3 years ago today, my baby boy began to make his way into the world; this is his story.

*written in 2014, shared for the first time today

It was Thursday night, March 14th, 2013. I came home from work, ate some dinner with Isaac and was relaxing at home. Baby was due Monday—4 days ago—so we were anxiously awaiting his arrival. I had worked every day this week and was exhausted –every day I went in that week, I was greeted with, “no baby yet?”—“nope, not yet”. Wednesday–two days past my due date, I decided to go pamper myself while waiting for baby. I got my go-to favorite of gel manicure  and then ate TWO lemon cupcakes famously heralded for their labor-inducing powers. No such luck with me, but man, were they delicious!

Well, back to Thursday evening. Around 11:00 pm I started to have contractions—now I had Braxton hicks here and there the last few weeks, but this was different. I remember walking up the stairs and grabbing the railing and breathing deeply. ‘Honey, I think tonight’s the night”, I said. I remained calm, told him it wasn’t serious yet, and for him to go get some sleep—so he could be there for me when I really needed him. I sat in our chair for a while, breathing through contractions, went downstairs for a while—walking seemed to help. Then back upstairs I went, got in bed and leaned up against the wall behind our bed—lying down was not as comfortable—and tried to sleep for a few minutes between each contraction. At some point in the night, contractions became 5 minutes apart, but still bearable, so I would get up, lie back down—repeat. Then around 5:30 am, I woke Isaac up and asked him to time my contractions, at this point they were 2-3 minutes apart! Well, doctors say that’s when you go in, so to the hospital we went. It was right across the street practically.

My bag was packed, car seat installed and ready for our baby boy and Isaac was pretty calm—as was I. We got to the hospital, found a place to park and headed in, greeted by overly bright lights, the elderly lady at the front desk directs us to the elevator and said, “Join the club”. Slightly panicked, I asked, “Are there a lot of other women here?” “Oh, yea, seems they’ve been coming all night long”. ‘Great’, I thought. Oh well. I was hoping for quiet surroundings, but that just wasn’t in the cards.

We exit the elevator at the Labor and Delivery floor and make our way to the receptionist, who has us complete some paperwork and then eventually directs us to a room. I’m handed a gown to change into and then told the doctor will be in shortly. Dr. Maricini walks in to ‘check’ how dilated I am—and let’s take a short pause here, a moment of silence in remembrance of some of the worst pain I have ever experienced. As the doctor ‘checks’ me, which I’ve had done many times in my prenatal visits the past several weeks, she proceeds to say she needs to pull my cervix down and is in there for a solid minute or two. I clenched Isaac’s hand tightly as tears silently rolled down my cheeks. As the doctor moves out and away, in a detached, medical voice, she tells me, “You’re only 2 cm dilated. Your cervix was posterior, but I’ve moved it now, so we will see how things progress.” And then she leaves. I asked the nurse if we were officially admitted and she said not until they figure if I am in actual labor or not and that they will continue to monitor my progress and if nothing changes in the next hour, I will be sent home. Then the nurse left. Alone in our big room, I turned to Isaac and said this better be the real thing, cuz I don’t know what I will do if I have to go back home!

At this point, my contractions were closer to 3-5 minutes apart instead of 2-3 like before, sigh. So Isaac and I check out our room—nice bathroom with jet stream tub; a big, spacious room with a couch by the window, a rocking chair/recliner, TV in the upper corner of the room, a bed and then some medical equipment stuff. I asked for a birthing ball and one was brought in. The doctor came back to check me again, I was now 3 cm—“Woo-hoo!” I thought, progress! She didn’t seem too excited, and said she would be back to check me in an hour or so. Finally at 9:00 am (we checked in right after 6:00 am), after I was checked a third time, the nurse told me I was being officially admitted and that I was in ‘actual’ labor! I was so excited! Or at least not about to cry. Ha. I soon received a text from my supervisor asking if I was coming into work—um no. I’m in labor.

Contractions began to come on progressively stronger—and my back hurt SO badly! Before this point, I didn’t know about back labor, nor was I prepared for it! I sat on the birthing ball, the rocking recliner, had Isaac massage my lower back-over and over. Then asked (told) him to slow dance with me—rocking motion and massaging my lower back brought some comfort. The strangest thing about contractions is that in the midst of them—the world is about to end, then as soon as they are over—wa-la—I could bake a cake, go hiking, anything! Oh yes, and early on, just before 9, as I was hooked up to some things and the nurse was monitoring baby boy in my belly, she said that my fluid levels looked low and they needed to do an ultrasound. So I was whisked onto a gurney, wheeled out to the hall and onto the elevator-all the while breathing and trying to survive through my contractions—Isaac at my side. Once in the ultrasound room, and worried about my baby, anxiously awaiting what the tech will tell me, the guy says my fluid levels are low and then they wheel me back up to my room. The nurse then proceeds to tell me that I’m having ‘variables’ and that they have to monitor my baby. From what I could understand, the variable was that apparently each time I had a contraction, it clamped the umbilical cord (cutting off breathing for baby) and then would let up once my contraction was through. Oh, is that all?—like that’s not terrifying to hear.  So they had this Velcro belt thing around my belly-fetal monitoring, I believe it’s called.

