Hard to believe, but over a month has passed since I was officially declared Warden of Camp Testosterone. Male to Female Ratio: 3 to 1.
Tristan Archer was born weighing seven pounds, fifteen ounces and measuring 19 3/4 inches. Wavy brown hair and eyes of debatable color (blue or perhaps brown) completed his ensemble.
[CAUTION: Delivery details to follow.]
My OB/GYN scheduled us for an induction four days shy of my actual due date. (Kind woman, she could see how ready I was to be “de-pregnated.”) We checked in at 6:30 AM and I got my pitocin started pronto. By 8:30 AM, I was ready for that epidural and — what luck! — the anesthesiologist was making rounds through Labor & Delivery, handing ’em out left and right. Twenty-five minutes and a long needle later, I went back to sleep.
We did have a bit of a scare when Tristan started having “decels” on the fetal monitor: his heart rate kept dropping between contractions and the doctor guessed he had some cord around his neck. They put me on oxygen and a c-section was threatened if that didn’t improve. Luckily, turning me like a rotisserie chicken every 20 minutes seemed to help.
Things progressed so quickly that my doctor had to be hurried away from surgery at another hospital to come back and deliver me. I hung on until she arrived, but BARELY. Two little pushes and Tristan was safely born, after just five hours of labor. Hallelujah!
(There was no cord around his neck and thus no explanation for the “decels” other than an “old” placenta.)
We are all so grateful for our precious new son! More posts will follow about the domestic dramas that have ensued in the last month, as free time allows. (You can stop laughing.)