Wednesday, September 16, 2015

Lila's birthday... and birth

Lila turned one on Saturday.

 It was the perfect birthday, other than her still being a bit out of sorts from having been sick all week. But she looked adorable, had a blast and we got to see just about our entire family. And she got to try cake. 

We had everyone for lunch at an awesome local pizza place, and then the local synagogue where we had her baby naming. This was made extra special by the fact that my father-in-law's grandfather (so... Lila's great-great-grandfather) was a founding member of said synagogue, and we recently found his name on pews and a plaque there.

All together, it was a fabulous day. She barely got any new toys (HOORAY! A) We have no room for them and B) She won't play with them because they're not something of mine or Rebecca's), but got some incredibly special gifts to treasure when she is older.

So I got around to thinking about the night she was born. Errr, rather the nightS over which she was born. We got to the hospital for a planned, but still done on a somewhat emergency basis thanks to my cholestasis suddenly getting worse, induction on Wednesday night, September 10. Our nanny Dina and my in-laws were set to stay with Rebecca. We arrived at 8, per instructions, and waited three and a half hours for a room to open up. Our doctor was a spitfire and promised that we'd get a bed, but couldn't promise where in the hospital it would be. Yikes! But okay I guess?! We ended up getting a great room right in Labor and Delivery, thank goodness.

We settled in, I got Cervidil put in and made peace with having a September 11 baby. At that point I was just ready for her to be born - I was uncomfortable, exhausted, and honestly? Delivering Rebecca was the easiest part of last time! I wasn't at all nervous for the birth.

It was three weeks prior to my due date, so we were really kickstarting things from scratch. They gave me an epidural insanely early, as I was really nervous about that part of the birth, given my spinal headache with Rebecca. All went smoothly after I talked to the anesthesiologist for a long time about my prior experience. And then, I just laid there. All through September 11, cranking up the Pitocin, re-upping my epidural, watching 9/11 ceremonies and crying, a Kardashians marathon and laughing, letting the doctor break my water, talking to my family, Evan watching The West Wing on Netflix - it was like a party in that room as I waited to feel ready to push.

At 11:30 PM things started to change. Suddenly I didn't want to talk anymore. The contractions were more intense, and the pressure I could feel was mounting. At 11:45 I asked for the doctor to come in. At midnight she did, and said I was fully dilated. Go time! It was at that instant that I realized I hadn't re-upped my epidural in the past whirlwind half hour. I could... ummm... feel things. NOOOOOO NO NO NO NO, this was not how it was supposed to go! Everyone told me how easy second deliveries are, and how it'd be no big deal. I told me that!  This was not that.

I begged for another epidural, for someone to come and give me more medicine - everyone was telling me it'd just be easier and quicker for me to push, and I steadfastly refused (and I wonder where Rebecca gets that stubborn side...). I actually told them to put water in there and tell me it was medicine. They injected something into the line, and said, "Okay, now push." Point proven. I did. It hurt. I felt it all. I was screaming things that are not able to be written here. I kept apologizing too for my vulgarity. It was quite a scene. 

I had pushed a few times and knew we were almost there, at which point the doctor on call says, "Oh! I forgot my booties." And LEAVES THE ROOM. I was dumbfounded, screaming and cursing in pain. My husband - who watched Rebecca be born and still says it was the coolest thing he's ever seen - was turned away from the... situation. The nurse who was filling in for the doctor who was GETTING HER BOOTIES kept telling him to look, and he later told me that he couldn't, because he was laughing too hard at the things coming out of my mouth, and he knew if I saw I'd rip him apart. He was 100% right.

At this point, it was time for me to push again, after which the nurse digs her feet into the ground and proceeds to put her hands up in front of her and hold them there, and push with all of her strength. She is HOLDING MY BABY IN ME. I swear. I'm sorry that is graphic - but so is having a baby. And it hurts. And I can feel it. And I yell, "Where the $&@% is she?! SHE DOESN'T NEED HER $%&#ING BOOTIES!" at which point my doctor comes back in, THANK GOODNESS WITH HER BOOTIES. I push another time and little Lila Jane was born, at 12:35 AM on September 12.

My mother maintains that I didn't really want a September 11th baby, and my mother-in-law says that Lila didn't want a September 11th birthday. Either way, we had an amazing September 12, 2014, and a fabulous time celebrating that on the 12th in 2015.

And I hate the word booties.

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