Our Daughter (an Intro & a Birth Story)

She's here! I am overjoyed to share the arrival of our daughter, Zelie Clare. Zelie (pronounced ZELL-ee, rhymes with Kelly) is named after Saint Zelie Martin, the mother of the ever-popular and beloved St. Therese of Lisieux. We are utterly smitten.

She's currently being seen by the pediatrician in our effort to get the heck out of this hospital (the boys went home for the night last night and should be arriving here in an hour or so), so let's take a minute to tell the story of how she arrived. (Please be advised, bodily fluids/birth stuff discussed beyond this point. You've been warned.) 

I'd been experiencing prodromal labor since December 1st that seemed to be intensifying over time. I was decidedly NOT handling it well due to the lack of sleep and hormones! Oh, the hormones! On the afternoon of December 16, Little Will and I met my friend Lauren (Zelie's godmother) at Barnes & Noble and started having the most consistently intense/painful contractions thus far. Before heading to bed, they were 5 minutes apart and I let myself think maybe this is it. I packed some final odds and ends in my hospital bag just in case, and we even texted our neighbors (who agreed to watch Little Will) a head's up that we may, probably not, but may, be headed to the hospital that night. They spaced out when I went to bed even though I couldn't sleep through them much, and finally fizzled out at 4:30 that morning. I woke up the morning of December 17 a sleep-deprived zombie, convinced I would never ever go into real labor. 

I was wracking my brain as to why I was having so many false starts. According to Spinning Babies, Zelie was in the LOA position to a T, i.e., "the most common, ideal position." So I didn't think her position was causing my issues. I'd been reading a lot of natural birth stuff and watching Business of Being Born, etc., in an effort to give myself some patience, but after the night before I was thinking, "Just give me an epidural and all the drugs so I can have a good nap and then push this baby out!!!" At my last check I was 3.5cm, 70% effaced, at -1 station, so I knew things were favorable for induction already. It was so tempting just to go ahead and ask for one! I had my 40 week checkup the afternoon of December 17 at 3:30pm. (I was 39 weeks, 6 days.) I planned to ask the doctor to strip my membranes.

That morning, we had a play date with our neighbors at our house to pass the time. I stayed in my PJs. I talked to my neighbor, Sally, all about how I felt like I'd never go into labor. I had a couple contractions during their visit, but thought nothing of it. After they left and I got Little Will down for his nap, around noon, I went to the bathroom and noticed a chunk of blood in my mucus. I'd been noticing a lot more mucus the past couple days. The weekend before I'd seen a LOT of bloody show that I figured was the result of my 39 week cervix check as it had stopped after 2 days. I thought maybe it was a good sign that a membrane stripping that day would put me into labor, but I didn't get my hopes up in any way. (2+ weeks of prodromal labor really did make me think I'd be pregnant forever by this point.) At that point, I was feeling cramps, but contractions were painless.

At 12:30pm, I texted my husband that I'd had my first "good" contraction of the day. I was hoping they'd pick up a little before heading to the doctor. Little Will was still napping, so I ate lunch and tidied up the house. When he woke up, I got us ready to leave for the appointment. I took Little Will outside to check the mail and let him play with chalk in the garage. (It was freezing outside!) Will got home from work around 2:15pm and we hurriedly loaded up the car with the hospital bags and headed out. Will didn't have time to change out of his ABUs. I started timing contractions in the car. They were about 3-7 minutes apart the whole drive. There were a couple pretty strong ones, too. Really, they were no different than the afternoon and evening before. 

At 3:30pm, I'm at the doctor's office. I mention that I think I might be in early labor with contractions 5 minutes apart, but I don't really believe it. I get checked and lo' and behold, I am 4-5cm dilated. The doctor suspects I am in labor, but I'm really not convinced. My doctor tells me I can wait it out and go home, or he can call over to L&D and let them know I'm coming, so I can get monitored, start an IV (GBS+), and walk around to see if things pick up. If things stall out, he says he'll break my water. So basically, do I want to have a baby tonight?

Yes. Yes I do.

I opt to head straight over to L&D so that I can get set up while Will takes Little Will all the way back to our neighbor's. We live 45 minutes from the hospital, so he'd be gone at least a couple hours. I figure if this is real labor, at least we'd know by the time he got back and there was no threat of him missing out on anything. So, we leave. We part ways in front of the doctor's office building, me heading to the hospital next door, my guys heading to the car. Little Will is pretty upset I'm not coming with them (i.e., he throws a tantrum!), and I get all weepy thinking that that might be the last time I see him before his sister is born!

Still having regular contractions.

It's 4:00pm. I head up to L&D by myself. The nurses were expecting me and I am put straight into L&D Room 7. I change into a gown and get strapped to the monitors. The plan is to stay on the monitors until I'm finished my first round of penicillin, and then I can get up to walk around and see if labor picks up. By 4:50pm, I'm on the IV drip and my nurse Felicia tells me my contractions are 2-5 minutes apart. The drip doesn't hurt at all, so I ask Felicia to turn up the drip, so I can be up and walk around faster. She obliges. It burns now, but it's done in half the time, 15 minutes. Felicia starts prepping the room for delivery, saying "just in case you go fast." This freaks me out that maybe my contractions are stronger than I'm feeling. I text Will to hurry back!