The nurse I had was lovely. The one that came on at 8 or whatever, that is—because the first one I had, upon our arrival, was not so great. My nice nurse –it was her first day back from maternity leave—she had just had a baby girl. She was a balanced mix between being supportive of an unmedicated birth and also realizing an epidural is a fine option, too. She was cheerful and kind. And my friend for the next 12 hours.

From 9:00 am to 1:00 pm, the back labor continued, the contractions got more intense and I progressed to 5/6 cm. I wanted to get in the tub, but the contractions in my back made it so I felt as though I could barely move, let alone think of bending down into a tub and getting up again. Plus, due to my extremely low fluid levels, the nurse wanted to monitor baby and movement—though I was given freedom to move around the room etc. as needed. But nothing seemed to bring relief. I tried different positions on the birthing ball, tried rocking in the chair, would yell out for Isaac to start massaging my back when a contraction would hit, tried ‘slow dancing’, but what I didn’t know at the time was that getting on all fours is helpful for back labor. Well, hindsight is 20/20 and nobody knew how to help me relax or ease the pain. At 1 pm, 13 hours after my contractions began, I struggled to see any end in sight; I didn’t know how much longer it would be, I had heard of women in labor for 36 hours, 48 hours and I just couldn’t last that long with the back labor, so after talking to Isaac, and the nurse, I said, ‘Yep, I want that epidural!’

I hate needles, I hate IV’s, but I just needed some relief. The nurse proceeds to try to put an IV in my hand, then my other hand, no luck—then she goes to my arm and after a few tries, finally gets it in. Ouch! Then I had to watch a short video and then sign a form consenting for the procedure, and that no one is liable should I die. Great.

Now comes in young and charming, Mr. Anesthesiologist, chewing his gum like a teenage girl. He starts to prep me for my IV, has me sit on the edge of the bed (keep in mind my hospital gown—if you can call it that, is all I am wearing. More like a piece of fabric held by a single button at the nape of my neck) and proceeds to tell me to ‘scoot my cheeks back’ closer to him. I chuckle and tell him, ‘Only during labor could you get away with that statement’. He tells me to remain perfectly still, that I absolutely cannot move while he inserts the needle—or ‘something’ could happen. Great. I mean, I’ve only feared the paralyzing possibility of an epidural my entire life, not to mention, I couldn’t fathom how I was to stay still when my back contractions kept coming. He said to ‘just breathe through it’. Right, yes sir—no problem, these contractions that have me twisting this way and that- just to find relief, well, I’ll just not move for fear of you stabbing the wrong part of my spine and ‘something’ happening.

So I remain as still as possible, while he tapes up my back, then first inserts a needle to help numb, and then another needle, ‘the’ needle, at which point I must have twitched or something, because he suddenly says, “No, you can’t do that! Don’t move!’ So during my contraction, with the nurses’ help, I breathe through it, staying still and Mr. Anesthesiologist was able to do his thing. He leaves and the nurse tells me to just lie down and relax; Isaac goes over to the couch to lie down for a bit. Soon I begin to feel really weird, loopy and out of it—what you might imagine a high hippie to be like—or as I imagine them. I start to get a bit worried as I watch my vitals on the screen to the side of me—my blood pressure seemed to be rapidly dropping. I ring the nurses station and tell them my blood pressure is too low, and then the nurse eventually came back to check and stayed with me for a bit. She said that the epidural can have that effect. Honestly, it freaked me out. I got really worried. But soon I was feeling better, and it certainly was nice to not have the intense back pain. I could still tell when I was having contractions—would feel my abdomen tighten/pressure, but nothing like before. Now I was relaxed and smiling, I asked for something, anything to eat—I was given a Popsicle. Not the yummy kind I’m used to, but a cheap one-meh, well, it was at least something. I texted and called some of my friends and family—now that I was coherent enough to do so. Isaac napped. I wanted to (as I didn’t really sleep the night before, so it had been over 30 hours since I slept)—and the nurse encouraged me to, so I would have strength for pushing later etc., but I was just too excited! Our baby boy would be here soon (or so I hoped) and I was just so excited the day was finally here! Around 2 pm, Dr. Maricinni came in to check me and decided to break my water to see if that would help speed things along. I had the IV constantly pumping fluid in me and so every few hours the nurse would use the catheter to empty my bladder—man, was I glad I couldn’t feel anything.

