Comparisons

I try not to compare my daughters. Not because either of them pale in comparison with the other, but because they're both amazing and super special in their own way.

Duh, I'm their mother, of course they're super special in my eyes.

But their births were so different and it's hard not to think about those two days that changed my world so very much.

Alyssa's birth was such a celebration. She was my first born and the first grandchild being born to my mom. Everyone had begun to worry that I wouldn't get around to having kids before my ovaries shriveled.

I was, after all, 31 years old when I got pregnant and turned 32 before Alyssa was born.

I worked the day before she was born. I had a doctor's appointment that afternoon, that Monday, January 13. She was due on Wednesday, January 22. At my appointment, the doctor did my first cervical exam. Yikes.

There was nothing going on down there. She was still wrapped up tight.

The doctor explained that that meant nothing. Some women go from 0 to 10 in less than a day. And some walk around at 3cm for days/weeks.

So whatever.

He did, though, say that while he didn't necessarily suggest it, he'd had some patients have success with castor oil.

Success at what? Why, at moving things along.

After we left the doctor's office, I looked at Tom and said, "We're not doing that."

He asked, "Why not?"

Well, it wasn't like she was overdue. I wasn't even that big. I wasn't uncomfortable. I hadn't gotten to that "I'm SO done being pregnant" stage.

But we went to the drug store anyway. And bought the castor oil. And I drank two caps full with a bottle of orange juice.

It was awful.

About eight hours after drinking the castor oil, my water broke.

We headed for the hospital, with no contractions in sight.

We reached the hospital a little after midnight. My cervix was still not doing anything at all to prepare for the birth of our child.

At eight the next morning, they started me on an IV of pitocin.

My mom arrived.

My dad arrived and plunked himself into a corner where my privacy was protected.

At noon, lunch arrived and the nurse said that while I couldn't eat it, anyone else could.

A couple of aunts arrived and one of them attempted counter pressure on my back. After she left about ten minutes later, I whispered, "Please don't let her touch me again."

Tom asked why not and I told him that it hurt so much to have her rub my back. He asked why I hadn't told her that and I explained that I didn't want to hurt her feelings.

I had to pee every ten minutes, would have a contraction on the way to the bathroom, while peeing and on the way back.

At about 2:30pm the doctor came in to check me. During his exam, I told him I wasn't trying to push but I couldn't help it.

They adjusted the bed, inserted a catheter (oh, the relief!!!) and it was time to push. My mom was on my left side and Tom was on my right side. My dad was still in his privacy corner. It seemed like there were people everywhere.

At 2:48pm, Alyssa Jean was born. Tom whispered to me that she was a girl. She weighed an even six

My mom said, "She looks just like her dad."

And she did.

People milled in and out for hours, visiting, exclaiming over her beauty.

My Aunt Lorry announced that Alyssa loved her first bath and having her hair washed.

By 7pm, there was still a crowd in my room and I was falling asleep mid-sentence.

We stayed in the hospital until Alyssa was 48 hours old so she could get her last exam out of the way rather than making the hour drive home and then back.

It was lovely and perfect and everything I'd hoped for for the birth of my first child.

I knew that the birth of my second child would be different if only because I knew that someone would have to miss out on her birth in order to care for her big sister.

But because there were complications from the beginning (she failed her non-stress test that was performed when she was nine days overdue) Tom was the only one allowed into the labor/delivery room.

And yet...in it's own way, that seemed right at the time. He and I needed those moments, those hours alone, preparing for our child.

We didn't know before she was born that anything was wrong with her. We had no clue, no inkling that she might have issues.

But when she failed that stress test, we were sent directly to the hospital. We were told not to stop and get food, which I'd wanted to do because I was STARVING. We were told I could eat at the hospital.

I checked in at 10:30 on that Monday, November 27. An IV was immediately inserted. The fetal monitor was placed. Olivia was steady, as she'd been during the non-stress test. She'd failed because her heart rate hadn't risen each time she moved. It just held steady.

At noon, the nurse inserted the cervidil.

At 12:30, she brought some lunch.

I ate a few pieces of broccoli.

At 12:40, she came back and took my lunch away.

She'd called the doctor and told him that Olivia wasn't responding well to the cervidil, her heart rate would drop and then rise and then drop again.

She removed the cervidil and started the pitocin by 1:00.

My doctor (a different doctor than the one who delivered Alyssa) was sure I'd be in for a C-section because I couldn't finish the round of cervidil and was instead moving directly to pitocin. Which is why they took away my lunch.

I protested that I'd responded well to just-pitocin before but...doctor's orders.

At 2:00, I threw up the broccoli and...I though I peed a little when I threw up. Ugh!! I apologized to the nurse and told her I'd had to pee a lot during my labor with Alyssa.

And they told me to lay on my left side. Which I did. For hours and hours. My left hip started to ache and when I'd roll to my back or even my right side, Olivia's heart rate would drop and I'd roll back to my left side, and she'd even out again.

After his office closed at 5pm, my doctor arrived do break my water. Ohh, that was unpleasant.

Apparently, my vomiting earlier in the day had caused the water to break and so he was digging for something that wasn't there.

He was amazed by how far I was already.

At 6:10, he did another check, I was at 6cm. I had one contraction that put me at 9.

Olivia was born after three pushes at 6:27pm on November 27, 2006.

She was born into a room with just her mommy, her daddy, the doctor and three nurses.

My mom and stepdad were watching Alyssa in the waiting room.

After she was born, the three nurses worked to get her breathing.

Tom met my mom at the door to tell her that the baby was here but she was having trouble breathing. My mom said he had tears in his eyes.

The nurses stablized Olivia and took her to the nursery where she was put under a cylinder.

Our family doctor came to ask me where I wanted Olivia sent. She was too sick to stay in that small community hospital.

I slept fitfully that night, waiting for the light of morning when I could be discharged and go be with my baby, who'd been taken by ambulance to a hospital an hour away.

Just less than 24 hours after being admitted, I was discharged and headed south with my mom and my first born to see my sick little girl.

Yet...I felt elation. She was here and I was going to see her and do whatever I could to let her know I was there, I was her mommy and I was going to her. Her birth was as much a reason for celebration as her big sister's had been.

And every day, I'm thankful for these girls. These girls who are both so amazing and super special to me, their grateful mom.