One last bump shot.

By 5:30pm, I am pacing the room in my yellow socks and hospital gown. I pray the Christmas novena Will and I started November 30 and I text him to say it in the car so we don't forget. I then move on to a joyful mysteries rosary. I tried turning on some music, but I felt awkward listening to Adele by myself in my room for some reason. At 6:00pm I text Will asking whether he's close. I just had a hard contraction. Things are definitely picking up! Am I really in labor or is this all in my head?!

Will walks into the room about 15 minutes later. With food. So heartless. (I sneak a few bites of his burger.)

Around 6:30pm, Felicia checks me for the first time since my doctor's appointment. I am SHOCKED when she announces I am 6-7cm dilated, baby is low, but my cervix is a bit posterior. There is blood on her glove after the check and from that point on I have bloody show. The contractions slowly gain in intensity, but they aren't bad. I update family and friends on my progress, wondering how the heck I am still barely feeling this labor! 

What labor?!

I'm getting monitored intermittently. So every 30 minutes, I have to put the monitors back on so they can observe the baby's heart rate through at least one contraction. It's really no big deal at this point.

My doctor isn't at the hospital, but he wants to have the on-call doctor break my water. I'm not sure whether I should let labor progress a little more, after all I hadn't really even been convinced it was really labor, or go for this augmentation to really ramp things up. I decide to just go for it. It had been a while since I'd really eaten, or slept for that matter, so it was probably best not to slowly labor all night.

Somewhere around this time, I get a new nurse, Danielle. Felicia's shift had ended. She never said she was leaving. FELICIA NEVER SAID GOODBYE.

Sitting in the bed for monitoring and such really isn't all that painful. The contractions are much more intense when I'm up and walking around, which I figure is better for the progression of labor. I do a lot of walking and swaying against Will during contractions. It feels really good to squat while he pulls up on my arms, so I do that during contractions, too. The exercise ball is out and I have Will do counter pressure on my hips through some contractions on it. BUT, it feels so good I decide to "save" the exercise ball for when contractions get harder. After all, it seems like walking and squatting do more to move her down in my pelvis anyway.

At 9:00pm, I need another round of penicillin. I have Danielle make it a quick line again. She checks me when it's finished, around 9:30pm and I am 7cm dilated, about 90% effaced, and baby is at -1 station, however, my cervix is still posterior to Zelie's head. I don't know what this means or how to fix it. Danielle just tells me that Zelie needs to come down more. To me, that means I should be up walking around letting gravity do its thing.

Just before 10pm, the on-call doctor arrives to break my water. I am simultaneously really excited about it because I know it means Zelie is coming soon, and yet dreading it because I know how bad the contractions will get. The doctor has small, gentle hands, and the water breakage is a lot less painful than I was expecting, so things are off to a good start. However, the doctor also confirms that my cervix is the dreaded "posterior." I wish I knew what that meant, all the medical professionals are giving me confusing explanations, but I am officially in the labor zone where Googling is out of the question.

I labor for over an hour. First I sit/stand on the side of the bed because I have to be monitored for the 15 minutes following the membrane rupture. I manage to keep the amniotic fluid mess to a minimum! Will and I pray the Christmas novena through a few more contractions here. I am still able to coherently talk through contractions and we pray together. The Christmas novena is a great labor prayer! Hail and blessed be the hour and moment in which the son of God is born….

Baby looks good, so I have sweet freedom! At this point, things are getting pretty intense. I decide to kneel on a towel on the side of the bed and squat during contractions. I am so sure that this will help Zelie move down and take care of that pesky posterior cervix. I'm beginning to get vocal with low moans. I try out the exercise ball that I'd been "saving" and decide that I hate it. I decide to sit on the bed with my left leg dangling off to the side. I shake my leg during the contractions and moan while Will strokes my hair and face (which, yes, I told him to keep doing - it was the only thing that felt good at this point!). Danielle comes back in and breaks the bad news that it's time for my intermittent monitoring. I can't find a helpful position to labor in anyway, so whatever. I'm still having breaks between contractions (something I lacked during the pitocin contractions with my first), so I am handling things okay.

It's about 11:10pm and Danielle checks me. I tell her I just want to be able to push. Not because I feel the urge, but because it would be something different to try. Like I said, nothing is helping the pain. She checks me and breaks the news …

I am still 7cm.

Over an hour of really intense contractions. Zelie has moved down, but my dilation has not progressed at all. I am still only at 7.

