Eli's nothing-like-I-thought-it-would-be-but-still-incredibly-amazing Birth Story. Part 3 - The Hospital

I open my eyes after a contraction and see the sun-drenched trees whirring by and I feel sick.  Oh boy do I feel sick.  I close my eyes and try to rest.  Try to shake the queasy feeling.  A few minutes later another contraction surges, I breathe, eyes closed.  I hear Chris' encouraging voice, but there's something weird about how I hear it... in my direction.  I open my eyes and realize he's looking at me trying to comfort me through the contraction... while driving!  Ahhh... that's why I was sick.  "Road" I said breathlessly toward the end of my contraction.  His head snapped forward and we were steady on the coarse again.  Even in my slight irritation about the swerving, I couldn't help but think about how sweet he was!  He was worried about me. 

I open my eyes after the fourth or fifth contraction in the car and see the hospital sign.  We couldn't remember where we needed to go for Labor and Delivery (of course), so we ended up at a random entrance and they had to call someone to escort us to the right wing.  They brought me a wheelchair.  I needed to walk. I wanted to walk. I had to pee. Nearly each contraction brought on the incredible urge to pee! I was so surprised by this!   This is the stuff you don't read about.  We get to what I guess is the "triage" area where they check you before admitting you. It hit me. We're here. This is it. I didn't wonder anymore if I was a 3 or a 5. I didn't care. Eli was coming... that I knew now. I have several contractions while we sign paperwork and they strap me to monitors, take my blood pressure and a bunch of other procedural tasks which became really annoying amidst the pain of contractions while in a semi-reclined position. I needed to walk. I needed to pee!

The pain at this point was getting intense in the position I was in on the bed.  Hard to get through.  Luckily, I still had about 5 minutes separating them.  I look away from the contraction monitor and... Ahhh! My midwife! In that moment, I had never seen a more beautiful face! She was delightful, as usual, and thankfully, already at the hospital anyway! I was so grateful I didn't have to pull her in on a day off or in the middle of sleep. It was perfect. I was tired. She was energizing!  She made me laugh and comforted me.  I felt at ease with her.  She checked me.  "Lindsay, how much do you love me?" she said musically with that beautiful accent.  "So much!" I replied.  "You're going to love me even more when I tell you that you're an 8!".  WHAT?!  An EIGHT!  EIGHT centimeters dilated?!?!?  Impossible!  I wasn't even in labor remember?!?  Oh how amazing!  I look at Chris and we both erupt into laughter!  We couldn't believe it!  She told us we should have a room shortly and that we could go for a walk as soon as they unhooked me from all the wires and monitors.  Joy!  Everyone left the room.  Chris looked at me and smiled.  "I'm so proud of you!".  He was proud of me. I was proud of me!  I felt myself getting excited.  A feeling swelled up in my chest that I've never quite experienced before.  We were hours from meeting our little guy. 

After excited phone calls to our family and to Lindsey, we were freed from the annoying monitors and I headed straight for the bathroom!  A couple of contractions later I emerged ready to walk the halls.  We spent our time waiting for our room walking, holding each other through the contractions and saying brief prayers.   It was different here at the hospital, not uncomfortable, but not home.  I couldn't stop thinking about 8.  How could I be an 8?!  Shouldn't I be belligerent, tearing my clothes off, rocking back and forth on all fours and yelling obscene things at my caretakers?!  That was everything I had read about "transition" from 7-10 cm.  The contractions were definitely tough at this point.  But we were getting through them.

We were showed to our room and excitement coursed through me!  Here we go!  We walk into the roomy space, dark wood, shades drawn, low lights.  It was as close to home as a hospital could be.  I was grateful.  I looked around and saw the inflated birthing tub, empty.  We would have to wait for our midwife before it could be filled.  Hospital rules.  I wanted in.  I could imagine the warm water hugging my huge tight belly and that it would have to be at least a little relief. 

Chris held me through a contraction and I look up to see my sweet friend Lindsey had arrived!  I was so thankful she could be with us, and in that moment I remember thinking how much we've been through... from high school dances and boyfriends, to moving each other into college dorms, to standing beside each other as we each married the men of our dreams, and now to my joining her as a mother... and a mother of a boy (she has 2 beyond precious boys of her own - both of which she delivered naturally).  I love this girl, and her presence was comfort instantly.  "I can't believe you're an 8, and you're just standing here talking to me like everything's normal!", she laughed.  We couldn't believe it either.  This was nothing like we thought it would be!  When does anything ever go how you expect?

