Thursday at Five: A Birth Story

It has been five days since I became a Mama. For nine whole months I carried this little being inside of my body. I had two free hands and a full eight or more hours of sleep every night (give or take a few insomnia moments around week thirty eight, and those first twelve weeks where I Sleeping Beauty-ied through life functioning only if I got twelve to fourteen). And for the life of me I could not "find the time" to blog (its been over two years since I blogged anything!) or journal or Post-It note any solid record of pregnancy, aside from snippets posted to Facebook to ensure there was something to look back on. Something to include family and friends scattered across the country and something to remind me of that one time, that very first time, I grew a human.

And now... He's HERE! And my hands are hardly ever free, and when they are I'm trying to capture and savor every moment or take a shower and clothe myself. At the very least, I try to apply deodorant. I get by on quick naps when he's napping and various chunks of night time sleep, depending on the night. The first couple nights I was up every hour. Now it's usually every three (thank you breast milk for finally coming in and bringing happiness to all!). The other night I got FOUR BLESSED HOURS and I was almost certain I had crossed over into an out-of-body experience. And yet, despite really not having the time now, I have this urgency, a vital need, to make sure that I get this part right. That I record every detail I can possibly remember of how my son, (my son!?) came into this world. Not for me, not for scattered family, not for curious friends or neighbors, but for HIM. For my baby. Because he'll want to know, and because I never want to forget. And because everything I do now, is for him. And I wouldn't have it any other way. So this is for Keller. Who is sleeping on my husband's chest and will probably need to be re-attached to my boobs again in about twenty-five minutes. For Keller, who changed our lives and stole our hearts in the wee hours of a Friday morning. BUT... it all started with "Thursday at Five."

Once upon a growing belly, was my first baby. He fit perfectly. He never made me sick. He grew steady and strong. He hiccoughed routinely (and still does) and kicked like a soccer champ. He never popped my belly button, but he did make it go completely flat, which was fascinating. He gave me a tiny patch of stretch marks on the underside of my belly, at thirty nine weeks, that remind me of a homemade tattoo; only way more personal and meaningful. He brought perfect joy the day he was born.

We thought / had been told it was very likely I'd have to have the baby a couple weeks early because, due to the extra hormones my placenta produced, I surprisingly ended up with Gestational Diabetes (a story for another time), and most babies need to come out a bit sooner when that happens. Most GD babies don't see their due date. Some babies get close. A slim few get past. Luckily, he remained healthy and happy in there, grew on his own, and I controlled the GD ever so strictly and he remained unaffected. So when thirty eight weeks rolled around and we prepared to meet him, the Dr's said we could wait one more week! We were thrilled (anything to avoid a C-section)! And after that week, we got another week! We were a little bummed from anticipation, but thankful. And then at forty weeks, when we were assured we would be induced on my due date, and it was the third time we'd been scheduled for induction, we were very ready to meet the little guy! But guess what? The Doctors said we could have two more days, because he was just fine. We knew just how fine he was because at thirty nine weeks I was being seen at my OB's office EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. Including weekends he was closed, but would open just for us to do an Ultrasound and Non-Stress Test (which I'd been getting frequently at thirty four weeks already). In addition, I also received growth ultrasounds at the hospital to ensure the highest possible accuracy. Everything was good and we all wanted him to come on his own if possible to increase my chances of a healthy, vaginal delivery. So by my due date, when we weren't being induced (AGAIN) after all, Tom & I thought maybe he'd just stay in there forever and I would never get to eat a donut again. Even the hospital receptionist couldn't believe how on earth we hadn't had a baby yet!? The amazing Doctors looking after us were champions in making sure they held out as long as possible (even when I thought I couldn't) so he could come when he was ready. However, there was a no-matter-what deadline, and that was Thursday, June 5th, at five o'clock.

