Holy crap. We're having a baby.

At 35 weeks pregnant, you pee. And pee. AND PEE. 1 liter of water equals about 32 trips to the bathroom. Gives you a whole new reason to embrace expensive toilet paper.

Thursday, March 1st 3:00pm
I sat down to type an email to Jesse. Mid-email, I thought I peed my pants. Really? Has it come to this? Not only do I feel bloated and huge, but now I get to pee my pants, too. Try to resist me, Jesse Yeager!
Then it happened again. It occurred to me than my water might have broken, but I didn't want to be Paranoid Patty and jump the gun (see previous post, written when I started to worry about this). Risking total embarrassment, I sent a text to Dr. Katie. She wasn't convinced either, so we agreed to meet up at my scheduled appointment the next day and check things out. In the meantime, for me, it was business as usual... teach my cycle class, see clients, etc. I used the rest of my energy googling information about how to decipher amniotic fluid from pee. Yes, blog readers... I was a panty sniffer.

Friday, March 2nd 10:35am
I arrive for my appointment with Katie, convinced now that my water broke but trying to talk myself out of it. 'You're not in labor, Leigh Ann. You haven't had any pain at all. Maybe there is some other explanation.'
Katie came in the room and I tried to play it cool. Baby Tyson looked great on the ultrasound and he had plenty of fluid around him. See, Paranoid Patty!! Maybe you just need to get some poise pads.
To be safe, Katie began a battery of tests to see what kind of fluid we were dealing with... and they came back inconclusive. The final test would tell us without a doubt if my water broke or not. Katie told me she would 'text or call' with the results, and I knew what that meant. Text for no baby, call would mean that we would meet baby Tyson well before we'd planned to.

Friday, March 2nd 12:30pm
Katie's number comes up on the caller id. HOLY CRAP. We're having a baby. My heart started racing and I burst into the UGLY cry while driving to my house from the hospital. I called Jesse and could barely squeak out 'We're having a baby' between scared, panicky sobs. I also called my mom and sisters and desperately tried to hold my shit together when all I wanted to do was scream and cry. I assured them that the baby would be fine (even though I was freaked about this) and that I was fine (I was NOT fine... I was a wreck).
I wish someone had taken a video of me packing a bag for the hospital. I had no idea what I'd need or want. I hadn't bought any nursing tops or bras. I didn't even know what the weather would be like in 24 hours. When in doubt, go with the important stuff: flat iron, hair dryer, make-up. Check. Even in my haste, I knew I didn't want any busted, raggedy pictures of me and my baby on FaceBook.

Friday, March 2nd 2pm
I drove myself back to the hospital and after my 'last meal' (grilled cheese, in case you're curious), I was admitted to labor and delivery and was instructed to don the LOVELY hospital gown and mesh hospital issue undies. Mesh. On a pregnant ass. Awesome.

Let me take this opportunity to tell you that I hadn't taken any of those childbirth classes, hospital tours or read any books on breathing techniques, epidurals, or pushing. I just kept repeating to myself: If the people on Teen Mom can do this, I can do this.
The nurses started me on Pitocin (inducing labor) and couple of other IVs. I hate needles, and hate being poked and prodded. I also hate sitting still, which is all you can really do when you are strapped to IVs and monitors.
The nurse finally came in with some wireless monitors, which she attached to me with a stretchy piece of fabric that looked like a tube top. The last time I was in mesh undies and a tube top was Spring Break. The outfit was no longer quite as flattering.

Friday 8pm
The Pitocin isn't working. The nurses took me off Pitocin and let it 'flush out of my system' for an hour before we tried round two. Good news? I got to eat dinner. Better news? It was a COLD turkey sandwich. I moaned while I ate it. No real chance of giving Tyson listeria by that point. YUM-O.

Friday 9pm
Pitocin, round two.... aka 'my lady parts are retarded'. ALL NIGHT LONG the doctors and nurses tried to get me to dilate beyond a pitiful 3 cm. This may or may not have involved a device resembling a balloon. I shit you not.
Then, I had my first 'real' contraction. I am pretty tough when it comes to pain, but I wasn't prepared for what Pitocin-induced contractions (more painful than the non-Pitocin induced ones) were going to do to me. It felt like my body was being ripped apart. Epidural, please!

Saturday morning sometime... I have no clue about time at this point
My epidural was in place, and the man who administered it was the attending who is rumored to be 'the man' when it comes to this particular procedure. More on that later.
Something I didn't know about the epidural was than it blocks pain but not pressure. Also, most of my back labor was around the height of my kidneys and the epidural didn't really cover that. Oy vey... back labor will toughen you up, quickly.