 

It wasn't long before I was able to get in the tub.  The water was heavenly!  I found it didn't really help ease any of the pain, but I love a warm bath, and so just being in the water was comforting.  My contractions at this point were closer together and definitely more intense and painful.  My midwife encouraged me to move around, and try different positions.  She wanted me to continue to move to help Eli through my pelvis as she was concerned he was having trouble navigating my small frame.  I tried laying on my belly elbows propped on this little seat in the tub and body sort of floating.  I tried propping up on one elbow on my side... that wasn't good... reminded me of when I was laying on my side in the bed and almost vomited everywhere.  Painful.  Lindsey encouraged me to make low vocalizations if that felt better than just breathing through them. I tried it, and it did seem a little more productive. So I hummed, low and deliberate. I felt a little like a cow mooing, but it seemed to relax me and that was all that mattered!  I found my favorite position was on my knees with my elbows draped over the side of the tub, belly hanging in the warm water.  I "mooed" through several contractions in that position then needed to pee.. of course. 

 Chris and Lindsey helped me to the toilet and as soon as I finished peeing I felt a "pop" and more fluid gushed out.  "I think my water just broke!", I said excitedly as I looked at Chris who was knelt beside the toilet holding my hand.  I had read that once the bag of waters is broken labor typically speeds up.  We had been here for about 2 hours at this point, and I was going on about 19-20 hours of labor so the idea of speeding things up was a relief!  "The contractions will be more intense now that the cushion is gone", Lindsey warned.  I started to psych myself up for that just as another was coming.  I was still on the toilet and moaned and mooed with my head leaned against Chris' chest as the contraction ripped through my midsection and all down my back.  Definitely tough, but not a huge difference from the previous contractions.  It didn't seem as long, which was such a relief as they had been about 1.5 minutes on average.  I felt comfortable on the toilet and decided to labor there for a while.  It was just Lindsey, Chris and I and our labor and delivery CD.  I was in the zone.  I was ready.  We were close.  I remember thinking "I'm doing it... I'm really doing it".  But, there were small flashes of fear... I knew the hardest part could be yet to come.  What would pushing be like?  What did the "ring of fire" feel like?  Could I handle that un-medicated?  What was I doing??... thoughts of doubt, and fear are a natural birthing mama's worst enemy!  I needed to stay positive.  I tuned into Chris.  "You're doing awesome, love!  You're doing it!"  I was doing it.  I stopped thinking about what was ahead.

About an hour later I was back in the tub in my favorite position and my midwife came in to check on me.  She observed a few contractions and wanted to check me on the table.  I needed to be hooked up to the monitor again anyway.  I hated being on the table.  I felt trapped.  It was so much harder to handle the contractions laying down.  She was able to get a good idea of what was going on this time and determined E was posterior.  Uh oh... I'd heard about this.  This is probably why labor was taking so long and why my contractions had never gotten closer than about 4 minutes apart, but were extremely long and painful.  She advised me she was going to try to get him turned.  Ok, I thought, that makes sense.  I had no idea what that would entail, but before I knew it I was throwing my head back, fists clenched in excruciating pain.  I think I might have been close to squeezing Chris' hand off.  I'm not sure exactly what went on down there but it felt like she was using a bulldozer to drive in and re-position Eli!  By far the worst part of the experience so far.  It took several minutes before she felt like she had significant movement and had pulled him under my pelvis to help him through my small set bones.  From this point she wanted me to try to stay in more upright positions, not allowing my belly to hang and possibly pull him back up and out from beneath my pelvis.  She gave me some suggestions, but mainly just said to keep moving and keep myself upright. 

Things got more and more intense from here.  I remember not long after my midwife checked me I was in the tub again.  She asked me if I felt any pressure.  I told her I didn't, just tougher contractions.  She told me to try a push at the peak of the next contraction (I had been complete when she checked me on the table) and if it felt better to push, then keep pushing, but if it didn't then I wasn't ready for that stage yet.  So, at the climax of the next contraction I gave a little push.  It feels good to be doing something, I thought.  So, I kept pushing.  And I pushed, and I pushed, and I pushed.  Lindsey and my midwife warned it might take some time as a first time mom and to not be discouraged, so I pushed some more.  I pushed in the tub and pushed on the toilet and I even pushed a couple of times standing with my legs spread in route to the bathroom or back to the tub.  I remember thinking it felt very strange to push... it wasn't like I expected.  It was hard to focus on pushing like I normally would for a bowel movement when you knew it was the other hole he had to come out of! It just didn't feel right. I wasn't helping myself in my head... thinking all these weird things.  I felt like every time I pushed I was simultaneously clenching my pelvic floor muscles... slightly counterproductive eh?  I wasn't sure how to stop it... and for some reason, I felt mute.  Why couldn't I talk to anyone about what I was thinking... I was so tired.  I just wanted to sleep.  I snapped back to reality with a super strong contraction and remember beating the inflated tub violently as I pushed through it.

