A Letter to Joel on his Due Date
Dear Joel,
As I am writing this, you are asleep on my lap. Panther is sleeping on my legs, and Josey is out working in the yard. You are only six days old, and you are so so perfect. You haven't lost your umbilical stump yet, and you are sleeping for long stretches at a time. (But not through the night, don't be crazy.)
You've brought out the best in the man I married. He is so in love with you, and he can't wait to play with you. In fact, he's already worn you in the baby carrier, laid on the floor with you, (whether awake or asleep,) and even attempted to help you pet the cats.
We were so worried about the cats before you were born! Luckily, they have already become some of your best protectors. Panther looks into the bassinet to make sure you're okay before he curls up for the night, and Arrow still isn't quite sure what to think. She was pretty afraid of you at first! I'm pretty confident that the cats already love you as much as we do. When we bring you back into the house in your car seat, they both have to come over and peek in to make sure you made it back okay.
It is amazing how much can change in a week. A week ago, I went to school to teach like any ordinary Monday. The office staff saw me and said, "oh, you are here!" To which I replied with a laugh, "but I don't really want to be."
That isn't necessarily true, but on my way to school I realized that maybe I was actually feeling real contractions. I even sent Josey a text that said "I would make sure you have sub plans for tomorrow just in case." You weren't in a big hurry though, because I was able to drive to track practice in Belgrade and spend an hour coaching.
By the time I got home, it was really sinking in that you were getting ready to meet us. We finished the last bit of hospital paperwork, put a couple more things in the hospital bags, and loaded up the car. I did the best I could to stay calm, and Josey thought that maybe we would head to the hospital in the morning. My prediction was that we would maybe be headed to the hospital at 2 AM. We ended up leaving the house at 3 AM, and arrived at the hospital at 3:14 AM on the dot, according to Josey.
They didn't admit us right away, as I was only 1 cm dilated. So I rolled around on a birthing ball and paced the room for an hour straight, in hopes that would speed things along. The contractions were definitely getting stronger, so Josey looked for something to distract me. He pulled out the iPad and asked what I wanted to watch.
I wanted to watch Hercules.
So I watched Hercules, singing along here and there, and quoting pretty much the entire movie line by line. Josey loves it when I do that.
When they checked me the next time, I was 3 cm dilated, so they admitted us to the hospital. It was looking like you would be born on March 26th! I continued to watch Hercules and decided to take a bath. I think maybe you sensed that there was no hurry once we were admitted to the hospital, because while I was still having contractions, I was no longer dilating.
Meanwhile, it was getting closer to time to decide if I wanted to get an epidural. It is such a weird decision to have to make, and there is never a "right" answer. In the end, I decided it was time to get it, but it was right during a shift change so we waited over an hour for the anesthesiologist. By the time he came in, I was SO ready for that epidural.
I wasn't nervous for the administering of the drug, but I was nervous that it would slow my labor down and that we would have to wait longer to meet you. Turns out, I was nervous for good reason, but it was almost a blessing that things slowed down a bit. Josey and I got several hours of much needed sleep after I got the epidural. I was going on day two without sleep, and I was going to need that energy when it would be time to push.
But, we still really wanted to meet you soon. So when the nurses discovered that labor had stalled out a little, we decided to start Pitocin to speed it back up.
The nurses came in every hour or so to help me change positions so that you could keep moving lower and my cervix would continue to dilate. One time, the nurse was helping me move to a more upright position, and you scared us pretty good. I had two monitors on my tummy - one monitoring my contractions, and one tracking your heart rate. Well, when we moved to that position, I got really light headed, and your heart rate slowed down. A lot.
Lots of people came in to help - I didn't really know what was going on, and I'm pretty sure Josey was probably pretty scared for us. They moved me from side to side, to hands and knees, until twelve minutes later your heart rate came back up to a normal speed. After that, the doctor broke my waters, and attached a heart rate monitor to the top of your head. Don't worry, a week later and that little teeny scab is healing up nicely.
