Palmer's Birth Story

Palmer Lowell
October 5, 2012
7 pounds, 7 ounces & 21 inches

As you may have guessed by my absence, I had my baby and officially have NO time. The only reason I'm writing this is because I'm piecing together several different drafts that I haven't had time to finish, and I'm choosing to ignore the fact that Henry is standing with his hands on the TV in a poopy diaper. I'm really mad at my friends with multiple children who didn't tell me how hard this is. I am also wondering how these bishes with 8 kids have these fabulous blogs and etsy shops. I suspect crack. At the very least they are pilfering their children's Ritalin.

It's so funny to look back at my October 4 entry because little did I know, that the gender of my child would be revealed in less than 24 hours. Hahaha. Mr. Palmer Lowell was born October 5, 2012 at 10:24 p.m. He weighed in at 7.7 pounds and measured 21 inches in length. I believe he has tripled in size because he loves the booby.

Palmer's birth story is right out of a sitcom, so here goes:

As you may recall, I was a little worried about Ryan being in Orlando for *work*. I just had a bad feeling about him being gone. I literally looked at October 5 when I first got pregnant and guessed that's when I'd go into labor.

And October 5 was a very productive day. I picked up a gift for Ryan for putting up with my crazy ass for nine months (a massage!). I put my gym membership on hold. I went to the DMV and renewed my driver's license. I will now forever smile at my license even though Ryan claims I look like a slutty redneck in the picture. His description is pretty accurate, actually.

After a productive day, I went home to put Henry down for a nap and take one myself. When I woke up, I was starving and went to make a peanut butter sandwich. As I was walking back upstairs, I felt a pop and a stream of water down my leg. Oh shit. I dash to the bathroom and call Ryan. Remember, Ryan was still in Orlando *working*.

Ryan: "Hey! I'm just waiting to board the plane"
Me: "Well see if you can get on an earlier flight because my water just broke."
Ryan: "Are you sure!?!"
Me: "Um, there's a puddle in the kitchen. Yes."
Ryan: Click.

After checking with the airline, there were no other flights that were earlier, so Ryan had to wait it out. That was at 3. His flight didn't take off until 4 and was due to land around 6:30. Keep in mind my labor was 4 hours long with Henry, so we were worried, and I felt my worst nightmare was coming true.

Thank God my parents and Ryan's parents both live within 3 miles from us. My mom and MIL came over to keep Henry occupied and take care of me. Except I really didn't want to be taken care of. This is my MO during labor, I've come to discover. I was trying to keep my mind off the fact that this child was going to be born within the next 24 hours whether I liked it or not and not move a muscle to keep the contractions from starting. I kept myself distracted by watching episodes of Hoarders.

Side note: WTF is up with these people who just don't take the trash out? I mean, I totally get the people who have 3,453 empty peanut butter jars and 234 glass baby food jars because one type is for soup and one is for crafts. Perfect sense. It's the people who throw empty pizza boxes and used diabetes syringes around that I don't get. Lock it up, people.

I started having contractions around 5 and called the doctor around 6:45 when they were becoming regular and strong. Of course the only doctor I disliked from the practice was on call. (She had been trying to get me to induce and I was all, "Dude. This is a moot point. I will not be making it to 40 weeks. I will not be having a 10 pound baby". I don't care where you went to med school, my mother's instinct has been spot on... even when it came to the gender of my child despite my denial). So for some reason she starts saying I might need to look into using Pitocin. What? Why would you ever push Pitocin on a woman who has a history of having a four hour birth? Needless to say I panicked. And then Ryan walked into the room.

To be continued...