We arrived at the hospital at 7:30 am for our scheduled
induction at 39+2 weeks. Grandpa had
come over to spend the day with the girls who had eagerly sent us off with
kisses. Husband made breakfast
sandwiches for us while I nervously showered and finished packing. We arrived, checked in, got settled into a
room, chatted with the doc and started an IV of pitocin. I was 2.5 cm and only 50% effaced. When induced with the girls, I was at least 3
cm and 80%. So I already knew I was
“behind” and hoped for less than 12 hours til baby’s arrival (L was 12 hours, A
was 10 hours, E was 14 hours—all induced with pitocin/breaking my water but
delivered with no complications and no epidural). The nurse and my doc were very supportive of
our plans for a natural childbirth, especially since I’ve had adverse reactions
to various medications and didn’t want to risk having one now. By 9 am, the pitocin was on and I started
having regular contractions but wasn’t dilated enough to break my water. So we waited.
We talked, organized our gear again, listening to relaxing music, lounged
in the bathtub and eventually started a movie.
We shared a particularly poignant moment during that time,
feeling his mom very close and mindful of us.
She passed away last January and initially I struggled with the loss
more than I would have expected. The
decision to have another baby was very healing to me, perhaps it was accepting
our “new normal” or just because it was the energy and excitement. We’ve often joked about her “getting up there”
and insisting on talking to whoever she had to talk to about a grandson.
At noon, I was still shy of 4 cm. Doc broke my water and by the end of the
movie, the contractions required my concentration and deliberate breathing but
really weren’t difficult. I felt the
pain in my lower back and into my hips so we tried laboring in the shower. Husband held the hot spray against my back,
patiently supporting me. The intensity
increased so we tried the birthing ball, the bed, a chair, even a birthing bar
but I never lasted very long, always so uncomfortable. I was slowly admitting to myself that this
was a very different laboring experience and I wasn’t sure why or even how to
vocalize that acknowledgement. By 2:30
ish, I was miserable and discouraged.
The intensity was overwhelming, I was shaking through the contractions
and trying to explain to the nurse how I felt, begging to understand why it was
different. I felt significant pain that
lasted during contractions and continued between them, radiating through my hip
and low into my pelvic bones. I second
guessed myself, perhaps it was because I’m older or because I have to admit I
was less prepared in comparison to the girls’ births. She suggested baby might be face up, which
accounts for the difference in the intensity and location of pain. She checked me again—I was 5 cm and it was
only 2:30.
I was so discouraged and fighting for focus and
control. I started to worry that I would
resent this experience because it was so much more difficult than previous
births. I worried that if I was already
struggling to focus and only 5 cm, how miserable I would be during transition. With considerable disappointment, I asked
about an epidural. I had to talk through
the procedure and expectation more than once I think to understand and
reconcile. I was so disappointed that I
was already “giving up”—not so much disappointed that I needed pain relief but
that I had done this before without and wondered what I was doing
wrong/differently to need it. I’m pretty
sure I cried admitting that I didn’t want to do it anymore. My amazing husband reminded me not to compare
to anything else, but focus on what I needed in that moment and that was all that
mattered. Our nurse complimented him
more than once and joked he should have been a midwife, he was the best labor
coach she had ever seen. He continually
coached my breathing, encouraged me to focus, massaged my hands and applied
counterpressure to my back and hips.
Despite our best efforts, the pain was unrelenting and I
wasn’t progressing fast enough to feel like this was a good idea anymore. Fortunately, the anesthesiologist was already
in the hallway and came immediately.
Unfortunately, it took a good hour and a half before I felt any
relief. I was lying on my side, trying
to relieve the pain shooting into my left hip and pelvic bones while breathing
through the contractions. But the initial
placement was wrong and he had to try again.
Eventually it was placed and I had to move to my back. The first dose gave no relief, and then
something about it had to be adjusted again.
Meanwhile, I was a mess. Part of
me resenting getting the epidural because the contractions were just as
intense, maybe more, but now I was stuck in my least favorite laboring position. The anesthesiologist suggested it was because
the labor was going so fast the epidural couldn’t catch up but in my head I was
convinced I wouldn’t progress that fast.
Husband tried to keep me focused and breathing. I could feel myself thrashing and fighting
for control, disappointed that I couldn’t focus. Eventually the relief kicked in, the pain lessened. I could still feel the pressure of each
contraction, especially up into my ribs because now I was on my back, and still
present into my joints. Doc checked me
again, I was fully dilated and effaced.