I begin to kind of freak out. I turn to Will and ask him whether I should get the epidural. In our conversations beforehand, the only thing I wanted him to do if I asked for an epidural is insist I get a cervix exam first to check progress. Well, I was just checked. The short breaks between contractions are my saving grace because they give me the tiny glimmer of confidence in myself that I can make it, but during contractions I am asking for help and shouting things like "oh God! Oh God!" Danielle asks me what I want to do and I tell her I don't know. She tells me she'll give me a minute to think about it. According to her notes, she leaves the room at 11:15. While in the hallway, she tells another nurse that her patient is thinking about an epidural, but she thinks she can make it without it.

At 11:19pm, she hears screams and returns to our room.

Yup, that's me screaming. After Danielle left, I switch to hands and knees on the bed. I don't know why - just something different to try. And that's where I truly entered transition. I am totally unable to control my screaming and barely able to control my breathing. I tell Will I might puke and he sticks a trash can in my face. Not my favorite move, but luckily I only dry heave into it during a couple contractions. The contractions are wracking my body, though there does seem to be very short breaks between them when I can stop screaming and catch my breath.

I start pushing, still on hands and knees. I literally have no control over this. I just start screaming "I'm pushing!! I can't help it!!!!" Danielle tells me to stop and wait for the doctor, but I can't. Then she switches to telling me I need to breathe so the baby gets oxygen. Breathing I can do. Stop pushing I cannot do.

I can hear the flurry of activity behind me and I feel the ring of fire. I still really have no concept of where the baby is. Was she crowning? I feel tons of pressure, but I really have no idea. How bout I just keep screaming at the top of my lungs? That's what I'll do.

More pressure, more screaming. There is lots of excitement behind me, but all I know is pressure and screaming. And then I feel her slip out! And then I hear her cry! It's 11:24pm. The relief is indescribable. I am so relieved it's over and excited to hear her cry that I just start sobbing hysterically. I turn my head briefly to see her on the bed behind me, but I can't move. I just keep sobbing. Sobbing feels good after all that screaming. I look over to my left at Will and he is crying and telling me I did it! I couldn't believe it was over! After a minute or two, I am able to move my body and flip around so I can sit on the bed and hold her. It was a little difficult with the placenta still inside and cord still attached and everything. But finally, I am able to hold my baby! She remained with me for the next hour while I birthed the placenta and got a small tear stitched up. I tore in the same spot as with little Will, but a little less. Zelie nursed like a champ for about 30 minutes until we finally had to cut her off so she could get measured and looked at!

Little Will came to the hospital to meet his new baby sister yesterday. I can't wait to head home today and settle in as a family of four!

Birth Stories

Still pregnant. 37 weeks + 1 day, but who's counting?

Me. ME. MEEEEE. 

I'm the one counting.

I didn't have an appointment this week due to Thanksgiving, but my blood pressure has been staying down relatively low. Contractions are kicking, though, as to be expected with a second pregnancy, I guess. I went crazy with the nesting yesterday and the whole house is scrubbed clean top to bottom. Now we just need this baby to come because I'm not sure how I'll keep it this clean for the next few weeks, you know? 

Zelie's godmother, Lauren, set up one of those baby pools where you guess the due date and birth weight. #WhenWillZelieEmergeFromTheBelly. So far, everyone has guessed that I won't make it to my due date AND that Zelie will weigh less than 9 pounds. God bless you all. Click on over to put in your vote. Lauren promises there will be an "exclusive" prize for the winner. 

In an effort to drive myself crazy, just like last time, I've taken to the Internet to attempt to read every birth story ever. Unfortunately, the birth story link-up to end all birth story link-ups was indefinitely shut down. (Camp Patton, we miss you forever). So now I need your help. Googling birth stories is harder than it sounds, okay? I mean, I've read them all, I think. But I need to read them all again.

Some favorites I've read lately include: 

• Sarah's drug free birth story with Baby #2. I'm currently just dreaming that I can go into labor at 37+6 like she did. 
• Kallah's drug free birth with Baby #2 and her corresponding post on natural childbirth. She just has the most thoughtful reflections on it all!
• This hilariously long, well-written birth story, found via Google. Spoiler: ends in a c-section, but it was seriously entertaining. 
• Kate's birth stories of all three babes: numero un, numero dos, and tres.
• All SEVEN of Kendra's birth stories, because she is ninja-status organized and puts them all in one post for us. Oh, plus baby #8 she had in the bath tub on accident like it ain't no thang.
• And of course, here's my own birth story for Little Will: Part I & Part II. 

Note to self: wear contacts this time. Makes for better birth story photos.

Do a large, pregnant lady a solid and add your birth stories below! Or just comment in with links to your faves. Whatever you like. The link-up closes in 33 days because that's all my free subscription to InLinkz allowed. So get to linking pronto, por favor!

An InLinkz Link-up

Baby Brez's Birth: Part II

Click here for Part I (the backstory and our harrowing drive to the hospital). 