My midwife came in and didn't like the position I had been in.  She wanted me on the table for another examination thinking I might have undone all her work turning E.  I had.  So, once again I had to endure the bulldozer in my pelvis.  Not fun at all.  I felt drained when she was finished.  She suggested I stay on the table at this point as I was going to need some more concentrated help getting him out.  She coached and encouraged and was the tough lover at some times telling me I had to do better... push harder.. give her everything.  I didn't have anything, but every contraction I gave all I could possibly give.  Here I was, laying on my back, chin to chest, feet in the arms of my husband and Lindsey, and pushing for long determined periods of time.  This was the opposite of everything that made sense to me in labor... how could you push something up and out of your pelvis with gravity working against you?  I should be squatting... I should still be walking... I still hadn't had the urge to push!  I had the urge to pee though.  Back to the bathroom.  I could barely think.  I peed and had several more contractions there and remember feeling like I was going to sleep.  Oh I was so tired.  I dreamed of E while I slept... I pictured dark thick hair... big green eyes... and sweet soft skin.  He was in my arms, and he was so warm, but my head was so cold... why was my head so cold?  And wet?  "I think she passed out!" yelled Chris to the nurse as he held the cold wet towel to the forehead.  I opened my eyes to find I was not holding my sweet soft baby but was in fact on the toilet still trying to get him the heck out!  How could I when I was so exhausted!?  I had to. 

I'm back on the bed... most horrid labor position ever.  My midwife tells me I have to get serious.  "I know you're tired, but I need you to push for me".  I pushed so hard my hair hurt.  "Good girl!" she said... keep that up I can feel his head!"  She could feel his head?!?!?  "Chris come look", she squealed, "I can see it too!"  Chris looked, and said "Wow, amazing!" but it didn't sound right.  I wasn't convinced.  I think they were playing mind tricks on me.  I couldn't think too hard about it though cause I was in the blows of another contraction.  They were coming about 2 minutes apart now and I was pushing with everything I had each time.  Then I was out.  Then I would push.  Then I would "sleep"... push, sleep, push, sleep.  I vaguely remember wondering how much time had passed?  Was I doing ok?  Were we close?  I couldn't speak.  I was so tired... so so so tired. 

 

Lindsey's voice snapped me out of my "sleep" and I opened my eyes to ask her to say what she just said again because I didn't believe it.  "Eli's birthday will be January 16th!"  WHAT??  How is that possible?  My head flopped back on the bed, eyes closed.  How had I been pushing for 2 hours?  Hadn't I imagined myself only pushing for 20 minutes?  How had it gotten to be past midnight?  Was I ok?  Could I do this?  What was I doing wrong?  I don't remember thinking much after this.  I think I allowed doubt considerable room in my mind, and my body began to respond to that doubt. 

As I was in and out of awareness over the next hour I remember the nurses face.  The dark room.  My midwives voice.  The ceiling.  The pain.  The screaming.  The screaming??  When had I started screaming??  Yes, I had gone from no sound at all, to tame mooing, to full on tribal screams in the span of 4 hours at the hospital.  I don't even remember telling my throat to let those out.  What was happening to me?  I knew the screaming couldn't be productive, but WOW it hurt down there when I pushed!  "Come on Lindsay!" my midwife yelled.  "He's so close!"  How close?  I needed to know how close.  How much longer would I have to do this?  "Do you want the mirror?" she asked.  I nodded... I needed to know what they were seeing down there... was he really close?  NO!  I couldn't see but a dimes worth of his head!  I was "gone" again.  Back to that dark place.  In and out. 

I remember Chris smiling, so strong for me.  Lindsey's comforting hand.  The pain.  My hamstrings and quads we on fire from holding them up in the "stirrups" position through every push for the past 2 hours.  It felt like I was running.  Lindsey had prepared me for a marathon, and here I was running one.  Legs blazing. 

