Newborn Moments

During the first few weeks of having you at home, your Dad loved taking a long lunch break and driving home to see you at lunch. He was so in love!



He would hold you the entire time he was eating his lunch.



Tiny newborn, so sweet.



When you were a few days old, I tried to conduct a little photo shoot at home to capture you in some tiny outfits. Your expressions in some of them cracked me up!

One of my favorite memories of being a brand new Mom was enjoying the maternity leave and meeting your Dad for lunch. Our favorite spot was Beck's Prime on Westheimer under the sprawling oak tree. It was a brand new experience to be dining out with a baby, and I loved it!

Another picture from a lunch date with Daddy.

I often sat in this rocker to feed you. Early on you LOVED your paci so you were rarely without it.

This was one of my very favorite outfits that you wore. You were brand new in this picture -- I can tell because your baby thighs are still tiny!

Another newborn photo shoot. I'd guess you were about 10 days old.



My very first Mother's Day. We posed for a quick picture before church. You were only 2 weeks old at the time.



Your very first shower with Dad. I was SO nervous that you would slip out of his grip!

Your infant bedroom and bedding theme was airplanes - so precious!

But sometimes you just had to sneak in a little nap with Mommy!

Your arrival was the hugest blessing in our lives, and we loved every second of our new life with you in it! You were SO loved!!

Big Boy!

One of the most noticeable traits that you showed early on was your affinity for formula and Mommy’s milk! Boy, did you love it. Probably from your third or fourth day of life, you were on 100% breast milk and you plumped up so fast. You were probably the only baby I’d heard of that actually gained weight before we even left the hospital (8 lbs., 6 oz. at birth and 8 lbs., 9 oz. when we left the hospital) and your weight steadily increased from there. I learned after having you that most people adore plump babies, especially ones like you that had such bulging cheeks!

The doctor and nurse that checked you at your Well Baby visits were always amazed at your growth and weight each time we visited. You were always in the very top percentile of growth, and at one point you actually went off the chart in weight. It became a joke about how plump you were becoming, but your Dad and I were so pleased because you were breastfed and healthy.

 

Little Brother

We brought you home on a Friday afternoon (after a stressful rush hour stop at Woman’s Work to get a breast pump) and quickly settled you into your bassinet. Your Aunt Robin, Uncle Paul, and Cousin Karlie drove down for the weekend to meet you, so they were a big help in getting some of the equipment set up and offering help with feeding and changing you. Your dad picked up your brothers that afternoon and brought them home to meet you for the first time. We tried not to make a big deal out of it, but everyone was anxiously awaiting their reaction when they saw you.

When Collin and Kevin walked in the house, they casually strolled towards the bassinet where you were sleeping. Your Dad introduced them to you, and they seemed interested but not overly so. They took turns holding you and we snapped some pictures that are still on our walls today.







With Robin and your Dad on duty, I took a much-needed nap. I remember waking up that evening after my nap and I was in a grouchy mood! Lack of sleep has always done that to me. That night, Robin and I let your Dad sleep the full night and we took shifts getting up with you for a feeding and diaper change. I set up the breast pump and began pumping every 2 hours (no joke!) to attempt to establish my milk supply. (It worked, because I began flowing freely soon thereafter.)

 











It was hard for me to sleep during the nights with you at first because you were a little grunter. You grunted your way through hours of restlessness for me. And even when you weren’t a noisy sleeper, I would still wake up to check on you and make sure you were still breathing. (It’s a terrifying fear I have around infants – that they’ll suddenly stop breathing during the night.) But overall, we were impressed that you would sleep for decent stretches during the nights without much effort on our part.

Your brothers learned a lot about babies during those first few weeks with you in the house. They looked on as your Dad changed your diaper, gave you your first few baths, and swaddled you tightly in baby blankets. They laughed loudly when you peed (more than once!) on your Dad as he bathed or changed you. They fed you some milk and cringed when they realized it was “Mommy’s milk”. It was hard to tell what their feelings about you were, although you were always a source of entertainment for us all.

Welcome to the World!

By the time May 3 rolled around, I was READY. I was just praying that the doctor wouldn’t change her mind about sending me for an induction that day. When she checked me that morning, I was already dilated to 4 centimeters, which I was proud of since I was a first time Mom. I reminded her that she had promised to send me straight to the hospital for an induction. She said, “Well, if you can wait 2 more days, I’ll be able to deliver your baby since I’ll be on call that day.” I looked at her, looked at Jeff, and then calmly replied, “Would you be offended if I said I don’t care who delivers the baby? I just want to deliver now!” I guess I made my point – she sent me straight to the hospital. Hallelujah!

