In October of this year we celebrated two years of our youngest son being apart of our lives earth-side.
First, let's talk about the fact that that happened so fast, like, so fast.
Back to the elephant. The truth is a mix of the words above and the fact that his birth did not go the way I had wanted it to. Between my own decisions during labor and then unforeseen complications after his birth resulting in a three day NICU stay sort of left me grieving in my own special way. It has taken me two years of a lot of thought work, self-care, processing, medication, spiritual pondering and more to reach a point of peace and understanding that I did not have in the few months following his birth.
BUT, more on that later. I want to give my son the same courtesy I gave his big brother and tell the story of his birth exactly the way it happened, without my hindsight commentary. So this will be his unfiltered birth story, part one of two. My post-partum story can be read here as a sort of part two.
Even though publishing this has been two years in the making, I did write his birth story in my personal journal a couple of weeks after his birth so as not to forget any details, so the majority of this post will pretty much be ~direct~ excerpts from that journal entry.
**DISCLAIMER - I have to first state that these experiences and thoughts are my own. Now that I've been through two pregnancies and births and have read and associated with many women who have had drastically different pregnancy and birth experiences, I need you to know that my thoughts and opinions are not "the right" ones. They are what they are, and based on my personal experiences, personality, preferences, etc. I'll touch more on that in my part two, but I just need to be abundantly clear that if your experience was similar and you were happy or traumatized, it is all valid. I talk about unmedicated vs. epidural and it is not meant to pit them against each other. Please remember that as you read this.**
Okay, now let us begin.
October 1, 2018
I sit in bed with Michael, lamenting after several days of stop and go contractions and terrible sleep. I did not want to go in tomorrow, on my due date/40 week appointment and discuss induction, I just really do not want to be induced. Michael was of course a good reassuring partner and tried to calm my anxiety by saying that my doctor would let me continue to 41 weeks if needed be. I of course, said "yeah, I know she will, but sometimes if babies stay in too long they pass meconium, their first bowel movement, and it can make them very sick and cause issues..."
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| A week before my due date. #whalemama |
October 2, 2018
Well, I honestly believe there is something about my soul that wills my body to go into labor, because around 1am on October 2, 2018 (my due date - my first son also came on his due date!) I woke up to a contraction. It definitely felt different than my Braxton-hicks so I took note of what time it was so I could see if another one came within 5-10 minutes. They were bearable, I just had to focus and breathe and I made it through them fine. They continued between 1-3am going 5, 7, and sometimes 10 minutes apart, sort of felt like they were just warming up. I dozed back to sleep between 3-4am and then woke up to a stronger contraction. I waited until about 4:20 after I'd had about 4 consistent five minutes apart and woke Michael up saying it was time. He got up, showered, then I called my sister to come stay with Niall, and Michael called our doula, Christi. We left at about 4:45am and got to the hospital right at 5am.
After registering we went back to triage and they got me all hooked up to the monitors to see how strong the contractions were and how far apart they were. I was...uncomfortable of course, but not yet in the crazy pain of close contractions. With my first I stayed home longer and arrived at the hospital at 6 cm dilated and they wheeled me back almost immediately to a delivery room. With this birth I was told to come in as soon as labor started because I was strep b positive and needed two doses of antibiotics before the baby came out to prevent it from being infected. I found this out at 35 weeks, and up until that point my confidence was so much weaker than with my first pregnancy as to how the labor and delivery would go. (A little refresher for any one new, my first birth was completely unmedicated and super empowering for me.) This time around, because I knew what to expect, I was a lot more worried about the pain. I ~sort of~ "remembered" (you cannot replicate or truly remember labor pain unless you're actually in labor - LOL) how painful it was going all natural, no interventions, yet I still really wanted to do it because even in spite of the incredible pain I wanted to experience that high afterwards and the empowerment and accomplishment I felt after my first birth, something that just cannot be replicated by any other experience. I truly cherished and sung the praises of my first birth experience and wanted to experience it again. Then, I had the positive strep b test, I really felt like it shattered what confidence was left in me by 35 weeks. I knew I would ~have~ to be hooked to an IV for a good bit of time, and with my first birth I didn't even have an drip. I couldn't imagine being strapped to an IV and monitors while being able to get the relief I needed. I continued to plan an unmedicated birth up until I sat in that triage room (also those rooms are freezing and suck and that probably didn't help my attitude). I had even handed the nurses my birth plan that indicated my intentions to birth with low interventions. Well, you know what they say about intentions...