The rest of the afternoon, I just laid on the bed, nibbling some ice or a Popsicle, watching the screen that had both my and baby’s vitals and waiting for 10 cm to get here! As the nurse and doctor would periodically come in and check my progress, I would ask, “Do you think the baby will be here before midnight?” I was desperately hoping that labor would not have to continue through another night. The doctor and nurse both assured me they were pretty sure this baby would be born before midnight. I can’t tell you the relief that brought me. It was like I finally had that light at the end of the tunnel. At 7 pm, I was 8 cm and by 9, I had hit 10 cm! At this point, I have a different nurse (sad day) who I did not particularly like. She comes in and tells me we are about to start      pushing. She tells Isaac to get on one side and hold my leg and she will hold the other.

Quick pause –it’s funny, because prior to my being in labor, Isaac and I had discussed his preferences during labor/delivery. He had no desire to cut the umbilical cord, which was fine with me, and he said he preferred to be up by my face and holding my hand during the pushing process—as opposed to watching the whole ‘pushing’ and ‘crowning’ etc.-which was also fine with me. Prior to labor, I had been told to warn Isaac about the amount of blood, as some husbands were caught off guard and ‘scarred’ for life by what they saw. So anywho, Isaac’s not a real science/birth enthusiast—not to say he wasn’t ecstatic about meeting our son—he just wanted to be there for me to help me through it—not the type of dad wanting to video the delivery of the baby etc. Well, I don’t know if it was my perception from the movies or something—but to think that Isaac could be up by my face as opposed to watching the baby get pushed out is just silly—my torso’s not THAT long–if he’s by my side, he’s going to get front row viewing

So, back to where the nurse instructs Isaac to grab my right leg, while she takes the other and then, as she watches the screen for my contractions, she tells me to hold my breath and push, then to exhale, wait 30-60 seconds and repeat. I felt as though my face was going to explode. Literally. (Which I was surprised afterwards that I had not bust any blood vessels). As I’m pushing—I can’t tell if I’m making any progress, and from what I had been told, epidurals can prolong the pushing process, as the woman cannot feel everything in the same way—can’t listen to her body in the way one without an epidural can—and I remember pleadingly asking Isaac, “Am I making any progress??!” and he keeps telling me I’m doing great, and I blurt, “How do you know?!!” and he replies, “I can see his head”. “What?!” Then the nurse has me reach down and feel the baby crowning, which was the strangest feeling ever. I could feel his hair—surprised how much I felt (Isaac and I were basically bald babies) and it was just the most unreal sensation—my baby, our baby—coming out of me. Whoa.

After only 20-30 minutes of pushing, the nurse says it’s time to get the doctor. As of the last hour, I have a new doctor—Dr. Cook. I had seen him a few times during my prenatal care. Nice man, in his late 50’s, rather dry and boring, but competent. He comes in, tells me to push, then mid-push says, “Stop”. The baby was here! Just like that. I barely pushed and he was out. Our boy born at 9:43 pm Friday night. I reminded the doctor that I wanted the cord clamping delayed, so with cord still attached he laid our boy right on my chest. I remember seeing him for the first time. He seemed to look a bit purple. And so..tough. I can’t explain it really. His features were just such that he looked so tough. I held him. His eyes were wide open. He didn’t cry at all. He came out wide-eyed and content. There was no slapping of the baby’s butt—like the movies always portrayed. He wasn’t all bloody either (the doctor didn’t wipe him off, just handed him to me). I was so tired..and didn’t even know what to think or how to feel. Our baby boy was here; he was healthy and mine. And I loved him.

The next hour was a bit of a blur. They took our baby from me to weigh him (in the same room I was in) and to measure him: 21.5” and 7 lbs. 4 oz. I weighed 7.4 oz when I was born, and so did Isaac’s dad. The nurse put some sort of goop on my baby’s eyes and laid him back on me to breastfeed. Baby boy took right to it, had a good latch from the first try. I was thankful. They gave me some ginger ale, I drank it so fast—I was so thirsty. They gave me another. Soon, I remember yelling for Isaac to grab our son off me, as I felt as though I was going to puke. He rushed over and grabs him and I immediately threw up, twice. I remember the nurse coming over to take out my IV and give me a ‘saline rinse’, which was SUPER painful—still gives me the shivers to think about. I began to have a fever and I was shaking some—after-effects of the epidural and likely a combination of not having eaten in over 30 hours.

Meanwhile, Dr. Cook has been ‘suturing’ me up.  I remember seeing him—through my dazed exhaustion—holding what looked like a GIANT pair of scissors and a needle and thread—going back and forth, up and down—like some seamstress or something. I felt a slight tug—and was increasingly aware that my epidural was quickly wearing off and anxiously asked him if he was almost finished. He assured me he was and then informed me that I had what they call a ‘compass tear’ –torn in all four directions. And that I had a few other tears as well. Forty-five minutes and 50+ stitches later, Dr. Cook pulls away just as I feel the last bit of the epidural wear off. After he left, or before- I honestly can’t remember—sometime in that hour after our boy was born–the nurses (there were now about 4-5 staff in my room) pressed firmly on my stomach as they expelled my placenta..and everything. Not a pleasant experience, but I was so tired, I barely cared. I remember before they wheeled me to Mother/Baby, the nurse came back over to me saying she wanted to ‘check’ and see if the doctor had left the cloth up in me. Say what?? She proceeds to stick her arm up me, comes back out saying, “Good. It’s not there”.

