James' Birth Story Part 2

Click here for Part 1

I called Brenden. My mom called my dad and just about everyone else she knew. Brenden drove straight up from work as soon as we called. Dr. Hulme called the hospital so they could get prepared for my arrival. When we got there I knew it was going to be awhile before I could eat again if I was really going to have this baby today (I was still partially in denial), so we grabbed some sandwiches at the Subway near the Women's Atrium in the hospital. I felt this was okay because I followed Dr. Hulme's orders to go straight to the hospital, I simply didn't check in as quickly as he might have been expecting me to. After finishing half of my footlong, my mom and I went up to Observation where they told me Dr. Hulme wanted me in Labor and Delivery. Shortly after I arrived in my Labor and Delivery room, Brenden showed up. I decided it was okay to have this baby now. And somehow I think that psychological acceptance allowed the labor to start progressing. 

My first nurse was a former Scottish midwife. I gave her a copy of my birth plan. We went over it together and she was fully supportive of me choosing to go all-natural. My contractions had finally started coming closer together and with a stronger intensity I expected of labor. I found out my baby was occiput posterior, or face up. We needed him to turn so I was doing squats during my contractions. I was getting through them pretty well and utilized my trusty exercise ball too. My nurse's shift ended at 7pm and I had a new nurse come in who performed my next exam.

I was still at 6 cm. I had been laboring in the hospital for about 6 hours, give or take a few minutes, at that point. The contractions had become hard and painful but I wasn't progressing. The nurse informed me Dr. Hulme wanted to artificially rupture the membranes, in other words, break my water to help labor move along. He did and the contractions became stronger. And the medical interventions I wanted to avoid started creeping up.

I was tired. I had been awake for the past three nights. I was having a hard time doing the squats they recommended I do to get the baby to turn. My new nurse recommended I lie down on my side and hopefully he would turn with this new position. I hated laboring in bed but I also hated standing up and I knew I was too tired to keep doing squats so I decided to lie on my side to get this baby to turn. 

They hooked me up to an external fetal monitor to check the baby's heart rate as they had been doing off and on throughout the day but this time they couldn't find the heartbeat. They kept looking for it but couldn't find it. I realize now it was strange that I wasn't worried about this but I wasn't. Everyone else was concerned but I just figured the baby had shifted a bit (like we wanted) and his new position made it difficult to find the heartbeat. But because nurses and doctors aren't allowed to trust a mother's intuition, they insisted I have an internal fetal monitor set up. I was not happy about that. I didn't want them attaching anything to my baby's head before he'd even had a chance to come out. But they were insistent, they needed to find the heartbeat and so, with my permission, they inserted the internal fetal monitor. They found the baby's heartbeat, recorded his heart rate, and everything was fine (as fine as hard labor can be, that is). And when they pulled the little electrode back out, there were little baby hairs attached from where it sat on his head. My baby wasn't bald! I had a new wave of energy. I don't know why my baby having hair was so important to me but it was. Don't worry, I still think bald babies are cute too.

By my next exam I had only progressed 2 cm to a lovely 8 cm. And there I sat, at 8 cm, for much too long, both in my and my doctor's opinion. I had been having strong contractions for almost 72 hours (with basically no sleep) with about 8 of those hours in serious, hard pain. I was hysterical and I couldn't calm down. All my breathing techniques flew out the window with each sharp shallow breath. I lay there praying, begging for my labor to end. Dr. Hulme recommended pitocin and an epidural but I was adamant about no epidural and I didn't want any pitocin because I knew that would make the contractions even harder. I continued to labor out of control, exhausted but stubborn. 

After they checked my progress again and I was still sitting at 8 cm, Dr. Hulme strongly recommended I get an epidural and pitocin. I was no longer in control and I was completely, utterly exhausted. Finally I consented. And once I decided I wanted the epidural, the anesthesiologist couldn't come soon enough. I got the epidural and I got the pitocin. The pain relief came but I was still uncomfortable with each contraction, struggling to get through them. I could feel incredible pressure but I wasn't in pain. 

I got the epidural and pitocin around 9pm and I finally started dilating again. When it came time to push, I was so ready. Pushing was easy for me. It was a welcome change to the previous passive stage of labor. I was excited to push and finally get that baby into this world. 