At one point while still in triage the nurses were gone and I sat through a few more contractions and remembered a feeling I had before I had left the house, this is not going to go as planned, this is not going to go how you want it. It was true, even in that moment at home I wanted to stay there and labor in my comfort zone, to use a hot shower to ease my pain, I wanted to arrive at the hospital further along than 4 cm dilated, but none of that was happening. I was super disappointed and literally felt like it wasn't myself speaking when I turned to Michael and said "I don't want to do it, I want the epidural." I think I just felt defeated already and figured if I'm going to be strapped to an antibiotic IV twice through the labor along with the intermittent monitoring of contractions and heart rates I didn't want to attempt this, I was going to be uncomfortable with all of that on top of the immense pain of progressing contractions and transition.
Michael of course, being the supportive partner he is, did his duty and offered supportive words of encouragement, telling me he knew what I really wanted was to do it unmedicated (he was right😩), but that he would support whatever I decided. I didn't say anything, but when the nurses came back in I hesitated but finally said, "I changed my mind, I want an epidural."
They started an IV bag and after a little while longer we walked back to a room. I had to get a whole bag before I could receive the epidural. I sat on my birth ball and Michael provided counter pressure and a heat pack as I was having contractions about 3 minutes apart at this point. What is interesting is that the contractions (in hindsight) really weren't that bad yet, I was still able to communicate, etc., but I feel because I had sort of "surrendered" and "given up" I was so impatient to get the epidural. It was probably about 30 minutes before the anesthesiologist came in to do it. He explained the whole process as I sat through more contractions and they raised the bed to put it in. I sat facing Michael and he held my hands. - - A sort of funny side note, at least to me, was that in that moment as I'm about to have a needle and catheter put in my back alongside painful contractions, I'm looking at Michael holding my hands and I feel I have never seen him as more attractive. Cray Cray, I know, like ~he did this to me~ the classic line from movie labor scenes. 😂 But really, it must be an animal instinct or something, because I felt so secure, spiritually, emotionally, and physically with him in that moment in spite of all the vulnerability that is being in labor. One of those weird and beautiful things about giving birth, maybe that's one reason it's so magical for me. - - Okay, okay enough mush, back to it.
The epidural insertion really wasn't bad aside from the initial numbing shot poke, but if you've ever been pregnant between being poked and prodded with blood draws, IVs, and a doctor literally putting their hand in your body, a little poke in your back feels like no big deal. Once it was inserted they laid me down and waited for a few minutes for it to set in, it worked really fast, it was really weird actually!
A short while later Christi, my doula, arrived. Since I had already received the epidural I think she felt sort of useless (she wouldn't say that though, she is an angel on earth!!!). I mean, it was OK, not like she was mad, haha, I made her job easier. Being the angel that she is she was of course still so helpful. She gave me ice chips and helped to rotate me a few times as well as holding my legs when it came time to push. I cannot recommend a doula enough, not matter what your birth plan looks like.
My mom also arrived around the same time as Christi, about 8am. So at this point I've been actively laboring for about four hours. For the next 4.5 hours we just sort of sat and rested, chatted, it was pretty relaxing aside from just being anxious to meet our new baby. I received the two doses of the antibiotic, so we were in the clear there. Around 11:45am my doctor, Dr. Hardman, checked me and said I was at a 10 and just about ready to push, my water had not yet broken so she went ahead and manually broke it. She left me for a few more minutes and I think I started pushing around 12:10pm.
I think it only took about 4 rounds of pushing, but with the time between contractions it took about 20 minutes total, but compared to the 3.5 hours of pushing I did with my first birth, it felt like nothing. What was weird and unexpected with the epidural was that I could still "feel" a pressure, or maybe it was just my brain telling me that I needed to push. I would know and be ready a split second before the nurses saw the monitor indicating a contraction to push with. Our bodies are so amazing! I could definitely feel the pressure of baby crowning as well, Michael said "it's coming," and I felt it, then baby was out!
Dr. Hardman was holding the baby and I looked up to see if it was a boy or a girl and I was so emotional it was hard to tell, then I heard Michael say, "it's a boy!" Apparently my doctor had said it (we have video proof) when he came out, but I think between the relief of him being out and my teary eyes I missed her saying it. As she was pulling him out I did hear her say, "we've got some meconium," and I was a little distracted by that. Overall his emergence was so much more emotional than my first. With my first birth I was so so exhausted after pushing for 3.5 hours that I was more relaxed and quiet when I first held him. I distinctly remember not crying (and surprised I didn't because I'm an emotional lady) when I held my oldest for the first time. Happy, of course, but so tired. With Hudson, since I had the epidural, I was so relaxed during the labor that so much adrenalin was pumping through me leading up to pushing I was shaking. Then even before he came out I was basically crying already out of anticipation to meet him. I think deep down I knew he was a boy all along, I definitely felt it at the beginning of the pregnancy. When they put him on my chest and I saw his sweet little face I just said, "hey buddy," and it felt so right. He looked so much like his brother to me, but got his daddy's brown eyes.