Before we were moved to the Mother/Baby unit, Isaac’s mom and brother came to visit—our first visitors. I remember feeling dazed, tired but smiling. It was after 11:00 pm at this
point. They stayed for just 20 minutes or so before leaving. Then Isaac, baby and I were moved over to Mother/Baby. I was sooo hungry. We ordered room service—by the time we ordered and received it, it was nearly 3:00 am.

I snuggled our baby son in the first few hours alone. Successfully breastfed him and remember paging the nurse asking if they could please bring a pacifier for him when he wouldn’t sleep. I was so utterly exhausted. The nurses left him with us all night—I thought perhaps they would take him to the nursery—so I could have just a few hours of rest –but hospital policy was to leave new baby with mom the entire night. Finally falling asleep near 4am, I was rudely awakened at 5am by a bright light as a nurse steps in declaring that she is here to take my labs. I ask if there is any way she could please wait and do it a little later and she says, ‘No, not really. I’m here now’ and proceeds to draw five vials of my blood. Sigh. Each time the nurses came in and out, they would press firmly on my stomach to expel ‘anything’ else that needed to come out. I remember one of the nurses—as she changed my dressings, remarking that I was lucky Dr. Cook was the doctor working last night—as he was the best suture they had. The next several hours I drifted in and out of sleep—feeding our son, snuggling him and getting to know him.

Dr. Cook came in around 9 am to check on me. He apologized for how badly I tore—saying that most all of it had happened during pushing—before he ever came in to deliver the baby. He told me to take it easy and take Motrin. The nurse came in and said I needed to get up and use the bathroom. She and Isaac had to help me hobble over to the bathroom. Once in the bathroom, the nurse tells me that she needs to see that I pee, otherwise she will have to hook up a catheter, and “You don’t want that, do you?” I was in so much pain. I couldn’t even turn on my side while lying in bed, let alone walk and I feared going the bathroom at all. But you can be sure that I “told” her that I did go.

I felt so terrible—desperately wanting a shower, but struggling to move at all. I couldn’t sit at all because of how bad I tore—not even with their “air pillow” to sit on. I laid in the bed all day—slightly upright. My mom arrived later that morning—which was lovely. She left a little while after to go get our home ready for our homecoming. Isaac’s cousin and his wife also came by to  visit that morning. Luke was whisked away for circumcision and brought back a bit later. Then for his first pictures, he was dressed in his new red polo and jeans. Isaac and I agreed that his name would indeed be Luke. But we had never decided on a middle name. I turned to Isaac as I just got off the phone with the birth certificate people and said we needed to decide on his middle name. Isaac turned to me and said, “What about Samson?” As soon as he said it, I knew it was right. I asked him how he came up with that and he said, “I don’t know. He just looked like a Samson when he was born”. He was so right. Luke was so tough and strong looking when he was born. I loved the name. Luke Samson. Luke Samson Terry. Our son. I immediately looked up the meaning of the name—as Samson had never once came up in our naming discussions during pregnancy. We were pretty set on Luke—which means, “Bringer of Light”. As I lay there in the hospital bed and look up the meaning of Samson, I was delighted to discover it means, “Man of the Sun”. So fitting. I loved that Isaac chose the name and that we agreed on it so beautifully.

We left the hospital the next morning- Sunday, March 17^th. St. Patrick’s Day.  Luke was happy and healthy. I was exhausted and terribly sore, but happy to have our boy. Daddy was helpful and supportive. We all made our way home—as it began to rain. We arrived home to family and friends who had prepared a lovely lunch. Luke got all the love from his Uncle Adam, Grandma Terry and Marmie. Luke made two women a grandmother that day and he made me a mother. Happy Birthday, Luke Samson. I love you.

 

Last month we celebrated our baby girl’s 1st Birthday. This is her birth story.

This is a long post. One I so enjoyed writing. So birth enthusiasts and all else curious, read on.

*no details spared. Continue at your own risk 😉

Friday, November 28, 2014: Today was your due date, baby girl. We have been anxiously awaiting your arrival. Thanksgiving Day was spent at home. I baked my first turkey—at 39 weeks, 6 days pregnant—and all the works that go with a Thanksgiving meal. Dad helped a lot, too. It was a good day. But you weren’t here with us. The last few weeks, though most moms are super miserable during that time, I was pretty content to have you snuggled safe inside. I still had so much to clean and organize. And I was just fine at 38 weeks and 39 weeks, but come today—your due date, I wanted you here! But you had other plans.