As we waited for our labor and delivery room, I called friends and family to alert them of your impending arrival. By this time, we had finally chosen your name. We couldn’t wait to meet our precious Connor! They finally found a room for us, but it was actually a backup emergency room – the last delivery room available. (We found out later that other mothers were turned away from the hospital, and one brave but unlucky Mom had to deliver in the Triage unit!)

One cool thing about delivering at Memorial Hermann was that I knew one of the nurses, Christa. We had gone to high school together and recently reconnected through other friends. As I was getting set up in the delivery room, I asked if Christa could be my nurse. Between both nurses, Jill and Christa, I felt very comfortable and tended to. By the time I was in my gown, hooked up to the Pitocin (labor-induction medicine), with my bag of water manually broken, it was 11:50 a.m. They asked me if I wanted my epidural right away, but I just felt strange asking for it when I wasn’t in much pain. So I opted to wait as long as I could. That amounted to about 20 minutes. By 12:30 p.m., I was definitely feeling the strong contractions and having to practice my breathing techniques. Soon thereafter, I asked for the epidural, and I was feeling much more comfortable by 1:00 p.m. Contrary to what I’d heard, getting the epidural was really inconsequential – especially compared to the painful contractions I was having. I continued to progress quickly from there. It seemed like every hour I progressed another 2 centimeters. My body reacted easily to the Pitocin.

In the meantime, your MeMe and Grandaddy were driving to Houston for your arrival. They knew I was progressing quickly, but at one point when I had reached 8 centimeters dilation, they were worried that they wouldn’t arrive in time. Your Dad left the room to make some phone calls and walk to the car to get some of our things.

Right at that time, nurse Jill hooked up a temporary catheter to empty my bladder. When she finished, she noticed that your heart rate began to drop. What happened next is a blur. While Jill was working with the monitors, no less than 4 other doctors and nurses began to rush in. Christa was suddenly there and began telling me (in what I would refer to as a “fake cheery” voice) that your heart rate was dropping and she needed to put me in an oxygen mask. She strapped on the mask and turned off the Pitocin while Jill worked with another nurse to insert a fetal monitor (one of those internal heart rate monitors they stick on your head in the birth canal). Previously your baseline heart rate had hovered around 110 beats per minute and at this moment you were dropping into the 70s and 80s. The doctors were talking to the nurses and discussing different options while I just lay there with my mask and witnessed the madness. Of course, during my previous 2 weeks of boredom I had watched enough baby shows to know that “decells” – heart rate decelerations – were not uncommon and didn’t necessary indicate that your life was in danger.

Christa asked me to turn on my side because sometimes that helps babies breathe more easily. I did that, and shortly thereafter your heart rate seemed to stabilize. Around that time, your Dad walked in and had a rather dazed look on his face. He could tell that he had missed some excitement. We caught him up on the events and I was able to remove my oxygen mask. Christa turned the Pitocin back on and we began chitchatting about various things. It was nice to be able to talk with her and catch up – even if it was a bit awkward at times when she checked my cervix and emptied my bladder!

My parents arrived around 3:00 p.m. I was feeling fine with my epidural and enjoyed catching them up on the afternoon’s events. Grand Daddy made some comment about how it seemed odd that I was in the middle of labor while chatting and laughing as if it were just another day. I think his comment jinxed the day, because it was just a few minutes later when everyone’s jovial mood came to a screeching halt.

Slowly at first and then escalating rapidly, I started to feel pain on my right side from the contractions. I had heard stories before of epidurals wearing off, but it never made any sense to me. Surely this couldn’t be happening to me when I had been such a model patient so far! I began to feel intense pain from the contractions, so I asked Christa to page the anesthesiologist. While we waited for him, my contractions were about 60 seconds apart and I was trying to breathe through every painful second.
[It’s hard to remember every moment from this point forward because it became unbearably painful for me. I’ll do my best to recall all the details.]

As I labored through the intense contractions, I remember Grand Daddy sitting there watching some kind of program on TV. I was so ticked off because I was convinced he had just jinxed the whole thing! Finally, the anesthesiologist arrived and checked my epidural. He was just as surprised that I was in so much pain, but he said there wasn’t anything he could do except to remove the epidural completely and re-insert it. Christa had just checked me and I was at 9.5 centimeters, so it seemed futile to get the epidural reinserted at this point. Looking back, I’m not sure why I thought it was futile – I definitely should’ve gotten the epidural because the pain to come was so much worse that I had already experienced. So I made the decision to “power through it” and have the baby despite my increasing pain and discomfort.

