From the Foxes' Den: February 2011

...Three seemingly different topics, I know. But the thing they have in common is that they have all happened to us in the past couple of weeks.

We had a great Valentine's Day around here, especially me! That morning when Derek woke up he asked me to check the calendar on my phone. It said "Massage appointment"!!! I was thrilled to go and enjoy a nice 1-hour massage all by myself. Davis got a brand new rubber teether (kind of like Sophie the Giraffe, but he looks like an alien or something) and a walker. Right now he uses it more as a "sitter". You have to get him real excited to get him mobile in it. He still isn't quite used to it, but we haven't used it very much either. He'll probably be walking by himself before he figures that thing out.

Davis also went to the beach for the third time last week. We went to Carolina Beach with my dad, and my brother was also there. We had a good, relaxing time and want to go back soon (like right now) and bring Daddy next time.

Aaaand it's official. We have been converted. Derek used his Christmas money and finally bought us a Mac yesterday. I LOVE it! The best thing about it so far is that you press the button and it just comes on! You don't have stuff loading forever and ever and it seems to be really user-friendly. Plus, the monitor is gigantic and there are very few cords, which is a big plus for me. Unfortunately, I still need to load our pictures onto it, so I'll post some beach pictures soon!

I was watching TLC's "A Baby Story" yesterday morning and it occurred to me that nowhere have I documented the series of events leading up to Davis' birth. For those of you looking to read some new and exciting information about Davis' life, this is not the post for you. I apologize, as this is so "old news"...BUT, I do want to write about it so that we don't forget a single thing.

It was Thursday, June 10, and the last day of school for the kids. I was so thankful I'd made it through the school year and hadn't gone into labor early. I really didn't want to miss the end of the year, and I wanted Davis to be cooked as much as he needed to be. That day, we had played outside a lot, had a "splash day" party with all the kids and their families, and had just had a great (and always emotional) last day of school. I was sad about saying goodbye to my families, but I also had a great sense of relief. Any teacher knows that the last few weeks of school are really stressful with all those loose ends to tie up and that ever-present "the end is near" energy that makes everyone a little nuts. One of the parents in my classroom said to me, "Leah, I'll bet that now that the stress of the year is behind you, you'll just go into labor tonight!" "Ha!" I thought, "Wouldn't that be funny?" I really doubted that Davis would come early. I figured I'd work the teacher workday on Friday and spend the first few days of the summer chillin' out with my big fat swollen feet propped up. ***Side note: For all you grammar police out there, I do realize that I frequently end sentences in prepositions, but that's how I talk and this ain't no formal paper so cut me some slack. (Please.)***

I went home that evening and passed out on the sofa, as I did pretty much every day of my pregnancy, sometimes as early as 7:00pm, and I woke up around 8:45 because my water had broken. WHAT!?! This was not the "4-1-1" scenario our child birth class teacher had told us about. (As Derek would tell you, the main reason he paid attention during that class was so he'd know when to take me to the hospital--when the contractions are four minutes apart, lasting one minute each, and this has been going on for one hour.) I called Derek at work, told him what had happened, and he asked me what I wanted him to do. To be so intellectually and physically prepared for this event, we were both at a loss for what to do next. He came home from work and I had already called the doctor, who told me to come in right away. She told me NOT to take a shower, which in hindsight I should have ignored. If I had known it would be three days until my next shower, I would have snagged a quick one before we left for the hospital. As Derek and I scurried around the house making sure we had everything we needed, we barely said a word to each other (except I'm sure he kept asking me if I was okay). For some reason, neither of us expected that I would go into labor early and we weren't mentally/emotionally ready. Plus, I think a part of me thought that it wasn't really happening yet. I had no contractions and no other signs of labor.

We got to the hospital around 9:30 I think, and the doctor verified that my water had broken but said that we would be in for a long process since my contractions were just beginning. I sent one of my teacher assistants a text message letting her know that I wouldn't be at work the next day, and we waited. My mom arrived not long after we got to the hospital and Derek's mom arrived not long after that. The rest of our family would start to trickle in early the next morning. A couple hours after our arrival, I started to really feel the contractions, but they were completely manageable. I have a pretty high tolerance for pain, and I was going to try to be as drug-free as possible. We had walked around; I sat on the labor ball; and I chatted with our family and the nice nurses between contractions. After a while, the doctor began to notice that the baby's heart rate kept dropping and she wanted to place me on the fetal monitor for the duration of my labor. This was unfortunate because it meant that I wouldn't be able to get out of bed. I ended up having to lie only on my left side because Davis was "happier" and had a better heart rate in that position. By around 7:00am on Friday, and after a good dose of Pitocin (the doctor wanted to speed up my labor because she didn't want me to go longer than 24 hours past my water breaking--apparently there is an increased risk of infection after 24 hours), the contractions were borderline unbearable. I blame the Pitocin, the fact that my water broke so early, and not being allowed to move. (That's my story and I'm stickin' to it.) I think I could have stuck it out, and I knew the pain wouldn't kill me, but when the nurse examined me and told me that we may have a baby by "late afternoon" I decided to preserve my mental health and get the dang epidural already. I have to say that Derek and our parents were wonderful throughout this process. Derek kept asking me if I wanted him to rub my shoulders, hold my hand, etc., but I didn't. Honestly, I don't know who could stand to be touched when they're in that much pain.

This is the position I was stuck in for hours, and this was during a non-medicated contraction.

Of course, the moment I finally decided to get some pain relief happened to be the exact time that a shift-change was going on...But anyway, after about 30 more minutes, that sweet, beautiful, wonderful anesthesiologist was a Godsend. And my new best friend. Bless her heart. The needle didn't even scare me at that point, and from that moment on, Derek would politely inform me every time I had a contraction. My whole demeanor changed, I'm sure, and the rest of the experience was much more pleasant. Except that Davis never would drop down. When I was fully dilated, the doctor told me that I could try to push, but he didn't seem too optimistic that I was going to be able to push him out because he was still so high. We gave it a go, but to no avail. When the doctor ordered a C-section, I was both relieved and scared. I was never one of those people who was anti-cesarean, but when I was told I was going to have one I became a little emotional. I guess I was just tired (I had been awake since 5:30am on Thursday and it was now around 3:00pm on Friday) and ready to have my baby boy in my arms.

After what seemed like an eternity, we had the C-section and our beautiful big boy arrived at around 3:30pm on Friday, June 11. The first thing the doctor said when he pulled Davis out was, "There was no way you were having him naturally." He was 8 pounds, 11 ounces and 21 inches long...and he made a lovely squawking noise when he came out. Derek sat by my head and we both cried uncontrollably for I-don't-know-how-long, and it was by far the happiest moment of our lives. I kept asking, "Is he okay?" and everyone kept telling me that he was. We couldn't believe it. We had an actual child. A healthy, fat, gorgeous baby boy. We felt so extremely blessed and haven't stopped feeling that way ever since...