A few hours later, during a position change, you decided to scare us again. This time was not for as long, and it wasn't as bad, but it still was not fun for anyone. After that, the doctor also attached a different type of monitor for my contractions, so I had no more external monitors. They also had me sign the paperwork that would be required if I were to need a C-section. Everyone wanted you to be healthy and happy, so if your heart rate went down again like it did, we would do whatever it takes to get you here.
My smart nurses and doctor did figure out that it was position changes and my low blood pressure that was contributing to these "events," so they started me on some medication to raise my blood pressure. This was good, because we went many more hours before anything exciting happened again.
Once we had given you a break to recover from the heart rate plunges, they started up pitocin again, and we were up and rolling. Even through the epidural I could feel you pressing down and down, causing major pain in my back. The nurses were hoping you hadn't flipped the wrong way, but here I was experiencing back labor.
It was around 7 PM when they doctor decided to check me again and the nurses who were about to go off shift were crossing their fingers that I had progressed to 7 cm. To all of our surprise, I was at 9 cm! I swear there were high fives going around the room. We were getting closer!
My doctor told us that we were going to "labor down" and make my body do as much of the work as it could before pushing time. My nurses also warned us that pushing could get exciting, since we already had a few scares with your heart rate. The goal would be to push for the minimal amount of time, and hope that you came quickly and safely.
I laid there feeling you pressing harder and harder, and I just couldn't wait until we could get to the pushing part. Josey found some music for us to listen to - we started with The Greatest Showman, then moved to other musicals, and then to some Oula playlists. Running through choreography in my head was a great distraction.
Finally, my body was telling me it was time to push. Every contraction was ever so painful. I just wanted you to be in my arms. Around 9 PM, you started to do crazy punches and kicks in my tummy. It was like you were also trying to tell me it was go time. When the doctor finally came back in, I wasn't quite at 10 cm, but it was definitely time to push.
It felt good to finally start pushing. The most difficult part for me was to not waste energy with each push. It's hard to figure out exactly how to push when parts of your body are numb. When you're holding your breath and pushing and pulling your legs back and contorting your body into a crazy different shape, it does feel almost impossible to focus all of your energy into one spot.
Throughout this stage I asked a lot of questions about how I was doing and what I could do differently to have better pushes. I felt like I was trapped in my head, and as my collegiate track coach would say, I may have had some "paralysis of analysis." Although my nurse and doctor assured me I was doing fine.
Between contractions, Josey would put an oxygen mask over my face so that I could catch my breath faster. I thought about track a lot during labor. I remember comparing pushing to a 400m sprint, or to 200m repeats. During each contraction, I would push three times, for the count of 10 every time. By the third push, it really felt like the end of a sprint when you were not in the best of shape. The last 20m of a 200, when your legs feel like jello, and you just have to keep thinking "knees up knees up," except in labor I didn't have a very good motor behavior to focus on when I was losing steam at the end of that push.
Maybe an hour or so in, I told Josey I needed him to cheer me on too, like the doctor and the nurse were. It was amazing how much it helped to even have one more voice rooting for me. Again I had flashbacks to races, and at one point I swore I heard my mom saying "Go Chelsea, Go!!!"
After two hours, I was starting to get pretty tired, but everyone assured me we were making progress. I think that is the hardest part about pushing - you push and push but truly have no sense of what kind of progress you are making. It almost feels pointless. I switched my focus from track, to actually picturing what my body was doing. Visualization is good in sports, so it could apply to labor too, right?
We were finally getting close. They could see you. I could feel you. I wanted to hold you. But my body was exhausted. My doctor started to talk about how we could help you out a little bit with a suction device. Josey and I had learned all about this in our childbirth class, so we understood the risks and benefits of using it. I was so tired, I said we should do whatever it takes to get you out of there safely.
You, my little boy, have a full head of hair. This made using the suction device a little tricky - if it pops off three times then we cannot use it again. A contraction came, and we tried using the device. Sure enough, it popped off. A few pushes later, we tried it again. And again, no luck.
I wasn't talking much in between contractions at this point, I was focusing on breathing and on what I could do the next time to push more effectively. But after the suction device popped off the second time, I was feeling rather defeated.