I'm mildly aware of some whispering going on.  I look up to see my midwife talking to Chris off to the side.  I look at Lindsey, she smiles reassuringly.  Chris is back, then Lindsey goes to talk with the midwife voices low.  I didn't know what they were saying but I knew it wasn't good.  Why couldn't they say it in front of me?  I look at Chris, he has a hint of fear in his eyes, but his smile is warm and wide.  He squeezes my hand with one of his and brushes my hair back from my forehead with the other.  He leans in, kisses my forehead and whispers, "You're doing awesome.  I'm so proud of you".  I believed he felt that way, but I sensed concern in his voice.  Lindsey and my midwife returned.  "Lindsay, I need your help"  my midwife begged.  "I need the next 30 minutes to be the best yet.  We are already past where the hospital feels comfortable with the pushing phase and I won't be able to keep the Doctor from intervening if Eli isn't born soon."  She was serious.  "What kind of intervention?"  I croaked.  "If you can't make significant progress, he'll have to use the vacuum."  I closed my eyes.  For a brief moment I thought... just bring him in and let him suck him out... I can't do this anymore.  But, in the same split second I shook my head and thought, no way!  No one is coming in here to take my baby out with some vacuum!  I can't let that happen!  "Why don't we pray over her?"  Lindsey suggested.  So, my midwife, Chris, Lindsey and our nurse laid hands on my belly and their voices rang true and clear.  They each begged God to give me strength.  I begged God to give me strength.  I wish I remembered their words because they were so comforting.  I felt renewed. 

Good thing because it wasn't two seconds and I was having another contraction. 

"Ok Lindsay, give me everything!" I threw my head forward pressing my chin to my chest, held my breath and closed my eyes tight.  I don't remember having pushed this hard ever, and I didn't scream.  I was focused.  "Yes!" squealed my midwife.  Out of nowhere in the middle of me giving all I had, I gave more!  "That's my girl!" she yelled.  Somewhere deep in my gut came this extra surge of muscle power... the urge to push?  "That's the power of the Holy Spirit!"  She praised.  I flopped back on the bed and remember feeling the energy in the room shift... nurses were moving things around and preparing for E's arrival.  My midwife was suiting up.  One of the nurses came and asked me how we wanted the baby to be cared for... bath?  Erythromycin?  Chris and I took turns answering as I continued to "power push".  In between contractions I remember a fleeting thought... why are they preparing?  Why are they asking me all these questions?  Don't they know he's never coming out?  He will never be born?  I truly felt in that moment that he would stay right where he was and I would continue pushing for all of eternity.  I snapped out of it at the rise of another contraction and at the peak there was an intense burn.  "Ok Lindsay"  my midwife coached, "like we talked about.  When I say stop pushing, stop pushing and breathe through with short little breaths."  This meant he was crowning!  He was really coming!  I looked her dead in the eyes when I pushed this time and OHHHH how it burned!  She was massaging and stretching as much as she could but the area was so swollen from all the unsuccessful pushing, she was fighting a losing battle.  I felt a tiny pop... it didn't really hurt considering I was still in flames, but I remember thinking briefly, I just tore.  I couldn't think about it long because she was commanding me to push again... then stop...hee hee hee hee, I breathed... then push... then stop... hee hee hee.... Ok PUSH, and I felt the most exquisite relief I've ever felt.  "Oh my gosh Linds, his head is out!"  Chris and Lindsey squeaked almost in unison.  I gave one more strong push and I felt his shoulders and the rest of his slippery body twist and slither sliding out like butter.

There was nothing in the world but that moment.  I could feel time slow, hovering, lingering, begging me drink in the wonder of it all.  I did.  I gasped, tears rushed, blurring my sight.  "He's perfect!"  I managed to choke out between sobs.  They were the only words that fit.  He was perfect.  His eyes wide, searching.  His tiny hands stretching open receiving this new home.  His sweet juicy mouth, the perfect doorway for those precious cries.  I was hypnotized by those virgin sounds.  Lungs filled with first breath, communicating the only way he knew how.  It was the sweetest sound I'd ever heard.  It was eternity... all in one moment my heart grew to love this new human being, slippery and warm on my breast, and somehow also allow more room to love the man sobbing next to me in new and impossibly strong ways.  I looked up at him.  "We did it"  I cried.  "You did it."  He replied, laughing and crying at the same time as he leaned over to kiss me.  A kiss charged with so much love and emotion it was almost hard to bear. 

We did it!  We really did it!  I was amazed at the whole experience.  I've never felt more in awe of God and His creation in my life.  Every part perfectly designed to do it's job.  My boy... MY sweet boy, was already snuggled, sleeping sweetly on my chest.  His Daddy cut the cord, and immediately after, the hands that delivered my sweet baby were now diligently trying to repair the "damage".  I was done.  The only glimmer of life in me was pure love and adrenalin.  I felt weaker and weaker as the moments passed but I was trying to keep my eyes open and fixed on this beautiful boy I just birthed!  I was losing blood.  Lots of blood.  They took Eli so they could give me an IV and finish stitching me up.  It was impossible to think of letting him go, but I had no will or voice left in me.  It comforted me to know Chris would be right there with him.  I tried to fix his face behind my eyelids, his big beautiful eyes.. they were extremely worried about my level of anemia and the blood I'd lost.  I was apparently seconds from a transfusion.  Still not sure how that turned around for the positive, but I didn't care at the time.  I could hear sweet cries as my new son was being dressed and swaddled.  Chris brought him back to me, emotion surged fresh.  I was so in love with those two boys!  He gave the little bundle to me and he looked straight at me, eyes curious.  "Hi baby!"  I crooned. I looked at Chris and then we both looked at E.  Here we were, a new family.  We had just been through the most trying and incredible journey of all of our lives to date.  I've never felt closer to any human beings and it's a feeling I can't imagine will ever go away. 

