So, it was 9:30 a.m. and the induction was finally under way...

We spend the next seven hours waiting and finding ways to pass the time.  Travis caught up on his medical journals and charts, I read a couple of magazines, perused Facebook, and had contractions.  Because my water had not broken I was able to move around a lot during this labor.  I spent time on the birthing ball, walking, and rocking back and forth.  My contractions were semi-regular and growing in intensity but nothing I couldn’t handle with some breathing and movement.  Unfortunately I was dilating very slowly and after eight hours I’d only progressed from 3 to 5 cm and gone from 60 to 75% effaced.  Every few hours my nurse would up the Pitocin drip to try and move things along but after a short time my contractions would begin to back off and lose intensity again.  It was very discouraging because my only previous experience was such a fast labor, six hours from start to holding a baby, and this time we were eight hours in and I’d only progressed as far as I was when I was admitted for induction with James.  But as Travis and our doctor pointed out, with my previous labor they broke my water within an hour of admission to the hospital because we had nothing to lose, and this time I was laboring with my water intact just in case it didn’t work.

At 5:30 we decided it was time to have a conversation about whether we’d continue with the induction or call it quits and try again in a week.  I was at 5 cm which is toeing the line regarding whether I could go home and wait.   I was making slow progress and just couldn’t seem to get into a regular contraction pattern, and we did not want to try and force something that wasn’t meant to happen.   One of the reasons I love our doctor so much as that she takes into account her patients’ opinions and wishes.  She presented our options as 1) call the induction attempt unsuccessful, go home, and try again in a week, 2) continue on as we were and wait, or 3) break my water to cause the baby to drop and hopefully kick start regular contractions.  She didn’t put any pressure on us whatsoever regarding our decision, despite having spent the last eight hours at the hospital while I labored.   Seriously, love her.

Travis and I took some time to discuss that we should do.  We were really torn; on one hand we were nervous to break my water and commit to having a baby even if it meant it might come to a c-section.  On the other hand we weren’t sure that waiting a week would increase my chance of a more successful induction, as I was already five days overdue and wasn’t likely to develop any further Pitocin receptors.  And if we waited we’d lose our week of help and care for James; all we’d really gain was knowing that if the outcome wasn’t perfect, we’d waited as long as possible.

We debated for almost an hour and what started out as a medical decision ultimately became a trust issue.  The more we talked about it, the more certain I was that we should just break my water and trust that God would do the rest.  We figured that God had gotten us into the hospital on that day, we had to trust Him that He would bring Edison safely into the world.  At 6:15, eight hours and forty-five minutes in, my doctor broke my water and we were committed.  She told us after the fact that in her opinion, we had made the right decision and she was certain I would be pushing the baby out in just a few hours.  She said if we were a “regular” patient she would have advised us an hour earlier that it was time to break my water and that would have been that.  But because Travis is a colleague and we probably have more information than the average patient, she wanted us to comfortably come to our own decision.  In short, we were over thinking it.

During hour eight my nurse had been upping the Pitocin drip and I was now receiving about half the maximum dose per hour.  By 6:30, fifteen minutes after breaking my water, my contractions were regulated and drastically increased in intensity.  At 7:00 my contractions were one minute apart and I told Travis I was starting to think about an epidural.  I had an epidural with James and was open to another if it started to sound like a better idea than not, but was also open to laboring without one as long as I could handle it.  At 7:30 my contractions were so intense that all I could think while I was breathing through them was, “Dear Jesus, help me.”  I was squeezing Travis’ hand so hard during each one that it turned purple.  I informed my nurse that yes, I would like an epidural, preferably 30 minutes ago.  They checked me and found I was at 6 cm and started the extra saline and preparation.  The next thirty minutes of waiting and contracting every 30-60 seconds were miserable.  And holding completely still while getting the spinal was nearly impossible, but well worth it.  Within two minutes of finishing my epi I felt relief.  I could still feel contractions but they were back to being completely manageable.  I told Travis that we learned two things to remember from this second labor, should we ever do this again.  One, when the question comes up, just break my water; I will immediately go into active labor.  Two, I want an epidural.  No more waffling about it beforehand, it will happen, it’s just a matter of when. 