WARNING! I'm your run-of-the-mill Catholic NFP lover and I am thus super comfortable discussing terms like cervical mucus, amniotic fluid, menses, cervix checks, and all things ladyparts/childbirth related. I look back on my childbirth experience and think it was beautiful, funny, weird, and crazy all at the same time. Even having spent an inordinate amount of time researching childbirth and reading what seems like every birth story available on the Internet, there were still parts of it that surprised me, which is part of the reason why I want to share all the details. Reader discretion is therefore highly advised!

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After our little snafu with the check-in man, we took the elevator up to the labor and delivery floor. It seemed pretty quiet; I only saw two women being monitored on the screens at the back of the L&D desk. We gave the nurses my information, and told them the scoop: high blood pressure, normal labs, maybe some decreased fetal movement. Let's get monitored. The kind nurse, Melissa, walked us back to a room and had me change into a hospital gown (that, unbeknownst to me at the time, I would be in for the next two days - eww) and give her a urine sample. When I got back to the hospital bed, she complimented my blinding hot pink sports bra (stating "we only really notice bras and socks here!") and strapped me to the monitors: one to monitor the baby's heart rate and the other to monitor any contractions. She also checks my blood pressure. My first two blood pressures are again very high, diastolic in the 100s. Our nurse is intrigued ("not that I didn't believe you before!" she says) and tells us that we'll wait for the on-call OB (the one other doctor in our OB's practice) whom we'd never met before.

The on-call OB comes in and we discuss the high blood pressure readings. He basically has the same reaction as our normal OB; it may just be better to induce now to avoid further complications. He checks me and his eyebrows raise when he declares that I am 3cm dilated, 90% effaced, at +1 station. (For the remainder of our stay, all the nurses are super impressed that I'm 38 weeks as a first-time mom and already 3cm/90%. I feel pretty cool about it, I won't lie. NB, this was progress from my 37 week checkup just days before when I was 2-3cm dilated and 60% effaced.) The doctor does an ultrasound to check my fluid levels and they are all normal. The baby looks healthy and is head down.

After mulling it over and lots of conversation, leaving the room, more questions, finally the doctor finds those words we'd been waiting for: "What do you think about having a baby tomorrow?" Will and I take one quick look at each other, and shout "YES! UH HUH, WE'D LIKE THAT." We maybe suggest that the doctor not send us home in a blizzard. The on-call OB says he's going to call our normal OB to get his approval, but we feel strongly that he'll be on board. In fact, when the doctor walks out of the room, Will and I straight up high-five because we are mature like that. Melissa's shift ends at 7PM and she tells us there's no way we'll be sent home that night based on my blood pressure readings and offers us a confidence-building congratulations. She was sure we'd be induced. 

Enter our new nurse, Cara (the name we had picked if we had a girl - whose children are named William and Mollie!), takes my blood pressure again to begin her shift. Now of course it is curiously low! (And stays low the rest of my hospital stay - proof that God answered our fervent fervent prayers? We'll never know!) We were already staying the night for monitoring at this point, but Cara is much more skeptical as to whether we'll really be induced. She notes that my blood pressure is so low, that, had it been this low when I came in, I would have been sent right home. But, the doctor comes back in, tells us he spoke to our doctor, and we will begin our induction at 4AM the next morning. BOOYA! Will and I share another high-five and begin sharing the news with family. 

Because we would start the induction in the morning in order to get a "good night's sleep" (HA!), I got to eat some gourmet cafeteria food and watch HGTV. I even got an ice cream cone. My husband snapped a glamour shot for our adoring group-text fans requesting details where no new details were to be had . . . yet.

I guess I have no shame.

I was monitored all through the night because of the high blood pressure. This meant that each time I needed to use the bathroom, I had to unplug the two monitors, wrap them around my shoulders with my right hand, tightly secure the back of my gown with my left hand, and slowly shuffle to the restroom. It was quite the hassle as I was shuffling back and forth often thanks to my pea-sized bladder (pun intended). On the return of one such trip, I thought my water broke (for the zillionth time) when I had just peed and there was a stream of unidentified fluid down to my left ankle. The nurse checked me with a pH strip and it was ambiguous, so she called the doctor in to check me (intrusively). And, yes, I was wrong about my water breaking for the zillionth time. Pregnancy cervical fluid is no joke (and yeah, you know I warned you about my cavalier use of terms like cervical fluid). 

This is my "sorry for makin' a fuss" face.

Around 10PM, we moved rooms to a larger, more favorable, birthin' space, preferred by all the nurses, with the "nice cot" for Will. We would start the pitocin at 4AM. I was given half an Ambien at about 10:30PM to try and sleep, promised a second half in an hour or two if I needed it. Will had taken like three naps by this point, not that he was offered Ambien, but he sure didn't need it. I was jealous of his ability to fall asleep so easily. A sentiment shared by all the greatly pregnant, I'm sure. 

Nap break to check the Twitter.

It wasn't long before I requested the rest of the Ambien. I guess I eventually fell asleep, but I was woken up by Cara at 1AM. She told me that our doctor changed his mind and wanted to start me on pitocin now instead of at 4AM. This got me excited, and I was in and out of light sleep for the next few hours. As a result, I was very sleep deprived and was up for the day at about 5:30AM. 