I still remember the excitement in Brenden's voice when he told me he could see the baby's head. He was at my right side, my mom was at my left. I had never heard such excitement in his voice before. He was so happy and in awe of this miracle we were experiencing together. We were doing it. After a long, LONG labor, and a relatively short pushing stage, James Atticus entered the world. He was immediately whisked away to be weighed and measured and checked, something I had wanted to postpone so I could hold him immediately and begin breastfeeding (since, during my research, I learned this practice aided in more positive breastfeeding outcomes). But, you know, it didn't bother me as much as I thought it would and I hope that doesn't sound like I didn't care about him or didn't wanted to hold my new baby. I was just tired and he was here safe and sound, which was what I was really aiming for. 

He was here.

And he was crying and crying and crying. The nurse cleaned him off and handed him over to Brenden, while I remained in bed getting stitches (is that too much information?) Almost immediately as James was put in Brenden's arms, James quieted. I couldn't believe it. Did he know it was his father holding him? Could he sense Brenden's love for him simply in the way he cradled him?  

The bond was immediate but the bonding moment was shortened as the nurse realized James' breathing wasn't normal. She checked him again. They had to suction gunk (yes, that's the official medical term...) out of him. My poor baby was welcomed into this world with bright lights, beeping machines, and a suction tube. Because of his breathing problem, they wanted to take him straight to the nursery to be checked by a fetal maternal specialist. Brenden went with them to the nursery. And I still didn't get to hold my baby.

Everyone that had come to cheer me on and meet James, came into the room to keep me company for a bit before heading over to the nursery to see the baby. My mom stayed with me the entire time.   

After a couple hours, baby James was finally brought to me. 

I held this tiny baby in my arms, completely overwhelmed. I think part of my denial that I was in labor stemmed from deeper feelings of inadequacy and unpreparedness and those feelings came to surface again as I clumsily cradled my innocent, helpless new child. 

But he was perfect and this perfection was a reminder that I didn't create this baby on my own. I would never be able to create something, someone, so perfect in this world. Remembering my Father in Heaven's hand in my son's creation, I realized I would not have to raise him on my own either. 

I had seen James while they had cleaned him up immediately after the delivery and I could tell he was beautiful. But when I held him in my arms, I was struck by his perfection. The perfectly round head with brown hair. The miniature nose and chin. The sweet baby cheeks I had been longing to kiss for months now. The two pink lips with a dimple separating the bottom lip from his chin. He was beautiful. I couldn't believe he was mine. 

I held him close to me, marveling at his flawless features. 

I was in love. 

I was so in love with my James Atticus that it didn't bother me one bit when he pooped so much it leaked out of his diaper and down onto my arm. 

Hello to you too, sweet baby boy.

James' Birth Story Part 1

James was born on September 16, 2013 at 11:20pm. A healthy 19.75 inch long and 7 lb 8 oz baby boy came screaming into this world. With a nine on the Apgar scale and a head full of hair, our James was looking good.   

I've been wanting to share this story for a little over two months now but have never known how to share it or found the time to write it down. I still don't have the time to write it down, just FYI-- I'm losing sleep over this (a rare and precious commodity)-- but I really just felt like it was time to share it. So here I am, at almost midnight, typing away.

James' birth story really began about a week before his birth day. On September 9th, Brenden began his new job in Galveston. We had just moved into the spare bedroom in my parents' house the day before (which was my birthday) while we waited for the renovations on my childhood home to finish up for us to rent. I drove up to North Houston with my mom for my 37th week check up. I found out I was about 1.5 cm dilated and 40% effaced. After the appointment, I looked up pregnancy forums where moms wrote about when they went to labor after hearing similar news and determined I could go into labor anywhere between two days and four weeks. I was sure I was going to be late but nevertheless remained vigilant for any signs of labor. The next day I started timing contractions on an app on my cell phone. They weren't strong and came and went throughout the next three days. I didn't think they were anything more than Braxton-Hicks contractions. It wasn't until Friday night, when I could no longer sleep through them because they were too strong and coming much more regularly (about every 10-15 minutes apart) that I thought they might be something more.

Here I'll give a little bit of background on my preparation for this birth to provide context for what I did next. Brenden and I, and I deliberately included Brenden in this sentence, decided we would try for an all-natural childbirth. I knew if this was going to happen we would both have to be all-in and I would need Brenden's full support. We both did tons of research. We practiced the Bradley method in the weeks leading up to the birth. We wrote out a detailed birth plan. I even considered changing from seeing an ob/gyn to a midwife whose primary experience is with natural, uncomplicated births. However, because I was considered a high-risk pregnancy and because I really liked my ob/gyn, we stayed with him and went the hospital route. Everything I'd read basically said if I wanted an all-natural childbirth in a hospital where nurses and doctors generally push for medical interventions, I would need to labor at home for as long as possible before checking into the hospital. My doctor told me to check into the hospital when my contractions were about five minutes apart, lasting one minute in length for about an hour. My contractions never made that "requirement" and I labored at home, waiting for them to increase in frequency for as long as I could. 

