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Little Roo’s Birth Story- Part 2

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If you missed part one of the story, read it here.

Doctor P came in to see how dilated I was. She looked puzzled… surprised even. Her exact words to us were,”I don’t think that’s a head!”

My heart sank.

The nurse brought in an ultrasound machine and the image confirmed it – Little Roo was breech!

At that point I just started crying. It had been going so well. I didn’t think my attempt at a VBAC would end for this of all reasons! I mean, why didn’t they know he was breech before? I’m certain he flipped at some point in the few weeks prior but no one ever caught it – not even me. I even remembered another doctor commenting on feeling his head at my 36 week appointment. Heck, the nurse even checked me earlier that morning and didn’t notice it.

Regardless of when it happened, there was no sense sitting around to labor any longer- a repeat cesarean was in my near future.

I looked at the clock. It was getting close to 7:00 and I knew Big Roo would be awake or close to it. I asked the doctor and nurses if we could wait a minute so we could call Big Roo. I knew it would be scary for him to wake up and us not be there so I wanted to reassure him we were okay and were coming back.

I texted my friend and he wasn’t awake yet. A few minutes later though I called and sure enough he was awake.

And scared.

Poor thing was bawling. I could distinguish this cry from the his usual “I don’t wanna go to bed” or “I just got a boo boo” cries. It was a frightened cry and it shattered my heart in a zillion pieces. He was under a table in his room crying and shying away from my friend, who he knows a “G’s mom.”

She put me on speakerphone. I told him it was mama. That we were at the hospital with the baby and I knew he was scared. I explained that G’s mom would take him to daycare so he could play with his friends. He kept crying and by this time so was I. I talked through my own bawling to tell him it’s okay and that I love him. I hung up and cried even harder. Daddy Roo’s eyes watered as he stroked my hair. This sure wasn’t easy.

Luckily, I got a text a few minutes later saying that he was doing fine now. It gave me the peace I needed, even if she was just saying that (I found out later he really WAS just fine and had a great time with her that morning).

Time to have this baby!

Daddy Roo changed into scrubs and unlike three years ago, I snapped a shot of him this time.

I got wheeled down the hall to the operating room. The nurses were so awesome as we prepped for surgery. It took a while to test my numbness and prep everything. The epidural was making me shake and the nurse commented on how freezing my hands were. Luckily the shaking never got as bad as with Big Roo.

Daddy Roo came in and say down beside me. He was so sweet and attentive, stroking my hair and grabbing my hand for support.

After upping my epi a few times (I could feel little pinches during their “tests”), it was time to start. I could feel tugging and pulling here and there but Elizabeth, the awesome nurse anesthetist, stayed by my head and told me what they were doing at each stage. Daddy Roo was on the other side of my head asking how I was doing.

When it came time to bring Little Roo into the world, I felt immense pressure and pulling. The suddenly, they held him up over the blue sheet and we met him for the first time- covered in blood, all scrunched up and absolutely gorgeous!

I cried out of pure happiness and then I heard him cry. Daddy Roo cried too. Our second son was finally here… on Big Roo’s birthday no less! Daddy Roo went over to watch the baby get his Apgar scores and took some pics to bring back to me.

While I couldn’t hold him until later, they brought him to Daddy Roo to hold once he was cleaned up. He took his son gently into his arms and laid him beside me so that our faces were inches apart.

I stroked his hair and face, admiring our new son. At one point, he reached out and wrapped his tiny hand around my finger. I couldn’t get the best look since the blankets that wrapped him up slightly covered his face. But I could see that his nose was just like Big Roo’s… that he had those steel blue newborn eyes… and a head full of dark hair just like his brother.

After I left recovery, I finally held him. He sunk into my arms like he had done it a thousand times. Tears streamed down my face.

Two boys. One birthday. Three years apart. Absolutely perfect.

Little Roo's Birth Story- Part 1

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Well, Little Roo is a little over a week old now and I’m finally getting some time to post part one of his birth story. If you see any parts that read something like cvfkasrjgrfkjglaj, that just means I fell asleep while typing this due to exhaustion.

His story has to start with a little background on Big Roo’s birth. With Big Roo, I labored for 12 hours before ending up with a C-section. Recovery was horrible. I was floored how difficult it was on me, especially since I was healthy and in shape. At first I felt cheated since I never got to push him into this world but I got over it. Just because I had a C didn’t mean I didn’t BIRTH him. It’s ludicrous to think otherwise. But the recovery haunted me so much that this go around, I was determined to attempt a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean).