The rest of Edison’s labor was a really enjoyable experience.  I was relaxed, chatting, laughing, all the while my body was doing the hard work.  I could still feel and move my feet, had limited movement in my legs, and could feel when I was contracting.  At 8:45 I told my nurse I was feeling pressure and sure enough, it was time to push.  Finally, we were going to have a baby!  Everyone suited up and made the final preparations for the delivery.  I remember thinking it was surreal that they were turning on the warmer and getting out blankets…we were really going to have a second son in just a few minutes.  I pushed for the first time at 9:06 and about ten pushes later Edison entered the world at 9:12 p.m.  It felt almost effortless and this time I had asked for a mirror so I was able to see the progress and his birth.  It was just as magical an experience the second time as they first, when they handed that squirmy little baby to me and he snuggled into my chest.  I immediately noticed that he looked much more like my side of the family; he has my brother’s nose.  I remember feeling like he was both a tiny little stranger and someone I knew everything about.  And I was surprised to note that after having given birth only once before, it takes a few minutes to comprehend that you’ve given birth to another child, not the same child a second time. J

Edison Wade weighed 7 lbs 14.6 ounces and was 20.75 inches long.  My “small” baby was both bigger and longer than his brother despite being born one week earlier.  His first name was chosen simply because we loved it, and his middle name marks him as Travis Wade’ son.  And I may be biased, but I think that middle name he shares with his Daddy gives him an awful lot to live up to.

 

We had a baby.   Edison Wade was born on Monday the 22nd, at 9:12 p.m.  He was 7lbs 15 oz and 20 3/4 inches long.  Which makes him both longer and heavier than James.  Small baby, my foot!

Ok, so that was a week ago and I'm just now getting to posting his information....bad second time Mommy.  Thankfully most of you are on Facebook and saw the news and pictures fairly quickly.   A quick status update is so much less intimidating than a whole blog post.  I am working on his birth story and hope to have that to post soon.

My parents, brother, sister-in-law, Travis' parents, step-sister, my Aunt and Uncle and cousins were all here at some point last week.  What fun to celebrate Edison's arrival and the Thanksgiving holiday with so many loved ones.  Having family here was wonderful for his first week.  But now we're back to our little family of four and finding our footing.  So without further ado, meet Edison:

My second son,

Today is your due date!   This is the first of many letters you will receive from me over your lifetime, detailing out your most important accomplishments, the mundane details of your childhood that your Mama never wants to forget, and the most embarrassing childhood moments I can find. Starting with the nickname I gave you to keep your given name a secret before your arrival: Peep.  I know, I know, nothing says strapping young man like calling you after a marshmallow duck covered in sparkly sugar. Sorry.  We didn’t know that you were a boy when I came up with it and I had sparkly sugar on the brain because we learned of your existence during the week of Easter.  I promise we won’t keep it up after you get here, you do have a carefully chosen and gender-appropriate name waiting for you.  Let’s just chalk this one up as a way to keep you humble when you’re all grown up and impressive and founder of the most successful Mexican food manufacturing company to ever exist, from which you send me gallons of free nacho cheese as thanks for giving you life.  What?  A mother can dream.

So, your due date.  The date on which we may reasonably start to expect that you may join us out here at any time.  All though it seems, as I sit here on the couch with no signs that you’re at all motivated to hold up your end of this I-give-you-a-home-next-to-my-liver-for-40-weeks-then-you-COME-OUT bargain, that you’ve been talking with your brother James.  He too thoroughly ignored his due date to the point of forced eviction eleven.days.later.  And while I’m proud that you’re already bonding with your big brother, I don’t appreciate that you’re conspiring against me even before your first breath.  Let me give you a piece of motherly advice: right now it’s to your advantage to listen to me, your Mama, the person responsible for shoving you out into this world and then your source of food once you get here, than your brother who is likely to spend the next few weeks trying to figure out how to shove you back where you came from.  Just sayin’.