I woke up on Thursday morning with some cramping, but I had had that for the last two days since having my membranes stripped (twice -- and yes, OW) to hopefully kick my body into gear before the induction. It was 7am. I ate my routine 2 pieces of toast with peanut butter while Tom had a bowl of cereal. We excitedly chatted about how in a mere 24hrs I could have a bowl of cereal again too! We wondered what kind of cereal the baby would like when he got older? I began having contractions sporadically, but often, and we got excited thinking that we had all day, until five o'clock, to let things play out. I was in denial that anything was actually happening, but Tom was sure I was in labor. Maybe this kid really was coming on his own?! At 7:30am my phone rang, and it was our fairy-God-Doctor (or OB/GYN if you wanna be technical), Dr. Fahmy.

"Hey guys, where are you?" he asked. "We're home...", said Tom, "are we supposed to be somewhere?" "Yes! You were supposed to be at the hospital at FIVE!" Dr. Fahmy said.
"FIVE A.M.!?!" We screeched at the same time.
"Who schedules an induction at FIVE A.M. and forgets to mention the A.M. part!?" I exclaimed.
We couldn't believe it. We thought we would for sure be black listed at the hospital now for not coming in for our fourth scheduled induction. Oops.
"Well, just head down now, there will probably be a wait so it's best to get there as soon as possible. I'll see you there in a bit." said Dr. F.
We laughed about the silly miscommunication, got dressed, called our Super-Doula Johanna to let her know to meet us, grabbed all our pre-packed things, and headed out the door. It was gloomy, rainy and in the middle of rush hour, yet somehow we caught a cab right off the bat and were on our way. The stars were aligning!

By the time we were in the cab, at 8:30am, I was really having contractions. Tom had started timing them just before we left the house and they were anywhere from 1 1/2 to 3 minutes apart, and not letting up. When we arrived at the hospital it was 9am and my contractions were now steady at 2 minutes apart and getting stronger as they came. So strong that my body would shake and I felt like throwing up and pooping myself all at the same time as they peaked, and then I'd be starving at the end. It was intense! Dr. Fahmy called to check-in with us and when he heard I was having contractions so close together he said he would come in right away and check me himself to see how things were progressing. He called the nurses himself directly after and got us straight in to be seen. I love that man and his hospital powers.

Triage was one of the rougher parts of the whole experience. Having to lie in a bed for 20 minutes to be monitored and not be able to move around is not how one wants to go through contractions every two minutes! The nurses and residents were all really nice, but they had a tendency to state the obvious that I really didn't appreciate in the moment.
"Oh wow! You're really having some contractions my dear. And so close together!" they would say. I was quite aware, thankyouverymuch.
Dr. Fahmy arrived in no time and I was dilated to 4cm, and 80% effaced. "Well, you are certainly in active labor," he said, "and I am very happy. See everything happens for a reason!"
He asked the nurses to find me a room as soon as one was available, and I asked Tom to get me some fruit to help keep my energy up. I had one piece of pineapple, and that was the last thing I ate before I became a Mama. As soon as I was allowed off the bed, a contraction hit hard and I knew breakfast was on it's way back up.

"Where's the bathroom? I'm going to throw up." I asked the nurses station.
"Oh just down the hall" they vaguely replied, pointing to three different hallways. Followed by, "How far dilated are you? Are you effaced yet? What's your status?" in gentle, almost patronizing tones.
"Bathroom. Throw up. Which. Way?!" I could barely get out.
"Oh, right down there..." they pointed to one about fifteen steps away.
I took three steps and covered the entire triage floor with my two pieces of peanut butter toast and a pineapple chunk.
"Ssssoooorrrrryyyy..." I moaned to simultaneously sympathetic reactions of "Ohhhhhh honeyyyyyy!"
I stood frozen, having another contraction, bleeding a little on the floor (because I wasn't wearing underwear anymore and had had my membranes stripped twice, remember). Everyone was really nice about it, re-assuring me it was quite routine and to just let it all out. So I did, and I threw up again! They got some towels laid down so I could maneuver around to the bathroom and handed Tom all kinds of things to help get me cleaned up.
"Oh the poor girl, she's not even tied up in the back. Dad tie Mom up, her tush is hanging out!" one nurse exclaimed as we made our way to the bathroom, finally.
"Least of my worries!" I shouted behind me. "It's a let it all hang out kinda day!"

