The FJs

Ruby Margaret Fjeldsted was born on February 27th at 3:06pm. She weighed 5 lbs 12 oz and was 18.75 inches long.

Here's the delivery story:
On Sunday the 26th I started having contractions, which I just assumed were Braxton Hicks contractions. I'd been having them for a week or two, but it seemed like I was having more of them on Sunday. I also had some weird, sharp pain in my back and generally just felt a little off. Then on Monday morning around 4:45 I woke up with contractions that felt like they could be the real thing. I quickly downloaded a contraction timer app and after 45 minutes it started flashing that it was time to go to the hospital! My contractions were about five minutes apart. I woke up Paul and told him it was go time! I threw a few necessaries in a bag for me and sent a text to my friend who was going to watch Parker and Kate. Then we threw some clothes and toothbrushes in a bag for Parker and Kate, woke them up, got 'em dressed and headed to my friend's house. By this time it was about 6:30.

As we drove to the hospital it was raining pretty heavily and we heard reports on the radio of flooding around San Diego county. This, along with the normal morning traffic made our 20 mile drive take about an hour to get to the hospital. The contractions were starting to get painful and I really tried to focus on my breathing. I remembered a nurse from my labor with Kate who told me to visualize blowing out a hundred candles. It really helped me then and so I tried to visualize the same thing this time around. We got to the hospital, checked in and got set up in a triage room. A nurse came in to check me- I was already dilated to a five, but my pain was much more tolerable than it was with Kate when I got checked into the hospital and was only dilated to a four. The nurse asked about pain management and I told her that I wanted an epidural asap.

It was about 8:00 by then: shift change! I was worried about this because I didn't want a delay in getting my drugs. On my birth plan I specified that I wanted to feel no pain at any point during my labor. :) Well, that plan had already fallen through, and the pain was still manageable and not nearly as bad as my labor with Kate, but still I was very uncomfortable. I think our nurse could sense my urgency because she said that even though she was supposed to be doing something else, she'd take me to my delivery room and get me all set up. She was a great nurse and got everything set up super fast so that things could be ready for the anesthesiologist.

I got the epidural at 8:45- ahhhhhhh... and things were lovely until a new nurse (after I got my drugs the first nurse left) came in and said that my contractions had slowed down and they were going to give me some pitocin. I was fine with that until- GAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!- those pitocin contractions are no joke. Even through the epidural (and pushing the little button for more drugs, MORE DRUGS!) they hurt so much worse than any contraction pre-epidural. I held up for about two hours and then the nurse came in, saw the tears streaming down my face, and took pity on me and gave me a break from the pitocin for about an hour. Paul was a big help through that awful pain- turns out he's the world's best cheerleader when he wants to be.

Throughout this there was some back and forth between the nurse and the nurse midwife about how far the baby had dropped and whether or not I was ready to push. At one point the nurse thought I was nearly ready to push, but then the nurse midwife came in and said that the baby had moved back and that I needed more pitocin to help bring her down a bit more. They also debated about when to break my water. There was a student with the nurse midwife and she attempted (and failed) to break my water, so the actual midwife did it. Come to find out there were multiple bags of water. Huh? I didn't know that was even a thing.

Things were pretty uneventful for a few hours. My contractions would slow down, they'd give me more pitocin, the contractions were brutally painful, they'd turn down the pitocin. At one point the nurse asked whether I could feel pressure, like if I wanted to push and I said yes. She said that was a good thing and it meant we were making progress, but she didn't say anything more about it. I remember with Kate they kind of made a big deal about when I felt that pressure. When I did, they made sure I didn't push and right away they checked me to see where things were at. I think I was feeling that pressure for about 45 minutes until the nurse checked me again and right away she said the baby was ready to come out! She had the nurse midwife and her lackey come in to see if this was go time. The midwife came over and told she wanted me to push ever so slightly so she could get a feel for where the baby was. With the next contraction I did just that and all three of them shouted STOP! STOP! STOP!!! The midwife wheeled the instrument table over and threw the sterile sheet off. It was go time. Yes! They took the bottom half of the bed away, I put my feet in the stirrups and the student midwife got into position. I'm not sure exactly what was happening down at that end, but I went through about three contractions and no one was saying anything, so finally with the next contraction I said, "Should I be pushing? I'm contracting..." The student said yes, so I did and with that one, and half a contraction more, the baby flopped right out.

