Orrin was born!

Okay, here’s the post about the arrival of our FIFTH baby. (Five??? I have FIVE children?!!) I know some people were wondering about how it was different in Switzerland vs. the States, so I will highlight some of the differences I noticed (which are mostly really small and could be the kind of variations you’d find from hospital to hospital within the States).

So, Orrin was a little bit of a sneaky guy himself, and surprised us with his early arrival. His due date was the 26th of December, but on Saturday night (the 4th) I started having contractions. That morning while Hazel and Jethro had swimming lessons, Brett and I bought a Christmas tree. Then we took all the kids to the second-hand sporting goods store and bought Jethro some skis. We came home and had lunch and then Brett took Hazel and Jethro up the Gurten (the small mountain near Bern) on the train and sledded down the side of it. Then they came home and they all went out again (this time with Ethne) to sled some more on the hill behind our house.

That evening at about 7, I had a contraction, which I thought was weird. Later, at about 9, I had a few more. I still didn’t completely believe this was it, I suppose because I hadn’t just woken up with them 5 minutes apart. (Also, of course because it was three weeks early. Two weeks early would be normal for me, but I wasn’t expecting three.) Brett and I were tired, and we went to bed at about 9:30. I laid there but didn’t ever go to sleep because I had more contractions. Finally I got up a little after 10 and told Brett we probably should go to the hospital. So we called a couple from our ward who were kind enough to come over for the night, and I showered and we got stuff together, and we got to the hospital about 11:30. This is me- ready to go!

Swiss Difference #1- I was not asked to change into a hospital gown-at any point. Nope, stayed in my clothes until it was time to take my pants off. Stayed in my shirt the whole time. Weird, eh?

When we got there the midwife had me lie on this bed, which is where I had the baby, and put on the monitors. Brett said, “This is the part you hate, isn’t it?” which it normally is, but she put them on really nicely instead of way-super tight. So after a little bit she checked me and I was at a 6. She was very surprised. (As per the usual for when we get to the hospital. I’m so chill. Oh yeah.) ;)

Swiss difference #2- I was not asked at any time if I wanted an epidural. In the States, that’s pretty much the second thing that comes out of their mouth, after –please change into a hospital gown. :)

Not long after, the midwife put an i.v. thingee in my arm and called my doctor. She again laughed incredulously at how chill Brett and I were—chatting, etc. But the contractions weren’t too terrible still, and I had good breaks between them. She took the monitors off and said to do whatever I felt like.

When we’d been there for a while and the contractions were starting to be really horrible, I made some noise to Brett about going and telling the midwife I wanted an epidural. He said, “Come on, you’ve only got about twenty minutes left anyway,” which to some may sound callous (my sister Amy said she would have kicked him in the head), but I choose to think that that was actually his not-so-sensitive way of saying “You can do it! I know you can! You’re doing great!" and other such supportive statements. ;) Anyway, I obviously didn’t care that much, or I would have asked the midwife about it myself, and you know—Brett was right, it really wasn’t going to be much longer. As it was, I simply did the same thing I did when I was having Talmage—sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed the small of my back really REALLY hard when I had a contraction.

The midwife came in again and told me to tell her if started to feel any pressure. Of course, power of persuasion, not soon after I did start feeling pressure. My doctor arrived in time, but difference #3- he didn’t do anything. Although he stood somewhat nearby (I think he was leaning against the wall most of the time, but maybe I just didn’t notice him coming closer), he was hands-off. The midwife did everything. She also told me I could push whenever I felt like it, which is also different than my previous experiences.

Okay, so there’s a book I read when I was in middle school I think, called ‘Follow the River.’ It’s about a woman who gets captured by Indians and she is pregnant at the time. On the way back to the Indian encampment she has her baby on the trail, during which she doesn’t cry out or make any noise. The Indian chief (I think he was the chief? leader of the party, anyway) was so impressed by this that he offers to make her his wife when they get to his village. That book, and my mom—who always says that she didn’t yell or scream (and is always very disdainful of any movie that depicts a woman screaming while giving birth), has made me want to try to not make any noise while having a baby. Guess what? I failed. :) While I wouldn’t say I scream or carry on, I do make some noise and sometimes say things that somehow make me feel better at the time, but cause me embarrassment later on. Because I think it’s quite funny (even though quite embarrassing), I will share what I said this time. Right before the worst part of it (when you can feel the head is almost going to come out), I said, “I don’t want to!” (I’m so embarrassed.) I said it again, and Brett was kinda laughing and the midwife said something to the effect of ‘yes you do, then you’ll have your baby’ or something, and I was thinking, ‘no, no I don’t.’ But anyway, at that point it’s too late to go back.