Tom helped get me cleaned up with all kinds of comfy hospital accessories. Seriously, I love the mesh undies! They are really, truly the best things I've ever worn. I took multiple pairs with me when we left the hospital. Anyway, three minutes later we came out of the bathroom and the nurse said, "We found you a room!" The lesson here is, when hospitals are really busy and full, excrete bodily fluids all over the place and they will make things happen for you.

We got into a room at 10:30am, and Johanna (SuperDoula) had arrived and was already helping me with contractions while I got my IVs, answered questions (which is really hard when you don't have much down time between contractions -- you learn to speak very clearly and quickly), and waited for epidural paperwork. I was getting slammed every minute and a half at this point, and all I wanted to do was lay down and take a nap. However, laying and sitting are not appealing contraction positions and there was no way I'd be sleeping through any of this. I used the bathroom and debated filling up the tub to sit in and let the water soothe me, until I heard the anesthesiologist come in and say "Does she want the epidural now, or just the paperwork?" It was 11:40am at this point and I felt that four and a half hours of contractions that were never more than three minutes apart from the start had been plenty of an experience. If I sent this "Angel"-thesiologist away now, knowing how busy things were, I knew I wouldn't see her again for quite awhile. So I bounded out of the bathroom and said "NOW WOULD BE GREAT!". I could've gone longer, and had planned to had we labored at home, but I had been told I would know when I was ready for it and I was ready! Or at least I was no fool to pass up the opportunity to feel better, and get that nap. The epidural was quickly and painlessly inserted and the end result was immediate and total comfort. Sweet relief! (Later, when all was said and done, the most painful part was actually getting the tape ripped off. THAT hurt!) As I watched contraction after contraction sky-rocket one after another on the monitor, while I couldn't feel a thing, I had absolutely no doubt I had made the right decision at the right time. Sooooo worth it. That Epidural now ranks among the Top Five best decisions I have ever made.

Once the Epidural was going, the whole labor process became much more calm and, dare I say, enjoyable. We played cards, took naps, chatted up the nurses, and Dr. Fahmy called me periodically to check in from his office and let me know what / who to expect next and when he would be back in himself. Tom & Johanna took turns getting lunch and I discovered a true love for ice chips. Again, not kidding. I absolutely LOVED the ice chips. They were so cold and crunchy and perfectly sized. I happily ate cup fulls and stayed nice and hydrated. I threw up again mid-afternoon, but just water obviously. It was the weirdest thing too, my mouth started watering and I felt immediately nauseous and knew I had seconds before I was going to throw up. Obviously something was going on with my body that I couldn't feel, but things were happening! I threw up so quickly and so powerfully that my eyes were gushing water like a waterfall, and then I was fine again. Funny how, when you're in labor, it's the one time people are super thrilled and excited, and not at all concerned, when bodily fluids are coming out everywhere. Not just excited, but actually cheering for you. You're throwing up?! YAY! You're bleeding?! AWESOME! You've got water leaking out of you?! FANTASTIC! All of these things are signs of progression and transition into various stages of labor, so it gets people, like doulas and Doctors and nurses, excited. I'm pretty sure it's the only time in life I'll be "happy" about such encouragement.

