Sally Theresa Lazzaro was born at the 38 week mark, at 3:17am on December 2nd, 2016. She weighed 8 pounds 4 ounces and was 19 inches long. The above picture was taken when she was 1 week old, when I would have been 39 weeks pregnant.
We don’t sleep so good right now, but it’s fine. It’s all temporary.
Things are foggy.
Do you guys want to hear the birth story? I’ll tell you the birth story, how about that. I loved reading birth stories later in pregnancy both times. Actually, let me recommend a book I read first when I was pregnant with Evan and re-read when pregnant with Sally. It’s beautifully written. It’s called Labor Day. A+
Okay, the story!
During my 37th week of pregnancy I felt some small contractions a few times at night, to the point where I would time them and they would be very erratic and then I would fall asleep. But it felt like things were happening for a few days.
I went to the doctor for a regular weekly appointment, at 37 weeks 6 days. Billy’s mom came up to play with Evan so I could go to the doctor without him. He is great but a huge friggin handful in a doctor’s office, or really anywhere that isn’t a designated play space. 2 year olds, am I right? Luckily for me, Jeannine had brought an overnight bag, just in case. So I went to the doctor and did fetal monitoring: the baby looked great. My doctor came in and took my blood pressure and made a very serious face and took it again and said I should just go to the hospital and get induced. She checked my dilation and I was at a “loose 1” (yuck) meaning I was dilated one centimeter, almost two. I was… not prepared to go have a baby at that point. My blood pressure had been holding pretty steady and I didn’t bring my bag or anything. I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to deliver for another week. So I called Billy and told him to leave work and meet me at the hospital. It was all very abrupt. I felt very emotional about not being able to say a proper goodbye to Evan, who we would be leaving for the longest stretch of his life. He was fine, of course, but I felt guilty.
I drove from the doctor’s office to the hospital and got checked in. I went up to triage and got one dose of cervical softener. With Evan, it took like a million doses of cervical softener and then a horrible nightmare cervix balloon and then I got Pitocin, but this time I only needed one cervical softener and we were off to the races.
When you get a dose of cervical softener, you have to sit in triage for an hour, on a fetal monitor, and then you have to go somewhere else for 3 hours, then you come back for another dose or to take things to the next level. So I sat on the monitor, I had a bunch of contractions, then they sent me away for 3 hours. Billy and I went to a pub and had some food, which was super fun. There’s a magical time in an induction when you know things are happening but nothing is too painful yet, and it’s all the anticipation of Christmas Eve, only instead of presents you’re going to get a lot of pain and then no sleep for at least 6 weeks haha, no jk you get the GREATEST GIFT OF ALL, A HUMAN CHILD. Anyway. We ate a late lunch, then we went to a nearby grocery store to kill the rest of the time. We bought a bunch of nonsense at the grocery store, which is one of my favorite things to do. Magazines, chocolate covered pretzels, s’mores pop tarts, you know, that kind of thing. Mango Snapple. Just the kind of shit I would never normally buy, but I felt entitled to because I was about to be in labor. I deserved s’mores pop tarts.
So we went back to the hospital, pop tarts in tow, and I checked in again, went to triage again, my doctor took a look at things and I had dilated to 2 centimeters. They admitted me to labor and delivery and started an IV of Pitocin. My mom got to the hospital, we watched the Boston Christmas tree lighting, featuring the delightful Bel Biv DeVoe, who legit killed it. We watched a lot of TV actually, because the Pitocin didn’t make my contractions that bad. And Charlie Brown Christmas was on, which is amazing. And then the American version of the Great British Baking Show. TV is so great sometimes. Then it started hurting a little more and my doctor said she would like to break my water and did I want an epidural before or after. I elected to get it before, because I remembered what it felt like when they broke my water and the contractions got crazy last time. So I had a very chill epidural, she broke my water, and things progressed. We all tried to sleep, but around 2am I was feeling breakthrough pain and thought the epidural wasn’t working right. Before the anesthesiologist could come back, my doctor checked me and I was fully dilated. So I pushed.
Sally came out in 10 minutes.
It was… dare I say… easy.
The hard part now isn’t really having a newborn, because I’ve done that, and I recognize the nice things about it. It’s nice to be forced to sit down and feed a baby all day. It’s nice to have nothing expected of you. It’s nice to have a warm, snuggly baby asleep on your body. It’s also nice to know that the hard parts don’t last that long. The really hard part is having a toddler, who is still uncharted territory, who is a human wrecking ball on a potty strike, who loves throwing his toys and screaming. But he’s also great, there are super nice things about him, too. Like when he holds my face in his pudgy hands so he can kiss me on the mouth. And when he tells us he wants an orange and some blueberries for Christmas.
Oh but not sleeping still sucks a butt. I could really use some sleep.
Anyway, welcome to the world, Sally. I like you a lot so far.