I think I last left my trip on single motherhood with a meltdown in Home Depot! The next logical part to share with you is how the dude made his grand entrance. I wrote about the experience at my now defunct personal blog – so I thought I’d share it with a few edits…apologies to the twenty or so of you that followed me there but when I sat down to write it – I swear it was exactly the same!!!
So here goes….
On July 29th, 2008 at 7:03pm, I was Sara Lanthier. Daughter of Spencer and Diane – step-daughter of Diana. Aunt of Sam, Scotty and Charlotte. Sister to Sherrill, Suzanne and John. Cat owner. Responsible for no one but myself.
On July 29th, 2008 at 7:04pm, I was Will’s mom. It changed in an instant. Everything.
As is everything with this kid for me, his arrival was memorable.
But let’s back up. Delivery – I had somethings to consider. Who would hold my hand and help me breathe, who would feed me ice chips, who could I yell ‘you did this to me’ at???
My friend Mitchell came to the prenatal classes with me. We both got a kick out of knowing they were all wondering what our deal was. Mitch was awesome, she just wasn’t down with the holding me while I was breathing or rubbing my back (I think that’s when they figured out we weren’t partners in the true sense of the word).
Another friend suggested that I hire her doula. I did and thank god. Here’s the crazy thing, I met Lisa twice before she was to be my partner in the biggest event of my life. Sort of bizarre. But she made some incredible points – namely, why be afraid of labour – it ends, you won’t be in labour for a month. This made SO much sense to me and after that, I seriously was never afraid of the idea of labour – I just didn’t want it to happen at night when I was alone. I’m not religious, but I PRAYED for that – I was terrified that it would happen.
It didn’t – July 29th, I went to the doctor for the daily check in. I was feeling a bit weird. He checked me and then (sorry dudes) gave me some sort of rub to get things going. OH MY GOD. More painful than anything in the delivery room and I’m quite sure I dropped the eff bomb. I also scared the crap out of all the people in the waiting room. But it worked. I started having little contractions. So what’s a single girl to do, well wisely, drive herself home. I called Lisa and my sister and told them the show was starting.
Then I called Mitchell to give her the scoop – after 20 minutes the convo was like this.
Mitch – Lawny – you are timing these things, right?
Me – I’m sure it’ll be hours. (I thought – ‘It better be at least another 1/2, it was a Law and Order I hadn’t seen yet! Umm Priorities!!!”) Why are you asking?
Mitch – Umm because you’re no longer talking to me.
So we timed them, they were under five minutes apart. Ooops. Called the troops and told them to chop chop. Just after 2 (and the completed Law and Order! I miss Jerry Orbach) Sue and Lisa arrived to find me on all fours on the ground like a dog. This labour thing is primal. Seriously primal.
We hung out for a bit and then decided to get to the hospital. Sue pulled the car around, we loaded up and it started. Ouch – OUCH. *(&$)(@#. Barf, Abba music, construction, more ABBA music, more barfing and we got to the hospital. They took one look at me and sent me right up to labour and delivery, bypassing the check in. I guess a splayed out, bawling pregnant broad on the floor was sort of annoying to everyone else.
That’s when I demanded that all my clothes come off and that I needed to stand up and not lie down. This proved difficult to get a monitor on the baby. Tough crap, I could not lie down. They decided (gee how did you guess) that I needed to be in a room stat. Off we went, my eyes screwed so tight that I couldn’t tell you where we were.
We get to the room and added one to the entourage. My step-mom. She was asking Suzanne if she should start taking pics, she was wisely advised not too. Then it started. And by IT, I mean my contraction – no ‘s’ because it was one long one and it didn’t stop. Where is my breathing? Where is my break? Don’t I get to stop for a minute in between for people to reassure me how great I’m doing and gear up for the next one? Nope.
After an hour and a half or so – I couldn’t take it and called for the drugs. They raced to get the epidural because I was 8cm already – and it was like heaven. It was scary to get it because I couldn’t stop contracting so I had to hold still it. I yelled ‘can I move now.’ Which was greeted by ‘NO’ screamed in high decibels by the doctor, three nurses, doula and my sister all at once. Boo – but then it worked and it was incredible.
“Time to push”. Huh? No way, pass the corn chips. I want to enjoy this state for awhile.
Nope – push. By this point – my Dad had joined in. He was cowering away in the corner of a room full of women. I push a couple times and the doctor says I have an hour or so and that she’ll be back. An hour or so? Eff that – I’m getting this kid out now. So we gear up for the next round and I think, ‘if I push as hard as I can, I’m getting this thing out now.’
I pushed hard and on the third try, this huge POP like a champagne cork happened – the student nurse screamed; the nurse who was prepping the table turned around; my sister, Diana and the doula looked down and out he came. Ummmm – where the hell is the doctor at the end of the table to catch the kid? Not there apparently. So, I reached down and grabbed this slimy being who, until 2 seconds ago, inhabitated my uterus.
Will Sutton Lanthier. He spent the first few minutes on my chest and it was surreal. “Hello person who I will spend the rest of my life with. Who the hell are you? Will you like me? Will I like you?”
(*the picture is of us in the ICU. No one needs to see my saggy boob hanging out that he was lying on!**)
Then my dad cut his cord. Yup, his grandpa made his bellybutton – just as I tell him every night in the tub. After, he went and got me a beer (and a bottle of scotch for himself) at the LCBO! Who needs a piece of jewellery when there is Guinness to be had!
And that was that…hate me now ladies, it was 5 hours and my body remained pretty intact. Then they brought me Will, my beautiful boy. NOT…
PLEASE! Look at this thing. He was tiny, so tiny but with the biggest mouth you’ve ever seen. (Insert jokes here). He was hairy. Actually he resembled a baby gorilla. His skin hung off of him like an elephant.
Did I mention he was small? 5 lbs of small so after I tried to breastfeed him and they had cup fed him my good stuff, they took him to the ICU to start really working on fattening him up. He would spend five days there while I lived upstairs. My routine? An hour pumping, an hour sleeping and an hour with him feeding. Oh and an hour explaining to the nurses that I didn’t have a negligent husband – I just didn’t have one.
He lived here in this awesome giraffe incubator. He spent the days feeding and suntanning under the lights. And he got bigger and learned to breastfeed. And I recovered.