 

We spent the next hours ooohing and ahhing with our families over our sweet new son and it didn't even matter that it was 3:30 am before they all started leaving... it didn't matter that I had labored for 24 hours and been awake for 27... all that mattered was this boy.  Finally we were settled in our mother/baby room and it was just the 3 of us.  The 3 of us.. we are a family of 3!  This sweet little lump of love was ours to call family... our son!  It was unreal.  But, we eventually felt the exhaustion setting in and knew we needed to rest.  So, our nurse helped with our first try at nursing - could barely get E to wake up, and he didn't really latch, but he got a few drops of colostrum which the nurse considered ok for the first try.  He was tired too poor baby!  He had worked just as hard to get out as I had getting him out!  We dubbed him our "hero man" because he stayed cool as a cucumber through the chaos that was the pushing phase.  Not one time did his heart rate waiver to the point of concern.  Had it, we would have surely ended our story in the OR instead.  All in all I pushed for nearly 3.5 hours and my little dude handled that stress beautifully!  The 3 of us were a team. 

We couldn't bare to be apart... so somehow the 3 of us ended up in the same tiny hospital bed to get some sleep.  And sleep we did.  A few hours later the sun started to peak through the windows and I remember seeing a nurse sneaking in to write her name on our board as our new caretaker.  She looked at me and we smiled at each other.  I know she probably wanted to tell us that might not be the safest way to sleep but her smile said the moment was too precious to disrupt.  I wish I had asked her to take a picture of us because that precious memory lasts only in our minds.  How I wish we could show that image to E one day... Chris and I turned in towards him, our new little boy snuggled sleeping soundly between us on this teeny tiny bed.  I will never forget it. 

I've thought about my birthing experience a million and a half times in the 8.5 months since, and there are definitely things I would do differently... say maybe wait for the urge to push?  But, it was the most incredible experience of my life and it changed Chris and I forever.  I am in awe of the female body and am encouraged that even though it wasn't what I expected, he was born healthy, and happy and that is all that matters!  It may sound strange... but I can't wait to do it again :)

Eli's nothing-like-I-thought-it-would-be-but-still-incredibly-amazing Birth Story. Part 2 - At Home.

It was Valentine's Day... a Tuesday.  I woke with a contraction more intense than the Braxton Hicks I'd been used to.  It was 5:00 AM... I groaned.  I was excited at the possibilities, but it was 5 in the morning!  I rolled over... drifted.  What seemed like 3 seconds later my eyes met the clock again to see that it was 5:20 and I was having another contraction.  Go back to sleep, Lindsay, it's nothing.  5:40, again.  At this point it was impossible for me to go back to sleep as the thoughts filling my head were impossibly excited.  These were definitely different contractions.  Not just the dull squeeze of the Braxton Hicks.  There was a hint of pain... a hint of purpose to these.  I hoped.  Piercing my thoughts was the ring of Chris' alarm clock.  He rolled to find me sitting, wide-eyed.  I filled him in and we decided it would probably be best I stay home if they continued through the time it took us to get ready for work.  They did.  Just about every 20 minutes.  We knew there was a possibility this was false, but that I would be no good at work either way so Chris went on and I got back in bed to rest for what I hoped would be a very big day! 

I look at the clock for what had to have been the hundredth time that day... 5:30pm...Chris was leaving work... a whole day of nothing but contractions spaced by 20-25 minutes.  No progress.  I couldn't help but be disappointed.  At least they were manageable... intense, but not painful.  Not at all what I thought true labor would be like... so maybe it wasn't?  But, I had something to be excited about!  I grabbed the keys and jumped in my car. 

