Madelyn Mary Jane, Part 2

We make it up to the Labor & Delivery floor and my pants are sopping wet.  I had gray sweat pants on, so it was totally noticeable that I was having issues.  I guess people don’t question that kind of thing when you’re at a hospital though.  Just my dear husband confirming that I was sitting on a towel in his precious car on the way there.

It’s nice because once you arrive at the hospital, you just go straight up on the elevator at the side entrance- they usually want you to bypass the ER because of whatever nasty bugs are hanging out there.  You still have to be buzzed in once you get to the floor, so it is very secure.

I got the very last room.  No joke.  They called in an extra nurse just for me (maybe she lied about that just to make me feel special, but that’s what the nurse told me when she came into my room).  They were doubling up on rooms later on for laboring moms.  Everyone wanted to have babies on March 23, I guess?  I just kept picturing the scene from Friends with Rachel and Janice sharing a room and laboring together.  No fucking way.  Either way, I’m glad I called my doctor first instead of just showing up on the L & D floor.  She called them immediately and had them save a room for me.  But I’ll tell you what – as soon as Madelyn made her entrance and they checked her out, they rushed us out of that room SO FAST to the mother/ baby floor.  Probably had a line a expectant mums waiting for mine…

So back to the sequence of events…they got me settled into my room.  They told me Dr. U wasn’t on the floor yet, so I knew the nurse was going to have to “check” me to see what I was dilated to.  I had talked to my Dr about this before, because some of the nurses are so rough.  She told me I could tell the nurses that they needed to wait until Dr. came in so that she could check me.  I determined at that point that it wasn’t worth the fight.  Who the fuck cares.  So, the nurse checked me, and I think I was 3 cm.  I was still spilling fluids out of me every time I moved a muscle.  I hated that part.  I mean, who wants to sit in their own amniotic fluid?  I felt like I was peeing all over myself.  I’d be cool with it if I had already been given my epidural, because then I wouldn’t be able to feel it.

Dr. U gets there eventually and stops in and asks how I’m doing and if I was ready for my epidural.  Heck yes!  Why not?  This was the most difficult part of my first labor/ delivery (just nervous, really).  She got the fluids going since they have to pump you full of them for a good 45 mins before they can start you on the epidural.

I had asked the nurse who the anesthesiologist on call was, because I couldn’t remember who I had last time but I know I liked him.  She rattled off a few names, but none of them sounded familiar.  I remembered that the Dr’s name had something related to The OC, but couldn’t place it.  Finally, the Dr walks in ready to stick my spine and says, “Hi Melissa, I’m Dr. Cohen” in this super deep, monotone voice.  HOLY SHIT!  Seth Cohen from the OC is going to perform my epidural!  And I said, “It’s you!  You did my epidural last time!  Your wife used to live on LaGrande!”…like that wasn’t creepy.  Last time we talked when Kenzie was born, he asked me where I worked (probably to get me comfortable with him sticking me in my spine), and I told him.  He was like, “Oh no way!  My wife grew up in that city on LaGrande!” and it kind of put me at ease.  So needless to say, I was thrilled that it was the same doctor.  This time, the needle went a little easier and I didn’t move as much because I knew what to expect.  Not sure why.  Who cares – last time ever, hopefully!  They even upgraded their equipment and gave me a button to press to give myself more meds “if I felt like I needed it”..bahahaha, I pressed that sucker a few minutes after they left, just to see what would happen.  Obviously it maxes you out at some point.  But this time, I couldn’t even feel the contractions for the most part.  Well done, pain meds!

I’m going to continue to try to finish writing this now that Madelyn has turned two.  Let’s see what I can remember.  How comical.  

Oh yes, names!  God forbid we agree on any names ever.  You’d think at this point, he would just say, “you know what hun, you’ve been through enough having to go through HG with both pregnancies, how about you pick whatever name you would like and I will support you”…..oh fuck no!  Instead I got, “we can’t name this kid a name that doesn’t start with an M, he/ she would be an outsider for sure”  Come on.  So I was getting texts every few minutes from my friend Kat with name ideas she was getting from other people at her office.  I also spoke with nurses for their thoughts and ideas.  One of the nurses said someone had recently named their daughter Madelyn.  Done and DONE.  For a boy, it would have been Lincoln.  Mike knew it was going to be a girl.  I did not, though I had my assumptions.