Each day that passed seemed like a year! Since Friday, your due date, I had been having on and off contractions all the time. I thought surely you must be coming soon! I had such a hard time resting—because I kept expecting you to come at any moment! And I had no idea what to expect! All those stories about the 2^nd baby and how labor is likely to be shorter and I just had no idea how things would go! I was hoping that on the BIG day, I’d be able to get a good night’s rest, and wake up, with contractions starting during daylight and that we wouldn’t have to rush out in the middle of the night–waking Luke etc. I was hoping I would have time to labor at home, do some last minute packing of the hospital bag, get Luke’s things together and bring him over to our friend’s and then we would eventually head to the hospital.

Sunday, November 30^th:  I didn’t go to church today—I was tired, feeling blah, and I just couldn’t muster up the energy to be asked “no baby yet?” a million times—so I stayed home. Sunday evening, my doula came over. She brought a birthing ball for me to use for laboring at home and we discussed my birth plan. Just a list of things I put together—that if things were to go my way, this is how I would like them to go.

Desired Birth Plan 1.             Labor at home for as long as possible 2.             Non-medicated birth if possible 3.             Like-minded nurse 4.             No Pitocin 5.             No IV-unless absolutely necessary and/or epidural is requested 6.             Room with tub 7.             Birthing Ball 8.             Relaxing Music Playlist Prepared 9.             Delayed Cord Clamping 10.           Call for Dr. Sundstrom—if he is on call/available 11.           Gradual pushing (history of tearing) 12.           Breastfeed

Shandra also brought some of her essential oils and massaged my feet/ankles—in such a way that is ‘supposed’ to help bring on contractions. No such luck, but the massage was relaxing. Shandra showed me how to take pressure off my back by using the birthing ball, to massage my hips..talked about the importance of keeping the pelvic floor open and relaxed. She encouraged me that I could do this birth all-natural! That’s the goal—though when I really thought about it, I doubted whether I could endure the pain.

Wednesday, December 3^rd: Today was the MOPS Christmas party meeting—but I had my 41 week check up with Dr. Sundstrom at the same time—and as much as I wanted to be at the party with the other moms, I dreaded being asked all the questions that come with ‘no baby, yet?’.  I went to my appointment. I was interested to see if I had dilated any further and I knew Dr. Sundstrom would talk about setting up induction if you didn’t come soon. I wanted to wait 10 days past my due date before scheduling an induction. The appointment went pretty well, except when he was ‘checking’ to see how dilated I was, I soon was like, “Owww!” and he moved out. He then said he had just started to strip my membranes! “Um what?!” I didn’t ask for that. Whatever. I was five days past due at this point, so I didn’t really care. He said I was 80% effaced and 3cm dilated. I was pretty happy about that, as I was only 2cm dilated after 9 hours of labor with Luke—and not being in labor yet this time around–3 cm–woo-hoo, but I also reminded myself of all the other moms who had told me they walked around for weeks at 2-3 cm dilated. Either way, I was taking it as a win. A step closer to meeting our girl.  He confirmed I was not in active labor but that he wanted to have an ultrasound done to check my fluid levels—if they were good, then Dr. Sundstrom said he would wait until Monday to schedule the induction. *Fingers Crossed* I was really hoping my fluid levels were good, because 4 days past due with Luke my fluid levels were dangerously low.

Once in the ultrasound room, the tech soon shared that everything looked perfect! I had plenty of fluid surrounding baby girl. Dr. Sundstrom talked about the induction process with me, saying he was on call Monday—and they would start by breaking my water and start some slow Pitocin—which immediately sent red signals to my mama heart and desired birth plan—because I knew the use of Pitocin greatly increased the likelihood of rapidly increased contractions, needing an epidural and even a C-section.  He then sent me over to a nurse to fill out appropriate paperwork. It felt surreal- like I was just going through the motions for their sake. I just knew I was having this baby before Monday. At least, I desperately hoped so.

I texted my doula, Shandra, to let her know how the appointment went and that I was 3cm dilated. She responded with “Good. 4 is active labor. You’re doing great.” I was encouraged. She also shared that if they break my water then it means I must deliver within 24 hours—so she was also hoping baby girl was here before Monday and she said, “I’m sure she will be”. Woo-hoo! Positive thinking for the win.

Friday, December 5^th:  D-Day

8:35 am: “I think today is the day. Been having some contractions the last hour..nothing crazy. But not Braxton Hicks. So, just getting ready for the day, eating breakfast and making sure things are all ready for Luke etc. But wanted you to know”—text message sent to my doula. I let Isaac know that I was pretty positive today was the day! We went about our morning routine. He took care of Luke. I double checked my hospital bag, and Luke’s bag and overnight things. I made sure things were tidied up for our return home with baby girl –things were a bit slow going as I was kneeling down every few minutes to breathe through the contractions, but I was feeling good. I was SOO thankful that the contractions waited until morning to start coming on strong. It was just as I had prayed.