A date night... it was Valentine's after all!  Little did we know this would be our very last date before our sweet baby came!  I pulled in the parking lot.  Provino's. I sat in the car through a mild contraction.  I didn't want to walk in before Chris got there but we knew it would probably be crowded and we didn't want to wait long.  For the first time in my pregnancy I felt like all eyes were on me... maybe it was my huge belly.  Maybe it was my countenance... frustrated?  Or maybe because they all had suspicions of what I had come for.  They were right.  I had never eaten eggplant parmesan before... so I wasn't sure I should be excited about it, but I was... I was hungry.  Nothing new there.  The hostess hands me a pink carnation, a buzzer alarm thingy, and the wish of a happy valentine's day.  I smile.  Maybe for the first time all day!  I find a place in the waiting area to rest my slightly wider backside and can hear the rumbling of my very large, loud belly.  "Eggplant parm?" the older woman next to me muses.  I smile and nod.  "Yes Ma'am". She smiles wide.  "Good luck".  I think about all the strange things people have said to me since the news of the baby growing inside me was public information.  Something about pregnancy makes people comfortable with saying things they wouldn't normally say, especially to a stranger.  What's that about?  My thoughts are interrupted when I see the door swing open ushering in the most attractive man.  My man.  He changes my mood with his smile.  I missed him on this very disappointing day!  The next few minutes were filled with talk of the day and wondering what these very regular but non-progressive contractions could be... false labor?  Not sure what that looks like.  The buzzer goes off.  Good thing, cause I might have eaten that sweet hostess if it had been a moment later.  We're seated in a booth (my favorite) in  a quiet section of the restaurant.  I can't help but be kind of sad when I stare across the table at my love.  Life was about to change.  We wanted it.  Dreamed about it.  Have prepared and read and talked and talked and thought about it for so long now.  But, everything would be different.  No denying that.  I'm about to speak these thoughts aloud when my stomach squeezes into a ball.  A bit stronger than most today.  Hope rises.  I squash it.  It's been 30 minutes since the last one.  Labor doesn't look like this right?  Chris notices the change on my face and I confirm his suspicion with a nod.  We smile cautiously.  Our server rounds the corner and I see him smile down at my belly before he even reaches our table.  First words out of his mouth after his introduction were "Eggplant Parmesan I'm guessing?".  I was completely obvious it seemed!  I laughed (which felt good) and told him he guessed correctly!  The food arrives swiftly after we enjoyed some gooey garlic rolls and I was pleasantly surprised by the dish.  Touche eggplant!  I snap a photo... a souvenir of sorts.  A record of this moment that could mean nothing... or everything. Or everything.

Whoa! I fly out of bed before even thinking about what I was doing... I didn't know why, I just had to stand.  I was rocking my hips before my mind caught up to the fact that I was having a contraction... this had to be a real contraction... a doing something contraction.  It still didn't really hurt... maybe a 4 on the pain scale... but it was working, that I knew.  I grab my phone.  1:00am.  Naturally.  It couldn't start at like maybe 7am?  Even 6 would have been acceptable.  I smiled to myself as I thought about the fact that this could really be it.  IT!  I knew I couldn't sleep... I couldn't even lay down apparently.  I was frenzied.  I don't really know what my thought process was but I had to be doing something and I didn't want to wake up Chris since I wasn't positive this was labor, and I didn't need help through these contractions yet.  I quietly grab the nail polish remover, cotton balls, and a new color.  What was I doing?  I record another contraction on my phone as I finish my toenails.  A little messy, but done.  I leave the tea I just made untouched and head back upstairs to the laundry room and start folding the load dried earlier that evening.  Seriously?  Was this normal?  I had to laugh when Chris came stumbling out, eyes barely open, to find me folding towels at 2:30 in the morning.  "What in the world are you doing?" he managed to mumble.  "I think I'm in labor!".  His eyes grew a little wider, but then I told him I wasn't entirely sure and was ok on my own at the moment and he could go back to sleep.  I wanted at least one of us to be fresh if this was really it.

After a long night of crazy behavior, my contractions are still only about 10 minutes apart.  I decide to try and rest.  My side was the most comfortable and oh the pillow felt so good.  It wasn't hard to close my eyes, but it wasn't long before the next contraction and it's unbearable in this position, but I can't move... I breathe and try to focus on everything I learned during pregnancy.  Relax... oh but my body was tight and shaking... think open... oh but I might throw up.  All I could think about was how bad I wished I was standing!  I can feel it on its way out and I thank God... not doing that again. 

