Hallelujah!
I'm sitting on my bed with a cup of tea behind me (the cookies are gone), my laptop on my knees, and a gorgeous new little man sleeping off a good milk buzz at my side. I'm exhausted, but life is good. There are many things on my heart to share, but I don't know how far I'll get, so I'll start with the basics.
At 8:48 pm on Friday, May 30, after a fast and furious labour, our long awaited son, Eliakim Hunter, was born. He measured up a healthy 57 cm long, with a hat size of 36.5 cm (that's 22.4 inches and 14.4 inches for the imperialists). And he weighed in at ... wait for it ... 5224 grams or eleven and a half pounds! A few of you may have heard the early report of 11 lbs 3 oz, which was either misheard or miscalculated in the chaos of the delivery room, but when I double-checked the conversion this morning, the three turned out to be eight.
There was lots of extra attention in the delivery room, as I had just that morning been in for an ultrasound and the technician had estimated the size from the measurements there at 12 lbs 3 oz - the largest he'd ever seen. (Apparently we left before they could do the non-stress test. They seemed short on staff and the tech said that was it - I claim it was the shock of that prognosis that sent us running.) There are some extra risks with such big babies, so they had the obstetrician in attendance and an extra nurse or two. I wasn't paying much attention to such things (somewhat otherwise engaged) but I imagine there may have been a few extra bodies hovering nearby as I'd been the buzz of the hospital all day.
In the end it all went as well as could possibly be expected. A bare two and a half hours from the start of regular, serious contractions (during which I went to Thrifty's for milk and alfredo sauce - silly woman). That's the part where most moms in the readership declare their hatred for me. But then it was a good four and a half hours after delivery, parts of which were nearly as brutal as labour itself, before they decreed I was stable enough to be transferred to the mom and babe ward.
Eli came through with flying colours. Passed his blood sugar tests. showed no sign of nerve damage in the shoulder or other trauma. He even came out looking fairly human - in a five month old newborn sort of way.
The best part by far for me - better even than getting tubes out of me, or the end of assaults on my battered belly to assess bleeding - was having the two of us work out the whole nursing arrangement. I was able to get Eli latched on fairly early, and now that my milk is in, he's nursing up a storm. After all the trials we went through with our daughter, that little triumph raised a whole chorus of Hallelujahs and Amens in my heart.
Well, this has taken most of the day to write, so I think I'll end on that shining note, but stay tuned for more.
At 8:48 pm on Friday, May 30, after a fast and furious labour, our long awaited son, Eliakim Hunter, was born. He measured up a healthy 57 cm long, with a hat size of 36.5 cm (that's 22.4 inches and 14.4 inches for the imperialists). And he weighed in at ... wait for it ... 5224 grams or eleven and a half pounds! A few of you may have heard the early report of 11 lbs 3 oz, which was either misheard or miscalculated in the chaos of the delivery room, but when I double-checked the conversion this morning, the three turned out to be eight.
There was lots of extra attention in the delivery room, as I had just that morning been in for an ultrasound and the technician had estimated the size from the measurements there at 12 lbs 3 oz - the largest he'd ever seen. (Apparently we left before they could do the non-stress test. They seemed short on staff and the tech said that was it - I claim it was the shock of that prognosis that sent us running.) There are some extra risks with such big babies, so they had the obstetrician in attendance and an extra nurse or two. I wasn't paying much attention to such things (somewhat otherwise engaged) but I imagine there may have been a few extra bodies hovering nearby as I'd been the buzz of the hospital all day.
In the end it all went as well as could possibly be expected. A bare two and a half hours from the start of regular, serious contractions (during which I went to Thrifty's for milk and alfredo sauce - silly woman). That's the part where most moms in the readership declare their hatred for me. But then it was a good four and a half hours after delivery, parts of which were nearly as brutal as labour itself, before they decreed I was stable enough to be transferred to the mom and babe ward.
Eli came through with flying colours. Passed his blood sugar tests. showed no sign of nerve damage in the shoulder or other trauma. He even came out looking fairly human - in a five month old newborn sort of way.
The best part by far for me - better even than getting tubes out of me, or the end of assaults on my battered belly to assess bleeding - was having the two of us work out the whole nursing arrangement. I was able to get Eli latched on fairly early, and now that my milk is in, he's nursing up a storm. After all the trials we went through with our daughter, that little triumph raised a whole chorus of Hallelujahs and Amens in my heart.
Well, this has taken most of the day to write, so I think I'll end on that shining note, but stay tuned for more.
posted by Coastal at
12:12 p.m.
1 Comments:
God is good. All the time.
By
Roberta, at 8:31 a.m.
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