Reading birth stories in preparation for my baby girls arrival was both exhilarating, empowering, and enlightening. I've decided to share ours, as it may give someone somewhere a touch of hope or clarity or perspective that yes, every birth is different and unique as every mother and baby are.
I woke up Thanksgiving morning in quiet tears, as I had many mornings that week and a half leading up to her due date. I wish I could tell you why, as it was not out of pure sadness - nor fear - but this strange feeling of helplessness that would overcome me as I faced each new day leading up to her due date. When would she come? How would she come? Knowing only that she would eventually come - on her own accord or medical induction - your body goes into limbo and your heart and mind, right along with it.
Two days before, I had gone in to see my doctor for my 40-week visit and had finally dilated to more than 0cm but not quite a whole 1cm. After no real progress the weeks preceding, it was exciting to have something to hang my hopes on - even if, for all intents and purposes, 3/4 of a centimeter - or so - was all it was and both my doctor and I felt I had some time to go. Some time bookended only by an induction date we had set at that appointment, for December 5th - a whole two weeks away that felt forever long and more likely than not, what we were heading towards.
By that point, I think I'd prepared myself to have the exact opposite of my ideal birth happen... the good thing, though, was that from the beginning, I'd not ever held too tightly to a particular ideal. I didn't throw out delivering naturally entirely - nor was I convinced 100% I would want an epidural. Having never been in-labor before - I felt it was only fair to myself and my personality (which struggles with failure and shame) to wait and see what it all felt like. Granted, I had a birth plan but it was a loose one, at that. Most of what mattered particularly to me when it came to birth was what happened in those first moments after and our time with Virginia.
So Thursday morning it is. D-day. I spend some time talking with Cliff before he heads off to put lights up on his boss's house... kill time on my phone... and then finally rouse myself out of bed to make it at about 9AM. As I'm doing so, I notice an odd sensation and immediately head to the bathroom. There, I think, I discover one of the three
major signs of the onset of early labor... and I'm stunned and confused and immediately call Cliff and then the doctor. As it turns out, my doctor - Dr. Kyzer - is on a ski trip for her holiday and I talk briefly with the doctor on-call - Dr. Schlecter - who agrees that yes, it could possibly be what I thought it was but also to be prepared that it might be a precursor to
a different sign of someday labor, since my condition two days prior wasn't exactly what you'd call
ready, and that hadn't happened yet as far as I knew. She tells me just to keep an eye on things and call her if something changes.
Well, nothing really changes as the morning progresses so I keep myself busy with hang-out time with my sister, green bean casserole preparations, a shower (where I conveniently decide to shave my legs... just in case), doing my make-up and hair, and not thinking as much as possible about what had happened that morning. After sufficiently keeping myself preoccupied, I decide to sit down to write
a quick post on my photography blog in the spirit of Thanksgiving. As I'm working on the quote design and the text, I notice what I thought was a strange movement by the little one pretty low in my pelvis. Not painful by any means, just odd... and then again... and then again. Curious, I pull out my phone and
my contraction timer app and start timing the movements. Turns out they are about the same length in both duration and interval. Hmmmm, I think to myself. This is at about 12:15PM that same day.
About that time, my sister comes into the room from finishing up getting ready herself and I let her know I think I may be having contractions. You think? Yeah, I think. But, I'm not really sure what kind they are so after timing them a bit more I declare it time for a walk outside. And another call to Cliff. So over the course of a very surreal 45 minutes, we take three laps around the neighborhood and the contractions persist... to the point that by the end of our walk, I'm finally having to use my breathing techniques. The contractions didn't exactly hurt, but they weren't exactly comfortable. And I realize, this is more than likely happening.
