The "walking" epidural and other lessons learned from my Labor days

So it's been about a week since I gave birth.  Boy has it been quite a week!  (In case you missed my live tweeting during my labor, you can read it by going to @MamasMic)

Here are some of the memorable (and sometimes graphic) moments.

I got a Foley bulb to kickstart my labor.  I won't describe what a Foley bulb is, but let's just say I will never look at a balloon the same way again.

Minus backlabor, a rocking chair is a kick-ass way to push through contractions.

Having a doctor break your water doesn't hurt, but the lasting effect is uncomfortable to say the least. Imagine peeing your pants...constantly...all day long.  It's disgusting. 

Now for the "walking epidural".  Everyone I told about this did not understand what it is.  Basically, the combination of drugs allows you to still have some control over your limbs while still numbing the "baby chute".

WARNING: Just because you were able to walk from the bed to the rocking chair after getting the so-called "walking epidural", does NOT mean you will be able to walk back.  I realized this as I began slowly sliding to the floor with a mixture of confusion and drugged euphoria on my face.  Thank goodness I have a buff doctor who was able to lift my dead weight off the floor.  "Pregnant woman DOWN!"

The drugs did let me take a two-hour nap.  But I was sooo tired that I literally could not open my eyes the entire time I was pushing.  Seriously.  I think I could have fallen asleep while delivering my baby.  I was THAT exhausted.

It doesn't matter how many times your husband says he really wants a boy but will be just as happy with a girl.  I really felt I was having a girl and was worried my husband would be disappointed.  But hearing my husband announce that we had a boy filled me with absolute disbelief, relief and love.

Now that we finally knew the sex, we now needed a name.  Here were some of the contenders.  Connor, James, Michael, William, Judah. 

We ended up naming our son Dylan James. 

Where did Dylan come from?  I had mentioned it to him previously, but the hubby said no since I used to be a huge 90210 fan.  (yes, he's a pain in the ass)

But finally I told him that we had to choose something, try it on and see if it fit.  I said I liked Dylan James.  He said, "I could like that." My jaw hit the floor.  I asked him if he was actually agreeing to a name and he said yes...but we had to hug on it first.  And so we did.  And now our son is named Dylan James.

Well, Dylan is calling and this milk maid needs to answer.  Stay tuned for many more stories about being a mama of two...including "How to keep my two year old from seriously injuring my infant" to "You blocked the pee but forgot the poo!"

So until next time my friends....