I’ll be honest. I didn’t like being pregnant. I was grateful to be able to get pregnant twice and have two healthy babies, but BEING pregnant isn’t fun. Both of my pregnancies were completely different and I had different aches and pains with each. The birth of each of my boys was completely different as well. Yet, had I known that both of my boys were going to make me as happy as they do and make such an impact on my life, I would have gotten started way younger and had more!
Conceiving
Grady
I was terrified to get pregnant. I was 31 when I got married and didn’t get pregnant with my first until the age of 33. That’s a lot of years of being selfish and doing your own thing. In addition, I’m pretty neurotic and type A. I HAVE to know what’s going on and what to expect. Pregnancy is one of those things where you don’t really know unless you’re in the thick of it and experiencing it first hand. It was scary for me especially considering I had never even changed a diaper before. When I finally gathered the courage to have a baby, getting pregnant was a breeze. I got pregnant so quickly that I even went around bragging about it (not something you should do). The whole process of getting pregnant was so effortless that I had that same cocky attitude when I wanted to have a second child.
Drake
When Grady was about ten months old, I wanted to have another baby. My sister and I are 18 months apart and we always had each other so I wanted the same for my children. Plus, I knew I was getting older and wanted to knock another one out right away. Oh I should get pregnant no problem! WRONG! It took an entire year and we had a miscarriage along the way. Talk about a way to humble oneself. There were a LOT of things I learned never to say about pregnancies or babies (see that post HERE). When I finally did get pregnant, they considered me geriatric and had to go through a plethora of tests to make sure everything was okay with me and the baby. It was scary and I was paranoid the entire pregnancy.
Pregnancy
Grady
When I got pregnant with Grady, I immediately became incapacitated (not really). But I acted like I was. I was three months pregnant and barely showing, yet I just couldn’t BARE to bend over and pick up a pencil from the floor. Not to mention my diet. I would eat a can of spaghettios every day. For a snack. I ate whatever and it was usually whenever. I did a lot of sitting during my first pregnancy and gained well over 50 pounds. I retained a ton of fluid and swelled beyond the brink of insanity. I felt good most of my pregnancy. I didn’t get any morning sickness. It was towards the end when I got so miserable. I didn’t take care of myself and my 5 foot 3 frame was carrying way too much weight. I had excruciating back pain and I was usually up walking around much of the night my last two months. I definitely wasn’t one of those women that “looked so good” while being pregnant.
Drake
Once I finally got pregnant with Drake, I immediately hired a personal trainer. I didn’t want to let myself get so heavy with my second baby. I ate relatively healthy and worked out 3-4 times a week. I worked out until 38 weeks pregnant (I went to almost 41). And guess what? I gained the same amount of weight! It was complete horse crap and I became more and more annoyed with every doctor’s visit. It got to the point where my doctor refused to tell me how much I had gained. The pain that was once in my lower back with pregnancy number one was now in my inner thighs. It felt like a crank was opening them up every single night. I would say the pain in pregnancy number two was way worse than one. You would think that it would be the other way around considering your body has already been stretched out and knows what to do. I had a toddler on top of that so sitting down wasn’t something that was just going to happen. There were often days when I would workout at 6am and then rush home, make breakfast and pack clothes and be back out the door by 9am for swim lessons. How I gained so much weight is beyond me. Then after I had the baby, we immediately went into quarantine. Pair that with starvation from breastfeeding and I gained ANOTHER 10 pounds on top of that. The maternity clothes I had purchased for this pregnancy I ended up wearing LONG after I had the baby.
Birth
Grady
Oh, childbirth. What an experience. At 40 weeks, I was swollen, hot, miserable. With every doctor’s visit, my OB would check and with a shake of her head say, “No. Nothing. Your cervix is slammed shut.” She eventually scheduled me for an induction because nothing was moving. No contractions, no dilation, nada. At 41 weeks I waddled into the hospital. I got checked in, I made it to my hospital room, the nurses had me change into my birthing gown and they started the IV. Then I started to cry. Keep in mind, I’m neurotic and have to know what’s going on at all times. I had no idea what to expect. I had never birthed a baby and was scared out of my mind. The sweet nurse talked me through it and after I gained composure, she started the pictocin. For those that don’t know, pictocin is a magical juice that they drip through an IV that makes you have a baby that doesn’t want to come out. I was on that drip for 28 hours. I was hooked up to an IV all night and all the next day. The IV was in for so long that when it was time to remove it, they had to rip it out because the skin around it had healed. After they started me on the drip, they also did a membrane sweep. A membrane sweep is when a doctor “inserts a finger into the opening of the cervix and gently but firmly separates the membranes of the amnionic sac surrounding your baby from the cervix.” It also goes on to say that “you might feel a little pressure…” A man must have written that. Before my doctor performed the membrane sweep, she quietly says “okay I’m going to need you to grip the sides of the bed and hold on tight.” I could have used a leather strap to bite onto as she performed the task.
On the second day, when my cast iron cervix decided to soften and open up, I finally started feeling the contractions. I didn’t want to get an epidural right away. I wanted to try to go as long as I could without one. I have no idea why. Maybe so I could see what actual labor felt like? So I could prove I was tough? So we didn’t order the epidural. Boy was that stupid. As I was clenching my teeth and gripping the sides of the bed, my doctor walked in to check on me. “You’ve already proven you’re a rock star for growing a human. Get the freakin’ epidural.” Of course, after you order the epidural, you have to wait. By the time the anesthesiologist waltzed in, I could barely talk. Or move my eyes. “Hidey Ho! Is someone feeling some pain?!?” was her greeting. She was rather comical. After she hoisted my 200 pound body upright and over the side of the bed she started to prep my back. “Oh my! Now look at that lower back tattoo! Okay I’m going to count to three and on three you’re going to scream your FAVORITE curse word!” I got that shot and boy did I scream. And I flinched somewhat so of course, I was screaming because I had made myself paralyzed (I didn’t, obviously). Once that liquid hit my back, it was the greatest release of my life. I give all the props to women that want natural births and want to feel all the pain. No thanks. I’m good.
