The Quattrochi's are (VERY) proud to present, William Flint, our newest family member, and most adorable son and brother.
Flint arrived Wednesday, October 20th, 2010, at 5:21pm after his long 41-week-stay in my humble (fickle) womb. He weighed in at an impressive 9 lbs, 13.5 oz. We knew he'd be big, but we were shocked at just
how big! Our midwives anticipated a big 8... and even when he came out, they guessed only 9lbs.
We scheduled a "natural induction" for Tuesday, but rescheduled it for Wednesday after I gave it some thought and wanted to see if one more day would do the trick. It was a wise move for two main reasons: 1, there were two other births that ended up taking place on Tuesday, and 2, I went into labor on my own overnight Tuesday to Wednesday. I woke up with contractions all throughout the night, which were very inconsistent until around 3am, when they started coming a consistent 8 minutes apart and continued even when I got up and walked around and ate a snack, which was what killed all my previous "false" labors.
We went ahead to the birth center at our scheduled time because I was not entirely convinced that my labor wouldn't peter off as it had done oh-so-many times in the last few weeks. I was so pleasantly surprised when Jean, one of the midwives, checked me and exclaimed, "Girl, you are a good 6. I'd call it a 7."
*blink*
So, it would appear as though all that false labor I had been having was actually getting a lot accomplished. I'd take weeks of occasional, weak labor over hours of pain any day! Go uterus!
Our birth story follows...
Luke and I spent the next several hours on an alternating 30-minute regiment of breast pumping and walking in order to stimulate more consistent, stronger contractions. About three hours into it, things started to pick up. When I was checked again, I was at an 8 and Jean suggested we leave the bag of water in tact for a while longer since I wasn't in serious pain, but was still making progress. At that point, we called the family to let them know they should start heading to the birth center. We figured I'd be in labor only a little while longer because transitioning from 8 to 10 usually goes very fast.
I spent the next hour in the tub after Emily, the midwife student who supported me through the whole labor, broke my water and things started to really pick up (ouch). I moved to the toilet for a little while, which apparently is a good place to labor due to the nature of the seat. At this point, I was surprising myself with how vocal I was quickly becoming in response to the pain of each contraction, much to Luke's amusement at a few points, when apparently I sounded like Dori (from Nemo) speaking "whale."
Needless to say, natural labor is extremely intense and painful... I didn't want to move, for fear of bringing on another contraction, or having to cope through one while moving from one place to another. But I was encouraged to get back into the bathtub for the comfort of the warm water, and though I complied, was shortly moved again to the bed to push. Jean thought due to the angle and size of the baby, it'd be easier to push lying flat on the bed, inclined slightly backward. At this point, three hours into "transition," the toughest part of labor, I just wanted him O-U-T. So I rolled with it, although not quietly.
I kept waiting for this magical moment when contractions are supposed to change from "dilating" contractions to "pushing" contractions and feel different. This relief never came for me, nor did the true urge to push. Mostly I just wanted someone to pull the baby out so it would all be over, but alas, it doesn't quite work that way. I think I pushed for a solid 20 minutes before Flint's head was out. I was very much surprised (read: in a shocking amount of sheer agony) by the pressure and immense burning on top of the pain of each contraction, and found it difficult to "release" and bear down. While in the middle of a push, I discovered that my body would sort of reflex into some kind of uber-mega push in response, much akin to the sensation of vomiting and very similar to the complete lack of control one has when doing so.
There was a glimpse of hope when one of the birth assistants placed my hand on the baby's head. I knew it would soon be over and I'd be able to greet the little booger. At this point, however, the tone in their voices shifted to something more urgent as I was directed to push to get the shoulders out. With that urgency in mind, I pushed with all my sanity ... two more, maybe three times... and ... at last! William Flint Quattrochi was placed on my chest, seeming almost as worn out as me, but had enough in him to holler lots of beautiful, loud screams. I found out later that his cord was pinned between his shoulders and his exit, so we couldn't waste too much time with him stuck there.
Now, I thought he seemed small, probably due to his lack of Lyla-like Michelin rolls. The birthing team all laughed at the notion of him being tiny, and made their guesses before taking him to get weighed. Seriously? Almost 10 pounds?
Wow.
He returned to me quickly for some Mommy-Baby bonding time. I spent the next two hours recovering energy, discovering my son, smiling at my husband, and shaking violently (thank you, hormones). They did my "repairs," saw that Baby Flint was nursing well, made sure I had a good meal, then sent us on our way. How nice to be able to go home to rest and start our lives as a family of four! Well, not just yet 4, since Grandma and PapPap kept Lyla for us. But I was very much looking forward to being home and not stuck in a hospital for days...
When we got home, Luke and I couldn't resist cleaning up the boy a little more. So, he got a quick sponge bath and hair-wash. All clean and eating well, he was already settling in!
Phew! What a day! One I won't forget any time soon! We were SO happy to have Flint home!
More pictures posted at Picasa, as usual! And more blog entries to come ASAP! We've got some catching up to do!
