Baby Owen Roger is here! And has been for over two weeks. You know I'm not the most dedicated blogger! He was born at 11:11 a.m. which is pretty cool and weighed a whopping 9 lbs 2 oz.
The birth story: I just knew this baby was going to come just a little bit early. Or at least on his due date like his big sister did. I just knew it. So you can imagine my bitterness when all those dates came and went. Luckily I had scheduled an induction for two days after my due date on a Tuesday. So Monday I cleaned my house, packed up my kids and shipped them to Grandma's. Chad and I went to dinner and walked our fannies off running errands. We bought milk and eggs and a few things. I was deeply uncomfortable. I'm pretty sure I was having contractions the whole time and wondered if I'd be one of those ironic stories where I go into labor on my own only hours before a scheduled induction. Nope.
The next morning we woke at 5:30 a.m. We were told to be ready to go at six when we were supposed to call the hospital. So we called at six and they told us to come in at seven. We were bummed we didn't get that extra hour of sleep. I started having some good contractions about ten minutes apart, but they had gone away by time we got to the hospital. Good thing I had an induction ready!
They started my drugs at 8:00 a.m. They took awhile to get going. I labored for two hours and I could tell it was going to take all day. My contractions were painful, but not crazy and they were still three minutes apart. I told the nurse I needed to have my water broken. At ten, I got the epidural. Epidurals tend to not work great for me, so I thought this one felt promising when both my legs were pretty tingly ten minutes later. At 10:30, my doctor finally came and broke my water. She told me I was at a four. The nurse said to call if I felt any pressure and left. Well, at 10:45 I started to hurt--bad. I could feel the contractions and I could feel pressure. I finally called the nurse in at 10:50. She checked me and said, "Oh, boy." We were ready to go. Only no one else was. The nurse called the Dr and a few other people came in and they scrambled to get all the delivery stuff set up. I sat in agony for another fifteen minutes waiting for them. Finally, I could push. Only, that darn epidural wasn't doing squat! I could feel everything. It took three good pushes to get him out and I was crying pretty hard. When they told me how much he weighed, it was no wonder.
The nurses took forever getting Owen weighed and warmed and whatever else they do. I seriously wanted to yell at them to give me my baby already. They finally did. My sweet, chunky, furry baby. Chad and I both deducted that if my water ever breaks on its own, we will probably be delivering our own baby. Heaven forbid.
Meeting the family: Our families were busy that day so Chad and I actually had quite a few hours just to be with the three of us. Everyone finally came right after dinner. My family came first. Then Chad's family came about half hour later with Lydia and Russell in tow. They both walked in and kind of reverently looked at the baby. Then Russell looked at me and said, "Can we take him home?" So, so sweet! Lydia held him for a bit, but Russell didn't want to. He wanted me to hold him instead. So I enjoyed having my sweet 2-year-old sit in my lap while everyone looked at the baby. I can't tell you how much bigger and older Russell seemed after the baby. So weird.
Coming home: The first few days with Owen home were peaceful since my other kids were still at Grandma's. But I always have the weirdest sense of displacement when I have another baby. It's like my mind and body know that my life will never be the same and I just can't quite seem to get a handle on anything. My body feels empty from losing that baby and as strange as it sounds, my family feels like something is missing though we've actually just added a member. Does anyone else feel that weird lonely feeling when they bring home babies?
The next week I got mastitis and was, of course, fed up with nursing and how painful it was. In case you weren't aware, nursing is my nemesis. It is, for me, by far, the worst part about having a baby. So I was at the end of my rope when Owen turned six days old. Luckily I got some help from a lactation consultant, drugs for my infection, and things got better from there.
Owen's second week of life found me hauling all three kids to the library and Target and feeling like super mom. It was a great feeling. I don't feel like that everyday, however. Most days I wake up exhausted and I'm quite ornery with my older kids for needing me when I feel so tired. I need to work on being happier despite my fatigue for their sake. Poor things. Owen likes to eat every two hours or so. Sometimes every three so I get very tired of feeding him. He was doing longer stretches at night, but seems to have hit that growth spurt because he is waking just as often at night now too. Hopefully more sleep is around the corner because I'm feeling way too old to live on these 90 minute naps around the clock. Nursing is going a bit better and I think we'll make it. I don't suppose it will be easy or comfortable for a few more weeks though.
Here we all are. Family of five. I am so swollen from all the fluids they pumped into me, but I can say that not being pregnant is great, I love all three of my kids, adore my husband, and know that I am very blessed--even if I am very tired.
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