Chris wakes to find me sitting cross-legged on my pillow leaning back against the headboard with my head bobbing in between contractions.  I wake with another, have to breathe through this one a little, but still not bad at all.  Nothing like when I was on my side.  I wasn't sure what to do.  I knew I couldn't go to work again, but it was so important for Chris to be there as much as possible.  Not only because if he's not there he doesn't sell anything, but because he only had 5 days to take for our Eli, and I would hate to think of him using one unnecessarily!  Maybe I was just a big baby... maybe these were just practice contractions and I had no idea what I was in for.  I let those kind of thoughts invade my mind all morning.  Contractions are about 8-9 minutes apart now and I am getting discouraged.  Not much progress for such a long night, especially considering my mother had 6 hour (or less) births... sigh.  Chris had been gone for about an hour.  I need a change, so I decide to jump in the shower. I always heard if you aren't in real labor a shower would slow or stop the contractions.  I take a long, wonderfully hot one.  It soothes, but they don't slow down.  It was encouraging, but they didn't speed up either.  Discouraging.  I look in the mirror, the towel wrapped around me barely covering my round body.  Full of life... a life I hoped was ready to join the rest of us out here!  I thought about him while I was brushing my wet hair and how this could be the very last day before he's here with us.  I hoped so.  Oh I hoped so.  The next couple of contractions I have to brace the edge of the counter and sway through.  I was on the verge of tears wondering if this was not really it, how awful would real labor be.  It was 10:00 now, I called Chris.  I needed him. 

I hear the garage door and in an instant I feel I can do this.  He meets me in our room with a huge hug, some power bars, and my favorite blue gatorade.  I love him.  He knows me.  I lean on him through a contraction as he soothes my spirit with his encouraging words.  This is more like it.  This is how I imagined this day (days?).  We pray.  He gets out the computer and I wonder what he could be doing... I bend in a contraction and he's right there to hold me without a word.  Seconds into swaying I hear the sweet sound of worship... ahhh... our labor playlist we carefully created.  I need this man.  He makes sense of my life.  I lose myself in the words... "how could I expect to walk without You, when every move that Jesus made, was in surrender.  I could not begin to walk without You.  For You alone are worthy, You were always good".  I can do this.  I can do ALL things with Him (phil 4:13).  We both feel the weight of this song and how it moves me through the pain and we quickly dub it our "theme song".  It was played countless times that day, and the CD of those songs stayed faithfully on repeat in my car for a good 5 months post delivery.  No kidding.  Amazing how music - especially this music - can motivate.  It did.  I was different from that moment on.  Each contraction moved me closer.  Closer to E.  Closer to the moment I would be forever changed.  The moment the world would stop.  The moment I would see his face.  I closed my eyes, breathed deeply and let another contraction course through me.  I was tiring... not being able to lay down was getting hard.  I was texting all the while with my dear friend Lindsey (confusing right?) who would act as a doula during the hospital portion of our labor.  She cautioned me to prepare for a long labor (since it was already half way through wednesday and I had been in labor for almost 12 hours with 8 minutes still separating my contractions) by resting as much as I could, but at the same time, we wanted to make sure we weren't slowing things down by doing the same thing for too long.  She encouraged us to go for a walk.  Beautiful idea.

It was perfect.  A sort of warm day for February.  The sky, cobalt blue.  Big marshmallow clouds.  The sun beaming, and the breeze brisk.  We walked, we sang, we swayed.  Talked, and laughed, and swayed.  I was overwhelmed with the emotion of it all.  I drank it in.  The scent of my husband, my face pressed in his chest.  His strong, supportive arms around my bulging belly.  The sound of his breath matching mine.  We were one in those moments.  I needed him, and he was everything.  I was amazed by the way I felt in between contractions.  Tired, but so excited.  No pain... in fact, I forgot the pain completely until another one came.  I was in awe of our Creator and felt so much love.  That was the only thing making the time bearable. 

 

After some time inside and then another long, glorious walk we realize the contractions have been about 5 minutes and 30 seconds or so apart for about 2 hours.  We text Linds and my midwife.  We were leaning this way but were excited for them to confirm our decision to head to the hospital.  First birth, we have no idea what labor looks like for me, so to be safe we prepare to leave.  I was thrilled!  I had dreamed of this moment for months.  Somewhere in the back of my mind though, I was still worried.  What if this wasn't it?  What if I'm at a 5, or still a 3 like I had been for weeks?  What then?  Could I do it?  A contraction rips into my negativity.  Chris is gathering things, but drops them to be by my side.  His loving hands holding me, his words lifting me out of that low place I had just been.  I can do this.  We can do this. 

It was 5:30pm.  As we pull out of the driveway, "theme song" playing I dream of what's ahead and meeting our little man.

Eli's nothing-like-I-thought-it-would-be-but-still-incredibly-amazing Birth Story. Part one.

The back story.  First of all... can we say FINALLY... I mean, he's only almost 7 months old and I am just now getting this recorded! 