That morning, we took one last belly pic in front of the bed where our son would be born. Here I was hooked up to the monitors and the pitocin drip, all of which I had to conveniently drag to the bathroom approximately 50 million times.

With a face that says, "Thanks for nothing, Ambien."

The rest is probably best told in timeline fashion, reconstructed through text updates from Will (or myself, actually, post-epidural) to family/friends, because - coherence and open eyes - me not have that. (I think it goes without saying that these times are approximate!)

7AM: I finally started feeling contractions. I started on the pitocin drip at 1AM and it was increased every thirty minutes, if I remember correctly. I sat on the birthing ball and breathed through them, but they really weren't bad at all. I was so excited to actually be feeling something (which honestly felt just like the false labor I'd been complaining about beforehand!). If I hadn't been strapped to all the lines of monitors and IVs I probably would have preferred to walk around, but birthing ball it was.

9AM: My doctor came and broke my water. I'd expected the huge warm gush and the overall disgusting feeling of fluid all over the bed. I wasn't expecting how painful it would be! (It was like a pap smear from hell. I never really had pain during checks before that, except for the night before when the other doctor was realllyyy feeling around. Even still, this was way worse.)

I was at 4cm when he broke my water. I was pretty surprised I was only a 4 because I'd been on pitocin for 7 or 8 hours at that point and had only progressed a centimeter. Not that my contractions were really even painful, but they were there. I knew that inductions could take a very long time, so at this point I thought we'd meet our baby in the next twelve hours or so.

Wrong. Very wrong.

Here is where the contractions got REAL. I resumed my position on the birthing ball leaning against the bed. Will was putting pressure on my back and rubbing my shoulders through each contraction. Seriously, before they broke my water, the contractions were what I would describe as uncomfortable pressure. Now they were downright painful, but I was handling them. I'll also note that with each contraction amniotic fluid gushed out of me. I was so surprised at how much fluid there really was. Basically, I was really dumb for thinking my water had broken so many times before. Oh and it was just not a nice feeling having my lower half completely soaked.

The nurses had asked me a couple of times whether I'd be having an epidural, and I told them I had a wait-and-see approach. (I did, in fact, sign all the epidural paperwork and waivers the night before just in case.) I handled the pre-water-breakage contractions just fine. No problem, really. I thought maybe, just maybe I could get through labor without the epidural.

Even though things quickly turned from uncomfortable pressure to pretty painful,  I remember turning to Will and saying, "I'm glad I didn't get the epidural and am able to experience these REAL contractions!"

Famous last words, you guys.

9:30AM: Things were really picking up in intensity a bit more quickly than I expected. I don't know how I had the wherewithal to check things out on the monitor's little strip of ziggly lines next to me, but I see the lines monitoring contractions go from upside down Vs (with short peaks of the contractions), to upside down Us (longggg peaks of the contractions), with little break in between. Ouch.

I think about how my water was broken not long ago (I thought it had been an hour, but really it was more like thirty minutes), surely I had hours of this to go. I turn to Will and say, yup, I'll be needing that epidural. Without missing a beat, Will is off advocating for me. (He was really the best - THE BEST!) I overhear him talking with the nurses about how the anesthesiologist was in a C-section and couldn't be in for another fifteen minutes. I think they thought I might die because he couldn't be in for fifteen minutes. They were all very apologetic for having to wait a measly fifteen minutes. I thought, that's fine, I can definitely make it fifteen minutes. Having a concrete timeline of when relief would absolutely come was enough for me. The nurse decided to turn down the pitocin a little bit (it had been at full steam for a couple of hours).

At this point I was sitting on the right edge of the bed squeezing Will's hand in my left hand and the poor nurse's hand in my right. (I sadly don't even remember her name because I was so out of it.) I was moaning through each contraction, through the entire contraction. Basically, you see, I was moaning for fifteen minutes straight, as there was very little break in between contractions. I remember I could seriously feel the baby moving down inside of me. I visualized his little body making his way down my birth canal through each contraction. Not that it helped with the pain in any way, but it's what I did.

Now, I thought I had a pretty high threshold for pain. I've handled a lot of bumps, bruises, and broken bones in my tomboy/athletic career. But here I was just thinking DO NOT CRY DO NOT CRY DON'T BE THAT GIRL THAT BURSTS INTO TEARS AT A 4. I thought I felt my body start to push, but I was thinking I had to still be a 4, or a 5 max. I mean they just checked me when they broke my water. I really thought there was no way I could be ready to push, so I kept it to myself.

Here, the nurse noticed some decelerations in the baby's heart rate and tried to have me lie on my side through the contractions. I wasn't all that surprised based on the intensity of my contractions, but I was thinking, ARE YOU CRAZY? I CANNOT MOVE. I kind of made it through one contraction lying on my right side, as instructed, but basically I was like, This lying down thing is not happening. Let me get up or I will FIGHT YOU.