Well, determined may not be the perfect word. I flip-flopped through most of the pregnancy but never let them take “VBAC” off my chart. Certain phrases like “uterine rupture” scared me but I was also annoyed how few doctors let women attempt VBACs. Around 30 weeks, I made up my mind for good. I’d done the research, weighed the options and talked to my OB doctors. The doctors supported me. Daddy Roo supported me too. So VBAC attempt it would be.

Fast forward to Monday, February 22. For some reason, I was full of productivity that day. I’d gotten lots done at work. I talked with my friend about the details surrounding what she dubbed “Operation Big Roo” – aka the plan for when I go into labor and she comes to the house to take care of Big Roo. I even asked daycare for a permission form for her to pick him up if need be.

That night, I had a hard time getting to sleep, which is unlike me. I attributed it to being Big Roo’s birthday the next day. For the month of February, I had a list of dates I hoped Little Roo wouldn’t be born. I mentally checked them off with a sigh of relief as they passed…

… my baby shower… Big Roo’s 3 year photo shoot (and maternity pics too)… Valentine’s Day… Big Roo’s birthday party…

I had a few more don’t-come-on-this-date dates left to go: Big Roo’s third birthday 2/23), my niece’s birthday (2/26) and Big Roo’s sibling tour at the hospital (2/27, which had been rescheduled from 2/13 due to snow) but Big Roo’s birthday was the big one.

Life has a funny way of working out.

On February 23rd around 3:30 a.m., I woke up to a dull crampy feeling. And like every night for the past few months, I had to pee. I heaved my belly over to the edge of the bed and sat up.

Then I felt it.

My… water… just… broke.

At first, I was in denial that it was actually my water. Maybe I just really had to pee? But deep down I knew. With a laugh, I said, “you’ve gotta be kidding me.” I knew Little Roo was going to share a birthday with his big brother!

Daddy Roo was quickly up and alert, despite being up until 2 am working on a work project. After calling the doc, I called my friend from Follow Linus to start “Operation Big Roo,” which consisted of being at the house when Big Roo woke up and getting him fed, clothed and off to daycare. My contractions picked up and by the time she arrived they were about 2 minutes apart and starting to get painful.

We got to the hospital around 4:30 a.m. and the contractions were getting stronger. From about 4:30 until 6:30 I labored and got up to an impressive 5 cm. The contractions were REALLY starting to suck but Daddy Roo was helping me through- holding my hand, reminding me to breathe, all the right stuff your “support partner” is supposed to do. At this point I was ready for the epidural but feeling blissful at the same time. I said to Daddy Roo, “Can you believe how great this is going so far? Maybe I’ll get a VBAC after all!”

I then got my much-wanted epidural. I remember how much the needle stung last time but this time I hardly felt a thing… well, except for the contraction pain slowly dissolving with each one. Aaahhhh. After that set in, the doctor came and checked me.

And then, not 20 minutes after my optimistic proclamation, it all changed.

Welcome, Little Roo!

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Ethan Reese Culbertson entered this world on February 23 at 7:57 am… which is big brother Noah’s (Big Roo) third birthday! At 38 weeks along, he weighed in at 6 lbs. 9 oz and was 20 inches long.

We’re home now and resting wonderfully (well, at nights are another story!). I’ll post his birth story in a few days but for now I’m savoring every little moment I can with this cutie.

The Irony of Nesting in the Third Trimester

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I’ve been feeling adventurous lately but it has nothing to do with hiking the Appalachian Trail, cliff diving or bungee jumping. It’s all the way on the other side of the adventure scale… the side that’s labeled domestic. With less than SIX WEEKS from my due date, I’ve turned into a

pregnant

nesting

ninja.

While it totally makes sense that nesting happens towards the end of pregnancy, it’s also damn ironic. Why?

Because I’m sore.

Because I make sound effects like uuuhh and owwww every time I get up from all the “round ligament pain” crap.

Because I’m now waddling from carrying around what feels like an oompla loompa in my uterus.

But yet the last stage of pregnancy is the time that women go nuts with preparing nurseries, cleaning closets and scrubbing showers with impeccable speed. For those who had this nesting stuff happen in the “golden” second trimester, consider yourself lucky!

I, however, am hunkering down at 34 weeks pregnant. In the past weeks, my mad nesting ninja skills have led me to whip around the kitchen with a sponge in one hand and a bottle of Seventh Generation All-Purpose Spray in the other scrubbing off every last spec of dried spaghetti sauce and no-named spots.

