Over the River and Through the Woods…
So, how was everyone’s Thanksgiving? I hope all of you enjoyed more than your fair share of starchy goodness and dishes coated in heavy cream, marshmallows, and deep fried bits of onion (or perhaps all three at once). And if you’re feeling guilty over the extra pound or two you think you may have packed on over the holiday weekend, let me assure you that no one gained as much as I did this weekend:
Seven pounds, nine ounces, to be exact.
First off: NO, THIS IS NOT MY BABY. My baby is currently the size of a grapefruit and throwing punches to my gut every couple hours or so. This is my sister’s baby – my beautiful niece, Abigail.
Shown here with her Uncle Brad in a photo so sweet I am now wearing special shoes.
My sister was due on December 2, but at 6am last Wednesday morning, I got a text message from her saying she felt “like ass” and had been up with cramps since 2am. After arguing with her for two hours to just CALL THE MIDWIVES ALREADY, she finally made the call and they told her to go to the hospital. A couple hours later it was confirmed that this baby was definitely on the way, and there would be no pumpkin pie baking that evening, as I had originally planned. Instead, we piled in the car with an overnight bag and drove the 1.5 hours to the hospital in my sister’s town.
With a stop at Chick-fil-A for some dinner, because DAMN, my sister may be in labor, but my ass is still good and pregnant.
We got to the hospital almost exactly when my parents did, and discovered that my sister was in the process of getting her sweet, sweet, heaven-sent epidural. Up until that point, she’d been having hours of contractions that she would later describe to me as being “hellacious,” “horrific,” and “so strong I was about to tear the sides off the bed.”
And now, a moment of Zen to prevent me from going into a full-on panic about my own labor, FOUR MONTHS FROM NOW.
So by the time we actually saw my sister, she was in a much more mellow, relatively painless state, although she was hooked into about 4 bags of antibiotics thanks to a bacterial infection she had picked up from someone’s sick kid at her office. “Why was there a sick kid at her office?” you ask? Well, some jackass she works with got the bright idea to take her SICK CHILD to the office instead of staying home with it, therefore exposing everyone (including an about-to-pop pregnant woman) to the various and sundry germs. This meant my sister also had a FEVER AND CHILLS in addition to unforgiving contractions, and gee, I can’t think of anything more pleasant than that, can you? Oh, wait – there was also the fact that, if her fever didn’t break, she wouldn’t be able to get an epidural at all.
But the fever did break, and the epidural did come. But because of all the extra strain brought on by the infection, the baby’s heart beat was looking a little sluggish, causing the doctor on call to get pretty gung-ho about a C-section, which no one was really jazzed about. But my sister’s midwife managed to get the doctor to agree to wait two more hours to see if the heart rate and dilation increased to the point where it would be safe to try pushing, and sure enough, all the stars aligned and Abigail came into the world at 1:30am. My mom got to be in the room for the birth, but Brad & I were waiting safely (and nervously) out in the hall.
We may have re-enacted a scene or two from Gone With the Wind.
Later that night (or earlier that morning?) after the baby was properly cooed over and we were changing into our pajamas at the hotel, Brad asked me if semi-witnessing the whole experience made me feel better or worse about what was to come. At first, I have to admit I was pretty freaked out. The extreme, vomit-inducing pain of the contractions (and my sister is no lightweight when it comes to her threshold of pain), the c-section scare, the midwife explaining how they just weren’t sure the baby would handle the strain of being pushed into the world – that’s some scary shit right there. But then it was over, and my sister was holding a perfect, healthy little newborn in her arms. And the next day when we got to the hospital, my sister was still my sister – making jokes and requesting someone bring her some pumpkin pie, stat – and the baby was even cuter than before, swaddled in blankets and wearing a ridiculously tiny knit cap.
Also? Under the cap? A TINY BLUE RIBBON IN HER HAIR. Can you see it? Unforgivably cute, my friends.
So, yeah, I’m excited. More excited than scared, I think. Little Spats seems to be echoing my excitement with kicks and jostles that have gone from flutters to full-on Billy Blanks Tae-Bo moves in just about a week’s time. This morning, I saw my belly move. THROUGH MY SHIRT. What the hell is going on in there?
I wouldn’t be at all surprised.
Entry filed under: Thanksgiving.