I labored at home for about three days. And I imagine I would have labored at home even longer had I not had my 38th week check up on the morning of September 16th. 

I didn't really sleep much during those three days of labor. The contractions were too intense and occurring about 10-15 minutes apart. 

I woke Brenden up Saturday morning at 6am, after my first sleepless night, and asked him to take me out to breakfast. I really wanted some biscuits and gravy and I was too tired to make them myself so we got ready and headed out to ShyKatz, a delicious breakfast place and deli. We went back home where I was able to take a short nap. When we woke up again, Brenden started getting ready to go back up to Spring to back up some of our belongings we left at his parents house during our hasty move to Galveston. I was originally going to go with him but because I was in pain every 10 to 15 minutes and I didn't get any sleep the night before, we figured I wouldn't be much help and I'd do better staying at home with my mom. While Brenden went up to Spring, I actually ended up going baby shopping with my mom and older brother, Reuben. I was in the dressing room of Motherhood Maternity at the Baybrook Mall when I realized the contractions I had been recording had been occurring about 5-7 minutes apart for about an hour. I kept this realization to myself until we checked out and made our way back to the car. I mentioned it to my mom who called my dad to figure out what to do and I called Brenden to let him know he might have to meet us at the hospital. I was in deep denial that I was in labor. Afterall, I was still able to talk through my contractions for the most part and still joking around, signs that I was in early labor, if I was even in labor. I was two weeks away from my due date and I knew I was going to be late, so I couldn't be in labor. I told my mom to head back to Galveston so I could get my hospital bag (which I'd left at home) and then we could drive up to North Houston. And that's what we did.

Brenden met us at the hospital and the three of us (Reuben went home to Clear Lake when we went back to Galveston) sat out in lobby of the Women's Atrium. My contractions had stopped completely as soon as we had arrived at the hospital. I knew I wasn't in labor. After expressing some deep frustrations, I bid farewell to my mom. Brenden and I decided to stay in Spring with his parents that evening in case my contractions started up again, occurring with such frequency. When we got to his parents' home (about a twenty minute drive from the hospital), my contractions came back. But they were back to being 10-15 minutes apart. That night I stayed awake, sitting up in a pink cushiony rocking chair while Brenden slept on the floor to keep me company. I think I was jealous of the sleep Brenden was able to get while I stayed awake all night so I would often wake him up whenever a contraction occurred-- just to let him know, "Hey. I'm in pain. We might have a baby soon. It's not fair you can sleep. Wake up." 

We didn't go to church the next day; instead my contractions let up long enough for me to get a couple of naps in. This break from contractions was both welcome and frustrating. I appreciated the rest but hated the sporadic nature of the contractions because I didn't know what it meant. My mom had planned a family birthday dinner for me for that evening and because I was sure I wasn't really in labor, I told her to go ahead with it and Brenden and I drove back to Galveston Sunday afternoon. During the dinner, I kept excusing myself to my bedroom every ten minutes to sit on an exercise ball and breathe through a contraction. After the contraction was over, I returned to the meal, at least for another ten minutes. I had another sleepless night, this time I spent it on the exercise ball while Brenden slept in bed. 

The next morning, the morning of the 16th, I got a brief nap in before I had to get ready for my 38 week check up. My mom was going to drive me up since Brenden was in job training for his second week of work. On the drive up to my doctor's office, my contractions became closer in frequency, about seven minutes apart, until we actually got to the office when they became less frequent, back to about ten minutes. That morning Dr. Hulme had performed an emergency c-section and was very behind on his appointments. I think I waited almost an hour before I got out of the waiting room. I tried to sit patiently and remain as inconspicuous as possible while I breathed through my contractions. I still didn't believe I was in labor and I didn't want to make a scene in the crowded waiting room. 

The nurse eventually took me back and hooked me up to a fetal monitor where we determined my contractions were occurring about thirteen minutes apart and were fairly intense. She didn't seem concerned. When I saw Dr. Hulme, however, he finished his exam and told me I should go ahead and go straight over to the hospital. I shouldn't stop for anything along the way. I jokingly mentioned I had some library books I needed to return and he rather firmly stated I shouldn't even stop for lunch (yeah, right, don't deny a pregnant lady who has gone for the last three hours without eating something substantial her lunch.)

