February 13, 2006 - only 8 weeks late
So, 8 weeks ago today I had a baby. Yep, I'm someone's Mother now. His name is Thomas. He was born 3 weeks early by C-Section, 3 days after an unsuccessful attempt to turn his little breech ass around so that I could have him vaginally. He wasn't interested in going along with our little plan, obviously. He was 7lbs. 8oz - pretty big for being early - I shudder to think how big he'd have been if he'd gone the full 40 weeks (um, ouch!). Since I love statistics*, let's run some numbers:
3-4% all babies are breech. Apparently, all of those babies are related to me. I was breech, my two sisters were breech, my mother, aunt and uncle were breech, and one of my two nieces. And so was Thomas. This is not a family tradition I was interested in him carrying on, thank you very much.
40% External Cephalic Versions (the turning of breech babies) are successful. Mine was, sadly, not, though we tried three times. Turns out that, due to his position, and the fact that he was already the size of a full-term baby, there was just no way it was going to work. It was also the most painful thing I've ever experienced, and that's including recovering from the C-Section itself. Let me set the scene: me, hugely pregnant, laying flat on my back for the first time in 5 months with Rob holding my hand, one doctor pushing the ultrasound wand into my belly, a second doctor pushing on the lump that was Thomas' head and shoulders, and a third doctor who actually climbed up on the table straddling my legs pushing hard just above my pubic bone trying to get her hands firmly under the baby's bottom to push him up and out of my pelvis. Oh yeah, good times.
Only 12-15% women have their water break at the beginning of labor. 5:36am I'm lying there, wide awake, wondering why I can't sleep. Suddenly, with a pop that I swear was audible, and a huge gush, my water breaks. If you've seen X-Men 2, and you recall Nightcrawler teleporting, you'll know exactly how fast I removed myself from the bed, saying, "Fuck, honey, my water just broke!" Yes, I teleported because I didn't want to ruin the Posturepedic.
So, off we toddled to the hospital, after I'd made the mistake of eating something. Hey, I was hungry! I knew we were going to have a C, but I also knew that if I didn't eat, someone was going to die (not me, actually, but as I was just one missed meal away from cannibalism my entire pregnancy, those nurses were in serious danger). Anyway, the contractions started at 6 and were 6 minutes apart or so by the time we got to the hospital at 7. They were going to wait until noon to do the surgery, because I'd eaten, but by 10 my contractions were coming fast and hard and I was dilating like a pro, so it was either cut me open, or try to delver him vaginal breech, 'cause he was sick of waiting in there. So, at 10:24am they pulled my beautiful boy out of my body and out into the world, where he promptly peed on several nurses. Twice. I was very proud. 
The last 8 weeks have been the most amazing time of my life. He's simply awe inspiring. He's a good baby, very mellow, very sweet, very cute. I am just head over heels in love with him.
*disclaimer: that was sarcasm and should in no way be taken as an endorsement for statistics.
3-4% all babies are breech. Apparently, all of those babies are related to me. I was breech, my two sisters were breech, my mother, aunt and uncle were breech, and one of my two nieces. And so was Thomas. This is not a family tradition I was interested in him carrying on, thank you very much.
40% External Cephalic Versions (the turning of breech babies) are successful. Mine was, sadly, not, though we tried three times. Turns out that, due to his position, and the fact that he was already the size of a full-term baby, there was just no way it was going to work. It was also the most painful thing I've ever experienced, and that's including recovering from the C-Section itself. Let me set the scene: me, hugely pregnant, laying flat on my back for the first time in 5 months with Rob holding my hand, one doctor pushing the ultrasound wand into my belly, a second doctor pushing on the lump that was Thomas' head and shoulders, and a third doctor who actually climbed up on the table straddling my legs pushing hard just above my pubic bone trying to get her hands firmly under the baby's bottom to push him up and out of my pelvis. Oh yeah, good times.
Only 12-15% women have their water break at the beginning of labor. 5:36am I'm lying there, wide awake, wondering why I can't sleep. Suddenly, with a pop that I swear was audible, and a huge gush, my water breaks. If you've seen X-Men 2, and you recall Nightcrawler teleporting, you'll know exactly how fast I removed myself from the bed, saying, "Fuck, honey, my water just broke!" Yes, I teleported because I didn't want to ruin the Posturepedic.
So, off we toddled to the hospital, after I'd made the mistake of eating something. Hey, I was hungry! I knew we were going to have a C, but I also knew that if I didn't eat, someone was going to die (not me, actually, but as I was just one missed meal away from cannibalism my entire pregnancy, those nurses were in serious danger). Anyway, the contractions started at 6 and were 6 minutes apart or so by the time we got to the hospital at 7. They were going to wait until noon to do the surgery, because I'd eaten, but by 10 my contractions were coming fast and hard and I was dilating like a pro, so it was either cut me open, or try to delver him vaginal breech, 'cause he was sick of waiting in there. So, at 10:24am they pulled my beautiful boy out of my body and out into the world, where he promptly peed on several nurses. Twice. I was very proud. 
The last 8 weeks have been the most amazing time of my life. He's simply awe inspiring. He's a good baby, very mellow, very sweet, very cute. I am just head over heels in love with him.
*disclaimer: that was sarcasm and should in no way be taken as an endorsement for statistics.
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