We spent a lot of time skin to skin, I delivered the placenta at some point and they cleaned us up. Daddy and I starred in awe and spoke words of gratitude to each other. From the moment he was placed on my chest I knew he was meant for me, for our family. I could feel his sweet little soul so strongly connected to mine. Time is a weird thing after giving birth. I probably just snuggled him for 45 minutes to an hour and then wanted to latch him on, so they weighed him first - 8 lbs 5 oz, 21 inches long - a big boy. He latched almost perfectly right away and stayed on for almost an hour!
I guess I should back track a bit and say that because of the meconium at birth he had fluid in his lungs right away. When they put him on me he wasn't quite gasping, but sounded gargley, like there was a lot of junk in his throat. I called it to the nurses attention and they took him and suctioned what they could out, then he stayed with me skin to skin and nursed for that time. When my doctor had initially made the meconium comment after delivering him, I remembered how just the night before I had mentioned that being a possible complication to Michael. I really felt like it was a prompting from God to prepare me for what was to come.
Niall came to see us with Aunt Leah and was so timid and shy, I think a little confused, but was interested in his brother. Michael held Niall and showed him Hudson but he was getting a little sad so we diverted him to the toy "Hudson had brought him," a toy garbage truck we had told him baby would bring when he arrived. :) He got excited about that and sat with Granny to look at it.
So, previous to knowing Hudson would come on his due date Michael scheduled a job interview for 3pm that day. In a moment of craziness I told him not to worry about rescheduling it and to just go. So after Niall arrived Michael changed and set off. Niall and Leah stayed for a little while longer and my other big sis, Samantha arrived as well. So I had my mom and both my sisters with me for a while, which was nice since Michael had left.
Eventually Mom left and Leah took Niall home where Michael would meet up with him as well as his mom and step-dad later. Samantha stayed with me, which was heaven sent because I was still a bit numb from the anesthesia, and her being a nurse and not being phased by any of it was a huge bonus and blessing! The anesthesia was taking its sweet time to wear off and my nurse was being a little pushy to get me up and going to the bathroom so they wheeled me to the bathroom with 1 functioning leg and the other about 60% back. As soon as I sat on the toilet I started to feel woozy and put my head down because I felt faint, well next thing I know Sam is in my face saying "MARY, MARY, you passed out." She helped move me back to the bed where they laid me down flat, I felt better immediately, but definitely tired and weak, but I mean, I'd just had a baby. Poor Hudson was just chilling in the warmer, snoozing away. It took me a good while, probably an hour to really start feeling good again to where I could sit up and not feel woozy.
As I was resting Sam was watching Hudson sleep on the warmer bassinet, where he'd been for a while now because his temperature had been a little low. While watching him she noticed his oxygen levels were dipping in the 80s, so she called in a nurse and several more followed. They said they would need to take him away to the nursery to give him extra care. I was still so tired and not feeling great, so I could not go with him, which stunk, but that was that. After a while the nurse came in and said he was going to have to be admitted to the NICU. In that moment I truly felt no fear and really held it together, I did for quite a while actually. It all just happened so fast and I myself was still recovering. I called Michael and told him and he reassured me as well.
I eventually made it to my feet and to the bathroom and was then moved to a recovery room. It really sucked not having Hudson with me and being apart from him...and him without me. My in-laws drove up to visit and came with Michael and Niall to have dinner with me at the hospital. Afterwards we went up to see Hudson. My parents came to visit at the same time as well. It was actually my dad's 60th birthday, which was such a precious gift to me and to my new son, to have them share a birthday. My Dad and Michael administered a religious blessing on Hudson, during which I felt the spirit reassure to me that everything would be okay.
And it was, but not without being the longest three days of my life. Trying to care for two kids, one at home, one sick. Getting absolutely NO sleep, a mental breakdown staring at a baby strapped to monitors, wanting to comfort your baby but having everything regulated by the nurses, including when I could breastfeed my baby who wanted to more often than every three hours. It was absolutely exhausting. The meconium he had ingested at birth had set some in his lungs. Luckily after just a couple days it seemed to clear and he was able to maintain good oxygen levels on his own. The third day was mainly just to make sure he was getting enough milk, and luckily by that day my milk was really coming in.
We took him home on Friday October 5, 2018 and settled into our new life with two kids. 💙💙
To anyone reading this, you may be thinking, your birth was actually pretty smooth, why was reconciling it so hard for you? You're right. All things aside, the main trauma of his birth was mainly a mental one. The labor itself went smoothly with the exception of the meconium at delivery. And aside from my fainting episode I recovered physically pretty quickly, especially once I got home.
To read more about my post-partum journey, see My Post-Partum Story / Part 2 of 2.
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