I sliced and diced the stacks of paper in our computer room– filing, tossing and shredding.

This weekend I wielded a giant shampooer and cleaned the carpets. And yes, *I* did the shampooing while Daddy Roo worked on the fireplace project he started eight months ago. To his credit, he did shampoo the stairs and the couch. The amount of dirt, dog hair and other muck we pulled out of the carpet makes me wanna freaking do that every week. Disgusting!

And though I haven’t acted on it (yet), I get this urge to pack up half the things in my closet EVERY TIME I pull a shirt off the hanger. I’m fighting the urge right this second to go grab and box and get that crap out of here.

(As an aside, within TWO days of shampooing the carpet and couch, Trajan the Yellow Lab puked on the carpet and my POTTY TRAINED Big Roo peed on the couch. I mean… seriously?!)

This doesn’t even include what I consider the “fun” part of nesting like…

… washing Big Roo’s old baby clothes with a few new things tossed in for good measure…

… picking out bedding for Big Roo’s new twin bed and Little Roo’s crib…

… trying to make their rooms look halfway put together before I go into labor.

Aaaah nesting. It’s exhausting when I’m already exhausted. It’s frantic when I’m already frantic about having just SIX WEEKS left (yes, the number of weeks is worth mentioning again).

But tomorrow when I grunt and groan as I roll out of bed, at least I’ll feel some sense of accomplishment. At least until that bedroom closet starts calling me again.

Pregnant Adventures in… Bloodwork?

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Do you know your blood type? Well, I thought I did until last week. And since it’s especially important when you’re 28 weeks pregnant (ever heard of RhoGAM?), this was a problem.

When you’re pregnant with your first child, you seem to be obsessed with knowing what’s happening to you week-by-week. At least I was. This time around, I haven’t even broken out my “Great Expectations” book. Instead I got hi-tech and sporadically check my Expecting iPhone app and even more sporadically look at Babycenter.com.

It was at Babycenter.com’s site that I decided to read up on my 28th week a few days before my doctor appointment. It was here that I discovered I was actually in my THIRD AND FINAL trimester (which cracks me up since last pregnancy I counted the days until I reached each trimester). Then the day after my appointment I ventured to the site again for no real reason but boredom, then read that women with a negative blood type may receive their RhoGAM shot at 28 weeks. (If you have no idea what I’m talking about, take a second to skim over this.)

Wait a second. But I’m Rh Negative (O- to be exact) and they didn’t even mention the shot! I remembered getting the shot with Big Roo both at 28 weeks AND after he was born since he had a positive blood type.

So thinking the doctor forgot, I called to ask the OB nurse and things got more confusing.

She calls me back a couple of hours later. Even through the courteous hi-how-are-yas, I can hear her voice dripping with confusion. The lab results showed I’m O+ so there’s no need for a shot. I assured her that I received the shots with Big Roo and as she flipped through the patient history sent from OB in Phoenix, she confirmed that indeed I had been marked as having O- blood and received all the shots as any O- pregnant lady would.

Funny thing is that I remember sitting in the doctor’s office being told my blood type was negative last pregnancy. I whipped out my old blood donor card and pointed out that it said I was O+. They chalked it up to a typo and I honestly never thought too much of it. After all, typos happen.

Faulty blood tests apparently happen too. A couple of days after speaking with the OB nurse, she calls me to say she flagged down the ACTUAL lab results from Phoenix and get this: my 2006 bloodwork says O+ and my 2007 says O-. Um, who didn’t catch this before now?

So last Wednesday, I had to pop into the doctor’s office again for yet another blood test. At this point I was pretty sure I was indeed O+ but we may as well be certain.

Today I got a call from the doctor’s office. The results were in and I was FOR CERTAIN a pregnant lady with an O+ blood type.

Sheesh!

I had a couple of people ask me if I was mad as hell that my old OB got it all wrong a few years ago. Honestly, I’m a little irked but nothing really more than that. I was told that it wasn’t damaging to get the shot when I didn’t need it. The biggest proof of that is Big Roo, who’s healthy and smart as can be. I mean, how can I be angry at something that happened three years ago and didn’t cause me any lasting damage?

I guess the lesson is to trust your gut, however quiet it’s whispering. The blood donor card said O+ so even though I did ask about it, I should have pressed further as to why it would have been different. Call the blood bank. Or ask for a do-over on lab work. I didn’t do either and it’s only three years later that I got it straightened out.

O+, O+, O+.

I surely won’t be forgetting my blood type anytime soon!