Childbirth is a beautiful thing.. sometimes.

Having your first child is such a memorable event.. its definitely something you'll never forget. My entire pregnancy I thought that I was further along than the doctors told me I was--all of the "pregnancy milestones" (kicking, etc) were reached about 2 weeks before the doctors said they should be; I even had one doctor roll her eyes at me when I told her that I could feel him kicking (that was an awful doctor and I only saw her for that one visit). I hated being pregnant, but I also kinda loved it. Every night I had Joe rub lotion on my belly in hopes of preventing stretch marks (I've come to the conclusion that that's just genetics--nothing you do will change your fate). It was such a fun time when I was pregnant; we lived in Downtown San Diego--a 5 minute walk from both Seaport Village and Horton Plaza--so we were always walking "trying to get that baby out" (that also does nothing. I tried EVERYTHING to get labor going--its not going to happen until the baby is ready; anything that worked for you was purely coincidence).

The timing of my due date was unfortunate; I was due 2 weeks before our moving day. I PRAYED that I would go into labor on time (or even early would have been great!)--but Maverick had other plans. My due date came and went, and our moving day was closing in. We were still renting at the time, so we went to the new apartment a week early to sign our lease and give permission for my dad to pick up the keys on our moving day in the event that I was in labor and couldn't be there. We hired movers so that if I were in labor, my dad would just pick up the keys from the new place, let the movers in, and tell them where to put stuff.

Days were creeping up and I was now a week past due; my doctor set an induction date for the following week if I hadn't gone into labor. We decided on March 21 (Joe's birthday!) for me to be induced; our moving day was March 20th and I figured we would move and I would get as much of Maverick's room unpacked as I could, then go to the hospital to be induced the next day. Sounds perfect, right? (Well, as perfect as moving while pregnant could be). I'm very organized and had most of the apartment packed up; every box was labeled with the room it was supposed to go in, and under each label was a list of EVERYTHING that was in the box so that it would be easy to find stuff during this transition. On Thursday, March 19th, I woke up covered in little hives that itched like crazy. I told Joe and he told me to call the nurse hotline just in case. I hesitated but called (I had packing to do--we were moving the next day!). The nurse sounded urgent and told me that I needed to go into triage immediately so they could do a blood draw and make sure there wasn't anything wrong with my liver. I was PISSED. I had a lot to get done that day; I was not wanting to go to labor and delivery to sit in triage for hours. I called my mom and told her that we were heading to the hospital so they could monitor me and that I wasn't happy about it. She told me to keep her posted (which of course I would have anyways). We got to triage and they checked me in, stuck me in a little room, and hooked me up to monitors--then left me. For hours. At this point I was really pissed. I wasn't there because I was having contractions and needed to be monitored; I was there for a blood draw and to get back home--that was it. Oh yeah, those stupid monitors are horribly uncomfortable too. So once a few hours had passed, I told Joe to go find someone so I could yell at them. He went, found a nurse, and she sent someone in. A midwife greeted me and asked if it was okay if a med student sat in and watched. Sure--doesn't make a difference to me. The midwife told me that she was going to check and see how dilated I was; what she didn't tell me was that she was going to strip my membranes while up there (basically jump-starts your labor and usually sets you into labor within 24 hours). That hurt SO bad; Joe and I agreed that that was probably the equivalent of getting 'kicked in the balls' because my stomach started cramping up and I felt nauseous. I was pissed at this midwife; she didn't ask for permission to strip my membranes--and I would go into labor within 24 hours: my moving day. Great. She then gave me two options: they could induce me right then, or I could wait till I went into labor. Joe and I talked about it, and we decided that being induced then was a better idea so that we could just plan on my dad doing the move for us instead of me waiting to go into labor and it happening while we're moving with no one there to help us. I was TERRIFIED.