I tried all the relaxation techniques I read about, rasberry lips, low moaning, and attempted to relax my whole body. It all went right out the window! And I was definitely not in a place of prayer or offering up my suffering in union with the passion of Jesus or any of those lovely holy things. I was very much focused on physically enduring the contractions in the very moment, knowing it would all be over very soon when the nice man with the needles arrived.

The nurse gave me some sort of narcotic to take the edge off while we waited for the anesthesiologist. I never thought I would agree to this beforehand, but I was pretty desperate, so I said fire away. It took the edge off for approximately one and a half contractions. BUT, I will say, for that one contraction when I was all loopy and hopped up on straight street opiates, I was turned to Will and professed, "Ooohhh, this stuff is the sh*tttttt" (excuse my French, but it's a 100% accurate quote) and then it faded as fast as it came.

The anesthesiologist walked in, honestly, sooner than I thought he would. I was thankful. However, he then did a couple of things that made me angry. First, he said something to the effect of, Oh, I thought she didn't want an epidural. My interpretation: Boo you for giving up! (False: I'd said I'd "see how things go" but I knew full well that pitocin contractions are crazy and I didn't have my hopes up for going pain med free.) Next, he notices Will's Seminoles National Champion t-shirt and starts bantering with him about college football. Alas, he's an SEC man! Those ACC Seminoles stink (despite being national champions, I suppose)! If I hadn't had my eyes shut in pain the whole time I would have been shooting daggers. Don't mind me laboring here struggling to keep my back arched as you instructed me to do as you entered the room before you started carrying on small talk. (When I brought this up to Will, he told me he was definitely uncomfortable with this conversation going on in front of me and really tried to avoid the chitchat.) Despite my rage, I still managed a "hail to the Redskins" in the five free seconds I had between contractions. 

10AM: RELIEF! Finally. I'd just gotten the epidural, at which point the anesthesiologist I formerly despised had just became one of my A+ favorite persons ever.

Strangely, the epidural line sounds like little birds chirping. I thought I'd finally become aware of some birds chirping outside like I was some princess in the wooded fairytale land. Was the epidural that magical? No, the nurse informed me that the epidural tube was just squeaking away by my left ear.

10:10AM: Now I can definitely feel my body pushing because I'm otherwise able to relax through the contractions. When I state such, the nurse thinks to check me. Lo' and behold, I am fully dilated! (Essentially the labor I just experienced was pitocin-induced transition. Oh goody.) While she is checking me she asks for a couple "practice pushes" and tells me to stop after my first try. Yep, I have the pushing thing down. We await the doctor and give time to allow the baby to come down the birth canal. My body is definitely still pushing on its own.

At this point I can still move my legs through the epidural, but I feel lots of burning (not just pressure - there is a difference) on the right side of my ladyparts. I ask for them to turn that epidural juice up. After upping the dosage I have total paralysis from my lower back down, with still a little pain/burning, but much more tolerable. I continue to feel my body pushing the baby down, but I close my eyes and try to rest up for what would surely be a long bout of pushing.

11:45AM: We get my legs into the good old birthing stirrups and the nurse checks me again. The head is right there, she can see it, and he has hair! I start to get lightheaded so they take my legs down (I had no control whatsoever) and we waited for the doctor to arrive before putting me back in the stirrups. I ask for a mirror because everyone is talking about the baby's hair and I want to see! Someone is sent to fetch the mirror. Meanwhile, while we wait for the doctor, I am texting friends and family about the wonders of the epidural and voicing my excitement that we would be meeting our baby any time now!

12PM: The doctor arrives, right on schedule. I believe there is more cheering, probably more high-fiving, when he walks in. We are about to start pushing for real. The mirror is wheeled in and I can see the baby's head begin to crown and yep, there's that hair!

I push through two contractions (three pushes per contraction) and the baby's head has crowned. The doctor has me stop pushing to help me stretch slowly in the hopes it would minimize tearing. I did not want to stop pushing. I just remember yelling, It burns! It burns! I just wanted to push through the pain so it would be over. I remember the nurses coaching me through the pushes and everyone, especially Will, cheering me on. The excitement was palpable!

I remember being a little annoyed that the doctor and nurse were blocking the mirror! I couldn't see, but no one seemed to care! In hindsight, this was because they were getting ready to catch the baby. But I didn't really realize at the time that he was that close to being born! As is the theme of this birth story, I'd always thought (erroneously) that I still had a long way to go.

I pushed through just one more contraction. I really put my all into those last couple pushes, screeching sounds, labored breathing, and all. And just like that I feel the baby's bony little body slide out and he's handed to me!

12:10 PM: As our doctor would jokingly say at every ultrasound, "IT'S STILL A BOY!" And just like that, we met our firstborn.

There was really a baby in there!!!!???!!!

