Spencer...his arrival

Spencer Mark was born at 6:25 pm, August 3, 2009. He weighed in at 8 lbs, 15 oz and was 22 1/4 inches long. He's blond. Who is born blond, I'd like to know?? My babies usually start dark and go blond. Weird. Not only is he blond, he is well endowed with hair...tons of blond hair???
I was induced again this time around, for convenience; I'll never do it again, but he got here in one piece and I had no complications. What might have been Spencer's complications worked themselves out and he's as healthy as he can be.

If you're not interested in the rest of the details, that's all you need to know. Everything else is for posterity anyway, so read on if you've got time...a lot of time.

There at the end of the pregnancy I started worrying that he could die at birth--you tend to do that sort of thing when your 5-year-old states clearly at breakfast, "Mom, sometimes babies are born and they die." I looked into why a baby would die after a healthy pregnancy: umbilical cord around the neck. I asked the PA at my doc's office. She said when the baby is crowning the doc reaches in and slips it around the head if it's there. The only other thing you have to worry about is if it strangles them in-utero, and we won't talk about that, it's just traumatic.

Back to his entrance. I was on a 'list' for induction Monday morning, which means they'd call me if they had room. We had everything ready, and after Josh gave me a blessing Sunday night, I felt like it'd work out. At 4 am I woke up to use the porcelain god, but then was having regular contractions so I couldn't get back to sleep. At 6:30 am the hospital called and said I could come in. With having contractions I was hoping I would be practically in labor already so it'd be an easy go.
Yeah, dream on.
Contractions subsided while I got ready.

My amazing coach-husband and I arrived at the hospital at 8 am. I filled out paperwork and waited my turn for PIT until 10. (Seriously, don't have babies in Utah, you're just a number.) Josh and I then started watching Pirates of the Caribbean 3 (whatever that one's called). It's a great movie for labor cause it's long.

I don't get epidurals. I'm more afraid of being numb or something going wrong, than I am of pain. Well...read on, maybe that's not entirely true. But because of the pit I couldn't walk around the hospital--they think they have to watch the baby's heart rate for signs of distress. I sat a lot on a birthing ball and went to the restroom as often as I could though.

Around 1, I think, some doc came in to break my water. (My doc just couldn't make it, he had a busy day--isn't that how OB's days always are though??) After that the contractions got a little harder, but I was only dialated to a 4, so I was in it for the long haul. I had determined I could only handle the pain until 5 pm.

We watched more of the movie. We turned it off before it ended, I think. We had visitors during the day, which is very unusual for my labors.

Anyway, pain kept me occupied until 4. I told Josh at that point I really didn't want to continue, and if I had to I could only go until 5, seriously. And here is where I lost track of time. Minute after minute--contraction, rest, contraction, rest. Yeah, by five I was definitely done but I wasn't pushing which meant, "YOU'D LIKE TO THINK YOU'RE DONE, SUCKER."

I have a strange coping mechanism during contractions--I sing songs to myself in my head. Funny thing was, I had an Aerosmith song in my head I didn't actually know all the words to. It made it fun ('fun' may not be the right word here...). I would 'hear' the music, and the lyrics, "I don't wanna close my eyes....cause I'd miss you baby, and I don't wanna miss a thing...." and then just a muddle of stuff. Then the minute-long contraction would end and the song would too. Nice distraction. I got bored of that one and started on, "I'm so glad when Daddy comes home." But that reminded me that my daddy wasn't coming home ever again and he wasn't even going to see the baby, or at least I wouldn't see him seeing it, and he was watching over me and the baby.....anyway, I had to stop that one, obviously. Then came, "Heavenly Father, are you really there? And do you hear and answer every child's prayer?" Slightly ironic given the situation, but it's a favorite of mine, and quite frankly I wasn't in a position to be choosey about what song came to mind.

Then I was done. I couldn't do it anymore. Even with my wonderful husband pushing on pressure points, letting me lean on him, squeezing anywhere that felt good, doing whatever I asked and not talking at all--I just didn't want to feel the pain anymore. Unfortunately I had told the nurse I wanted an epidural but that she shouldn't listen to me, just to Josh--stupid. Josh kept telling me I was doing a great job and was almost done. We basically had a tiff over an epidural between contractions.
Me--"Josh. I don't want to do this anymore. Really, I'm done."
Josh--"You're doing great though. You're almost there."
Me--"I don't care. It hurts. I have already done this before and I don't want to do it again. I want an epidural."
Josh--"You can do it though....
Me---"OUCH."
And he'd push on my back for a minute while Aerosmith tried to sing to me...
Me--"No, I'm really done now!"

I'm sure it was humorous.

I did tell the nurse I was serious; I needed an epidural. She said, in essence, "too bad." The anesthesiologist had just gone down for a C-section and wouldn't be back for an hour.
(Kiss me where??)

Then at about 6, having not heard from my doc for hours, she went to call him. She came back and said he was on his way home and wanted her to check me again before he was too far away. Okay, right then he needed to die.
I was at a nine. He was half way across the stinkin' valley.
At nine is when I sneak in pushes to get things going. I wasn't going to this time. I was going to get up for a minute, but felt a contraction coming on, so I wrapped my arms around Josh's neck for support and was kinda laying on my side...and all of a sudden I couldn't do anything but push. The nurse, wow, I'm sure she's nice and all, but I really wanted her to not talk. Especially cause all she said was, "breath like this.... whoooo... whoooo...; don't push, don't push." I hope she's been in labor before, cause then she at least felt bad she had to talk.

Poor Josh was in a bear hug position for who knows how long. All I remember are 3-4 contractions where I shouldn't have been pushing; then I saw the doctor's shoes, so I actually pushed; and then someone told me to move my leg...but I didn't have any control over anything at that point. When I knew something had come, I asked if I could take a break..."NO!! Push!!" So then he was born and my husband didn't even get to see the baby, or cut the cord cause I had him in a head-lock position. I asked Josh why he didn't move me or get out of my arms--he said he tried but I wouldn't let go. Poor guy.

And guess what?? The cord was around Spencer's neck twice! Mother's intuition or what?? I'm not sure that caused any harm, but the little guy didn't start breathing normally...I think it was too fast or irregular, and his heart wasn't sounding normal. I didn't even get him on my tummy before they took him to do the assessing. They did let me hold him for a minute before they took him to the nursery. Luckily he's a Black-Randall, so he shaped up quickly and came back before an hour was up (he was supposed to be gone a couple hours or more).

Me...no rip, no tear, nada. I felt fine, other than tired. Well, my back kinda hurt, but who's wouldn't? By the next day I even had to ask the nurse if it was okay that I wasn't bleeding very much. And by now, a little over a week later, I don't have ANY side effects from pregnancy or delivery. I'm not sure what this is, but I'll take it!

Spencer is doing well. He likes to sleep, and he's lazy at eating--and still hasn't got the sucking part quite right, but he's filling his diapers and drooling milk, and a happy camper after an HOUR of meal time, so he's getting something.
His hair is still amazing. It is not only a lot of blond, but it sticks up all over. I can't calm it...not that I want to.
He has a hand malformation...or something. In his right hand the last two finger bones fused together (in the hand portion, not fingers) so his little pinky finger looks like it's coming out the side of his hand rather than the top. I figure it just means he'll be able to palm a basketball pretty well, and/or reach more than an octave on the piano...no harm done there! We are taking him to a specialist to make sure that's all it is, but I feel at peace.

So, that's more than anyone needed to know. But it's my journal of baby #4, so it's long.