He came out in a push or two, at 12:21. Brett cut the cord, but difference #4- they didn’t suction his mouth out at all. Brett and both expected that, and were surprised when she didn’t do it. (Don’t they always do that very first thing—like even before the whole body’s out sometimes? Am I right?) Anyway, she told me to lift my shirt up and gave him to me. So we had been in the hospital a little less than an hour before he was born.

After a while she took him and wiped him off and weighed him – in grams, so Brett was doing the math to figure out what he weighed in pounds and ounces. He was 6 pounds and 4 ounces, and 18 inches long. He was our smallest baby, the next was Jethro at 6 lb 10 oz.

The midwife asked if we had a name picked out because if we did Brett could make a little bracelet with his name on it. So Brett started threading the beads and came to make sure it would fit on his wrist, and I was like, “uhhh, that’s not how you spell it,” and Brett said, “Yes it is.” Brett had spelled it Orin- only one r, and I told him that Orrin is spelled with two r’s, and he started arguing about it, and the midwife was laughing at us. Besides just being the correct way to spell it (how Orrin Porter Rockwell and Orrin Hatch and Orrin Sackett spell it)

I said that with only one r it didn’t look as good or as solid, and I said, “What if your name was spelled with just one t? It would look unfinished,” but Brett’s like, “I don’t care, one less letter to worry about. Let’s just take out all the unnecessary letters and spell it Orn.” I was like, “Get away from me, and don’t ever say that again.”

By the way, of course it is spelled Orrin. We picked Orrin because I (I mean we) liked it, and we picked the middle name Woodruff because I’m related to Wilford Woodruff, who is way awesome, and I think it sounds cool.

However the government in Switzerland has to approve of the name, and we already have a letter expressing doubt as to the legitimacy of Woodruff as a name. Don’t worry, I think they were mixed up because they thought it was a first name, but they’re okay with it as a middle name. Weird people who can nix our name!

By the way, our other picks for names were Uli Bell- because Brett thought it would be awesome to have a baby born in Switzerland and give him a Swiss name (I told him it would be cool enough just to be born in Switzerland, he didn’t have to have a Swiss name too), or Filiberto Paco Ernesto Bell, because I think there are a ton of rad hispanic names—who doesn’t like the name Paco, or Fili?, or Wolverine Bell, because that would be sah-weet.

Don’t look too closely at me in the pictures. I know some women look beautiful right after having a baby, but me, not so much.

Here’s Brett eating some food after all his hard work. :)

Teeny little guy.

The next day the kids came to visit after they went to church. I should have made Brett take a picture of just tjhe kids, not me. bleh. But anyway, proof that I have five kids.

Okay, I know that this happens every time you have a baby, but honestly, I think Talmage grew into a giant the day I had Orrin. I picked him up and it was like he was a ton of bricks! And look at how big his hands are compared to Orrin’s little head! Crazy stuff.

In this picture Orrin is starting to cry and Talmage is pointing at him and making a sad face to tell me that he’s crying. I thought it was funny.

Difference #5 - So anyway, as they hadn’t given Orrin a bath, the next day I asked if I could, and so the nurse helped me run the sink and all, and then she had me plop him right in. Always in the States I’d been told no putting babies completely in water until after their umbilical cord falls off.

Difference #6- Traditionally women stay in the hospital for 4-7 days or even more if they’ve had a c-section. However, as I shared a room with 3 other women, who had many visitors etc., I decided to go home on Tuesday morning. I figured it would be more restful at home where at least I could put my kids to bed at 8:00 and then only worry about my own baby crying, and not have to listen to the woman in bed next to me snore. So that’s what I did, and Brett stayed home from work that week, except for going in half-days Thursday and Friday.

So, Orrin is doing great, and sleeping SOOOOO well so far—I just love him! And as this is the third time I’ve worked on this post and I want to be done—that’s it! The end.

p.s. I have what feels like a ton of stuff to catch up on already, such as showing some of the stuff I’ve crocheted, and a whole bunch of pictures of Orrin—but I can’t decide which picture to use for the announcement –anybody want to come help me choose? and guess what? Christmas is next week!