One of the nurses announces the time and my little purple naked boy, all covered in vernix, is handed over to me. Will (super aware and awesomely) told the OB to allow the cord to stop pulsing before cutting it. (Will did later cut it.) Then, not even joking, all the medical professionals in the room marveled over the baby's perfect umbilical cord. It was super long and thick and basically looked like something out of an anatomy textbook.

After admiring the baby for a moment (he did not look anything like I expected - though I had no idea what to expect I guess), I brought him up to my face and Will and I kissed him at the same time. (I saw this on A Baby Story on TLC and told Will that I wanted to do the same thing. Totally nerdy, but it's pretty beautiful that the baby's first kisses are from both parents at the same exact time!)

I immediately ripped my sports bra off (I was asking the nurse to just cut it off, but they helped me get it over my head - they really seemed to like that hot pink sports bra), so that the baby and I could have some skin to skin time. The nurses cleaned him off and did his Apgar tests (8 and 8) from my chest and he remained there with me the next hour or so.

When the placenta all but plopped out a couple minutes later (I really don't think I even pushed, though maybe my body did on its own) I proclaimed, "That was easy! I heard the placenta can be the toughest part of pushing. That was sooo easy. I'd totalllyyyy do it again! I can't wait!" to which the doctor responded, "Well, just wait at least 6 weeks!" and began talking about his eight children. HA! Catholic pro-life OB for the win.

The doctor told me I had a small internal tear, which he began stitching up. I asked him how many stitches and he told me, "Oh, it's just one long one." (Upon - ahem - further inspection I'd say the tear was about an inch long. It hasn't bothered me at all though since I was about two weeks postpartum.)

The lactation consultant, Nancy, arrived and began helping me nurse the baby for the first time. I'd read up on breastfeeding and watched some YouTube videos, but Nancy's methods were very new and different to me. Basically, she put the baby's head to my breast a tad more violently than I would have attempted. I had carpal tunnel and sore arms and hands just from how firm she had me hold him to my body that first nursing session! (She was a great help, though, and really helped me through those first couple  horrendous days of nursing before my milk came in.)

2PM: Baby Will was weighed, measured, and all that. 7 pounds, 11.3 ounces, and 20 inches of perfection!

The weigh-in shot, done tastefully.

Then Will got to spend some time holding the baby while I snapped the photos, despite my hands being pretty shaky from the epidural. (My hands shook and my teeth were chattering for the next thirty minutes or so while the epidural wore off. I was wayyy too excited to care. And I still managed to snap some decently non-blurry photos!)

What a gift! We are still astounded and humbled that God chose us to become co-creators of this bouncing baby boy. As for my birth experience, I'd prepared myself for the worst, hoped for the best, and experienced something even better than I'd hoped for! I was ecstatic and still am. Despite being so close to the end, I'm still very happy I went ahead and got the epidural. I was in such pain I was totally unable to open my eyes and definitely wouldn't have been able to see my baby being born or even aware of my husband standing next to me. I was glad to have that awareness come pushing time, so that I could really experience what was happening with my husband, rather than just within myself. I still hope to tackle a birth pain med free, but as far as birth stories go, I wouldn't have asked to have experienced anything better.

Baby Brez's Birth: Part I

Here I am staring at my perfect little boy making weird noises (from both ends) as he sleeps. I can't believe it has already been three weeks since he's made his debut, the story of which I share with you now. The only disclaimer for Part I of the birth story is that I want to remember every detail in all its glorious drama, so this post is lengthy. All the gory labor deets are saved for Part II, where the disclaimer will be slightly more resolute, so you have that to look forward to (or not).

And so . . . how did we come to meet this special guy?:

It goes as follows . . .

We'd been hoping as early as the previous fall for an early arrival of our son. Our due date was February 19, but my husband, Will, was slated to begin nine weeks of JAG School in Alabama on February 18, leaving on February 17. We discussed with our doctor the possibility of an elective induction at 39 weeks (February 12) should the baby not come on his own before then because as they say in the biz, "if you were there at conception, you should be there at the birth!" In the meantime, I was doing everything in my power to encourage labor naturally, but to no avail.

My 37 week checkup was on Friday, January 31. The nurse took a routine blood pressure reading and noticed it was high, 130/100. The doctor informed us that my blood pressure had been slowly rising over the course of my pregnancy. I had no idea and was caught completely off guard. (I didn't even know which one of the numbers was considered high when the nurse read it off to me. I mean, what's a blood pressure?) I was checked again about thirty minutes later, and my blood pressure was again high at 130/98. We discussed induction with my OB for high blood pressure and/or preeclampsia. Induction was already pretty favorable because I was 2-3 cm, 60% effaced. I would monitor my blood pressure over the weekend, have blood tests run, and do a 24-hour urinalysis on Super Bowl Sunday, but because we were already thinking of inducing, the doctor thought we might as well induce week or so earlier to avoid the development of any complications from the high blood pressure.