They all gasped a little and said how small she was. I peeked around and sure enough, she looked tiny and so much smaller than Parker and Kate were. In my birth plan I had specified that I wanted the baby to be cleaned off before they laid her on me. I remember with Kate she was all white and goopy and I was not impressed. It was probably the hormones, but I remember feeling that I didn't really like holding her. (Sorry, Kate! I love you now!) Anyway, I thought that if this baby were a little cleaner maybe I'd enjoy snuggling on her more immediately after delivery. (Not to have Kate feel like the odd man out, I also didn't enjoy holding Parker right after delivery... and he was clean. I think that time it was because of the magnesium they gave me after the c-section. It made me feel sweaty and dizzy and claustrophobic.) Now, let me just say that this seemed like a perfectly reasonable request, but anytime the nurses talked about it to each other ("Remember, the mom wants to have the vernix wiped off really well.") they'd do it in a whisper like it was an embarrassing secret of mine. My preference would have been to have her bathed before they gave her to me, but apparently that's not good for their ill-regulated body temperature. So I was expecting to feel a little blase about holding her, but that wasn't the case. There were some concerns about the baby's health starting at week 20 of my pregnancy. And, like I've mentioned before, I bled heavily at 6 and 12 weeks pregnant and had my doubts if this baby would make it through to the end. I think because of those things, I was already feeling protective of her and my mama bear instincts started up immediately. I loved holding her. Also, I think they did a pretty good job of wiping her down, although I can't remember specifically.

I got to snuggle her, Paul cut the umbellical cord, he got to hold her and then they took her to be evaluated. Because of the prenatal health concerns for her, there was a pediatrician in the room immediately after delivery to evaluate the baby. And so began a whirlwind of tests and evaluations. I've struggled to know how much and what to share on the blog... What I post here the whole world can see and it can't be taken back. And though this is part of my story, it involves more that just me and I'm not sure that I should be the one to share someone else's story. How much I share may change in the future, but for now I haven't figured out the balance I want to strike just yet.

And now, how she came to be Ruby Margaret:

Paul essentially named Parker and Kate. I did have some say, but ultimately they were both his call. This time around it was my turn! During my pregnancy we really didn't talk about names because there was nothing to discuss and I was afraid that he would scoff at the names I liked and then I'd be dissuaded from using them. Some of the names I liked were Audrey, Nora, Ruby, Cora (except I wouldn't use that one because it sounds too much like Courtney), Violet, June, Eleanor and Evelyn. And I liked the name Eloise or Florence (my great-grandma's maiden name) for a middle name. June may have been my favorite, but it seemed too similar to Kate, both being four letters and one syllable. Ultimately I felt drawn to Ruby because I just liked the name and also because it conontates something special, valuable and precious. And that's exactly what our little Ruby is! Once I knew her first name I went to FamilySearch to find a family name for her middle name. Margaret is a prevalent name on my mom's side coming through both her mom and dad. With both Parker and Kate it was hard for me to call them by their names after they were born, it just felt weird to assign an actual human name to this little alien creature that somehow ended up in our home. Is that weird? Yeah, it is, but that's how it felt. I think it took a couple months before we started using their actual name. That wasn't the case with Ruby, though. She was Ruby right from the get-go.

Kate got to meet Ruby first while Parker was in school. She was SOOO excited!

I just want to kiss that little mug all over. She's the cutest. And look how monstrous Paul's hand looks in comparison to hers.

Perhaps the highlight of visiting the hospital- the vending machines!

So much hair...

Her bilirubin levels were a bit elevated, so we did photo therapy while we were in the hospital, but thankfully didn't have to continue with it when we got home. Because she was spitting up a lot when she was horizontal we had to hold her upright, which was a little awkward with the photo blanket. Eventually we figured it out a little better and were able to swaddle her while she was doing the photo therapy and she was easier to hold.