Just as we're finishing the walk, Cliff pulls in from his morning errand and we go into prep mode. Re-checking the bags that have been packed in the back of my car for a month now - stocking it with Cliff's items. Mom and Marcus arrive shortly after - I hop in the shower again - and we decide to continue on with our Thanksgiving plans of dinner at Ryan's place with his and Natalie's parents seeing as me laboring shouldn't waste a perfectly good meal for the rest of my family AND their house is closer to the hospital. So we get to their place at about 4:30 and settle in for the next four and a half hours or so... I manage a few bites of some of my Thanksgiving favorites and manage to stay as comfortable as possible (thanks to Ryan's bed and the incredible support of everyone there - especially Cliff) as my contractions are obviously increasing in strength and number. I call Dr. Schlecter to check in with her again and ask, really, when I should come in - as I'd wanted to labor as long as possible not in the hospital and then go only when I should. She told me, "you'll know."
And sure enough, I eventually did, just as the pain of the contractions hit a point where "home" wasn't really comfortable anymore and I'd probably feel about the same at the hospital. So at 9PM, we loaded up and took off for Baptist. We get there at 9:15PM and run into my in-laws, who drove straight there from Cleveland - beating us to the hospital, and get checked in. By 10PM we make it to our Triage room where I was checked for the first time since Tuesday and was at 3cm and 80% effaced. I had thought, certainly, as long as I'd been laboring already and how painful it was becoming, I had to have been further than that - and felt some dismay. But the nurse kept telling me how great that was and how much work I'd done considering I was only 1cm and thick just two days before. From Triage, we are carted off to our Labor-Delivery-Recovery (LDR) room to settle in for the long-haul.
There, our nurse Amanda - whom we lovingly refer to as "girly" because that's what she called me... constantly... acquaints herself with us and gets me all set up and hooked up to an IV. I'm clearly dehydrated by this point and am grateful for what reviving that does, as well as getting hooked into the monitors which set the soundtrack for the evening - my sweet girl's heartbeat. By 11:45PM, I am checked again and am in the 4-5cm and nearly 100% effaced territory and really starting to feel weary.
Cliff holds my hand through every contraction, helping me to breathe through and focus. He feeds me ice chips and softly caresses my head. He is a saint. I ended up having our waiting-room patrons come in to visit in rounds, hoping that might pep me up for what's left to come. It's certainly a welcome reprieve, but every contraction hits harder than the previous and I'm not much company for those popping in. Somehow, I'm able to rest - even briefly - between contractions, which is such relief... but slowly that fades and there's no relief between contractions. And at that point, I knew I was ready for an epidural. I had been up since 5AM the previous morning with no naps and I couldn't imagine staying awake and in pain like that for an indefinite period of time.
I was nervous about the procedure, yes, and curiously anxious about the effects it would have on me and my laboring, and my postpartum experience with Virginia. But let me tell you, an epidural, in that moment and for the morning to come, was such such such a gift. They administered it at about 2:45AM and it was not anything close to horrible - for me, at least. It was unlike anything I'd ever felt before, but it felt good and right and I will never regret it forever. A little while after having it administered, I am checked again and am at 6cm with my bag of waters on the brink of breaking... or so we thought. Caveat: my goal was to make it to 5 or 6cm before deciding on an epidural... and without even knowing it, that goal came to light.
I manage to fall into a good sleep, feeling the pressure but not the pain of every contraction, and am awoken at 4:15AM and told my contractions have slowed and they'd like to break my bag of waters. I give my consent, they present what looks like a large plastic crochet hook, and what's done is done. Unfortunately, this doesn't get my contractions going again and I'm awoken, a little later, and am asked if they can administer Pitocin. Knowing at this point, I just want my baby in my arms and I've got an epidural (thus helping to cancel out the woes of Pitocin), I oblige and am put on a drip at 5AM. At 6AM I am checked again and am finally - wait, what? - at a real 6cm. Real, as in, the baby's head is dilating your cervix... not the bag of waters. Apparently that can happen and when my bag of waters broke, my dilitation receded and then came to when Virginia started making her way down the birth canal. That's good, I guess, but it doesn't quite feel like the progress we'd hoped for by that time.