Anyone who knows me probably knows I am a birth.nerd.  I have been completely obsessed with all things birth for years now.  Contributed to, most certainly, by my own experience with my brothers birth stories.  I was 9 and 11 respectively when they were born and witnessed my mother bring them into this world in the comfort of our very own home.  It was life changing.  I remember, even at such a young age, how incredible the miracle of life and birth were.  It's amazing how God designed a woman's body perfectly to perform the unbelieveable task of bearing and birthing another life. 

So, naturally, when I discovered I was carrying life myself I set out on a journey to create an experience for our family.  I read early on that your birth experience will change you, whether good or bad... so I wanted a say in how it would go.  I started reading natural birth stories long before I ever even wanted to be pregnant (like I said... obsessed).  So, I already knew that was the road I would persue.  Another large influencer would be my health condition.  I have Crohn's Disease, and there is a really long story there, but in short... it is now controlled (somewhat... pregnancy and beyond has me a little off track, but that's another story entirely) by a healthy diet and raw supplements.  That should give you a vague idea of how I came to view conventional medicine and hospital procedures the way I do now.  Necessary for emergencies, but harmful long-term if over or incorrectly prescribed.  I saw my mother birth 2 beautiful boys largely unassisted.  I knew it could be done.  I knew I could do it.  I also knew I would need help. 

First I needed Chris on board, which thankfully he was - being on the same page with me about medicine having seen my transformation.  Second, I had to find a caregiver.  That was the tough part.  You see, 'round these parts, there ain't too many natch'ral minded Docs. In other words, we don't have any birthing centers, and most of the local hospitals are not extremely comfortable with natural labor, and have some rules and guidelines we wanted to avoid.  I knew I needed the hospital, because with my disease being auto immune, we weren't sure how my body would react to the extremely physical task of labor.  We wanted to be reasonable and have all the advantages of modern medical technology in case of an emergency.  However, I knew I didn't want to go with the practice I had been with for all my womanly needs thus far.  I went there for my first prenatal appointment since I hadn't had any midwife interviews yet and the OB who saw me confirmed my reasons for wanting to go elsewhere.  She asked me if I would be having a "traditional birth with an epidural and so forth"... I told her my plan was to go natural and her response came with a roll of her eyes at the nurse in the room (which I'm assuming she didn't plan on me catching) and "now why would you want to do that, Lindsay?"  Yep, definitely not for me.  I understand that this is not the path for everyone, but I would hope at the very least my caretaker would be supportive... and in a natural birth plan, support is the backbone of success.  So, I did some research and asked around and found that North Fulton Hospital in Roswell was our best bet, and they even offered waterbirth as an option, which I was extremely interested in.  I then searched providers who would deliver a waterbirthing momma.

That's how I came to the first midwife.  We had a string of unfortunate mishaps, a gut feeling it wasn't right, and just all in all didn't mesh well with her or the practice.  That pushed me into some more research and and we decided to move on.  I hit the jackpot.  This midwife was everything I had hoped for and more!  She had been in the field for 30 years and even had a South African accent.  I know, cool right??  She was warm, loving, a believer, and I had a good feeling about her from moment one!  We had found our home... at 25 weeks gestation you can imagine what a relief that was!  I only wished we could have been with her from the get go.  My only issue was I did NOT feel comfortable with the OB there who would be my only option if my midwife was not on call.  Did some major praying about that!  He was just awkward, and uncomfortable and I knew that would kill my mental vibe on D day.  So, eventually I addressed this very seriously with my midwife and being as awesome as she is, she gave me her cell and told me to text her when I knew I was in labor and heading to the hospital.  She would be there no matter what.  Are you kidding?!?!  SOOO relieved!  So we were all set!

My pregnancy was like a dream.  I was never sick, except for one post sausage egg and cheese vomitting incedent which I'm sure we all can assume the reason for that.  I had a few weird cravings (pickles and eggrolls... I even had them for breakfast once! - not together.), and alot of aversions... I wanted nothing healthy... BOO! I gained 30 pounds (within my personal goal), had minimal discomfort and minimal swelling just towards the end.  I was SO grateful!  I remained in awe of the life inside me and thought it almost impossible to be unhappy with my current state if I stayed fixated on that!  Every kick and every movement sent me reeling with wonder!  I loved being pregnant. 

That being said... 40 weeks is a long time... so, I was relieved when at 38 weeks my midwife gave me the go ahead to "shake him out".  She was concerned he was too big for my frame (which I knew wouldn't be a problem but could make things harder) so, she said to have lots of sex (excuse my frankness), and try to walk him out.  He was healthy and those things wouldn't force him to come if he wasn't ready, they would just help get it going if he was.  I felt comfortable with that. (stay tuned for a subsequent part to hear how I feel about that now).  So we set off happily that weekend with our instructions. 


It was that next Tuesday - Valentine's Day... it all started.