F5

An F5 is considered an "incredible tornado" by the Fujita scale. It has winds between 261 and 318 mph. Damage sustained can be any of the following: Strong frame houses lifted off foundations and carried considerable distances to disintegrate; automobile sized missiles fly through the air in excess of 100 meters; trees debarked; steel re-enforced concrete structures badly damaged.

The Furr family has now become... an F5.

Matt and I are giving each other lots of hugs nowadays to keep one another's morale up. F4 to F5 is still early in it's transition. Most of the time it seems to be going well, and then, without warning, the wheels fly off and trees disembark, the house creeks... you get the picture. Overall the kids seems pleased with Levi's addition. Izak refers to him as "baby brother" and is so very concerned with his little cries, shouting for my attention, "Baby Brother Crying!!" Libby circles him like a small shark, eyeing him out of the corner of her big browns, every now and then coming in to poke him on top of his head, not too hard, but hard enough as if to say, "Hey you, this is MY turf... you feelin' me?" Some days I choke back tears thinking of an encouraging word a mom gave me when Libby was a baby, Before you know it, you'll hear them running down the hallway together laughing. But until then, we take it a moment at a time.

The birth details (Men, you've been warned.) This is especially a shout out to my curious Bradley and Buffalo buddies.

Matt and I arrived at the hospital at 7 a.m. Tuesday, October 18th. We were checked in and chillin' in our lovely birth suite for about two hours before the OB got there. The monitor showed that I was having contractions every 7-8 minutes (tell me something I didn't know), but they were mild. I was 5-6cm upon exam, so there had been some progress at some point. The OB ruptured my waters at 9:26 a.m. (that sucked!) and ordered Pitocin to be started. Really though, once my water broke, I rolled over on my left side and got to work relaxing and working with the pain. I've never had my water broken artificially before, but I was determined to play nice and follow the rules as much as possible. Levi was coming down along my backbone, so there was really intense back pain (so did the other two). They hung my antibiotic, and not to change tradition I began vomiting. The nurse checked me and I was already 7-8. Then came my buddy Pit. Induction Pitocin can go as high as 20-30 mu. They started my drip at 2mu. The second they plugged it in, the pain and intensity of the contrx made me start to moan. Heck, I think all I needed to do was smell the stuff. The drip started at 9:58 a.m.. By this point I'm thinking, You know, some drugs would've been nice. I don't think I want this natural thing again. In fact I'm sure I don't. But at that point, it was too late. Within a half an hour I began thinking, You know, a c-section sounds really good about now, I would be fine with that, perhaps I should mention it to the nurse... But what I've learned about childbirth is that the crazier, more desperate the thinking, the closer you're getting to the END. I've also learned that it does you no stinkin' good to give voice to the thoughts because that may only reinforce them. So I was quiet, except for the moaning and occasional "Baby, baby, baby out." Matt was amazing. stayed right by my side, talking gently from time to time, reminding me to relax, put my shoulders down, relax my legs. He was the weather master as I'm calling the climate, "I'm hot!" (whipped covers off) "I'm still hot!" (dropped the thermostat in the room as low as it could go) "I"m cold!" (covers my legs) "No, I'm hot!!" He stood by the bedside and allowed me to grind me forehead into his side as the contrx hit, clutching his shirt. He'd softly say, "Let go and relax, you're doing great." I did not feel like letting go, but knew I needed to obey my coach.

A little before 11 a.m. I thought I'd pull one over on Old Mother Nature. I knew left side-lying was a way to expedite labor, so I rolled over to my right side to slow things down. By now I'm thinking, I'd like to die. No pain meds, no c-section... I think I'll just die right here because this is impossible. If I have to go one more minute with this intense pain, I'll never make it. But as I rolled over I felt everything change. The back pain stopped, the contrx became centered in the middle of my body, I stopped moaning. I actually was thinking, Hey, this isn't so bad. Right side, good move! But then came the pressure... and I felt my body start to push, and I thought, OH NO! Back on the left, back on the left!!! Because as much as I didn't want the pain I really didn't want to push! The nurse was close by, and checked me out, said the time was very near, and started calling for the doctor. I just remember lying there, determined to not push, no matter what. One contrx came and went, and then my body took over and began bearing down. I began to writhe under the force of it. (That was when I had my first behavioral correction from my coach. Matt said firmly, "Heidi, quit biting the sheets!") The OB came in and the nurse said, "She's ready to deliver." The OB said, "Is she getting ready to push?" and the nurse said, "No, she's delivering right now." As the OB was walking across the room I remember yelling, "I'm only doing this once, so somebody tell me the best way to push!" They helped me "assume the position" and I tucked my chin and let 'er have it! I heard Matt counting in my ear, "1...2...3...4" and could feel the pressure and burn of the head, then a slight relief - I'd pushed the head out and wasn't even aware. Normally everyone starts yelling, "Stop, stop, stop!" and they suction, but since no one was saying anything (Matt said the OB was suctioning like crazy) I bore down and gave it another shove.... and then had the most wonderful feeling when it all just came out! And there's wriggling, and warmth, and, well, all that. I guess the nurse was still trying to tie the OB's gown when she had her hands full of baby boy. She'd gotten there just in time. And Matt said to me, in that whispery, tear-choked voice he always has, "It's a boy! It's a boy!" 11:05 a.m.

Levi was full of fluid from rocketing out so quickly without spending time in the squeeze cycle, so he had a bit of suctioning to do. His cry was very pinched and tight at first, but he screamed and screamed. I remember just being absolutely dazed. It had all happened in 1 hour and 29 minutes. I called the nurse over and just said, "Be with me, please." She smiled and stood there and held my hand. Colleen was fantastic. Matt was amazing. The OB made easy money. And the nursery nurse was really funny, cracking jokes, sarcastic, talking to little Levi, apologizing to him. I was too stunned to laugh, but she was funny!

Overall, that's the story. I sustained no damage to speak of. Levi looks like the c-section baby I was wishing for. He eats well and frequently (every two hours), and sleeps... well, that will come in time.

I think back to how much I stressed with the first two. Would they every sleep or nurse well? Would life every moderate? And I'm determined this time to live in the knowledge that Levi will grow and develop, and that this very happy and healthy F5 will see great days ahead!

Thanks for listening.