I said out loud, "You guys, what are we going to do?"
To my surprise, and frankly my annoyance, the nurse and doctor started to laugh. My doctor said, "we are going to have a baby!"
And sure enough, just a few contractions later, we did have a baby. We had you, Joel Michael Quiñones. The third time with the suction device was the charm, and with just a few extra pushes you were out in the world. Your umbilical cord was around your neck, but only loosely, so it was only a matter of a few seconds before they placed you on my chest.
They dried you off and I just stared at your perfect face. I listened to Josey say over and over how perfect you were, how amazing you were. I'm crying just reliving that moment right now. Dang postpartum hormones! I couldn't believe how you had gone from the teeniest of cells to a kicking baby inside of me for so long, and how all of the sudden you were here. I could hold you. I could feed you. I already loved you, but now it was so tangible and real.
I'm staring at your sleeping face right now, relaxed and calm, tiny lips pursed. You'll probably wake up soon though, I can see you're a little restless.
Your eyes are squinty, and not everyone gets to see those eyes open. Kind of like my eyes, when I smile.
When you are getting ready to wake up from your naps, you raise your eyebrows like you're smelling something really good. Just like Josey looks when he first wakes up in the morning.
You have the cutest little nose, and some big lips. We joked at the hospital that maybe that means you'll be a brass player. We'll see about that. Your head was a little (okay a lot) misshapen right at the start from the suctioning, but it's already pretty much down to a regular shape, and the bruising is almost entirely gone.
You've already peed and pooped on both Josey and I, and we don't care. We're sorry that we don't know how to swaddle you very well, and that it takes us a while to change your diaper. We'll get better with time.
You and I have done a lot of learning with breast feeding. I think we're doing pretty well, except when you try to help out with those busy hands of yours. You've already gained back the weight that you lost in the first couple of days, and I was pretty proud today when they put you on the scale and you weighed in at 7 lbs 9 oz, up from your birthweight of 7 lbs 2 oz. I want you to stay tiny forever, but I also want you to be healthy and grow.
I want the world for you. We will do anything for you. We love you!
Chelsea and Josey (AKA Mom and Dad)
As I am writing this, you are asleep on my lap. Panther is sleeping on my legs, and Josey is out working in the yard. You are only six days old, and you are so so perfect. You haven't lost your umbilical stump yet, and you are sleeping for long stretches at a time. (But not through the night, don't be crazy.)
You've brought out the best in the man I married. He is so in love with you, and he can't wait to play with you. In fact, he's already worn you in the baby carrier, laid on the floor with you, (whether awake or asleep,) and even attempted to help you pet the cats.
We were so worried about the cats before you were born! Luckily, they have already become some of your best protectors. Panther looks into the bassinet to make sure you're okay before he curls up for the night, and Arrow still isn't quite sure what to think. She was pretty afraid of you at first! I'm pretty confident that the cats already love you as much as we do. When we bring you back into the house in your car seat, they both have to come over and peek in to make sure you made it back okay.
It is amazing how much can change in a week. A week ago, I went to school to teach like any ordinary Monday. The office staff saw me and said, "oh, you are here!" To which I replied with a laugh, "but I don't really want to be."
That isn't necessarily true, but on my way to school I realized that maybe I was actually feeling real contractions. I even sent Josey a text that said "I would make sure you have sub plans for tomorrow just in case." You weren't in a big hurry though, because I was able to drive to track practice in Belgrade and spend an hour coaching.
By the time I got home, it was really sinking in that you were getting ready to meet us. We finished the last bit of hospital paperwork, put a couple more things in the hospital bags, and loaded up the car. I did the best I could to stay calm, and Josey thought that maybe we would head to the hospital in the morning. My prediction was that we would maybe be headed to the hospital at 2 AM. We ended up leaving the house at 3 AM, and arrived at the hospital at 3:14 AM on the dot, according to Josey.
They didn't admit us right away, as I was only 1 cm dilated. So I rolled around on a birthing ball and paced the room for an hour straight, in hopes that would speed things along. The contractions were definitely getting stronger, so Josey looked for something to distract me. He pulled out the iPad and asked what I wanted to watch.