10:34 am: text message to Shandra: “It’s getting tougher for sure. Last contraction was just about a minute long. We are about to drop Luke off with the family that’s going to watch him..that will take at least 40 min.. So I’ll let you know how I’m doing by then, might need to head to hospital.. So hard to tell how far I am..But I don’t want to be stuck in triage for hours, that’s for sure.”

10:54 am: text message to Shandra: “About a min long..40 sec- minute..three minutes apart..3-4 minutes”  She replied with, “You’re looking for a consistent time of about an hour when contractions are around 4 minutes apart lasting a minute long. Any questions please call. I’m getting ready now so I should be available to meet you whenever you want me. “

11:10 am– We just dropped off Luke. I wasn’t even able to leave the car as I was breathing through a really long contraction. The car ride to the hospital was about 20 minutes and I was having contractions about every three minutes—and they HURRRTTT!

11:45am– We parked as close as we could to the entrance-top level of the parking garage- grabbed our things and Isaac helped me as I leaned on him through contractions. They were coming so fast now. We made it to the check-in counter, which I leaned on for support as I breathed through another contraction. The lady at the counter looked at me with a “Can I help you?” look on her face and then pushed over some paperwork for me to fill out. I quickly told her I already pre-registered and that I was in active LABOR!! I guess she’s used to women coming in there all the time thinking they are in labor when they aren’t, well, I can assure you, lady—this is the real deal! I signed the consent forms and any other form she insisted needed to be completed and then she led us back to triage.

They had me lie down on the gurney, and then put two or three straps over my belly to monitor me. Then a nurse came in, wheeling her computer on a cart, as she proceeded to ask me a hundred questions—really, I think a hundred. My medical history. And so much more. Finally finished. She left and another nurse came in to ‘check’ me. Finally. I waited with baited breath as she backed away and said, “You’re gonna be happy. You’re 6cm dilated. This is it.” Woo-Hoo! I was so relieved! I felt proud of myself—I wanted to labor at home and my goal was to wait until I was a 6 or 7—even though I had no way of knowing when I was there—and I did it!

12:09 pm: I texted Shandra to tell her how far dilated I was. She was almost to the hospital. The contractions were coming stronger and they still had me strapped down to the bed/gurney thing. I told the nurse that I was really trying to do this birth without medication and it was getting really difficult to get through the contractions while being all strapped back. There were two different nurses coming and going. I really liked the one who took my medical history—but she told me she was just the triage nurse, not labor and delivery. Sad day. I liked the other nurse, she just seemed..less nurturing and more abrupt. Something. But she would soon prove to be SO helpful in getting me through contractions!

Anyways, it was almost 1 o’clock and I was still in freaking triage! I told Isaac I need a room NOW! “Go find out what’s taking so long!” He leaves and I soon hear him returning with a nurse and before she even reaches me (I’m behind a curtain in the tiny triage space) I hear her say something like, “Calm down. What’s all the commotion?!” which I in no uncertain terms respond, “I need a room!!!!” She enters and goes over to clickity click on the monitor and says it will be a few more minutes before a room—AHHHH—here comes an unbearable contraction. The nurse had me lean into her for the contraction (while still strapped on the gurney) which surprisingly helped SO much.

The next twenty minutes happened so fast..a blur..yet clear as day. I see Shandra arrive out of the corner of my eye just as Isaac and the nurse start walking me down the hallway to my room—stopping every few moments to lean into her and breathe through the contractions. In the, what seemed to be a mile, walk to the room—we run into a couple we know who are also having their baby girl that day! In my brief assessment, I see that she is in the go-walk-around-the-hospital-to-help-bring-on-active-labor stage, hurrying past, I smile and nod, realizing they have no idea I’M ABOUT TO DIE over here!

We get to our room- FINALLY- and the nurse has me sit on the bed, which I quickly told her I wanted to get in the tub. She goes to start the tub, I ask Isaac to hand me my bathing suit top from my bag and I make my way over to the tub. Slowly sitting down, the warm water and pressure jets feel amazing—did I mention I’m having terrible back labor, too—again!

Trying to be comfortable in the hard porcelain tub, there seems no way to get comfy and one of the pressure jets is annoyingly blasting right up my..you know what—so I’m holding one hand against that annoying jet as my other hand alternates between holding onto the side of the tub or quickly trying to hold pressure on my lower back as the contractions hit. The nurse has left the room. Isaac is at my side by the tub and Shandra is in the room starting some tranquil music. She then returns with her essential oils and begins to rub them on my forehead..something..all I know is I immediately felt sick, nauseous—worse than I felt before! And I remember Shandra quickly retreating from the bathroom and then returning to my side..with a warm washcloth, I think.