Ahhh, but then things get going. They come in again at 7:15AM and I'm in the 7-8cm territory. Yay! Jody arrives to start documenting what will be left of our labor and delivery. By this time, my new nurse for this 12-hour period - Jill - comes in and she's just as great as Amanda. Love me some Baptist LDR nurses. We get acquainted, she gets me a Popsicle, and I ask for our waiting room saints to be brought in again in rounds. At some point about this time, my Pitocin dosage is lowered and I'm put on oxygen because the Fetal HR is going up and down quite a bit... this worries me only briefly as things are adjusted and everything goes steady again. I felt so well-cared for.
After visitors and more ice chips and a delicious popscile and no more oxygen, it's 10:45, I'm checked again, and I'm 9cm "ALMOST 10". Woohoo. This is really happening, I think to myself. How in the world did I actually make it this far? Having convinced myself that, because of my high and narrow pubic arch, this wasn't going to happen... and even at that point, I had a lingering fear of stalling. But stalling didn't happen because only a half hour later, I was checked again and complete. Complete as in 10cm?, I ask. Complete as in 10cm, Jill says. So I'm about to push? You're about to push. But not before Dr. Schlecter works some magic and turns Virginia ever so slightly to get her in the proper position for birth (she was facing my left side instead of my spine, like she should).
At about 11:20, Cliff, Jill, and Dr. Schlecter assume their rightful and helpful positions around the delivery bed - Cliff not entirely aware that practice pushing isn't exactly practice like it is in birth class... it's real. A few minutes in and there's all this talk and commotion about the crazy head of hair on our baby girl and he's tearing up and I'm just in awe that THIS IS ACTUALLY HAPPENING. And I can feel the pressure. I can feel my delivery - the realness of it, but not the sharpness - and I think, THANK YOU LORD FOR THIS EPIDURAL. I knew when it was time to push, but it didn't kill me and I had the best cheerleaders in the whole world. I'm sure they tell everyone they're doing a great job, but it certainly did help me to feel like a rockstar. It's tiring, yes, but there really is a relief in it and I just kept thinking... please don't let this take forever.
After 40 minutes of pushing, there is a newness to the hustle and bustle and I can feel Virginia making more of an entrance into the world. Dr. Schelcter comments that the umbilical cord is around her neck (like mother, like daughter) and she again, works a magic I will never begin to understand and at 12 o'clock noon, on the dot - there in the arms of my doctor who only 24 hours later wasn't my doctor, under the bright lights of an LDR room in a divine hospital, is my beautiful, beautiful, beautiful baby girl awash in a sheen of plum purple. They put her immediately on a blanket on my chest and I cannot stop crying. I won't. Because it is healing. This miracle baby laying there, trying her best to cry, but struggling because she had aspirated amniotic fluid, and my rock of a husband standing beside me, tears brimming in his eyes. It was unlike any moment I had ever or will ever experience.
Within a few moments, they ask to take her to the assessment station as they're concerned about her breathing condition. I am immediately worried, and yet immediately assured by the skill and attentiveness of everyone in the room. I can see her from a distance, being suctioned and hooked up to oxygen and Cliff there, standing by her side and I can only pray that after all of that, everything is okay. And it's more than okay. They have a specialist come in to assess her condition and they assure me she's doing better and will continue to do so and instead of taking her to the transition nursery, they want her right on my chest for skin-to-skin because it's the best thing for her. And so after weighing and measuring her, she is brought to me and I lose it all over again. A tiny, wriggly body that for months hid and grew inside of me is now in my arms... and she is smiling, on accident, and breathing and she is just perfect in every way. I try my first hand at nursing, which goes surprisingly well and we lay there for what feels like forever... and in some ways, I know it will be forever, the way it's etched into my heart and mind.
I have an incredible God... husband... family... friends... doctor... and nurses to thank for what an amazing and grace-filled experience my labor and delivery were, from start to finish. Having not created an ideal in my head for what I wanted it all to look like, exactly, it could not have been closer to the way, in my heart, I had hoped for it all to go.
I have a healthy, sweet girl and I am well, and that is all I could have ever, ever asked for.