I knew that I was going to be induced on the 21st--I was prepared for that. I wasn't prepared to be induced on the 19th. I know that may sound crazy, but I was freaking out. I called my mom and told her that they were going to induce me then, and told her I'd keep her posted on when she should come to the hospital (my parents were an hour away from where I was delivering). At 10:00 am they hooked me up to IVs and at 11:00 am they started me on pitocin (in case you haven't seen 16 and Pregnant, pitocin is medicine to induce labor). At 2:00 pm they broke my water, and that has to be one of the grossest things in the world--I'll just say: thank god it never broke while I was at home.. YUCK. A few more hours passed, and at 5:00 pm I got an epidural (I was only 3cm dilated. I heard horror stories in my birthing class of people wanting an epidural but the anesthesiologist being stuck in surgery for hours--so if you start feeling like you may want an epidural, put in the order for it). I was hardly hurting at that point, but I knew that I would want an epidural in  a little bit--so I put the order in for it. My luck, the anesthesiologist was in my room within 5 minutes. Ummm, okay, lets do this. I got my epidural (which is crazy scary, but is such an amazing drug) and I was set. Now I just had to wait. This epidural was strong; I couldn't feel a thing. Hours went by, mine and Joe's family was starting to arrive, and I was still waiting and waiting. Honestly, it was kind of fun hanging out with everyone in my labor room while I waited to dilate. I was in zero pain, and we were all just hanging out and having a good time. I think it was around 11:00 pm that everyone started heading home to get some sleep; we promised that we would keep everyone posted. My parents and sisters went back to Joe's and my apartment and stayed the night there so that they wouldn't be an hour away. Joe and I both got some sleep, and around 6:30 the next morning (our moving day) they told me I was at 10cm and was ready to start pushing. My mom was there in the room with us, and I was ready to go. My epidural was still going strong, and I couldn't feel a thing when I was pushing. We would be having a completely normal conversation, they would tell me I needed to push, then we carried on with our conversation. It was kinda great, and time flew. I didn't realize it, but I pushed for 2 1/2 hours--that's CRAZY. The last 20 minutes of pushing, however, were complete HELL. It was awful. My epidural completely wore off (probably because I got it so early), they were trying to turn Maverick because he was facing my right hip and they thought that was why he wasn't coming out, and I don't remember this, but my mom and Joe said that I was just screaming at that point. I don't fully remember everything, but I do know that I was in the most pain I had ever been in my entire life. I felt like I was dying. After 2 1/2 hours of pushing, the doctor said that I could push for another 30 minutes and if he didn't come out, I'd get a c-section, or I could opt for the c-section then. I was in so much pain--I just wanted him out. I told them I wanted the c-section, and they threw a crap ton of release forms on my chest for me to sign: "In the event of this, we might need to take your uterus out and you can never have any more babies. In the event of this, you might bleed to death. Sign here." Uhh, okay, whatever--just get this kid out of me.

They wheeled me off to the operating room and they had Joe outside putting scrubs on while they prepped me. I was so scared; I just wanted him there with me. Seemed like the longest 15 minutes of my life. They injected morphine into my epidural and I instantly felt nauseous. Try throwing up when you're numb from your neck down; you're basically just dry heaving and making throw up noises--except you can actually throw up. They had to give me more medicine to counter-act the morphine, and then I was set. Oh yeah--did I mention that I had some weird reaction to the epidural and was violently shaking the entire time; they had to strap me down to the table to make sure I didn't convulse onto the floor. Oh, and I pulled a muscle in my shoulder while pushing for 2 1/2 hours--which your shoulders are basically the only part on your body (besides your head) that isn't numb from an epidural--so it friggin hurt BAD. My blood pressure kept dropping extremely low and they kept having to give me more medicine to bring it back up. More and more and more meds. Finally Maverick was born at 9:12 am on Friday, March 20th weighing 9 lbs and was 21 1/4 inches long; his head was 15 cm (the same circumference as his chest!)--which explains why I wasn't able to push him out: thank god for c-sections. As soon as Maverick was born, Joe didn't even go to see him because he was so worried about me. They finished things up and sent me into recovery (where I stayed for a few hours).

EVERYONE got to hold Maverick before I did--EVERYONE. I was so upset about this at the time but there was nothing I could do about it. I was stuck in recovery for so long that everyone had came and went. Joe put Maverick in the nursery and came to check on me periodically--I just wanted to get to my room so I could hold my baby. Finally, a few hours later, I was cleared to go to my room. I was so happy!

That night, around 5:00 pm, they told me that they wanted me to get up and try to walk around. I majorly underestimated how gnarly of a surgery a c-section is: I told Joe that I would walk to the nursery with him so the nurses could give Maverick a bath. The nurse gave me a funny look but didn't say anything. As soon as my feet touched the ground I could feel it--there was no way I could walk to the bathroom 3 feet in front of me, let alone to the nursery. I felt like a child learning how to walk. I could barely lift my feet; I would definitely describe my "walking" as more of a shuffle.

Some visitors came to see us, and I cant believe Joe let them in our room. Later that night, after everyone had left, I was able to get up and look in a mirror. My face was SO swollen from pushing so long that you could barely tell that my eyes were open; I must have had about 5 chins and my cheeks were huge. I looked terrible. I get it, I get it--no one looks great after having a baby--but this was bad. Luckily the swelling went down fairly fast. Oh yeah, another fun thing from having a baby? Having an allergic reaction to the morphine and my ENTIRE body breaking out in hives that itched so bad I made myself bleed from scratching--and that lasted 2 weeks. Ugh.

While all of this was going on, my dad was moving for us. This still makes me mad: the movers we hired were AWFUL. They took longer than they expected, charged us extra money, and didn't finish moving us. Joe had to leave me the next day to go finish moving everything. I'm not a confrontational person, but when it comes to stuff like this: I'm feisty.  I wanted to call the company and complain and demand my money back, but Joe told me to just focus on Maverick. I got to come home from delivering my first born child via c-section to an apartment full of boxes. Luckily I had an easy recovery and didn't have to take any pain medicine once I got home. As soon as we walked through the front door, I handed Maverick to Joe and told him to watch him while I unpacked everything (I think we all know how OCD I am by now; there was no way I was going to have Joe unpack everything and put stuff in the wrong place!).

All in all, it was a nightmare. But I got a beautiful, healthy baby boy out of it, and I couldn't be happier. For all you expectant moms out there--don't even bother typing up a birth plan: it wont go as planned. Keep an open mind about everything and realize that whatever happens, you'll get a beautiful baby either way. <3