Our Little Girl's Birth Story

The tiny toes I was dreaming of these last nine months. 

   Littlest baby girl and I started our morning out on her due date just as we had for the past several weeks~ with a wee morning snack. Around 2 am I woke up, toasted a bagel, and reclined on the couch browsing the internet. By the time I went back upstairs, I realized that my usual Braxton Hicks felt different. They were lower, stronger, and continuous. "Was this labor?" The thought of naturally going into labor was such a joyous feeling as I never did it before and doubted my ability to do it. Yes I can go into labor!  I went back upstairs to bed and started to count. They were coming at a pace of about 15 minutes apart. "Could this really be labor?! Was our baby girl coming?!  Would I be holding her in my arms in a few hours?!" I felt so unsure as I had never felt natural contractions (M's water broke 15 days prematurely, and I was then oxytocin induced.) Lying next to my soundly slumbering husband while counting the time between each contraction,  I remember ecstatically thinking, "I've never had to breathe through my Hicks like this!" I was then able to fall back asleep hours after I woke for my snack. I would awake for some contractions and then fall back asleep between them.  When N woke at 6:30 to get ready for work, I told him that I might be in labor and that he should just go into work for a few hours. Half of me was thinking, "Just commit to this! Just tell him to stay," and the other half of me was thinking, "This could be false labor, even true labor can stop, I could be in labor for hours and hours, he is only 30 minutes away, and my mom could drive me in if needed." I was relived that my mom had arrived the evening before and was there when I needed her to care for M. By 8 am, I was downstairs reclining on the couch waiting for my mom and M to wake up.  When my mom came down the stairs a few minutes past 8 am, I held a breath and tried my best to gently break the news that I was in labor and had been since the early morning.  I was about 12 minutes between contractions. On the couch I rested and kept on counting. I called N at 9 am, told him that the contractions were still regular and inquired when would be best for him to come home. By the time he came home at 11:30, I was varying from 9-12 minutes apart. The November weather was really pretty and my mom even gave N a haircut outside on the deck. After resting for an hour, I was consistently 9 minutes apart and thought that we should get ready to leave so that we could walk around the hospital until I got to the recommend 5 minutes apart for admission and in plenty of time for an epidural. I then took a leisurely bath.  It was interesting to feel how the water helped to alleviate the pain as I have often thought that our soaking tub would be a good place to labor. N and I shared a sweet moment watching our little girl kick away from the inside for the last time. As I was taking my sweet time, it suddenly dawned upon me that my 9 minutes between contractions felt much shorter. "Could that really have been just three minutes?! I had better get moving." While I rinsed off in the shower, they kept on coming really quickly. I found that bending over and holding on to my knees helped me breathe through the pain. The pain only lasted for 30 seconds, and I was able to get through them well. At 1:30 pm, N's timing confirmed that they were only 2.5 minutes apart!

We took a parting picture, kissed M goodbye and put her down for her nap. My last words to my mother while we ran out the door were, "We will call you ~if~ we get admitted and then you can call the rest of the family to tell them I am in labor."

Taken at 1:29 pm

I remember distinctly one contraction I had in the garage surrounded by lawn equipment and another bent over in the street hanging onto the tailgate of our car. Those contractions were strong yet manageable. We moved M's carseat to my mom's car. I got into the passengers seat and we were on the road.  In the car I attempted to distract myself through the pain with my favorite station blaring above the noise from the rolled-down windows, yet it was not working.  I longed to be back in my garage all nicely bent over or in the street rather than in this car with a 30 minute stop and go ride. I then did the unthinkable~ took off my seatbelt~ (I am a stickler for car safety :). Rocking back and forth on my knees while holding on to the headrest confirmed that I was ~that woman~ being semi-furiously driven to the hospital~ "What had happened to the let's get to the hospital early and go for a nice long walk? What happened to getting there early for an epidural?" We drove into the parking lot at 2:09 pm. As soon as the car rounded the entrance, N listened to my "Stop the car!"  There was no time to park and grab a wheelchair in my mind. Walking made so much more sense than waiting one more minute. I walked through one contraction on my way and thought that the freedom felt so much better than the confinement of the car. When I reached the desk I was less than compassionately handed paperwork as I muttered, "Two minutes apart." From the look on the clerk's face apparently having contractions two minutes apart is zero reason to murmur. Who knew that the preadmission paperwork that everyone insists you get over with weeks before the birth would have less questions than this sheet. As N arrived I was elegantly sprawled out on the waiting room floor~ that's normal isn't it? I went to the restroom and with a failed attempt to empty my bladder realized that the sensations I felt were rather an attempt to empty my belly of our baby. By 2:20 pm, we were admitted to triage. (My mother never did get the call I promised her, and our family never got news of my being in labor at all.) While they examined me in triage, I was thinking, "Please be high, please be high." And at 9 cm high it was!! While I less than graciously rode through another contraction, the nurses lifted up the sidebars and rushed me to a delivery room. As an epidural at 9 cm made little sense, I went with a pudendal block along with the doctor's promise that if she broke my water baby girl would be here very shortly. Thankfully she held true to that promise. Through some contractions I screamed like a baby, breathed through others, and used a focusing point to get through others.  Afterward my lovely nurse mentioned that the noise did not bother her but that I gave her a fright when I "focused through" as if she was losing me to a seizure. While screaming like a baby, I remember thinking, "Honey I am so sorry to put you through this" while feeling that it felt so good to let the energy of the pain pass through my lungs. When baby girl's heart beat dropped to 60 (with 120 being on the lowest end of the healthy range), the head pediatrician was called in to be there at her birth, and I was told they would intervene with what I affectionately have dubbed the salad tongs.  Certainly such an intervention was far from ideal and I do second guess their necessity, yet I try to focus on her healthy birth. (Maybe the third time will be our charm without odd medical interventions). This pushing experience was very different from M's leisurely pushing hour.  There were no, "She's crowning," "She's coming," "She is almost here," "Here she is."  There was no time to feel her head, see my progress with a mirror, or snap a photo of my ridiculously red face. All I heard was "Push!", all I saw was the inside of my eyelids, and all I did was push. At 2:54 pm baby sister made her arrival!  Her cord was wrapped twice around her neck which might have been the reason for her sudden heart rate deceleration, and thankfully she only had very minimal bruising from the forceps.  

My first time meeting her at 3:17pm

Daddy's helping hands

Yummy fingers

So much hair

Looks just like daddy

Wearing the same going home outfit as M

After writing such a detailed birth story, I decided to go back and fill in some details about M's arrival.