudly about how the basketball hoops were slightly oval, therefore preventing the round basketball from swishing through. More food. And one more ride. The "Tornado" or something. This one made Tommy sick. He was pretty quiet for the rest of the night. It would have the the optimal moment for the carnie to exact some revenge. Then somebody won a little orange goldfish, which just so happens to still be alive and loved at Tommy's house; their three cats have not eaten him yet. I think we finished off the night with some ice cream. As a collective, we noshed miniature donuts, frybread, popcorn, corn on the cob on a stick dipped into a glorious vat of melted butter, sno-cones, soda soda soda, and the ice cream. I love the fact that I went to the fair 9 months pregnant.

I don't remember Saturday. (Hopefully we didn't do something totally fab and I've chucked it into the garbage bin section of my memory.) BK and his gang of motorcycle beasties spent Sunday the 22nd cruising (ha) around, obeying all speed limits and other state highway laws. I remember that Emily and I had talked about going shopping, and by 10 am I was hoping she had forgotten because I was so tired. By 11, I was set on staying home. By noon, I had been on the couch for two hours, and had very consciously decided that I was going to spend the rest of the day on the couch reading or snoozing or both, based on the fact that it may very well be the last Sunday where I get to lay around and do nothing. I heard from several moms that they did things like go crazy and clean the whole house, and their baby was born the next day. Or they finished up a project at work and BOOM: baby time. I love the fact that my omen manifested itself as a conscientious decision to be lazy, that my baby time radar said "Hey, you, hobbit foot, take it easy today. You're gonna need your rest."

On the ride to work the next day, Monday, July 23, I kindly asked BK to stay home from his Sunday rides until after the baby's born. I mean, here I am, 9 months preg, and he's out tearing it up. We had a whole plan that involved texting and leaving voicemails, and what those messages would say if it was urgent (water breaking) or not so (light contractions), and who I would call in case of emergency (I had a mental map plotted out of which friend lived closest versus who was the most likely to be home to drive me to the hospital). Anyway, BK's response was that of course he was done riding until after the baby was born.

Warning: graphic pregnant woman/the beauty of the weird things a woman's body does to get ready for the baby scene ahead.

7:30 am: conversation as described above about BK laying off the Sunday fun for awhile.
8:00 am: arrive at work. go to bathroom. notice something a little weird, but decide to ignore it.
9:00 am: go to bathroom (yes, again, shut up). notice weird thing is still occurring. hmm. decide to ignore it for one more hour.
9:15 am: talk to my mom. she says to not go into labor until she finishes her laundry. i don't tell her about the weird thing.
9:30 am: talk to BK, probably. don't tell him about the weird thing.
10:00 am: go to bathroom. ok, weird thing still occurring. tell myself that i've been calm for most of my pregnancy, maybe now it's ok to wonder if maybe i'm leaking amniotic fluid.
10:05 am: sneak into conference room to call nurse. describe wetness to nurse. nurse confers with my regular nurse that based on my description and the fact that i'm 9 days from my due date, i might as well come in and have fluid tested. can i be there at 12:30? oh, for sure. see you then.
10:10 am: call BK. his voice trips. i can hear a definite flinch through the phone line. and then he's ok. see you at 12:15.
12:00 noon: tell my boss what's up. excited! will keep in touch.
12:15 pm: pick up BK. he's a little crazy-eyed, but overall calm.
12:30 pm: arrive at clinic, get weighed (ugh), get blood pressure checked (great!), talk to nurse some more.
12:45 pm: see dr kate sample, the ob/gyn on call that day. nice doc; we like her. she checks the fluid three ways: the consistency, visual observation, and a ph test. based on consistency and visual, she states that she thinks it's just discharge and not my water. BK and i sigh. she announces that she will run the sample down to the lab and will be back shortly. BK and i stare at each other for a few minutes, then relax and get chatty and talk about what to have for lunch before we return to our respective offices.
1 pm: dr sample returns with the results from the sample. it's my water. i say "holy shit." BK and i smile crazy smiles and i for one don't know how to process the fact that we'll be birthing a baby within the next 24 hours. dr sample asks when i noticed the fluid, as the baby should be born within 24 hours of a leak. i say 8 am. that means we'll be birthing a baby within the next 19 hours. gulp.
2 pm: we leave the clinic after having some little tests done, like counting heart rate and kicks, etc. i call mom and ask if her laundry is done. she freaks out. we call everybody else, then go home and pack our bags.
6 pm: arrive at hospital. go right to our birthing suite. talk to nice nurses.
8 pm: am hooked up to pitocin, as there have been no real contractions.
8:15 pm: feel real contractions. fun.
8:30: water breaks. yahoo!
9:00: lots of real contractions. less fun now.
the next few hours consist of walking, bouncing, and requesting whatever narcotic they can give me to help ease the pain. the narcotic wears off. the sucky thing about the narcotic wearing off, is that while you are enjoying the narcotic, the contractions are getting worse. only you don't know they're getting worse. but then you find out just how bad they've gotten when the narcotic wears off. i can't remember when i asked for the epidural, but i do remember that it took the anesthesiologist 4 tries. 4 pokes. 40 minutes later, the epidural is placed.

my mom arrives. we take a 20 minute break, and then start pushing. i don't remember how long i pushed, but it's not as long as many women push. throughout the pushing, i would suddenly become aware of my surroundings because everybody starts moving and talking and rushing around. the baby is in distress. page the doctor for fetal heart tones. move the monitor. move back to your left side. alright. let's push. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. quick breath in 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. whewwwww. wait for next contraction. do it all again. page the doctor for fetal heart tones. i turn my head and ask BK what's going on. "they're trying to find the baby's heartbeat" he tells me. ok, there it is. on and on, more pushing, breathing, existing in this floaty, cloudy space where i'm not asleep but i'm not awake. not until the next contraction, and the next, and the next, and too many times they page the doctor for fetal heart tones, and then they check and the baby is not out far enough. dr kate sample tells me that we need to make a choice between the forceps and the vacuum. i insist on no vacuum (remember that i see malpractice cases for a living, and that's all i'll say about that). i ask dr kate sample if she's ever used the forceps (it's the best i can do to credential this physician on-the-spot). she gives me a gentle smile and says "many times." the forceps team is called. the forceps team arrives, excited to be needed. they rearrange me from my left side to my back and scoot me to the bottom of the table. WHOA. the baby's head is suddenly very far out, like most of her forehead is showing. stop pushing, dr kate sample quickly tells me. i didn't do anything, i say. i get to feel the top of the baby's head. i'm awake now! the forceps team leaves the room, obviously dejected. everybody in the ready position. two more easy pushes and baby girl is in my arms. she looks right at me. right at me. me. her mom. i'm now a mom, and my baby is in my arms.


It's 4:55 am on Tuesday, July 24th, 2007. The day our lives changed forever.

That's the beginning of the story. There's much more to come. Now I'm crying. Not now, as in now in the story, although it's true I was crying at this point of the story. I'm crying right now, as I type this. I love her so much. Every day my love grows exponentially. Parents talk about how hard it is, how tired they are, how much work it is or how scary it is. No one tells you that your heart will be filled to the brim with nothing but the purest love you've ever felt, love you never understood you could feel, love you never knew existed. But you know now, and you will never let go, ever.