So this labor was much faster than the first.  I apologize if I am repeating myself, but I cannot remember what I posted two years ago.  Shit, I can’t remember what I wore yesterday.  Anyhow, my first pregnancy I was there overnight and they needed to use pitocin to get me going.  This time, I got there at about 7 or 8 a.m. and baby girl was born by 4 p.m. with just a couple minutes of pushing  (yep – can’t even remember the exact time).  Not a whole lot of time to hang out or rest.  I wasn’t as scared this time though.  I knew what was coming.  I definitely couldn’t feel as much of the contractions since I used the drug button too many times.  But I was okay with that.

Another big difference was that I told Mike to go home so that he could be with Kenzie since we hadn’t really left her alone overnight.  There was no need for him to stay with me.  It got a little lonely, but I was able to get some sleep and I was smart enough to let the nurses take Maddy when they offered.  With Kenzie, I was all, “don’t take my baby!” and this time I was all, “yes, please take her now – and bring the snack cart in while you’re at it”  Yes, let her sleep in the momaroo for as long as she’ll have it.  I still never had time to shower.  I think I valued the sleep more.

The snack cart, meal choices, Food Network, and replenishment of feminine products were the highlights of my day (yes, I enjoyed the company of my new babe too, so shut it).  I would hear the snack cart in the room next to me in the middle of the night and I would get all ready to make my choices.  They never judged either…three rice crispy treats?  you got it!  “Oh wait, can I have cheetos and a granola bar too?”  SURE!!   I would stockpile that shit.

Then the CNA would come in every few hours to check on my feminine supplies (ice packs for the vag area, giant pads, the infamous mesh undies, the spray foam pain numbing stuff).  Every time they would leave, I confiscate just enough into my overnight bag so that they would replenish it each time.  Then, I had more than enough to bring home to last me a few weeks.  No way am I buying this shit after the fact.

The meal choices weren’t too bad.  I did make my husband bring me giant sandwiches and polish sausage/ cheese fries for most dinners.  The rest of the meals I had hospital food.  I always asked for a Pepsi, even though it wasn’t a choice.  Sorry dude, I’m not here for bad health choices, feed me what I want.  They always came through.

The one thing I did miss was the killer fruit punch they had when I had Kenzie there.  They had it on the fountain and with the best little pieces of ice.  They must have updated their stuff because it was no longer an option.   That’s fine.  I just replaced it with Pepsi every time, ahahahaha.

I was also smarter about my attire this time.  I hated those nursing gowns that they had.  So ugly and moo-moo like.  And annoying to unbutton.  I wore my shamrock boxer shorts and a t-shirt the whole time, and brought my slippers too.  Best decision ever.

Here is the best husband story though.  He did bring in Kenzie once to say hi, but she was getting antsy so they only stayed a bit.  I decided to give birth on fantasy baseball draft weekend.  What the fuck was I thinking?   So I knew this, but I thought for sure he would either do it remotely or just let it auto-pick for him since I just gave birth to his second child, BFD.  Wrong, stupid, stupid over medicated mama.  He told me he was going to drop off Kenzie at his parents so he could go to Hooters and do his draft.  I laughed and said okay, whatever.  He was going to pick up baby girl and I from the hospital after he was done.  That’s fine – no problem.

Let me just tell you, this was the longest six hours of my life of day 3 at the hospital.  Baby girl still needed her first bath (I pushed it off as long as I could).  She hated it, obviously.

So my dear husband rolled in around 5 or 6 p.m., because you know, they WILL kick you out of the room on your last day.  He was complaining of a splitting headache.  I parted with one of my super motrin pills for him (no fucking way was he getting my tylenol with codeine).  Yes guys, my husband was complaining of a headache while I stood there with intense pressure and soreness between my legs from producing a child.  I can’t make this shit up.

So we get home, and his parents meet us there with Kenzie and they made dinner (sausage and red sauce or some crap).  Everyone is sitting at the dining room table, Kenzie is running around, I’m holding baby while trying to eat.  That’s when it happened.  Mike looked at me and said, “Do you mind if I go upstairs and lay down for a bit, my head is still pounding”….you guys, I laughed at him.  And then I realized he WASN’T FUCKING JOKING.

My husband went up to lay down in our bed the night I got home with baby girl #2.  To be clear, he is a great father and he’s always been very good to me, but the fact that it actually happened.  Like I couldn’t comprehend it as it happened.  Yes, please leave me to deal with our newborn and toddler AND YOUR PARENTS.

So that’s how Maddy made her entrance – quick and sassy, just like she is.  She demands attention like no one else (aside from big sis) and is more independent and stubborn than I might be.  She’s a strong one.

 

 

 

 

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