I think it goes without saying: no Super Bowl party for me. I was stuck at home pouring my pee into a jug on ice. Just another day in the glamorous life of the greatly pregnant. The next day I dropped off my chilled peepee at the lab on base, the jug completely drenched in melted ice and condensation. (The lab attendant was not amused at the sight of the fluid strewn across the lab's reception desk, as you can imagine. I told her to relax - it was just water. I don't think she believed me.) My blood pressure, as monitored at home over the weekend, continued to be elevated (diastolic in the 80s and 90s), but not too high. 

I was a little scared of being induced, but was excited at the thought of meeting our baby sooner than expected, so that Will could have some time to bond with the baby before heading to 'bama. We kind of got our hopes up that an induction was imminent based on the conversation had with our OB at our 37 week appointment. The doctor assured us that the baby would do just fine, post 37 weeks, but thanks to those two studious chapters I'd read in The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding, I was worried about the effects a long induction would have on breastfeeding, yadda yadda. For the most part, though, I was excited at the prospect of being induced. (Meanwhile, I'd been having frequent, painful Braxton-Hicks contractions through Sunday night. A gal can dream . . . .)

On Monday morning (February 3), I was informed that my blood work came back normal. After a bit of painful, torturous back and forth with the nurse at my OB's office, I received a call that afternoon informing me that I should just sit tight and continue to monitor my blood pressure. Will and I  convinced ourselves we'd be told to come right in to L&D, so it was pretty disappointing. And stressful. (Will would have had to call in many a work favor if he was going to be out.) Not good for the blood pressure.

On Tuesday (February 4), I took my blood pressure with my at-home monitor and saw this:

The OB told me to call his office if the bottom number was 105 or above. Distrusting of my $30 Walmart blood pressure monitor, I took it again. It was lower. I tried the other arm. Still lower. I decided to wait until I could talk to Will to decide whether to call the doctor's office. Will was in trial, so I knew I'd just have to wait until it ended, which would be who-knows-when.

As Providence would have it, the nurse from my OB's office decided to check in on me that afternoon. I thought this was pretty unusual. I hesitantly told her about the high blood pressure reading and she was concerned about it, of course, despite the subsequent lower readings. She told me she would speak with the doctor and see what he said, but maybe I should head to L&D. As experienced the day before, there was the torturous back and forth phone calls and waiting. 

Cue crazy blizzard.

It started snowing . . . hard. I texted Will a photo making fun of our neighbor stuck in his driveway, BMW wheels spinning, engine roaring, unable to make it into his garage. Karma, or something, because the nurse calls back and tells me to go ahead to L&D for monitoring. Better safe than sorry.

I maybe, kind of panic, thinking that we had to drop the dogs off at the kennel before making the (usually) 35 minute drive to the hospital. But the snow was piling up and Will was in trial, and just my luck, was totally unavailable. I didn't have a car, the kennel closes at 5, and I did not want to drive through a blizzard in the dark.

Friggin polar vortex.

In such a situation, we discussed how I would just call his office and have someone go into the courtroom to wrangle him. Well, two words: Early Release. Meaning: Everyone in his office had left early for the day because of the snowstorm. 

Panic sets in.

Blood pressure steadily rising higher.

And higher.

And still higher. (Along with the snow accumulation.)

I finally decided to call one of Will's coworkers (who was out of the office on account of said Early Release) and asked him to get a hold of Will somehow. Finally, about forty minutes and three inches of snow later, I got a call from Will who was out of trial and on his way home. Hallelujah. 

Once he arrives, Will runs upstairs to change and I load up the car. Will understandably wants to give me the run-down on his trial, but all I can think about is getting on the road before it gets dark. "Um, can this wait? We'll talk in the car," says I, calmly. (Just kidding - I was way meaner and more urgent - along the lines of "Seriously?!? TELL ME ABOUT IT ON THE WAY, YA FREAK." NB - Will, darling, I love you.)

We get on the road and not five minutes into our drive we see our first stranded car.

Lovely.

We dropped off the dogs at the kennel (which took way longer than expected, so glad I wasn't really in labor for that), and then made our way out onto the road again, only to see more stranded cars. 

Stranded car numero dos. Me thinking, errrmahhgerrrrdddd.

About 40 Hail Marys later and just a few minutes from the hospital, this song came on the radio, and all was forgiven with Mother Nature. Surely good things were to come! We finally made it to the hospital around 5:00 PM, taking twice as long because of the weather. The very last ounce of sunlight greeted us as we walked inside.

Neither of us had ever set foot in this hospital (we had to bail on our scheduled hospital tour - tisk, tisk - I know), so we went to the front desk to ask where L&D was located. The nice man at the reception desk asked for "the patient's name" so we gave him my name. Hmmm, he couldn't find the name in the system, he stated. Will and I looked at each other . . . "umm, I'm the patient," I said pointing to my belly underneath my stylish "Got Monks?" sweatshirt and unzipped North Face fleece. The man's eyes widened in comprehension and told us to head to the third floor.

To be continued . . . Part II!