I feel the need at this point to explain my “power through it” concept. As I mentioned before, I had been spending many hours in front of the TV watching baby shows and learning all about various delivery situations prior to your arrival. It always annoyed me to see women giving birth who would yell, scream, and whine their way through the delivery. Especially the ones that would moan and complain to their spouses, “I can’t do this anymore… it hurts…I want a C-section!”. Seeing this, I would roll my eyes at the TV screen and think to myself, “Geez, woman, just power through it!”

So, as most people can probably guess, when I tried to apply my “power through it” advice to my own situation, it didn’t work out so well. But I think more than anything, I was just mad that the epidural wasn’t working for me. All during my pregnancy, people would ask if I was nervous or fearful about the delivery. Without hesitation, my answer was always a resounding “No” because I planned to get the epidural, and that would alleviate the pain. Right?

So there I was, 9.5 centimeters dilated and having horribly painful contractions. Christa suggested that I go ahead and start pushing to dilate fully and ease the pain somewhat. So around 4:30 p.m. or so, I started pushing.

For the first 20 minutes of pushing, I was still having extreme pain from the contractions. I quickly dilated to 10 centimeters, but pushing through the contractions was getting harder and harder. I think I always pictured the pushing as the easy part of labor – if you could endure the contractions, you were home free. But this was certainly not my experience. It’s hard to remember what was more painful at that point: the contractions or the fact that you were dropping and I could feel your head lodged in the birth canal.

It felt like I had been pushing for an eternity, and it got more and more painful as the pushing continued. I was pretty close to losing control after an hour of pushing because I didn’t feel like I was making much progress. I kept hearing your Dad and MeMe say, “You’re doing great, you’re almost there!” But they said that so often and I never got the impression that I was any closer to getting you OUT of me. At one point, Christa had pulled a mirror up so that I could see your head before you started crowning, but I had no desire to see that. She had already told us that you had dark curly hair, but she later retracted and said it was brown.

I think at one point I realized that I had been pushing for over 2 hours. I was exhausted, and the pain kept getting increasingly worse (as if this was possible) with all the pressure I was feeling in my rectum. My doctor had informed me that the feeling of vaginal delivery can be likened to “taking a poop”, but as I was going through it, it actually felt like I was pooping a baby. The doctors and nurses kept trying to stretch me to make room for you, and I actually yelled at the attending doctor, “Get your fingers out of my butt hole!” I’m sure it was a big joke to everyone, but I was NOT a happy camper.

There are other details I remember: I screamed that I didn’t want to push anymore and wanted a C-section instead; I asked Christa if I could take a break from pushing for a few minutes, but taking a break made it hurt worse because of the rectal pressure; I told the doctors that I didn’t want them to use the vacuum or forceps; The doctors gave me a local anesthetic since I had terrible pain from my prior vaginal surgery several years earlier. I was crying and screaming from the pain, and I got mad at MeMe for telling me how close I was. “Lauri,” she said, “Look at all the doctors and nurses in the room. Do you think they would all be in here if you weren’t so close?” She was right – there were probably 6 or 7 doctors, nurses, and interns in the room.

Not to be anti-climatic, but with a few more intense moments and concentrated pushing on my part, you were finally here at 7:20 p.m. I remember thinking to myself that I should be feeling so much better now that you were out, but I was truly still reeling from what I had just experienced. Honestly, it was the most excruciating pain I could ever imagine. That was the only word I could come up with to describe the physical pain of your delivery. And what made it worse was that after your birth, the doctors (and interns) continued to work on me for at least 15 minutes (which felt like another hour of misery). More than anything, all I wanted was to close my legs (I was cursing those stirrups) and rest.

Of course, I don’t mean to skip over the most significant moment of that time – your arrival. I remember that when the doctor first pulled you out of me, I was staring at your Dad. (I may have snuck a peek at you first, though). His immediate reaction was, “Look at him! Look at him!” He had tears in his eyes and rolling down his face, and I was finally able to smile when I saw his elation at your arrival. He also exclaimed, “He’s so big!” and I could certainly agree with that (I felt every ounce of you coming out of me)!

They put you on my tummy and began wiping you off. For several moments, we all noticed that you were very quiet and still had not let out that big cry that most newborns make to announce their presence. The nurses took you to the warmer to clean you up better, and your Dad went over there to watch. He later told me that they shook you, rolled you, banged your heels, and continued to poke and prod you, but you still refused to let out a big cry. They finally determined that you were fine but just weren’t a screamer. You weighed 8 pounds, 6 ounces, and measured 22 inches. They wrapped you up and your Dad was able to hold you. He looked down at you with such wonder and amazement that it still brings tears to my eyes to think of it.