Baby boy, we can’t wait to meet you and call you by name and watch you grow into the amazing person God has created you to be.  But to be honest, your arrival is also simultaneously terrifying.  Your Dad and I have been down the road of welcoming a new person into our family and we still remember both the highs and lows of such a big change. This time we’re going into it with our eyes wide open, fully knowing what to expect from those first few months when you’re figuring out how this world works; how to sleep, how to eat, how you can dirty fifteen outfits in one day’s time because you really like the sound of the washing machine.  And yes, it’s scary to face that all again.  But somewhere in these long months spent waiting for you we transitioned from wondering what adding you to our family would do to our schedule and expectations, to eagerly anticipating just how awesome it will be to have you in our lives.  And I can say without a moment’s hesitation that no matter what the next few weeks bring as we figure out what it looks like to be a family of four, you are so well worth it.  Now please, pack your bags and work your way toward the light.  There’s a family out here who desperately wants to meet its fourth member and cuddle you close.

Love, Mama

My last update said we were sick.  We were, with some stomach bug that left both James and I feeling gross.  But we're better now.  Also, no one should ever have to violently throw up when they're 37 weeks pregnant.  It creates a bigger mess than usual.  I'm just sayin'.

ANYWAY.  We're all better and this will be a quick update because:

a) My grandparents are here visiting.

b) I need breakfast

c) I have an ultrasound in just over an hour to make sure Peep is still growing appropriately.  He's been measuring quite small.

d) I haven't showered yet.

Back later with a real update!

James and I went shopping this morning.  It was kind of a long trip, about 90 minutes, because we needed lots of things.  And I'm pretty sure I received one disapproving look for every ten minutes we were there.  It seems when it comes to grocery stores and parenting, I do lots of thing I'm "not supposed to do".  (Side note: Jess, I thought of you the whole time, and your pushy lady in the grocery store from a few years ago )

I don't always make James ride in the cart.  I used to, when his listening skills were less developed, but now that he's able and mostly willing to listen to direction, I let him walk with me.  Or wander within five feet away, but no more.  I always know where he is and what he's touching.  Riding in the cart = constant and loud requests to get down which escalate into crying and eventually, discipline.   Letting him walk and just frequently reminding him that we're going this way now = one happy toddler.  If he develops a listening problem, back into the cart he goes.  This must be a no-no because I get lots of looks from people who have to stop a moment and wait for my child to step out of their way or run the few feet to catch up to me.

If I do make him ride in the cart I let him ride in the big basket area.  He likes it better and stays sitting because he can twist around any which way to see what's going on.  Putting him up in the toddler seat means he'll twist and turn to see things until he about falls out.  Plus he's tall and it seems like he could just fall right over that shallow edge.  This is also apparently a no-no, it must be extra dangerous sitting in the big basket playing with our nonperishable items.

When we're in an aisle and I'm going to be a few minutes, I let him take a few cans off of the shelves at my feet and stack them.  He builds towers and rearranges them to his heart's content.  When we're ready to leave we put them back.  Bad, bad, bad letting him touch the merchandise like that.

If we're in the refrigerator aisle I let him open and shut a fridge door while I browse for items.  He likes the suction noise and how it closes back on its own after he pulls it open a few inches.  This one, according to an older lady, could cause him to get hurt by pinching his fingers in between the rubber pads on the door.  Also, it wastes the cold air.  As if the guy standing next to me holding the door all the way open while he chooses which flavor of coffee creamer to get isn't doing that enough for all of us, but I don't see her talking to him.

If we're shopping at Aldi's and we pass by the chips within seconds of entering the door, I open one of the Pringles cans I'm (inevitably) buying and let him have one every few minutes as his behavior allows.  He usually nets about 10 chips before we leave the store and it keeps him a) occupied, b) happy, and c) close by me because I have the chips.  Opening things we're going to purchase must not be ok, nor letting my child have a few chips at 11:00 a.m. as a treat for good behavior while we're out.

When we get back to our van, I let him run around unrestrained in the van while I unload the groceries in the back.  He goes up to the front and sits in the passenger seat, pushes the radio buttons which do nothing because the van isn't on, or plays with the toys in our travel box.  When I'm finished unloading the bags I close and lock the van while I push the cart a few feet away to the cart return.  This one gets the most looks.  Admittedly, it looks like my toddler has been left unsupervised in a locked car, and I do appreciate that people are concerned enough to notice and consider whether they should do something.  Hooray for social responsibility.  But I promise I'm always walking just a few feet away, watching him with keys in hand, while he stands in the front and pushes the hazzard light on and off until I get back to buckle him in.

With decisions like these, it's a wonder they're going to let me have another baby.