Baby Boy Richert

Everyone has a life experience or two (or more) that completely changed them. Changed them as personaly, emotionally, mentally, physically, and about any other way a person can be changed. For me it happened three years ago at 2:30 am on March 23, 2012.

I woke up not feeling well. I was nine months pregnant so waking up not feeling well had become a very common occurrence. This time it was different. For about two hours I got up and went to the bathroom until it felt like the cramping was getting closer. I attempted to wake Ross up in the calmest and quietest way I could, but when you nudge a future dad and say "I need you to wake up and help me time these contractions", they don't seem to stay calm. 

We called my doctors office to see what to do next, even though the contractions weren't regular and were still more than 5 minutes apart. We were those first time parents. LABOR IS SCARY! My doctor was on a mission trip in Haiti, so his partner returned my message. Dr. E is also not from upstate New York, but he has a VERY thick accent that I absolutely cannot understand. Between contractions and longing for subtitles to assist in the phone call, I had no idea what he had told me other than to meet him at the office at 9. 

Mom had flown in earlier that week just in time for all the festivities. The three of us showered and grabbed bags just in case we didn't come home from the doctors office. The really nice women who work at the office smiled when I walked in and said "Nobody has their baby on their actual due date! We are rooting for you!"

They cursed me. 

Dr. E sent us home (which in my world means go by Starbucks on the way home) and told us to go for a walk and eat pineapple. "I have delivered many babies after their moms went home and ate pineapple" or something like that. He ended the appointment with, "You aren't dilated or thinned much, so I am going to schedule an induction for Tuesday." 

Ross went back to work after calling and updating his parents who were loading up and driving to NY. Mom and I took Juno for a walk. We kept track of each contraction on notecards, but never had much progress on Friday. Not even after Ross came home from work with a large pineapple. I felt like Mom and Ross were watching me like at any moment I was going to spontaneously combust. My patience wore out extremely quickly. 

Not much sleep happened Friday night. I was running on very little energy, sleep, and patience by the time Ross's parents and sister arrived. I didn't move much when they got in and I didn't talk hardly at all except to say, "There's another one" so Mom or Ross could write down the time of the contraction. We ate pizza in our tiny apartment and watched The Blind Side, but the Richert's were pretty exhausted from the 25 hour drive so they went to the hotel to sleep in case things started to move that night. I was not feeling positive that the kid was ever going to exit at this point. 

Ross was trying to take my mind off of what was happening and searched for a movie for us to watch. My only request was that it would be lighthearted and happy. He decided that Shutter Island would be good. I had never seen it but I knew it was neither of what I had requested. Some know that when it comes to movies, I am terrified of little kids in them. Writers use them for evil and Shutter Island was no different. I spent the majority of the movie with my eyes closed hoping for the contractions to get closer together even if it were just to make it that the movie would be off. I hate movies with kids in them. I'd rather go through labor than watch Shutter Island. My wish came true...

After Mom and Ross finished the scary kid movie, my contractions picked up. I'm not sure if they really picked up or if my low energy level made it seem like things had gotten worse. Either way, we all loaded up again and headed to the hospital. I was the one and only laboring woman in the place, so it was oddly quiet in there. I felt like it was so quiet that you could actually hear my contractions. I'm pretty sure my blood pressure was through the roof. But the nurse was very nice and when I told her that I hadn't slept since Wednesday night, she gave me something and I slept for quite a while. It. Was. Glorious. Then shift change happened.

I lost the nice nurse to the evil woman who I won't even refer to as a nurse. She campaigned from the moment she came into my room for me to start pitocin to kick my labor in. The only thing birth plan wise was that I did NOT want to be induced. She continually shared with me, "If you aren't in "active labor" (I detest that phrase) we are going to have to send you home. We can't have you taking up one of our beds if you aren't in labor." If you remember, I was the ONLY laboring patient at that time. Evil Woman turned even worse once she found out that Ross's mom was a labor and delivery nurse. She then kicked in her nursing school knowledge and tried to both impress us and intimidate me into induction. And I caved.

They started to pitocin at 4 pm Sunday March 25. It is amazing to me after all the hall walking and side laying and bouncing, a tiny little drip of medicine can make you feel like that. I thought I was having contractions before, but I was fooled. It was painful, but I also kept my cool. I had a game plan of not getting pain medicine until I was dilated to a 7, but Evil Woman decided to keep it to herself when I was there and then tried to talk me into not getting it at all. I did not cave on that. 

The epidural happened right as shift change was happening with the nurses. Ross and I then had a hilarious anesthesiologist and an incredibly sweet nurse helping us. I offered to make the anesthesiologist dinner because I felt better so quickly. I went straight into 30 second naps between contractions (one of the strangest things), but I had had the epidural for about twenty minutes when everything started to go very quickly.

I told the nurse that I felt like I needed to push, but she continued to reassure me that I didn't. I think part of her reason was that she was the only nurse on the floor at the moment and my doctor was still 20 minutes away from arriving. She told me that she had delivered a baby before without anyone else there to help, but she didn't like it so hopefully Dr. E would show up. He did show up, but tried to convince me that I wasn't ready to push until I decided to make it very clear that I did indeed need to push. 

5 or so pushes and one insane meltdown and an attempt to get off the bed because "I wasn't ready for this and I don't want to do it anymore" later, a 7 pound 5 ounce little boy was laid on my chest. He was extremely unhappy about his new living quarters and in a serious need of a bath, but I was so happy to see his little angry face. That is really about the only thing post delivery that I remember clearly. Everything else is shoved into jumbled up pain induced memories. I remember Mom, Joy, and Kelsey coming in the room, but I don't remember much. I know I was shaking pretty badly and I asked for Ross to take Levi (Baby Boy Richert at that moment) because I felt like I was going to drop him. Pain completely took my mind somewhere else until the next morning. Next morning or five hours later when Levi woke up :)

We rode the new parent high with such pride. Ross looked like a giant holding that tiny guy. I had been around newborns before, but it was completely different seeing your own. And every new phase is completely different with your own. Three years and a day later, life is different each day. Levi is constantly entertaining, infuriating, comforting, loving, or teaching us. The few days leading up to him joining us on the outside fail in comparison to the awesomeness of the past three years. Love, love this child.