As many new mothers experience, I had the shakes from the epidural (stupid epidural, a lot of good it did me) so when your Dad brought you over to me, I declined to hold you at first. To be honest, I was still experiencing some shock over the painful delivery and I just wasn’t ready to bond with you. I was asked several times if I wanted to hold you, but I just needed some time to digest everything and recover from the events of the afternoon.

I’m not exactly certain of the sequence of events that followed, but I remember that the nurses took you to the nursery for the official assessment, cleaning, and other newborn activities. I think I sent MeMe away to get me something to eat, specifically pizza and a Coke. Your Dad wasn’t pleased that you were in the nursery for so long, so he went off to track you down and he promptly brought you back to us. By this time, I was over my shakes and your Dad handed you to me. I examined you closely for the first time.

I don’t remember much about those first precious moments with you. I know at some point your Dad had to run to the car again (or maybe it was to make some phone calls), so he left me alone with you for the first time. I gazed down lovingly at you and said, “So you’re the guy who’s been kicking me all these months!” You were so precious and making newborn cooing noises and looking around at everything with your wide eyes. The emotions finally hit me and I shed tears for the joy I felt at that moment.

The Long Wait

I had always intended to continue working as long as I could before your arrival. One afternoon in early April (about 3-4 weeks before your due date, depending on which due date you consider) I noticed some major discharge when I visited the restroom. I didn’t think much about it at the time. Early the following morning around 3 a.m. or so, I woke up with strong cramping and was very uncomfortable. I didn’t think it was labor, but I went ahead and scheduled a visit with the doctor just to make sure everything was fine. It was April 11, the day before your Dad’s birthday.

The doctor shocked your Dad and I when she told us that I was already 2 centimeters dilated. Of course, being the impatient one that I am, I asked her what this meant and when I would go into labor. Based purely on experience, she suggested that it would probably happen in the following 7 to 10 days. Wow! That was the last thing I heard. I promptly returned to work, cleaned up my desk, wrapped up some items, and informed my co-workers that I was taking off to have my baby!

(I can almost hear the crickets chirping at this point, indicating the long, miserable wait that I was in for.)

Yes, some would say that I was a little hasty in my decision to take my leave at that point. Looking back, I feel a little silly that I was so anxious to speed things along. But for some reason, I was just convinced that I would deliver soon. I headed home and set up camp on the living room couch, watching TV and waiting for the tale-tell labor symptoms that I was certain to experience soon.

Hours turned into days, and days turned into weeks. Still no Ca-baby. By the end of April, I was pretty ticked off, mostly because I was bored and anxious. But to be honest, I was really just embarrassed by my rash decision to leave work so soon and the fact that I was using up all my maternity leave before you even arrived. In the meantime, it felt like EVERYBODY around me was having babies while I was still sitting there waiting for mine. By this time, all of the pregnant women we knew, including your Aunt Alli, had their babies and were comfortably resting at home with their precious newborns. I, on the other hand, was stewing.

With every new trip to the doctor, I had progressed little by little. Dr. Promecene understood my frustration and impatience, but she kept telling me to hold on a little longer. During my last visit in April, she told me that if I had not gone into labor by my next appointment (May 3), she would send me to the hospital for an induction. Surely, I thought, I’ll go into labor before then. (Nope.)

Ca-baby Showers

During my pregnancy with you, I was so fortunate to have such great friends, family, and co-workers who threw me three separate baby showers. We got more than we ever needed or wanted, which was such a blessing since you were my first baby.

My first shower was given by a couple of my friends at work, Tami Fincher and Thelma Valdez. They reserved the big conference room in our downtown high rise office building and it was filled with so many of my co-workers who came to wish us well with my first baby. Your dad walked over to attend the shower since his job was nearby. We were overwhelmed with all the incredible gifts -- every single thing that I had registered for at Babies R Us had been given to us at that one shower! We felt so incredibly blessed!



My next shower was hosted by my very best friends in the world, your aunties Dana, Katherine, Amanda, and Vashti. It was a tradition for us to host baby showers for each other in honor of weddings and first babies. The shower was held at Aunt Amanda's house and the only other attendees were my close family members. It was such a wonderful and intimate gathering and I felt incredibly special at all the sweet touches.

The last shower was hosted by my cousin Robin and her friend Crystal for both your Aunt Alli and me at the Pine Tree church. It was so neat to be honored together with Alli. The turnout was great and everyone was so generous and sweet. I have never felt so special and loved as I did in this season of life, surrounded by loved ones and well-wishers for my first baby.