(I'm still doing Ripped in 30! It's going good and I feel better, stronger and more energetic than I have in a long time. But today's post is about my butter bean, Weston Sherman Carter. He got his middle name from his dad....and I wouldn't have it any other way.)
The 2 loves of my life. I can't imagine my life without either of them and am truly blessed to have Matt as my husband and as the father of my child. We hope...JUST kidding : )
I can't believe my baby is 5 months. 5 months! They have been the most trying 5 months and the most wonderful 5 months of my life. I know everyone tells you that's how parenthood is...the hardest and the best thing you'll ever do. It's true. But I didn't really get it until I lived it. And to think, I'm only 5 months in.
7 week sonogram....we were officially parents
I started having contractions on Sunday, February 5th, during the Super Bowl. I didn't know that's what they were though. I had back labor, so I wasn't feeling tightening in my stomach/uterus. I was just feeling these waves of intense pressure in my lower back....and especially in my bootay. We were watching the game at some friends' house just down the street from our house, and I told Matt we probably needed to go home because I felt weird. Such a good husband. He kept asking me if I thought it was contractions, but I kept assuring him that no, these weren't what contractions were supposed to feel like. Everything I had read and everyone I has spoken to insisted that I would KNOW when I was having contractions. Well, I didn't know. I just kept having this weird pressure every 10, 15, sometimes 30 minutes. I didn't sleep much Sunday night and by Monday morning, I was rethinking my stance on the not-contractions I was having.
I don't know exactly when this was taken, but I'm pretty sure I felt as huge and exhausted as I looked. Fun times. There towards the end, my watermelon belly snuck out of even maternity tops.
I went to work on Monday because, even though I had determined these WERE in fact contractions, they weren't consistently 5 minutes apart. That's the doctors' rule, if you didn't know. Don't come to the hospital until you have contractions 5 minutes apart or less, for an hour. The contractions I was having were uncomfortable, but nothing I couldn't handle. So I worked all day, and by the time I went home on Monday, the contractions were stronger and no more than 15 minutes apart. So I went to bed Monday night, and only got a couple hours of sleep because of those darn contractions....they were getting ruthless.
19 week sono....It's a BOY!
Tuesday morning was the same story. I would have 3 or 4 contractions a few minutes apart, but then I'd go 10 or 12 minutes without one. So I figured I'd go back to work. You probably think I'm weird for doing this, but I've got a few good reasons, including:
1) I was hurting and didn't want to sit at home by myself all day, feeling sorry for myself and being bored.
2) I wanted to save my maternity days for when I had the baby.
3) People don't expect you to do much work when you're having contractions, so I let myself take it easy while....errr...working.
4) Matt has 2-3 week breaks from school every few months and his upcoming break was going to line up with my maternity leave. The more days I worked now, the more days I got to spend with hubby and baby later.
By Tuesday afternoon, I had to brace myself every time I felt another contraction coming on. If I was talking to someone, I had to turn away because of the ugly face I knew I was making with each painful contraction. I began to worry that it wasn't safe for me to drive myself home. But I made it through the day and got home safely. The contractions got worse as the evening progressed and I was turning into an emotional-sleep-deprived-contraction-having hot mess. I cried because I felt helpless. The contractions STILL weren't consistently 5 minutes apart, but the pain in my lower back/butt was constant now and went from bad to worse with each contraction. I couldn't lay down because it made me hurt worse. Matt went to bed and I stayed in the living room, sitting indian style in front of our couch, laying my head on it for "rest".
27 week 3d sono....we finally see our baby's face. These pictures creep some people out.
I didn't sleep that night. Not. At. All. I knew by 11 PM that I wasn't going to work on Wednesday. I was getting this baby out one way or another. I was tired, but mostly, I was hurting. At about 2 AM, I started vomiting after each contraction from the pain. I'm serious. It was intense. Matt woke up to check on me and asked if I was ready to go to the hospital. I told him we would go, but he needed to get some more sleep because it was going to be a long day and I wanted him to be as rested as possible. I think I should win the wife of the year award for that. By 4:30, I was ready to go. I remember the drive to the hospital, I was so afraid they were going to tell me to go back home, that my contractions weren't close enough together. I was TERRIFIED of this. Hormones do weird things to your mind.
We got the hospital at 5 AM, I got checked by a nurse, and was dilated to a 5. Hooray! They weren't kicking me out! I got to stay! I WAS HAVIN' A BABY! We called our families and let everyone know that today was the day we would meet Weston.
I should inform you that Matt and I had decided we wanted a natural birth, with the well-being of baby and mama as top priority. We made this decision after researching, praying, and deciding what was best for our family.
By 11 AM, I was hurting like I had never hurt before. Times a thousand. This went on until 2 PM when I was dilated to an 8. We were almost there. I asked the nurse what we could do to speed things up because I couldn't handle much more of this. She informed me that they could break my water for me, but that would make my contractions MORE painful. WHAT?!? Um, I'm sorry, but....that didn't seem possible. I asked for a moment with my husband. I told Matt that I didn't want to disappoint him, but I wanted an epidural. I told him that if I was in any more pain, I was going to go crazy or I was going to die. And at the time, I meant it. Matt was so great. He was so understanding and loving and caring. He didn't argue or show disappointment. He just loved me and supported my decision. We called in the nurse and they had to bring in the anesthesiologist immediately, since I was running out of time. I got the epidural at 2:45 PM, my water broke on its own around 3:20 PM, I started pushing at about 3:45, and Weston was born at 4:56 PM.
This post isn't intended to scare you away from having children. I guarantee you that millions of other women have had FAR more traumatic experiences with childbirth. It is different for everyone. Some women love it. some women go through it with virtually no pain. Some women suffer for hours. It wasn't easy for me. It was a long, painful process. But I would do it a thousand times if I had to for my sweet boy. And childbirth is NOTHING compared to parenthood. The hard part doesn't even start until you get home with that baby. But again, SO worth it.
I'm so thankful that God blessed Matt and I with Weston. He has already brought so much joy to our lives. I am so blessed to be this boy's mama. Weston Sherman Carter, you mean the world to me and I love you to the moon and back. Times a thousand.
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