Thursday, May 19, 2016

A tale of two births

Jess: On the evening of November 20, 2012, Wes yelled through the bathroom door, “I’ve made some salsa that just might be hot enough to induce labor!” I don’t remember my exact reply, but it was something along the lines of, “Too late!” My water had broken and our first child was on the way. My mom and stepdad had just arrived a few hours before to celebrate Thanksgiving with us, so first we told them, and then we called the midwife. Since I had not had any contractions yet, she told me to stay at home until I felt some or a few hours had passed. So we had dinner, took showers, and watched Airplane! Then we headed to the hospital.

And nothing happened.

For almost a full day, we hung out in the labor room, with my pitocin gradually being increased but having no effect. I wasn’t supposed to get up and walk around because I was hooked up to baby monitoring equipment as well as an IV; my blood pressure had skyrocketed and they were pretty concerned about that. I arrived at the hospital 3cm dialated, but 26 hours after my water broke I was only 4. After attempting a few measures to speed the process along, my midwife finally said aloud what we had been dreading: c-section. She and the OB were concerned about baby developing an infection after being exposed for so long.

Surgery and I do not get along. James was born at 10:21 p.m., healthy and screaming. He was 6 pounds, 1 ounce and 18.5 inches long. Wes was able to hold him pretty soon after. But my midwife lovingly referred to me as a “train wreck” in the days to come. I needed I don’t even know how many supplements, lots of extra attention, and two blood transfusions during my 3.5 more days in the hospital. Even today, I feel like I was robbed of the birth experience I wanted. For weeks and months afterward, I felt guilty for bringing my child into the world in this way. I hated that my body couldn’t do what it was made to do.

Flash forward almost 3.5 years. On the morning of April 6, we had a routine prenatal appointment. We were 3 weeks away from Joseph’s due date, and even though James was early I think Wes and I were both pretty convinced that this baby would stay put longer. But at the appointment, the doctor checked my progress and said she was sure we would have a baby within two weeks. At first, we both panicked, but then we made a few plans for the days and weeks to come and settled back down into waiting for baby.

All day that day, I had cramps on and off. I assumed they were due to the exam and went about my business. James and I went to the library, we had dinner at Wes’ church… just a generally normal day. Wes and I watched some TV, at which point I complained that the cramping had been pretty annoying but not really painful. It wasn’t until we were going to sleep that I realized that the cramping had become somewhat regular. That perhaps I was having contractions. I decided to time them; at this point, Wes had already fallen asleep. Less than a minute after beginning to time the “cramps,” I felt and heard a “pop!” I sprang out of bed and ran to the bathroom—my water had broken!

After calming down and getting myself situated, I went in to wake up Wes. I’ve never seen him wake up or move quite as fast as he did when I said, “Um, honey? My water broke.”

For the next hour or so, we made phone calls, finished packing our hospital bag, and waited for our friend Ryan to come and stay with James. I spent most of the time in the shower, which was a really great way to deal with contractions. By the time we left, they were about 2-3 minutes apart and lasting about 1 minute.

The drive to the hospital was the worst of my life. When we got in the car, Wes realized that we had no gas, so we had to stop at HEB. I was in enough pain that I leapt out of the car and wandered the gas station while he filled up, having several contractions in the minutes that getting gas required. The 30 minute trip to the hospital seemed like it would never end. I have never been so happy to arrive at the emergency room. Wes grabbed everything and we started making our way to labor and delivery, but I had to stop several times on the way because I could no longer walk or talk through contractions.

Our doula, Josie, met us at check-in, where Wes was able to fill out the one bit of paperwork required. I think the nurses recognized that I was in no mood to labor at their desk, so they got us into a room pretty quickly. They were a little worried about my fluid levels so I had an IV of saline for a short time. The nurses checked me and found I was 4 cm dilated—already as far as I had gotten with James and it had only been a couple of hours! We filled out more paperwork (so much paperwork!) and then labor set in even harder.

The next 4 or so hours is kind of a blur. I had major back labor so Josie and Wes took turns putting as much pressure as possible on my back during each contraction. I stood, I laid down, I got on all fours, and I told myself repeatedly that I just needed to get through one more contraction. Somewhere along the way my water fully broke—only the forebag had broken at home. At several points, I was sure that there was no way I could get through labor without pain medication. Without Josie and Wes, I’m sure I couldn’t have—they were so supportive. When I felt like I couldn’t take it any more, the nurses told me it was time to be checked again. I had already decided (in my own mind) that if I wasn’t at least 6 cm, I would ask for an epidural. I was at 9! I distinctly remember laughing somewhat and saying to everyone, “I think I might be able to do this!”

The nurses told me to let them know when I felt pressure because that would mean that pushing time was getting close. Not long after that check, I felt intense pressure—9.5 cm. They called the doctor and started getting the room ready for delivery. I know a whole bunch more people came in, but I don’t recall meeting any of them except Dr. Forbes; she was not my OB, but she was on call so there we were. The only moment during labor when I wanted to yell at/hit someone was when she came in during my “practice” pushes and told the nurses to call her back when I was closer to delivering. If I hadn’t been mid-contraction, we would have had some words…

Not long after that, pushing began in earnest, the doctor came back, and I became concerned again that I couldn’t do it. “The ring of fire” is no freaking joke. But when someone said, “I can see his hair!” I knew that I was going to bring this boy into the world. A few pushes later, he was out! I know it sounds cliché and crazy, but I instantly forgot all the pain, all of the fear, all of the challenges. Joseph was perfect; he screamed bloody murder until the moment they placed him on me. He was so content to lay on his Momma, and I could have stayed like that forever. I’m pretty sure Wes didn’t get to hold him for an hour or so. Oops. This birth was so redeeming for me, and just so amazing. It has been six weeks and I still can’t believe that I did it. And I’m more in love with this precious baby every day.


Wes: I stubbed my toe on the way into the prenatal ward. Worst pain anyone has ever experienced.