Peter Williams Jespersen

Pete was born!

(disclaimer:all photos are phone photos)

As it started getting closer and closer to Christmas and my birthday I started getting more and more desperate to go into labor.  I tried various things that my google searches told me to try.  I even talked a midwife into meeting me at the office to strip my membranes on Saturday morning, the 21st.  But nothing happened.  I was so certain that I would go into labor after having my membranes stripped that when it didn't happen and I woke up on my birthday, the 22nd, still pregnant, I couldn't stop crying.  It wasn't that I was just so tired of being pregnant, it was that I didn't know what to do with myself, or how to celebrate my birthday because the PLAN was for me to be busy with a baby on my birthday.  Even after I had decided not to be a cry baby the tears just streamed and streamed.  I cried from about 5:30 am until the kids came in to wish me a Happy Birthday.  They were pretty weirded out by the tears.  At one point Jack made me laugh and he was so pleased with himself.  "I made you happy!  You aren't sad anymore!"  Then I cried more of course.  But then the hospital called, as I was signed up to be induced on December 23rd.  They said I could come in at 7:30 am.  I decided I could handle that and eventually the tears stopped and I got myself out of bed. 

We went to Sharon's for dinner that night.  We played Settlers of Catan.  I kept having little contractions, but they were irregular.  In fact, this pregnancy was the only time I ever felt Braxton Hick's contractions.  And they are nothing but annoying.  We put the kids to bed at Sharon's house so we wouldn't have to wake them up early, and in the hopes that I would actually go into labor that night.  I had never been induced before and had really mixed feelings about it.  I would have much preferred going into labor myself.  So as a little birthday treat after we got home from Sharon's and just as I was getting ready for bed the contractions started coming.  They quickly got to being 2-3 minutes apart and lasting 45 seconds.  They weren't all that intense but I definitely couldn't sleep through them.  Then I remembered my birth plan, which consists only of, "Get to the hospital with plenty of time to get an epidural."  So at about 2:00 am we headed off to the hospital, hopeful to catch a nap after the epidural.  

Our new-to-us van that we had just purchased the day before decided to turn on the "Service Engine Soon" light as we drove to the hospital.  So we were super annoyed and stressed about that but tried not to dwell on it because, you know, we were having a baby.

So we got to the hospital and I informed them that I wanted an epidural.  I was only 4.5 cm dilated, so felt like a bit of a wuss.  But, hey, this wasn't my first rodeo and I had nothing to prove.  So I got the epidural at about 3:30 or so, I think. Then they broke my water and Matt took a little nap.  I was way too wired to sleep.  At 6:35 I was fully dilated.  It was time to push.  I hate the pushing--being the center of attention and wondering if by "good job" they mean, "you are making progress" or "man, you suck at this, but I'm going to try to encourage you."  But Jack and Hank came out in about 10-15 minutes so I figured it wouldn't be too bad.  I had asked for a lot of pointers on pushing so the plan was for him to just fly out.  So I pushed with all my might and I definitely got the, "Man, you suck at this, but I'm going to try to encourage you" vibe.  So I pushed and pushed and pushed.  The blood vessels around my eyes ended up popping and I had a lovely little speckled red look.  I got really, really hot and sweaty and took off the hospital gown.  After about 30 minutes they asked if I wanted to take a break.  "No, I want to get this baby out so I can no longer be sitting here buck naked with everyone staring at me."  But really I just said, "No."  So I tried to push even harder and I finally started feeling his head down there.  That was encouraging so I pushed and pushed and pushed.  His head came out and the midwife said, "Ok, don't push anymore."  Then she glanced at the nurse by my side and somehow that nurse knew that glance meant, "Do some weird stuff to her belly."  So she started doing some CPR-esque maneuvers on my belly and then Pete came out at 7:28.  And like I did all the other times, I saw his little bluish body just laying there, and felt like an eternity passed before he finally cried so I cried and asked a hundred times, "Is he ok?"

But he was ok!  Man, it feels like a miracle to have 4 healthy children.  They measured his head and the nurses had a little conversation between themselves about how they rarely see a head that big.  I felt better and better about my pushing abilities.  Jane's head was enormous, at 100th percentile, too, and it took me 2 hours, vacuuming, and a big episiotomy to push her out, so 40 minutes seemed like something to be proud of.  Then they weighed him and he was 9 lb, 5 oz.  He made pushing out 6 lb, 14 oz, tiny head Jack feel like a bowel movement.  Then they told me that he had shoulder dystocia, meaning his shoulder was stuck behind my pubic bone, which can happen to bigger babies.  I read about it later, how it's dangerous for the mom to keep pushing, and how you don't have a lot of time to get the baby out because their chests are being compressed in that position, and I just felt so GRATEFUL that that nurse had studied what to do and was able to so quickly and easily help get him out.  

So Pete was here!  I was super sore and super swollen.  It was a lot like recovering from Jane, only I wasn't quite as shocked to see my nether regions swell to the size of a bowling ball this time.  Matt had to leave to take care of the kids.  And Pete was pretty fussy.  The hospital was so dead.  There was hardly anyone there and no one offered to take him to the nursery so I just kept having to get in and out of bed to help take care of him.  So I just spent the whole day, pretty miserable, in the hospital trying to take care of big, fussy Pete.  I was REALLY tired since I hadn't slept at all the night before.  Between the fussiness and my inability to sleep in new places, and the number of people who kept coming in, mostly to discuss if I should be breastfeeding on my TB meds, I didn't get to nap that day either.  Finally a pediatric infectious disease doctor came in and set the record straight--that I could breastfeed on those meds, no problem.  

Matt didn't come back with the kids until about 7:30 at night.  He forgot to bring all of the things I had asked him to bring for me so he had to leave the kids there and go get them.  He was surprised when I told him that he had to take Hank, who had been extremely high needs lately, with him.  I was even more surprised that my dear sweet husband expected me to be up for having all four kids crammed into a hospital room at 8 o'clock at night, when I could not sit, stand, or move comfortably.  It turns out even Jane and Jack staying was a mistake. They started fighting over the ipad and were insanely loud and annoying to me and the one other lady in the hall who was probably trying to sleep.  

Finally Matt came back and got the kids and I simultaneously looked forward to the night and trying to finally sleep and feared it immensely for having to deal with Pete all by my hurting little self.

So, the 23rd was rough, but Pete made it safe and sound and I was grateful.  And after a little sleep, I was starting to feel a little less psychotic.  Matt came and got me and I was able to leave the hospital at 10:30 am on Christmas Eve.  

More on how we've all fallen in love with Pete to come!

(obviously Matt can even take a better phone photo than me.  Sorry it's blurry/weird light, Matt!)