This was a shock to me. During
the hour and a half it took for the epidural to be placed and become effective,
I had progressed in record time. Now it
suddenly made sense—I had even told husband and the nurse that I know it had
never been this intense until transition before. In retrospect, turn out it was transition. Part of me feels like if I had known I was
already in transition, I could have managed those contractions better—with a
different expectation, commitment and focus.
Or perhaps it was getting the epidural that allowed me to finally
progress—and at breakneck speed. Either
way, I was now comfortable, fully dilated and completely exhausted. So we agreed to let me rest for an hour,
giving him time to descend, before pushing.
During that time, we talked through how pushing would work now that I
couldn’t feel my legs and I had to admit I was disappointed I wouldn’t get to
feel him engage and descend or get to be as active in the labor process—despite
how overwhelmingly intense I know that to be.
But in retrospect, this was a really great experience. Without the barely-clinging-to-control
intensity, I was much more aware of all the dynamics and the process. My amazing husband helped coach me through
pushing, practicing through several contractions when suddenly the nurse
declared we had to stop and wait—he had crowned! I could see his dark hair! Doc had been going
back and forth between my room and the clinic and quickly hurried back and
readied. A few contractions later, at
6:20 pm, he was here! I got to hold him
immediately and help smooth in the vernex. We had requested a delay before
clamping the cord and doc had walked us through the advantages of it. Husband got to cut the cord and I cuddled our
boy as the placenta was delivered and doc stitched up the 2nd degree
tear. His beautiful face was so puffy
and covered in baby goo that for the first few moments he looked at us through
only one eye, skeptically appraising us.
The nurse showed us the placenta (perhaps a little odd but husband and I
are both fascinated by all things medical and I really liked that I was able to
take in all these aspects that I have previously been too overwhelmed to
see). He nursed almost immediately and I
love how long I got to hold him (with the girls, I only got a few minutes
before showing signs of shock and started to shake uncontrollably).
Later I asked the nurse to explain to me again what happened—why
this birth felt so different. We thought
maybe he was face up, instead of the usual facedown that my body is built
for. But that actually wasn’t the
case. As he was born, the doc could see
that his arm was up and the cord was wrapped around him. So instead of presenting head first, he was
trying to birth his head and shoulder at the same time. My pelvic bones likely separated, not really
a broken bone but torn ligaments that will take a few weeks to fully heal. The bones are designed to ease the baby
through but not separate like this.
Also, his head measures 42 cm—one of the nurses commented that was the
largest she had seen. They even double
checked it. By the next day, that
measurement had reduced though so it seems the bones shifted because of the
misaligned presentation. Regardless, he
looks perfect.
The nurses took him to weigh and measure him, 8 lb 15.5 oz
and 22 inches long. Initially he was
dark purple but recovered quickly and had no problems breathing. His dark hair is curly, and he has
beautifully long hands. His eye color is
hard to identify, so far they appear dark gray with blue or green depending on
the light. His skin is a darker color;
he actually looks most like his sister A.
The nurses barely had him clean before our room became a
party. Grandpa was waiting outside with
sisters plus two of the aunties and an uncle who thoughtfully brought dinner
and birthday cake! The girls were
instantly in love with him and took turns climbing onto my bed to hold him and
cuddle. We announced his name and they
declared it perfect.
Eventually our party tapered off and the nurses returned to
give instructions and help me get cleaned up and take care of the baby. Husband helped us settle in for the night and
then had to go home and spend the night with the girls. Baby and I spent our first night together, nursing
often and cuddling constantly as we would soon learn he hates being in a crib.
The next morning Husband got the girls off to school and
returned to the hospital just in time for another visitor, one of my friends
and a talented photographer who got some great newborn pictures for us. We had a few more visitors through the day
including sisters, my sister and Grammy.
Then Grammy stayed at our house so Husband could stay at the hospital
with me and baby.
I absolutely love our time in the hospital. It’s a perfect respite from the busyness of
the world, an almost sacred time wholly devoted to getting to know our new son
and lingering to the closeness of the birthing experience. I am so completely in love with him and can’t
get enough of his cuddles.
As we were getting ready to leave the hospital, Grammy told
us that E had been sick all night. So we
stalled, waiting a few more hours hoping she would be feeling better. When we finally arrived home the girls were ecstatic
and L and A begged to hold him. E cried
and cried when we said she had to go all night without being sick first. Finally I gave her a raffle ticket, telling
her it was a special baby ticket that she could trade for a cuddle when she was
feeling better. She finally accepted
that and clutched it all night until she traded it first thing the next
morning.
This little boy is SO loved.
Especially by me.
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