...That's just an odd way of saying the birth of my third child went very smooth. I opted for an epidural again. With my first child, Rocco, I had an epidural. But because of how large he was (9lb. 3 oz.) I had to push for about an hour and a half which was brutal on my body. Not to mention brutal on poor Rocco. He was born with shoulder dystocia. It all turned out fine, but frightening all the same. With the birth of our daughter Luca, I did not have an epidural (good lord that was painful) and I also struggled to push out 9 lbs. 8 oz. of baby.
Chef and I checked into the hospital at 7 a.m. for a scheduled induction. We settled in for the long haul. As we waited patiently for the meds to do their work we each quietly puttered on our iphones. Our labor and delivery nurse was pleasant enough, but we didn't really connect with her the way we did with the nurses we had with our previous children. I wasn't worried because she was off at 3 p.m. and I knew there was no way this baby was showing up before then. At around 3:30 we met Isabelle, our afternoon L&D nurse. there was an immediate connection and I was hoping that baby would arrive before we had another shift change.
So when the contractions that had been very consistent all day started to finally get more than uncomfortable I called in the Dude. You know that guy... the man with the drugs. Since I was so worried that I would "miss" the window of opportunity for an epidural I did not hesitate when Isabelle asked if I was ready yet. I kind of expected the Dude to take a while to arrive since I knew he was not required to be on hospital property during his on-call shift. Low and behold he arrived in the delivery room in no time with a strange hyper energy that momentarily had me worried he was self medicating. He wasted no time setting up the goods all the while chatting with anyone that would listen. My husband, who is kind of a quiet guy, just sat there with a dumbstruck look on his face. I could tell he was saying to himself "STFU and give my wife some relief". Turns out we actually quite liked the Dude and he stayed for a few minutes to chat. Part of the reason we liked him (besides the obvious...hello numb legs), is because he admitted he was a Chatty Cathy. I rarely meet people who chat more than I do so it was kind of like looking at a male version of myself. Strange, yet comforting.
For such an easy birth this story is sure taking a while. So I'm all numb and relying on the machine to tell me when I'm contracting. Chef and I go back to quiet iphone time. Me checking out my favorite blogs and he playing poker. At one point Isabelle comes in to let us know it was her dinner break. As we wish her a happy meal she decides to quickly check my cervix. Let the drama begin! Apparently I'm ready to push. The energy in the room suddenly goes into high gear. Everyone is bustling around, but not in a real big hurry because, hey, my first two birth experiences were slooooooow. Isabelle assumed we were in for a long bout of pushin'. She has also had some experience with Dr.A and knows he does not like to get called until the final act. Apparently he doesn't like sitting around while the womenfolk do the hard labor. He wants to be there for the grand finale. I'm o.k. with that because I didn't really bond with Dr. A over these past 9 months. Maybe he doesn't like chatty women.
Isabelle has me do one test push and that's when the shit hit the fan. Luckily I did not shit the bed (like I did with baby #1). One nurse who I previously didn't even notice was in the room quickly got on the phone to Dr.A while Isabelle literally jumped onto the end of my bed. Now I know we are talking serious business at that point. I mean she's really on the bed! Chef gets the camera going and starts taking pictures while I am still a little bit clueless about what's really going on down there. remember, I'm numb from the waist down and I'm feeling more like a casual observer at this point. I do remember glancing from Isabelle to my husband looking for signs of worry on their faces. No worry, just ultimate concentration. About one minute after my first push comes another contraction and Isabelle is actually holding the baby's head to try and keep it from coming out any further. Isabelle realizes defeat very quickly and she says to me "one more push and your baby will be here". And I'm like "WTF did you just say?" That is so not in the plan. Not that Chef and I ever made any sort of birth plan for any of our children, this was certainly NOT THE PLAN!
A thousand things go through my mind at this moment, one of which is Isabelle better know what she's doing and please, please, please don't let this baby get stuck like Rocco did. Part of the reason we picked Dr.A is because of his confidence in delivering large babies with a predisposition for shoulder dystocia. Good thing I didn't have too much time to think because the final push was upon us.
At 6:54 p.m. Vincenzo Vittorio practically fell out of my vagina.
8 pounds 21 1/2 inches (my little peanut)