The Madsen Family: Tag William Madsen

The day we had our ultrasound and found out Sis was a girl, I made a decision. I knew that if I had another baby, I wouldn't find out what we were having through ultrasound. We would have clothes and blankets and such for either gender and so I would wait to be surprised. I really overestimated my own patience. By 37 weeks, I was ready to meet our baby and finally know what tub of baby clothes I would need to launder. I could have over-killed it done both, but what a waste of resources.

At least one part of my impatience was brought on by the fact that for the first time in my life I was actually progressing towards labor on my own (and a little early). At 37 weeks I was dilated to a 4. The rest of my agitation I attribute to a nagging pain in my back. Despite my eagerness, I willed myself to hold off any signs of labor the weekend before I reached 38 weeks. Brandan left for a weekend of coaching basketball in Powell and then Cody. An 8 hour bus ride away. He left Friday morning and I felt continually twinges all day. I had many serious mental conversations with the baby where I willed him not to come. Forbade even. It worked, a little too well. I had hoped to get through Friday and Saturday and then welcome a baby on Sunday, Feb 1, but after Friday, all signs of labor stopped. I think Dash had said too many fervent prayers that I wouldn't ruin the Super Bowl with a baby for that plan to work. The game might be on Sunday, but Heavenly Father loves 8 year olds.

At my last appointment, Dr. Hansen had told me to come to Evanston on Friday the 6th with a bag packed in case I had progressed enough to be admitted to the hospital. He had no intention of starting my labor since I'm a VBAC mom, but, just in case. I did everything I could to start regular contractions before that day, including, but not limited to, jumping on the trampoline, riding a bike and long runs.

Friday morning, I half-heartedly threw a hospital bag in the van and Brandan and I dropped Sport and Sis off with a friend and headed to Evanston. After determining that I was dilated to nearly a 6, Dr. Hansen seemed genuinely confused over what to do with me. I couldn't report feeling any real contractions, but he didn't really want to send me back home only to have me try and make the 40 minute drive back to Evanston in full-blown labor at a 6 with my sixth child. I suggested he strip my membranes, let me walk around town a bit and see what happened. After the appointment, Brandan and I wandered around Wal-Mart (actually Colt had given us an ultimatum - we were to either buy him some spray paint to make his Valentine's box with, or he would ask to borrow some from the neighbor) and then we headed over to the Evanston bike path. We stomped along the trail for a solid 40 minutes and then got some lunch before going back to the doctor. I thought I noticed a few twinges, but I was pretty discouraged to not feel any regular contractions.

Back at the doctor's office, Dr. Hansen was pretty discouraged as well. He decided to leave the decision in our hands, but strongly suggested we keep in mind that with my positive Group B strep test, I would need 4 hours of antibiotics before giving birth, otherwise, we would be required to stay in the hospital 48 hours. We decided to go a head and have our baby.

After getting checked in and having a contraction monitor attached, I was super pleased and very surprised to learn that I was having contractions fairly regularly, but just wasn't noticing them. The IV with the antibiotics was started shortly before 3:30 so we knew the doctor wouldn't want things to hurry too quickly in order for the 4 required hours to pass. Just a very small drip of pitocin was added to my IV and then shut off again when the contractions started coming closer together. Brandan and I watched a considerable amount of ESPN for a few hours while we waited for the medicine to be administered. I started noticing contractions within about an hour or so after settling into my bed, but they were very manageable. Around 5:45, Dr. Hansen broke my water. It was about the time the nurse announced that I was at an 8 (and just passing the point of an effective epidural) that the contractions became strong enough to get me rocking back and forth in the bed. Just like I spent hours "banging" as a child (okay, and teenager and adult..), I spent the majority of my hard labor sitting completely upright swaying back and forth like the guy in the movie Rain Man. Sometime shortly after 7, Dr. Hansen came back and announced that I was at a 9.5. That seemed awfully specific. He told me to let him know when I started feeling "pushy" and then he left to watch the basketball game on tv in the adjoining waiting room. After listening to the sounds of ref whistles and squeaky sneakers for a few minutes, I decided that I was tired of contractions. I wanted to push. I definitely wasn't feeling pushy like I remembered feeling with Sissy's labor, but the idea of enduring an unknown number of contractions (who knows how many basketball quarters that might take!), was more than I could handle.

I knew I wasn't quite at a 10 by the look on Dr. Hansen's face, but because he knew what was best for him, he told me I could push anyway and he would help by holding down any cervix that was left. Pushing was all my worst nightmares brought to life. It only took 3 pushes and maybe 4 minutes to deliver my baby, but in that time, I may, or may not have, but definitely did, announce that I couldn't do anymore and shout at the doctor to "just pull it out!". (I'm still feeling a little ashamed to have to face the doctor at my follow-up appointment in 6 weeks.)

After the baby's head was delivered, I heard a nurse announce that "her head was out". It makes no logical sense that the nurse would know the gender of the baby based on the head, but there is no logical thought process that goes through a woman in labor anyway, so I felt sure that the baby was a girl, a confirmation of the suspicion both Sport and I shared through my whole pregnancy. So when the baby was born, at 7:48 pm, and the doctor held him up, I think the whole room said "A boy?" 6 lbs 10 oz, 20 inches, and all boy. I was thrilled. Suddenly it made perfect sense that our baby was a boy and nothing in the world could have made me happier at that moment. Actually, nothing has made me happier in any moment since. I love my little Tag William Madsen.