The weekend we met Amos

Add caption

Waddling around the neighborhood

The week leading up to Amos's birth was difficult. I had spent the previous week in a nesting frenzy, getting everything organized for the new baby.  That week had gone by quickly.  But my second week of maternity leave was trying.  Of course the discomforts of late pregnancy nagged me: "Ok, I just went to the bathroom twenty minutes ago... how can I possibly have to go again?!" But, truly, it was the rollercoaster of start and stop labor that I found challenging. I would have a series of contractions that would be coming at short intervals and I would start to get excited, only for them to fizzle out, leaving me in disappointment.  So the week continued this way and come Friday, Valentine's Day, I decided to go visit Henry's daycare to get my mind off the false start labor.  Henry was particularly fussy this day and cried for me to take him home with me.  I was glad to have the company of my little boy to kick off his last weekend as an only child. I should have kept him with me that week, in retrospect, but the constant contractions made me constantly on guard for labor. So I took his already packed lunch to the closest park and we had an impromptu picnic.

Valentine's lunch date

 Looking back, the weekend before Amos's birth was really lovely.  There was no way of knowing that those were our last days as a family of three, but we ended up sending off that chapter of our lives with some really sweet memories.  For instance, the next day we went to Lake Ella to let Henry climb the tree and to do some labor-encouraging walking.  We ate dinner at a new little "Mexican" joint called Barbaritos (I put that in quotes because there is no real Mexican food out here) and Henry entertained us with his usual silliness at the table.  Then we went to Small Cakes cupcakery to get a few cupcakes for "Drew's birthday" (I put that one in quotes because Andrew could care less about cupcakes on his birthday-- it was more for Henry and me).

In the climbing tree

 Saturday night, I had another pretty intense series of contractions, but they tapered off and I was able to fall asleep. Sunday morning, Andrew's 33rd birthday, we woke up and went for donuts, which was Andrew's only birthday request.  The contractions were coming steadily at this point, but they weren't painful at all.

 So we decided to take Henry to Tom Brown Park to let him run off the sugar.  Andrew and Henry played on the playground equipment and I sat on a nearby bench and started to time my contractions.  They weren't terribly intense, but they were coming quickly. I remembered my doctor's advice to not delay coming into triage with a second pregnancy, so I told Andrew that maybe we should go home and make arrangements for Henry.  I knew he was skeptical because the whole week had been a series of non-starts.  But we dropped off Henry at my parents' house and decided to get checked out since we would have to report for a fetal stress test the next day anyway.  

*          *          *

The exam revealed that I was 4 cm dilated and that I was in early labor with steady contractions, but they probably admitted me because my blood pressure was elevated (I was definitely excited/nervous).  The strange thing was that I was really not experiencing pain.  It was not the early-active labor that I remembered with Henry.  Drew noticed this and was a little annoyed to be spending his birthday playing what seemed to be the neverending waiting game.  I swapped Andrew out for my mom so that he could get Henry down for a nap (and let's face it-- so he could eat something and be a little less cranky when he returned).  My mom and I were moved to the delivery ward and started walking the halls to try and get labor to progress to the painful part that actually brings the baby. The doctor showed up and asked why I was still smiley.  She knew that was not a good sign for labor progression.  Her exam revealed 5 cm at that point, but still the contractions were not painful, so after weighing all of the options, we elected to have my waters broken at about 2:30pm.  The breaking of the bag of waters revealed meconium, which meant the NICU would have to be present at the birth to suction Amos's lungs in case he swallowed any.

As soon as the bag of waters was out of the way, the contractions were instantly painful--and long-- just what we wanted!  So I had my mom text Lindsey the awesome labor doula to come help me through active labor.  I labored in the tub for probably two hours-- breathing deeply through the painful contractions and continuing to top off the tub with more warm water.  Andrew showed up during this time and "helped" by making jokes about the labor noises I was making. It's a good thing I love him.  It was time for the next dilation check.  The contractions were quite intense at this point and I hoped that I was 8 or 9 cm because I felt like it couldn't really get more intense and that something had to give.  She said I was 7 cm dilated. I could have cried!  The typical "rule of thumb" is that a woman in active labor will dilate about 1 cm per hour-- translation: approximately three more hours at that level of pain and intensity. She said she would return in two hours to check my progress-- I wanted to cry all over again.

So I said a little prayer: "God, I have no idea how I am going to make it another three hours.  Let me just get through the next contraction and then I will worry about the next one after that."  As I was praying this, Lindsey suggested that I turn around and hug the back of the hospital bed, which was raised into the chair-like position.  She convinced me to crouch in a squatting position to let gravity help things along.  As soon as I did this, the contractions immediately changed.  They weren't the same pain of dilation, but the incredible squeezing and pushing sensation that I remembered from the end of Henry's labor.  It's pretty indescribable- I had them get a vomit bag ready because I remembered that the squeezing pressure moves the baby out one end, but it also sometimes moves food out of the other.  But I hadn't even time for much of that because I felt that I was crowning.  "He's coming!!" I yelled between other various "Ahhhhh!!!!" screams.  Andrew said the nurse gave a skeptical look because the doctor had just declared me 7 cm minutes before.  But she looked, and there was Amos's head!  I could hear a little panic in her voice because she did not have any of her equipment set up and, technically, I don't think she is the one who is supposed to catch the baby.  She even told Lindsey she would have to help because there was no one else around.  "Someone buzz another nurse!" Someone did (I have no idea who), but it now tickles me to think back to the nurse buzzing back in a calm voice: "Yes?  How may I help you?" only to be met with my response: "AAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!" 

When I pushed Henry out, I remember it to be a much more calm and calculated affair.  I would intentionally push a little, and then the midwife told me to rest, so I would.  This was not the case with Amos.  I couldn't NOT push.  My body was doing things beyond my control.  It was pushing so hard and with such force that the nurse said Amos's body came out in two pushes... mere minutes after the doctor told me I was at 7 cm.  And of course, the doctor missed the whole thing.  I think Andrew cut the cord, but again, I am not sure.  As I labored a little more to deliver the placenta, the NICU rushed Amos over to the newborn bassinet and starting working on suctioning him.  It was hard not having him brought to my chest like I remember with Henry, but they have to make sure the babies are okay, and I understood that.

*          *          *

What mercy God bestowed on me! I called to Him at my breaking point and he brought Amos into this world minutes later.

Amos was almost a duplicate of Henry at birth!  They were both about 20" long and Amos weighed 6 lbs 14 ounces compared to Henry's 6.12.  And upon initial inspection, I could see Henry in Amos's features, but neither me nor Andrew.  

First embrace

 Amos had a low body temperature, so they put a heating blanket over us, which felt so nice and helped with my after-birth pains as well.  I also remember that I had to fight to get some saltines to eat after Henry was born because it was 1 am, but because Amos was born at 5:30 (yes, only three hours after they broke my waters), a nurse came in with a plate of chicken fingers and potato wedges and Lindsey got me a big glass of apple juice with that awesome pellet ice. Baby on my chest-- labor over-- and a big plate of food-- there's a moment for the record books.

A kiss for baby

A kiss for mama

Welcome to the world, baby. Amos means "borne by God" and yes, you are, little one. He will carry you all through your days.