Savannah’s Birth Story

Oh hi.

I didn’t see you there. Probably because I haven’t been on my computer for eight weeks.

Today is my first day back to work and I have the feels. The past eight weeks has been a whirlwind. It’s like…the days went so fast, it seems like I’ve had two children my whole life, but in reality, it’s only been eight weeks. It takes longer than eight weeks to receive an order from an “as Seen On TV” commercial.

I thought I”d pour some of this nervous energy into writing down some thoughts about my daughter’s first two months on this earth — not because I’m all about this mommy blog thing, but because if I don’t write it down, I’m terrified of forgetting it. Maybe someday she’ll see this and get a kick out of reading about the day she was born and the time we spent together on the couch watching Netflix and snuggling.

Savannah Grace was born on February 28, 2014 at 9:39 in the morning. It was a quick delivery. I checked into Labor & Delivery at 9:11, and I know this because it was only a few minutes after I texted my friend Lindsey that I was at the hospital. Thank goodness for texting, right?

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The night before SG was born, I pampered myself. I had an Influenster box with a face mask, tea and Hershey kisses. I had a feeling it would be soon, as my due date was only a few days away. I had felt crampy and sore all day, but nothing that made me think I was in labor.

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We went to bed at a normal time. Kelsey woke me up at 2 am because I was snoring, and I decided to go to the couch so we could both sleep. On the couch, I had what I believed to be gas pains.

“Woah, Amanda,”  I said to myself. “What did you eat that gave you so much gas?” I took a Gas-X. I sat on the toilet. I tossed and turned on the couch in pain.

“This is probably kind of like labor,” I said to myself. KIND OF LIKE LABOR.

My alarm went off and I went to the bathroom to get ready.

“I have the worst gas and I’ve had it all night,” I said to my husband.

“I think you’re in labor,” he replied.

“No, it would be worse if it was labor. This is definitely gas. Must have been the 20 Hersey kisses I ate last night.”

The pains continued while I applied my makeup AND GOT READY FOR WORK. I joked earlier in the week that my coworkers could roll me down the elevator to L&D if I was in labor at work, and that totally almost happened.

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I finally came to my senses and began to time the gas pains (GAS PAINS!?) and they were about five minutes apart. Either the worlds most regular gas pains, or they were contractions.

I called Kelsey. “You should come home. These are contractions.”

I’m saying here publicly that my husband was right. Mark it on your calendars; You might not see this again anytime soon.

MEANWHILE AT HOME, Luke woke up and was all, “Mom! Help me pee!” So I’m sitting there listening to him chit chat about his pee while I sat on the stool in labor. Are you impressed yet? It gets better.

Kelsey called my mom and dad to come get Luke and tae him to daycare. I began to get Luke dressed until Kelsey came in, and then he told me to relax. I had a flashback to my first delivery, during which I wasn’t able to eat for more than 20 hours. So naturally, I poured a bowl of cereal.

My mom and dad walked in to me talking to Luke about life and eating Chex.

Kelsey and I got in the car, and by this time the contractions were much closer. He was eating oatmeal and clinking the spoon against his bowl and I wanted to murder him. Lights turned red and I wanted to punch them in the face. This one car in front of us made a very slow right hand turn and I screamed at the driver.

We pulled up in the valet lane at the hospital and I asked for a wheelchair and they gave me a lawn chair on wheels, but why did I care? I was having a poop baby.

They rolled me into L&D triage and this nurse was like, “Fill out this paperwork.” and I said “NO I WILL NOT PLEASE GET THIS BABY OUT OF MY BODY.” But then I signed some stuff and they put me in a triage room. It was 9:11.

A very nice nurse asked me how I was feeling and I told her I was fine, except for the terrible gas pains and could she please get me to the restroom so I can poop. JUST KIDDING. I told her the contractions were getting worse and to please let’s speed this up. It was 9:15.

The resident came in to check me. She said “You’re at about a 9 right now.” It was 9:18 and 10 seconds.

My water broke. It was 9:18 and 50 seconds.

Things started getting hectic. I started crying and apologizing for thinking I had bad gas. The first nurse was still moving along like we all the time in the world; The resident checked me again and said, welp, you’re at a 10 plus 1 so let’s get to getting. It as 9:20.

Several nurses and doctors and who knows who else surrounded me and many things happened at once. They were trying to get me into a gown, find a room, move me to a room, find the attending doctor and keep me from freaking out all at once. As we moved down the hall, I heard someone say, “THERE ARE NO ROOMS RIGHT NOW.” And at the first time all morning, I seriously thought I would have my baby just randomly.

“Don’t push yet, Amanda. Don’t push until we have a room. We’re getting it ready now,” a nurse said.

It’s like when you are in a quiet place and get a giggle fit and someone says, “don’t laugh!” You just want to laugh. Same difference — I just wanted to push so, so bad. It was 9:22.

I had one arm out of my shirt and my legs in the stirrups when my doctor came in. She was my regular OB and just happened to be working that morning. I was still carrying on about waiting too long to get to the hospital and she said, “Amanda! Focus. Here’s what I need you to do.” It was 9:25.

I pushed. I rested. I pushed. I rested. I pushed, I pushed, I pushed.

I heard a cry and leaned up slightly to see my precious girl’s face for the first time. It was 9:39.

There is no moment quite like seeing your child’s face for the first time after you give birth. You’re in the midst of so much excitement, pain, drama, and then suddenly it’s over and the little person you’ve waited so long to see — that sweet little stranger — is in your arms.

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Then stuff happened, like my placenta being stuck and two doctors literally having to pull it out. There was morphine involved. Afterword, my doctor told Kelsey I had an incredibly high pain tolerance like she’d never seen and he wasn’t allowed to complain about anything again.

After that drama was over, I was hungry (naturally.) I asked if I could get some food. They brought me a hot dog and some sad, cold french fries. Rude.

My maternity leave was blissful. It was a 180 from last time. I was a dumb first time mom last time, or maybe it was because her cry wasn’t so shrill. Maybe it was because she was a better nurser. Maybe it was because I could dress her in bows and watch princess movies. Maybe it was because mom and dad were here to help. Maybe it was Netflix.

So that’s the story. There are more stories and I will be sharing them soon. But for now: coffee.

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