Next thing I remember (I’ve been in the tub about 4 minutes at this point) is turning to Isaac and saying I NEED an epidural. “Is it okay if I get an epidural?” I said rather pleadingly..as I knew our goal was my going without medication. He quickly nods his head with, “Of course, honey” and leaves to go find the nurse to tell her I want the epidural. The next moment was one of the most terrifying of my life!! All of the sudden I yell, “SHE’S COMING!!!” I can’t even begin to adequately describe what was happening, except that it had nothing to do with what I wanted or didn’t want..it was happening! I felt an intense pressure– like the baby was about to come out NOW!

Isaac and the nurse hurry back in the room and to the bathroom. The nurse quickly leaves to try to find the doctor, Isaac and Shandra manage to get me out of the tub and over to the bed—the whole time I’m being told not to push and to WAIT. Hold on, they say. “What do you mean WAIT??!! I CAN’T!!!”  They laid me on the bed on my right side and told me to keep my legs together—telling me to wait, not push. Wait for the doctor. I hear the nurses scurrying around and saying, “Where’s Dr. Dixon? Where’s Dr. Dixon?” Next thing I know the nurse is yelling, “THIS IS GONNA BE A NURSE DELIVERY. This is gonna be a nurse delivery!”

In my haze, I see nurses quickly milling about in the room; Nurse Terrie comes over and turns me from my side to my back and suddenly my water breaks-explodes-all over her, I could hear the splash, like the pop of a water balloon. Next thing I know I’m screaming as my body starts to push. I yelled—but it was as if it was my body’s response to the pain. I wasn’t trying to yell. Or trying not to yell. I just remember hearing myself scream. I see the doctor rush in. In the distance (I say distance because it sounded distant, in reality, she is directly beside me), I can hear the nurse telling me I’m doing great, and then my body begins to push again, I scream even louder, the pain incredible. Then the nurse says, “Great, that’s the head. Now the shoulders.” I was about to punch someone!! What?! I thought I just pushed her out and now I still have to –AHHHHHH! My body pushes one last time and she’s out. Four pushes.

They quickly whisk my baby girl away—I tried reminding my doula that I wanted delayed cord clamping, but they said she may have swallowed meconium –something about meconium and they needed to clear her lungs. I hear her cry. I can just barely see her- over in the corner, with two or three nurses around her. Isaac is at my right side. I remember turning towards him as he was grasping my hand and I said, “I did it” with tears in my eyes and a flood of emotion. I wanted so desperately to have this baby with no epidural. Nothing against moms who do—I just really wanted to do it without. And I did. I did it. I felt empowered. And oh so exhausted. I turn my head to the left as I see Nurse Terrie setting up an IV on me .. “What?.. why..” They explain that they’re giving me Pitocin. I didn’t understand. I didn’t want an IV or Pitocin..but the baby is here. Goal was to avoid Pitocin and IV while laboring..and I didn’t have energy to question or figure things out. Thankfully, the nurse got the IV in with ease, and I later found out that the Pitocin was given to prevent excessive bleeding.

So many things are going on as I remember back to write this today. I remember a nurse at the foot of the bed asking questions and filling out paperwork, saying usually they would have done that earlier before the baby was born, but that it all happened so fast. Nurse Terrie turns to Isaac and me and says, “Make sure next time you tell them you progress FAST!” I remember Nurse Terrie putting her hand on me and saying she knew I could do it—that when Isaac came asking for the epidural, she knew I was going through the worst of it and was about to have the baby. I remember back when I was screaming bloody murder, that Nurse Terrie nodded and just told me to let it out and scream. I see my doula leaning over Baby Vera as she is being evaluated by the nurses in the corner of the room and she comes back and tells me that she has my toes.
She then proceeds to lotion my feet and put them in warm, fuzzy socks—my feet were so cold for some reason.

But before all of that I remember just wanting to hold my baby girl. I remember wanting to just close my legs and curl over on my side and have all the nurses and doctor leave. I remember having to push my placenta out—and dreading more pain, but I felt so relieved afterwards—as if before I was tense and couldn’t relax, and then push! and sigh, it’s all done. But no, then they move my legs and lift my feet into the stirrups so the doctor can stitch me up. I remember trying to ignore the pulling, poking pain and just steal a glance at my baby across the room over the doctor’s shoulders, holding Isaac’s hand and basking in the fact that my baby was here and I did it. But then I did all of that, and doctor was still a’stitchin’ a way, so after 15 or so minutes, I finally ask, “How much longer??” “Um, well, you definitely didn’t tear as bad as with your first, mostly reopened old scars, uh, I’d say another 20 minutes or so”. I sighed out of ..I don’t know, frustration, and tried to take the pain in stride (remember, no epidural this time to make the lovely stitching up process all numb).