Apparently I was six centimeters dilated and almost fully effaced. He told me I was going to have this baby today.

Click Here for Part 2!

On the Home Stretch

In the early hours of this morning after one of my many visits to bathroom, I climbed back into bed and started thinking of my pregnancy and my little boy. I thought about the pink stretch marks forming across my abdomen that I had mostly avoided during pregnancy and I thought about my aching, stiff back that comes every time I get up from any reclining position. I thought about my feet that have begun to grow larger by the end of each day and the daily battles of hunger and fatigue.

I was lying on my left side with my large belly propped up by a pillow. I'm normally a back sleeper but after I reached about 20 weeks in the pregnancy I had to adjust my sleeping position because my growing uterus would put extra pressure somewhere on my back and it wouldn't be good for me or the baby.

To be completely honest, my train of thought originated at Cafe Rio, my favorite burrito place located in Utah.  And I started listing off all the places I could go for lunch later today that were similar but not as good: Freebirds, Chipotle, Bullritos. In Athens, we had Barberitos, which was amazing, but during my first trimester I couldn't keep down a delicious burrito no matter how hard I tried. The regurgitated mess of beans, rice, meat, and tortilla was a lovely reminder that my body was no longer my own.

There have been many discomforts of pregnancy that intellectually I knew I would encounter and tried to brace myself for but I never realized the toll they would take both physically and emotionally. Each day I am physically exhausted before the day is through and I feel emotionally beat wondering how much longer I can do this while recognizing these nine months of pregnancy are only the very beginning of years of physical and emotional exhaustion.

But while I was lying on my side in bed, I tried to picture our little boy growing up with us as his parents. I thought of Brenden wrestling with him and teaching him about Batman and I thought of trips to the library and spending time with his grandparents. I thought about him running around outside with a superhero cape on. I thought about those years of exhaustion coupled with years of the otherwise unattainably unique joy of family life and parenthood.

With a small smile to myself, I recognized that I am truly realizing one of my lifelong dreams. Before I could even form legitimate words, I had wanted to be a mother.  I didn't know all that role would entail then, nor do I pretend to now, but I knew inside of me it was something I was meant to do. I realized how lucky and blessed I am to have this opportunity to bring a new special life into this world.

With every little (and big) kick and elbow nudge, I am reminded my life is not my own. I am part of a bigger plan and the minor discomforts of this pregnancy cannot compare to the joy and excited anticipation I feel as I contemplate this next phase of my life, this part I have waited for for the entirety of my conscious existence.

Dear Baby Boy,

I am so excited to meet you. I have waited my whole life for you. I love you more than you could ever realize.

Love,
Your Mommy

On Being Pregnant: Second Trimester

And so we move onto the...

2nd Trimester:

Brenden and I decided to announce our pregnancy to the general public the first day of the second trimester. We had decided on this day long before we realized that my second trimester began on April Fool's Day. We considered waiting to announce it until the day after April Fool's Day because we didn't want people to doubt us but then we realized we didn't actually care if people doubted us. We thought it would even add to the fun of the announcement. So on April 1st, the first day of the second trimester, right around midnight, I posted a little puzzle to announce the pregnancy. We loved the responses and congratulations. 

My morning sickness mostly subsided during the second trimester. I did discover my gag reflex is much more sensitive than before. But I'm glad I don't feel like throwing up every day anymore.

The first time I was sure I felt the baby move was right around the middle of 17 weeks. I was attending a trumpet recital and as soon as the performers began, I could feel the baby moving. The baby kept moving throughout the remainder of the recital. I don't think the baby's hearing is developed enough at that point to be the explanation behind the sudden and sustained movement for the duration of the recital but it's fun to think about. Baby continues to be super active and makes sure I know about baby's existence; I get good kicks and punches pretty regularly. At every ultrasound and heart tones check up, Baby is constantly moving around, sometimes making it difficult to get a good heart rate reading or a good ultrasound picture. When I first noticed Baby's movements, I would burst out laughing because I found the sensation so strange and exciting. Brenden joined in my laughter because I apparently looked like a crazy person. I've grown used to the movements now but I still find them exciting every day and enjoy the sudden reminder that I have a sweet baby growing inside me.

