All the Good News

Jane Margaret Dolan was born on April 7, 2011 at 9:28am. The little peanut weighed in at 6 pounds 3 ounces and measured 19 inches. Janie's healthy, gaining weight beautifully, and getting cuter with every ounce she puts on. We're getting to know this new little addition to our family, and the adjustment is easier for some of us than others. Buzz is taking his time learning "gentle," and though he likes to kiss and hug "da bay-bay," he has no idea how big and powerful he is! 

We got our VBAC! Here's the story:

The week leading up to April 7th was really, really hard for me emotionally. I was a hormonal mess as the day of my scheduled C-section approached. When my water broke at 12am on Wednesday morning, I was thrilled. I was at the tail end of a two-week cold, and all it took was a good cough. I went back to sleep thinking that I would be in labor by sunrise, but nothing ensued. When I woke up that morning, I was just as frustrated and anxious as ever.

A few hours later, I had an appointment for a third "cervical massage." When I told the midwives that my water had broken, the massage was tabled, and instead we discussed ways to get the labor started. I went home, left Buzz in my mother's care downstairs, and holed up in my room to try to make labor happen. With HypnoBirthing affirmations playing on repeat on my iPod, I got contractions going with a couple hours of nipple stimulation. Believe me, that's not as fun as it sounds. Disappointingly, the contractions ceased when the stimulation did.

In desperation, I looked to the last resort: castor oil. I couldn't believe I was even considering it, given the nightmare warnings I had heard. I made the most disgusting milkshake ever (I'm almost dry heaving thinking about it) and got the castor oil down. Within an hour I was in hell in the bathroom, but within three hours, I was having regular contractions!

So I noticed that the contractions were regular around 7:30pm on Wednesday night. By 10pm, they were starting to get uncomfortable, but I was still able to relax through each one. Around 11:00, I had Paul time them, and they were quite regular at around 3-4 minutes apart, so it seemed like we should call the midwife. She didn't encourage me to leave for the hospital, so we labored in the living room for another hour or so before leaving. We had planned to labor at home as long as possible as yet another technique for avoiding a c-section, but at the same time, all the books and advice tell you to head to the hospital at 4 centimeters. It seemed as though we'd have a baby in a few hours!

At the hospital at about 1am, the midwife checked me right away, and I was only 2 centimeters. She advised us to go back home to labor on our own, and though I was crushed with the news, we drove back home and got in bed. The plan was to call the midwife around 9am to let her know how things were going.

Somehow, I was able to rest in between contractions that got increasingly harder to handle. As Paul slept beside me, I breathed and tried not to tense up as they came and went. By 6am, I felt like I couldn't do it on my own any more. I wanted support, and I wanted the jacuzzi tub in the hospital delivery room. Paul didn't think we should leave because it was a deviation from the plan we made with the midwife, but I insisted that it was time to go back.

In triage around 7am, I measured 5 centimeters. Again, I was not too happy with the news, especially because the contractions were becoming so intense that I had to resort to lowing sounds that did not seem to come from my own body. The contractions no longer started easy and built to a climax; they hit a peak as soon as they started, and I couldn't do anything to stay relaxed throughout them. The best I could do was release all my muscles the moment the contraction waned.

I walked from triage to the delivery room around 8am, and then time became distorted. For the next hour or so, three different people attempted to get an IV in me in between contractions. I was probably quite dehydrated from the castor oil adventure, so the IV was both necessary and impossible. All I wanted was to get in the tub, but I had to wait for the IV. The water was drawn, the contractions were getting so bad that I turned to Paul more than once to say that I didn't think I could do it anymore, and people kept stabbing me with needles. The fourth attempt by an IV nurse was successful, but when she was finished, I was ready to push. No tub for me!

After the first push, the midwife looked me in the eye and told me that this baby was going to be born vaginally. That was what I needed to hear. I pushed for ten minutes, and the moment I had dreamt about for months arrived: my baby girl was placed on my chest. Within a half hour, she was breastfeeding like a champ, and I couldn't have been more pleased.

We were torn between two girl names and had decided to meet our daughter before picking the right one. It took awhile, but Jane became clearly the right choice. Jane is my mother's middle name, and my grandmother's paternal grandmother was named "Pleasant Jane," a name that my grandmother loved. Margaret is the name of Paul's paternal grandmother, who went by Midge.

The last 16 days have been a blur. It's funny what happens to time when you're literally attached to a newborn. It can feel like a dream, with one day bleeding into the next and each day measured by time spent on each boob. In any case, it's a good dream.