Finally! It was time to have the baby! I got the epidural…..oh wait. The baby hadn’t dropped yet. So then I had to sit with this peanut shaped ball in between my legs for HOURS to try and get this baby to drop. I would have to turn back and forth on each side every hour. I remember falling asleep in such an uncomfortable position because I was so tired and hadn’t sleep in two days. I also hadn’t showered. When I went into the hospital, I just figured I’d have the baby that day. I learned with baby number two, you take a shower!
After several more hours of laying on my side with a ball wedged between my legs, Grady had finally dropped and I was ready to push. I pushed for an hour and a half. It was exhausting. Aside from the fact that I hadn’t slept in 28 hours, I also hadn’t eaten much but jello and popsicles. My doctor was an excellent birthing coach. She was swift yet calm and gentle. Grady was born with his cord wrapped around his neck and just as quickly as she mentioned it, she snipped it away.
I was so clueless when they handed Grady to me. Here was this baby, and I had no idea what to do. I had taken all the classes, read all the books, read all the blog posts, and I was still dumbfounded. Here was this tiny little human that I had to figure out how to keep alive. At one point one of the nurses mentioned that maybe I should start to breastfeed. Breastfeed? How do I do that? That was a complete disaster (see that post here). Eventually, I got the hang of it and I formed such an incredible bond with Grady. Now? Now he’s going to be three years old and it seems like yesterday that I gave birth to him.
Drake
Just like Grady, I was 39 weeks, swollen and miserable. Unlike Grady, Drake had dropped but yet again, my cervix wouldn’t open. So my doctor scheduled me for another induction at 41 weeks. My mother in law rearranged her schedule to fly out and take care of Grady the weekend before my induction (which was scheduled for a Wednesday). Then the doctor’s office called and notified me that because I was geriatric, the hospital would not do an induction until I was 42 weeks pregnant. I lost it on the phone. I was in pain, swollen and my mother in law was taking the time to come up early, only to be told that there wouldn’t be a baby for another 2 weeks (when you’re pregnant, 2 weeks is an eternity). I was livid but clearly there wasn’t anything I could do.
My mother in law made the flight up on a Tuesday and I was scheduled for a regular doctor’s appointment the next day. I went to bed Tuesday night and woke up at 4am with contractions. What are the odds??? That Scott’s mom flies up and then suddenly I go into labor the following morning? And after my doctor told me I WASN’T going into labor, nonetheless. I had called my mom crying the week before because I didn’t want to be induced like I was with Grady. She immediately put me on a prayer chain. Coincidence?
I made it to my doctor’s appointment with minimal contractions. They weren’t bad and were about four to five minutes apart. It felt like such a relief knowing that I wouldn’t have to be hooked up to pictocin again. As my doctor was checking my cervix she mentioned that she was going to do a membrane sweep to speed up labor. Oh yay. Another one of those. Only problem is that she couldn’t get up into my cervix far enough. After a few minutes of unsuccessfully trying to rip my vaginal organs, she stood at my crotch and thought for a moment. “You know…if you want to speed this process up…I can break your water right here, right now and you can walk right into the hospital into triage.” She didn’t have to ask me twice. I was ready to wrap this up. So she manually broke my water and I waddled across the road to the hospital, soaking wet.
I wasn’t in triage for very long before those contractions started kicking in. It went from mild to bed gripping within a few minutes. The nurse asked my pain level on a scale from 1-10. Through clenched teeth I was able to spit out “7…maybe.” She squeaked over to the phone where she announced “we need an epidural!” Then she looked at me and said with a smile, “why wait?”
The anesthesiologist for this pregnancy wasn’t as comical as my first. He was very businesslike and straight to the point. Just like with my first epidural, I flinched and screamed “AM I PARALYZED?” I wasn’t and when that juice hit my back it felt amazing. The following six hours I sat and ate jello and popsicles, watched tv, scrolled my phone…quite the contrast from delivery number one. My doctor was wrapping up some other surgeries and came in to check on me around 6pm. As she was scrubbing up she mentioned that it may be a few more hours before I’m able to deliver. She checked my cervix and with a surprised look on her face says, “OH! Well, there’s the head! Okay you ready to get this going?” Really? Already? That was a walk in the park!
I started pushing at 6:01pm and Drake was born at 6:11. Ten. Freakin. Minutes. It was so easy that I exclaimed, “That’s IT??? Let’s have another one!!” Scott was booking his vasectomy just as I finished the sentence.
That birth was hardly as eventful and a piece of cake. Where I struggled to breastfeed with Grady, Drake was on the boob ten minutes after he was born. It’s insane how easy it was with my second baby. Not the pregnancy, but the delivery and everything after. The boy’s pediatrician says “there’s something to be said about experience.” When Grady was a baby, I took him to the pediatrician for every red bump and rash. Drake recently had some red bumps on his face and I thought, No big deal. Just from drool. It’s a great feeling knowing what to expect when you’re expecting. I hate to say it, but a book didn’t prepare me for anything. It was experience that prepared me. Now I always keep in mind, no two pregnancies are alike.