The nurse brought over my baby and laid her on my chest to nurse for the first time. She latched right on. She was so..pink. and chubby. With squinted eyes-BLUE eyes and so ..pink. I held her. Looked at her. Held her. Our Vera Kate.

Finally the doctor finishes and I draw my legs together, curled up to me and have the blanket cover me. The two nurses that had been with baby girl came over and explained that she had swallowed some meconium but that she was all clear now, they weighed her- 8 pounds even. I remember asking, “8 what?” nope. Just 8 pounds. And 20 ¾ inches long. Born at 1:25pm. Such a shorter laboring experience than with Luke! Only 5 1/2 hours! I was so thankful. Incredulous really.

Time to go to Mother/Baby. I was able to get up and walk unassisted! After having Luke, I could barely hobble, even with the nurse and Isaac assisting me.The nurse got a wheelchair for me and I was wheeled down the hall, Isaac at my side—and then a quick stop at the ‘button’ to ring in that a baby was born! We pushed the button and a lullaby sounded on the floor. There we are! See how pink she is! 

The next 36 hours are nothing too eventful, but let’s just say, I was not about to stay the entire 48 hours after our night of uh, 2 hours of sleep and countless interruptions. They came to take my labs at 3am—jabbing me with a needle and taking multiple vials of blood. Constantly weighing Vera. Checking her pees and poos. If she’s jaundice. Has she seen the pediatrician? Has she nursed? Have I peed? And on and on. I was about to lose it. Not to mention that they didn’t let Isaac eat any of the food on the menu (in VA, we were both able to get room service) and the cafeteria was so expensive. And we had requested a cot for our room for Isaac and been assured he would have one. Well, he didn’t and he had to sleep on a chair that was as comfy as a rock.

So, I requested to leave early. Who would have known the outcry that was going to cause? The nurse started telling me that babies are likely to get diseases in the first 48 hours and have to be monitored and a bunch of other things. Making it sound as if I could have my child taken from me if I tried to leave the hospital early. I finally got through to our pediatrician, who said Vera was the picture of health, and had no problem with us leaving early as long as we come in on Monday for her first check-up (the nurse said he [pediatrician] would hold all responsibility if something happens). Woo-hoo! Mommy for the win. Isaac went to pick up Luke and he came to meet baby sister for the first time! He was confused at first and stepped around rather cautiously. But was glad to be with mom and dad again. It was surreal being together as Terry, family of four.

It’s now almost 5:30pm on Saturday and the hospital photography services came by—for what was supposed to be a quick visit, but ended up taking over an hour and leaving us all frustrated as the photographer attempted to pose and repose our one day old daughter. I had brought blankets and bows and was so excited to hopefully get some good pictures! And the lady seemed promising. She began with telling us how beautiful our baby girl was—always a great start, but the straw that broke the camel’s back was as I was talking with Shandra and watching Luke, Isaac saw the photographer lady remove Vera’s Band-Aid on her heel (from one of her shots/tests) and then her heel began to bleed and the lady was still trying to pose Vera for a picture. Nope. All done.  The lady still kept trying to pose her bleeding, little foot and eventually, FINALLY left. Below you can see two of the cute pictures we got from …the ordeal. I am glad I have them.

Writing this also makes me wish I had more pictures from my birth experience. Whenever I’ve thought of birth photography, I see myself all sweaty, icky and otherwise unattractive and can’t fathom why I’d want to frame a picture of that. But then I see some truly precious moments that birth photographers capture. And well, if I can afford it next time, I think I just may do it. I’m such a private person—that I still have my reservations about someone else being there with me-besides my husband and nurse and doula. Hmm, we shall see. Maybe.

My doula, Shandra was just lovely the entire time. A true blessing. Earlier, when we left Labor & Delivery for Mother/Baby, she left to go buy us lunch from the cafeteria. She brought it back to us, along with a gift bag for me with special body soap (which I used in the shower I took! Oh, that was heavenly to feel clean), lanolin, the fuzzy socks I was wearing, some snacks and a few other goodies and necessities. Then she left so we could have some time with just us and baby girl, get some sleep and that she would be back later on to come see us. I was so glad to have her there with me, as my mom wasn’t able to be there – it was as though the Lord sent a stand-in nurturing spirit to me. Shandra was so serving, sweet and kind. She came at the end of the day as we were about to leave.

We loaded up our moving cart with all of our things, put our brand new baby in the car seat for the first time, said goodnight to Shandra and goodbye hospital and made our way home. Other than some other little details of giant, mesh granny panties, a passed clot the size of a golf ball, horrendously painful uterine contractions brought on while nursing and a few other doozies, that about sums up my birth experience with Miss Vera Kate Terry. All in all, it was great. I got everything on my birth plan. It was such a quick labor. Vera was completely healthy and I was actually able to walk around the same day! Let’s do it again! Or, maybe in a few years. Ha. Thanks for reading! Until next time

 

 

 

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