I wanted to watch Hercules.
So I watched Hercules, singing along here and there, and quoting pretty much the entire movie line by line. Josey loves it when I do that.
When they checked me the next time, I was 3 cm dilated, so they admitted us to the hospital. It was looking like you would be born on March 26th! I continued to watch Hercules and decided to take a bath. I think maybe you sensed that there was no hurry once we were admitted to the hospital, because while I was still having contractions, I was no longer dilating.
Meanwhile, it was getting closer to time to decide if I wanted to get an epidural. It is such a weird decision to have to make, and there is never a "right" answer. In the end, I decided it was time to get it, but it was right during a shift change so we waited over an hour for the anesthesiologist. By the time he came in, I was SO ready for that epidural.
I wasn't nervous for the administering of the drug, but I was nervous that it would slow my labor down and that we would have to wait longer to meet you. Turns out, I was nervous for good reason, but it was almost a blessing that things slowed down a bit. Josey and I got several hours of much needed sleep after I got the epidural. I was going on day two without sleep, and I was going to need that energy when it would be time to push.
But, we still really wanted to meet you soon. So when the nurses discovered that labor had stalled out a little, we decided to start Pitocin to speed it back up.
The nurses came in every hour or so to help me change positions so that you could keep moving lower and my cervix would continue to dilate. One time, the nurse was helping me move to a more upright position, and you scared us pretty good. I had two monitors on my tummy - one monitoring my contractions, and one tracking your heart rate. Well, when we moved to that position, I got really light headed, and your heart rate slowed down. A lot.
Lots of people came in to help - I didn't really know what was going on, and I'm pretty sure Josey was probably pretty scared for us. They moved me from side to side, to hands and knees, until twelve minutes later your heart rate came back up to a normal speed. After that, the doctor broke my waters, and attached a heart rate monitor to the top of your head. Don't worry, a week later and that little teeny scab is healing up nicely.
A few hours later, during a position change, you decided to scare us again. This time was not for as long, and it wasn't as bad, but it still was not fun for anyone. After that, the doctor also attached a different type of monitor for my contractions, so I had no more external monitors. They also had me sign the paperwork that would be required if I were to need a C-section. Everyone wanted you to be healthy and happy, so if your heart rate went down again like it did, we would do whatever it takes to get you here.
My smart nurses and doctor did figure out that it was position changes and my low blood pressure that was contributing to these "events," so they started me on some medication to raise my blood pressure. This was good, because we went many more hours before anything exciting happened again.
Once we had given you a break to recover from the heart rate plunges, they started up pitocin again, and we were up and rolling. Even through the epidural I could feel you pressing down and down, causing major pain in my back. The nurses were hoping you hadn't flipped the wrong way, but here I was experiencing back labor.
It was around 7 PM when they doctor decided to check me again and the nurses who were about to go off shift were crossing their fingers that I had progressed to 7 cm. To all of our surprise, I was at 9 cm! I swear there were high fives going around the room. We were getting closer!
My doctor told us that we were going to "labor down" and make my body do as much of the work as it could before pushing time. My nurses also warned us that pushing could get exciting, since we already had a few scares with your heart rate. The goal would be to push for the minimal amount of time, and hope that you came quickly and safely.
Finally, my body was telling me it was time to push. Every contraction was ever so painful. I just wanted you to be in my arms. Around 9 PM, you started to do crazy punches and kicks in my tummy. It was like you were also trying to tell me it was go time. When the doctor finally came back in, I wasn't quite at 10 cm, but it was definitely time to push.
It felt good to finally start pushing. The most difficult part for me was to not waste energy with each push. It's hard to figure out exactly how to push when parts of your body are numb. When you're holding your breath and pushing and pulling your legs back and contorting your body into a crazy different shape, it does feel almost impossible to focus all of your energy into one spot.
Throughout this stage I asked a lot of questions about how I was doing and what I could do differently to have better pushes. I felt like I was trapped in my head, and as my collegiate track coach would say, I may have had some "paralysis of analysis." Although my nurse and doctor assured me I was doing fine.