At 18 weeks we had our big exciting ultrasound where we could find out the sex of our baby. Brenden and I were adamant about keeping it a surprise but when we saw our little baby on the screen we realized we had to know. We took back what we said to our ultrasound technician and asked the doctor if he knew what we were having. He told us and we told our family. Everyone else will have to wait until we do a big gender reveal at the baby shower. Be excited! It's either a boy or a girl! 

Near the end of the first trimester, I started expanding. Now in the second trimester I feel like I am ballooning. I have three pairs of maternity pants and a few shirts I can wear in public. I wear drawstring and yoga pants and Brenden's t-shirts while I'm at home. I think the only pre-pregnancy clothes I can still wear are my socks. By the way, I love my maternity jeans. I think I might wear them for the rest of my life. 

I think my biggest struggle during the second trimester has been getting comfortable enough to sleep through the night. Since Brenden has been away at Philmont for the last two weeks, I've been able to utilize our entire queen bed and all EIGHT of our pillows. For the first time in a long time, I've been able to sleep through the night on a semi-regular basis. We'll have to see how things change once he returns.

I'm not sure if the concept that Brenden and I are going to have a child has fully settled in my mind yet. I feel like I should be more scared than I am right now. I expect some of the fear will show up in the third trimester and certainly once we take our sweet baby home from the hospital. I guess right now I'm purely excited for this new chapter in our lives. It's a feeling I want to soak in as long as I can.

On Being Pregnant: First Trimester

I am 27 weeks pregnant this week and our baby is somewhere around the size of a rutabaga, apparently. I get weekly email updates about my pregnancy and in each one some item of produce is used as measurement for the size of my growing child. I just thought I should mention this for anyone who doesn't get weekly updates like these. They're not very good measures. For example, it could easily say:  27 weeks: "This week your baby is the size of a rutabaga!" 28 weeks: "This week your baby is the size of an even larger rutabaga!" Or like the week when I was told my baby was the size of an avocado-- okay, well is that an avocado from Walmart or the Mexican food market? There's quite a difference.

Anyway, I thought I would give a little update on my exciting experience of growing a human being inside of me. Next week marks the beginning of my third trimester and I figure I should share some of my experience with the blogosphere.

Here's a little recap on what went down this first trimester:

1st Trimester: 

Brenden and I found out we were expecting a baby on January 26th. I took a few different pregnancy tests to confirm it and Brenden laughed at my excitement with each positive answer. It was a wonderful day! 

I contacted an OB/GYN in Athens the next Monday. Because of my chronic illness and other exciting health things, I'm considered a high-risk pregnancy. I've had more check ups and ultrasounds than a normal pregnancy would. I had an amazing rheumatologist in Atlanta who took great care of me and stuck me with needles every single visit I had to keep track of basically anything and everything. We learned our baby is at risk for fetal heart block. This is something we are currently keeping tabs on. Also, I have a particularly large uterine fibroid which is basically a noncancerous tumor. It can grow during pregnancy so my doctors are keeping track of that as well. Luckily, its location shouldn't be a problem for a normal delivery for me. It just takes up a bit of space that the baby could use so I get to grow especially large and uncomfortable during pregnancy. It could become particularly painful sometime during the pregnancy but it isn't likely.  

I experienced quite a bit of morning sickness during my first trimester. I learned to be okay with throwing up. I became adept at distinguishing when I was just feeling sick and when I was about to expel my last meal. I prided myself on always knowing the exact right time to run to the toilet. 

Even though I didn't throw up ALL the time, I did feel sick almost all the time. I had plans to volunteer and work during Brenden's last semester at UGA. Those plans fell through as I spent much of my time in bed, feeling miserable. But happy miserable! After my illness and stint in the hospital last year, being pregnant sick was awesome. I had a wonderful reason behind my sickness.

While being sick, I was unable to hold down a lot of my favorite foods so I discovered some "comfort" foods that I found tolerable. I stockpiled those particular items. I am opening myself up for judgment here but I don't care. All I could eat some days were cheap pizzas from the frozen aisle at the grocery store and Spaghetti-o's. I literally mean "all I could eat" since there were days I would make myself healthy meals with all of the nutrition and nourishment the baby needs to grow big and strong just to throw it all up while the only thing I could hold down at the end of the day was a can of Spaghetti-o's or a Totino's pizza. I tried my best to be healthy-- I bought the calcium enriched Spaghetti-o's. I figured not starving while pregnant was a better alternative to starving while pregnant. I think in general not starving is a better alternative to starving but particularly so whilst pregnant. 

So first trimester I was sick a lot and ate junk to stay alive. I had doctors' visits and blood tests galore. The End.