Saturday morning, 7am
Pitocin, round three. No kidding. Fingers crossed that it magically works this time, but we are in serious talks about a c-section. As scared as I once was about a c-section, I just can't wait for sweet relief from 'all this back pain'.

Saturday, 2pm
I didn't know what back pain was at 7am. The epidural is no longer working (okay, my legs are totally numb, but my back (the entire length of it) is totally NOT NUMB! I can now feel everything from my hip bones up and it ain't pretty. My Pitocin was cranked up pretty high (and it's finally working!) but my contractions are coming one after the other with no break between. By 4:50pm, I'm ready to tap out.

Saturday, 5pm
We are in the process of giving bolus doses of meds to make the epidural more effective. That works for about 15 minutes at a time. I was also given Fentanyl (which Jesse described as being 'like heroin') which made me feel like I'd had a glass of wine for about 5 minutes then we were back to mind-blowing back pain. I can't even do heroin right! Dammit! Good news? 6 cm and progressing....

Saturday, 7pm
Dr. Katie checks me, we're at 7.5cm. DOOK game begins (of COURSE I was watching). Katie makes a plan to come back and check me at 9pm (convenient timing, don't you think?). Contractions are getting worse. I tell Jesse that our next kid will be adopted.

Saturday, 9pm
UNC up by 18. Suck it, DOOKIES. Katie comes back to check me and, low and freaking behold, 10 effing cm. By 9:25 we are ready to push. I tell the nurse that the baby will be out by 10:30. She's skeptical and warns me that it may be after midnight. I think to myself, if it's after midnight, lady, you can just take me to the effing morgue. I'll be dead by then. We're nearing 48 hr with no sleep.

Side note - ladies who haven't had babies, don't be afraid of the pushing part of this process. It is the most gratifying part. You won't be in pain, you won't feel the contractions, and the end is near. It's like the high you get after a long run when you can see the finish line.

Saturday, 10:12pm (yeah, note... NOT after midnight, and 18 minutes before I thought. BOOYAH)
The most surreal moment of my life was seeing the baby emerging... I mean, I 'knew' there was a baby in there... but nothing prepares you for that moment.
Moments later, Baby Tyson is here, pink, screaming, and healthy, weighing in at 5 lb almost 13 oz... I silently thanked God that he 1) was healthy and 2) didn't go to 40 weeks... he would have weighed 9 lbs by then! Katie respected my request to, and I quote "not throw him on me like Wild Kingdom before someone hoses him off", and when I held him, all the sleepiness and pain went away, as did my concern about being covered in vag juice.
I was holding MY baby.
I just had a BABY.
I felt like a superhero.

Preggy Paranoia

Dear Dr. Katie Borders,

I would like to apologize in advance for my new found baby-related neuroses, and for any and all subsequent frantic text messages about baby Tyson.

Love,
Your formerly sane friend, Leigh Ann
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A wise client of mine told me that the smart patients are the hardest to deal with... I must be a freaking genius. I do try to keep myself informed about mommyhood and all things related to pregnancy, and as a result, I can get a little worried when things are not going 'by the book'. Actually, I worry even when I AM going by the book. I think the next BOOK needs to be entitled Preggy Paranoia - Preparing New Moms for the Crazy That Lies Ahead.

At first, it was the fear of exercise killing my baby. When I first found out I was pregnant, I realized that I had been running timed miles at the gym all week long - an exercise that I was certainly not used to. Great, I thought... I actually GOT pregnant but I've starved the embryo of oxygen. Way to go, mom.

Then, once I realized the little bugger was okay, I was convinced that I was going to contract listeria (and I'm still convinced of it). Me, who used to eat fish from her purse, scared of a food-borne illness. I haven't touched soft cheese or cold cuts since early July. I even skipped out on the turkey and ham (HoneyBaked... MY FAVE!) at Christmas while everyone else made fun of me.

Once we got to the later stages of the second trimester, I started freaking out about Braxton Hicks contractions... I just knew vacuuming or being on my feet for too long would make the baby come early. For the record, I'm still conducting training sessions from a stability ball.

The new paranoia has to do with Tyson's movements... or lack thereof! A few weeks ago he was so active and now (since he's running out of room) I don't feel him moving as much. It's gone from full blown roundhouse kicks to little flutters in about 3 weeks. Lately, I have been known to give him a little nudge on the butt to make sure I get a reaction.

Does this mean I'm going to be one of those moms that put a mirror under their infant's nose to make sure it fogs as they exhale? As he gets older, will I assume that he's in a ditch somewhere if he doesn't call to check in? Will I even be able to receive his calls from my room in the psych ward?