Between contractions, Josey would put an oxygen mask over my face so that I could catch my breath faster. I thought about track a lot during labor. I remember comparing pushing to a 400m sprint, or to 200m repeats. During each contraction, I would push three times, for the count of 10 every time. By the third push, it really felt like the end of a sprint when you were not in the best of shape. The last 20m of a 200, when your legs feel like jello, and you just have to keep thinking "knees up knees up," except in labor I didn't have a very good motor behavior to focus on when I was losing steam at the end of that push.
Maybe an hour or so in, I told Josey I needed him to cheer me on too, like the doctor and the nurse were. It was amazing how much it helped to even have one more voice rooting for me. Again I had flashbacks to races, and at one point I swore I heard my mom saying "Go Chelsea, Go!!!"
After two hours, I was starting to get pretty tired, but everyone assured me we were making progress. I think that is the hardest part about pushing - you push and push but truly have no sense of what kind of progress you are making. It almost feels pointless. I switched my focus from track, to actually picturing what my body was doing. Visualization is good in sports, so it could apply to labor too, right?
We were finally getting close. They could see you. I could feel you. I wanted to hold you. But my body was exhausted. My doctor started to talk about how we could help you out a little bit with a suction device. Josey and I had learned all about this in our childbirth class, so we understood the risks and benefits of using it. I was so tired, I said we should do whatever it takes to get you out of there safely.
You, my little boy, have a full head of hair. This made using the suction device a little tricky - if it pops off three times then we cannot use it again. A contraction came, and we tried using the device. Sure enough, it popped off. A few pushes later, we tried it again. And again, no luck.
I wasn't talking much in between contractions at this point, I was focusing on breathing and on what I could do the next time to push more effectively. But after the suction device popped off the second time, I was feeling rather defeated.
I said out loud, "You guys, what are we going to do?"
To my surprise, and frankly my annoyance, the nurse and doctor started to laugh. My doctor said, "we are going to have a baby!"
And sure enough, just a few contractions later, we did have a baby. We had you, Joel Michael Quiñones. The third time with the suction device was the charm, and with just a few extra pushes you were out in the world. Your umbilical cord was around your neck, but only loosely, so it was only a matter of a few seconds before they placed you on my chest.
They dried you off and I just stared at your perfect face. I listened to Josey say over and over how perfect you were, how amazing you were. I'm crying just reliving that moment right now. Dang postpartum hormones! I couldn't believe how you had gone from the teeniest of cells to a kicking baby inside of me for so long, and how all of the sudden you were here. I could hold you. I could feed you. I already loved you, but now it was so tangible and real.
I'm staring at your sleeping face right now, relaxed and calm, tiny lips pursed. You'll probably wake up soon though, I can see you're a little restless.
Your eyes are squinty, and not everyone gets to see those eyes open. Kind of like my eyes, when I smile.
When you are getting ready to wake up from your naps, you raise your eyebrows like you're smelling something really good. Just like Josey looks when he first wakes up in the morning.
You have the cutest little nose, and some big lips. We joked at the hospital that maybe that means you'll be a brass player. We'll see about that. Your head was a little (okay a lot) misshapen right at the start from the suctioning, but it's already pretty much down to a regular shape, and the bruising is almost entirely gone.
You've already peed and pooped on both Josey and I, and we don't care. We're sorry that we don't know how to swaddle you very well, and that it takes us a while to change your diaper. We'll get better with time.
You and I have done a lot of learning with breast feeding. I think we're doing pretty well, except when you try to help out with those busy hands of yours. You've already gained back the weight that you lost in the first couple of days, and I was pretty proud today when they put you on the scale and you weighed in at 7 lbs 9 oz, up from your birthweight of 7 lbs 2 oz. I want you to stay tiny forever, but I also want you to be healthy and grow.
I want the world for you. We will do anything for you. We love you!
Chelsea and Josey (AKA Mom and Dad)
Comments
You have all the support in the world from the Monforton community. Just holler if you want anything!
~Andrea
(PS: I'm so glad to see the blanket make an appearance!)