We took it easy until about 2:30pm when all kinds of alarms started going off on my Epidural machine and it turned out the battery had died. So they switched out the battery and we were back to hanging out. An hour later though I started feeling things and even though I'd press the button to "top off", the contractions continued getting stronger. I asked the nurse if I was doing something wrong and she realized that when the battery on the machine had been changed, it hadn't been turned back on! So the meds had fallen an hour behind and I had to play catch up to the pain by topping off every ten minutes while getting through more steady contractions for a bit. I was quickly reminded of my earlier laboring and I certainly hadn't been missing it. I spent the next hour laboring a bit more and making good use of my husband and doula who both helped enormously with pressure points and massage until the drugs caught up to where they needed to be again.

At 5:15pm a resident came in to check me. I was still 4cm, and my water hadn't broken, but the baby was dropping down and was at a -1 station. Progress was being made, but we were asked to consider breaking my water in about an hour to speed things up a little. I spoke to Dr. Fahmy over the phone & he said to see where we were at in an hour because the resident had checked me a little earlier than he had wanted. An hour later, at 6:15pm, I was checked again and had dilated to 6.5/7cm and my water was breaking (had begun leaking) on its own! Everyone was amazed. Clearly my body was just doing its own thing on its own terms. Whatever those terms were, it was working! So we were left to hang out some more.

At 9pm Dr. Fahmy was back and came in to check me. Oddly, my body had chilled way out and I was at the exact same place I'd been two and a half hours ago. In addition, there was moderate meconium in my water, which meant that the baby had pooped a little in his womb-home and we would need to monitor him more closely to make sure all continued to be fine. Also, a Pediatrician would now be present in the room for delivery and he or she would be the first to hold the baby and immediately ensure that you he didn't aspirate (breathe) poo into his lungs at birth. Dr. Fahmy decided the best way to monitor the baby was internally now, which meant he attached a little monitor to his head so he could get exact heart rate readings directly from the baby's body, instead of through my belly. Baby maintained his healthy heart rate and everything remained fine so there wasn't any further concern. However, since I wasn't progressing anymore for some reason, Dr. Fahmy advised we start some pitocin to strengthen the contractions and keep the kid moving on out. We agreed and that came along at 9:30pm, and then we all took another nap. All hail the Epidural!

For the next few hours, between sleep or massage or just enjoying each other's company, Tom, Johanna, the nurses and I continued to glance at the contraction monitor to see how things were going. Weirdly, my contractions remained very spread out and were often "coupling", as they had earlier, coming back to back but not being as strong or effective as the ones that come on their own in a more routine manner. We were pretty sure I wasn't progressing, and with Pitocin going that was worrying us a bit because I certainly should have been. I was also starting to feel things again, and my Epidural needed to be re-filled, so I labored through some more contractions and topped off as needed. Topping off had it's pros and cons. PRO: no pain. CON: eventually I couldn't feel my legs. I had been able to feel them the whole time, which allowed me to adjust my body easily and move in the bed as needed. However, when my legs became more numb, that became impossible, and quite frustrating. Luckily Johanna and Tom were super helpful in assisting me in adjusting my body so I could continue to rest as comfortably as possible.

At midnight, Tom and I were getting a little worried as we watched the contractions on the monitor remain slow, spread out, and not very intense. When the nurses would come in to check things they were also puzzled at how the contractions appeared un-phased by the pitocin and were still doing what they had been doing prior. We had an hour left before Dr. F would be back to check my progress, so I asked Tom to give me a blessing. A blessing is essentially a special prayer given by a worthy Priesthood holder who listens to the Spirit in order to provide guidance and comfort from Heavenly Father. I honestly don't remember what the blessing said, but I do remember feeling completely at peace afterward and knowing things would be fine and that we were very close to meeting our baby boy.