With Parker and Kate I truly loved my stay in the hospital. I loved being taken care of, I loved the food, and I loved having all that quiet time to love on my baby or read a book or just reflect on life. This time around I couldn't wait to get out of there! They checked her blood sugar before every feeding, which meant a heel prick and screaming every 2-3 hours. I was also stressed out by all the tests she had to have to try and determine if something was wrong with her. Because she was so small (5lbs, 12oz), they were concerned about her weight gain. Every time she spit up (normal for babies, but because she swallowed a lot of amniotic fluid during delivery she was spitting up large amounts) they were concerned. Plus, if she wasn't keeping food down, her blood sugar levels wouldn't stay where they needed to be. At one point they took Ruby away for several hours for testing and then she was back in our room for even more testing. By the time I got the chance to feed her it had been about five hours since the last time I fed her and when they checked her blood sugar it was low. Of course it was! I hadn't been able to feed in her for five hours! That low reading took us back to square one and we had to start the count all over again. (She had to have readings over a certain number for 24 hours before we could go home.)

Another thing that really bugged me were the nighttime interruptions. ... I just reread the paragraph I wrote about this. Now that enough time has passed, I can concede that to keep things running smoothly, patient comfort cannot be the first priority. Logically it makes sense, but when you are the patient that fact can be maddening. I'm going to erase that paragraph and leave it at that.

One morning a technician came in to check Ruby's bilirubin at 5:00am. I had just fed Ruby about 30 minutes prior and I asked the tech if she could come back in a few hours. The bilirubin test requires a lot of blood to be drawn and it would make Ruby cry so hard that she would throw up. Every time. I wanted her to be able to digest some of the food first since her blood sugar levels were of such concern to everyone. The technician said that this is usually when they do the test so that the pediatrician can see the results at the shift change, but that she'd talk to my nurse to see if that would be okay. The nurse came in and said, sorry, this is the time that they do the test. So, the pricked her heel and made Ruby vomit. I was SO ticked. This was the nurse who was so concerned about Ruby eating that she made me spend hours trying to bottle feed with breastmilk, with formula and try and get Ruby to eat more using a little tube at the nipple. I cried in frustration and wouldn't talk to the nurse, even though she kept asking me if she could help me with anything. She probably thought I was overly hormonal (yes) and a bit unstable (also, yes). I found out later that she put a sign on my door asking that I not be bothered. The nighttime interruptions went way down after that. Yay.

Because I was in a large corner room, my room was one of the first ones to be doubled up on when the postnatal ward began to fill up. So on day three of our stay I got a roommate. A few hours after she and her baby arrived, I got a visit from the geneticist. He had visited with Ruby in the NICU, where they kept her for a bit after one of her tests. He gave me some troubling news about his assessment of her and told me about some of the tests that he wanted to order for her. At this point Paul wasn't at the hospital with me. I was sad about what the geneticist said and for the upteenth time felt overwhelmed and emotional. I started to weep, trying to be quiet so as not to disturb my roommate. My nurse (a new one and my favorite) came in and gave me a hug and asked if I wanted her to send in a counselor. I said I was okay, not wanting to talk to anyone, but just be alone with my feelings as I tried to digest. She sent one in anyway, and it actually helped a lot. The counselor mostly just talked at me as I continued to cry, but she was funny and provided some needed comic relief. Once Paul arrived at the hospital, my nurse worked her magic and allowed Paul to take me on a "walk" outside. Apparently she had to pull a few strings and I had to get temporary discharge papers in order to leave the hospital. I had to stay in a wheelchair and the nurse had one of the NICU nurses come into our room and hold Ruby while we were out. Being out in the fresh air was just what I needed. Being in that small hospital room can start feeling a little prison-like. Later that day they moved me into an empty, smaller room, which I had to myself until we left the hospital.

The rest of our hospital stay was mostly uneventful. I feel like we saw every specialist under the sun, but didn't really get any answers. We finally left on Friday afternoon and we scooted out of there as fast as we could before the powers that be changed their minds and made us stay longer. Being home felt wonderful and I was glad that we didn't have to pawn off Parker and Kate to our friends any longer.

Wearing clothes for the first time on the day we went home. She was swimming in her newborn-size jammies.