An hour later, at 1am, the contractions on the monitor were still looking ineffective, but it turned out I was dilated to 9cm and the baby was at a +1 station! Again we were reminded that my body apparently just does its own thing, and whatever that is it works just fine. Everyone was shocked, and thrilled, and I was exhausted and went right back to sleep. At this point, although I couldn't feel anything, I was clearly at a point of transition and my whole demeanor had changed. I was very short and direct about what I wanted, which was mostly to be left alone with my eye mask on so I could tune out the world, and to be fed ice chips, which were still so delicious. I could sense a change in my body that I can only describe as getting into the zone. I threw up one more time, though barely anything, and it wasn't even bothersome just something I needed to do. I didn't even take off my eye mask. My doula was very in tune with me and the major change from perky to "zone-y" and often asked me if I was feeling any pressure or need to push. I wasn't, or didn't think I was. I was just feeling the pressure / pain I had had in my right side for most of the night and it was still  manageable. I don't think I ever felt the pressure people describe. I just knew the baby was moving down and would soon be coming out.

Dr. Fahmy returned a couple hours later and said "Alright! You're at 10cm. I can see the head. Lets start pushing!" To which I replied, "Really? Ok... But... I'm so tired. I don't know if I want to have a baby right now." Such sweet words from someone who is about to become a Mother, right!? Here I've been waiting my whole life to become a Mom, plus the past nine months nurturing and growing this little baby, and it's finally time to meet him and I STILL just wanted to sleep! I think I was feeling a little scared and in denial and couldn't believe it was actually time. Dr. Fahmy helped me rally though and said, "Well, if you don't push this baby out your body will anyway, so gather your energy and lets go!" So I did. Tom held a leg, Johanna held a leg, Dr. Fahmy gave perfect instructions on how to push, and suddenly I had plenty of energy!

I pushed for ten minutes to cheers and encouragement from all, and then at 3:59am on Friday June 6th, 2014 we had a baby boy!

Almost exactly twenty one hours from the first contraction. About nineteen hours from hospital check-in. It sounds like a long time, and Tom said it felt long toward the end, but to me it seemed to pass pretty leisurely  (thanks epidural) and quickly. We had prepared ourselves for a twenty four to thirty six hour labor, this being my first baby and all, so to have it be less than that was a win! 

The best part, for me, was being able to watch as he was born. I was instructed to push his head out and then stop pushing and let my body do the rest. It was INCREDIBLE. I'll never forget it. Out came his head and then there was a sudden calm and quiet, total peace, as his little body emerged into the world, practically in slow motion, as my body did the work on its own. Again, thank you Epidural for allowing me to enjoy that moment, stress and pain free. It was the best moment of my life. I felt the same quiet calm I felt when Tom proposed to me. The feeling of the Spirit was totally in the room, though honestly I didn't recognize it at the time. I only realized it when reliving the moment later on. The baby cried immediately and my instinct was to talk to him and comfort him, so I just started shushing and saying "Hi. It's okay. You're okay." I held his long little body, covered in goo, as he was quickly being wiped and suctioned and cord-cut so they could get him to the warmer with the pediatrician. Since Tom didn't get to cut the cord due to the quick manner in which things needed to get done, Dr. Fahmy clamped some of the cord right after and said, "Here, cut this, so that you did cut some of the cord." It was very thoughtful and meant a lot to Tom. The baby was still screaming on the warmer, while being assessed, so Tom walked over and held his hand and said, "Hey buddy, don't worry, you're okay." Immediately, the crying stopped. And Tom's started. It was a very precious moment to witness the instant bond of father and son. "It's okay babe!", he called over to me. "He really IS cute!" Which is a testament to his parent-goggles at the moment because really, the little guy looked like a Mexican-Asian monkey who had been punched in the face a few times. But we still loved him! He was perfectly healthy, weighed an even eight pounds, twenty one inches long, and was covered in soft fuzz. He really was a hairy little monkey! He had side burns that would make Wolverine proud and his eyebrows stretched across his whole face. We totally loved him.

"What's his name?" asked Dr. Fahmy. And that's when I got choked up (finally). His name. He was a real person, and he had a name, and we could share it out loud with the world! "His name is Keller", I said proudly. And everything was perfect.

P.S. It actually took me twenty five days to write this one blog post. Mom life in full swing over here!