I started writing this in the hospital just after Nolan was born, then finished it when we got home. It's pretty detailed, and largely just for my own remembering. If you love birth stories, I imagine you'll like this. If not, you may want to browse elsewhere on the blog!
It’s quiet. Nurses
check in periodically. Food (albeit
hospital food) gets delivered at my call.
There is this handy red button that I can push any time that brings
someone to meet my every whim.
This stage at the hospital, at least for me, isn’t so
bad.
So much has happened over the past days and weeks. I finally have time to process. To think.
To reflect.
The End is Near
About 2 weeks ago, I was 38 weeks + weeks along and when
asked by others when I was due, I would respond, “___ days, but maybe today!” My other boys came 10 days early and 4 days
early, respectively, so it felt reasonable to expect Nolan to make his appearance sometime at
least a bit early. And Lily came on her
due date, so going over due never seemed likely.
As the days passed, I tried to focus on the three children I
could hold in my arms. We played, we
went places, we read LOTS of books, we snuggled. I didn’t want to leave them anywhere, knowing
that at any point I could be leaving them for a couple of days to go to the
hospital. Yet my patience wore
thin.
Physically, I felt better in my last 2 weeks of pregnancy
than I did earlier during my 3rd trimester. My back hurt less, I slept better, and other
physical complaints faded. Except for
new stretch marks and a terribly itchy, heavy belly, I really shouldn’t have
complained. (But I did anyway.)
I’m not sure how my community of friends put up with
me. I think some just checked out to my
“woe is me” texts, and I can’t blame them.
More than anything, I just needed to voice to the universe that I didn’t
like the state I was in.
What didn’t I like? I
didn’t like that my hips (where they connect to my backbone) hurt so bad in the
night that I almost wouldn’t be able to roll over. I didn’t like that when I did get rolled
over, I had to adjust all the pillows and blankets, and that made my middle
back hurt. I didn’t like that often I
would then realize I needed a drink, and hefting myself up to get one would make
the muscles in my lower stomach spasm. I
didn’t like that my pubic bone was often out of place and painful. I didn’t like that my belly itched so bad
from stretch marks that I just wanted to scratch it always, but when I did,
that made it burn and only itch worse.
Putting lotion on caused irritation which made it itch all the
more.
I didn’t like that lack of good
sleep made me exhausted by noon and short with my kids. I didn’t like that I needed longer naps than
Lily and Connor, so Lily was often awake by herself for an hour, and then we’d
wake Connor and I’d let them watch an hour or two’s worth of TV while Spencer
and I finished napping. That meant that
the kids got too much TV time, and had “TV-itis” for the rest of the day and I
had to deal with attitudes. And I didn’t
like that I woke up like a cranky bear each afternoon and it took an hour for
me to get MY attitude worked around to the point where I could be a decent
mom. I didn’t like that each evening I
was somewhat upset that I wasn’t in labor, and yet I went to bed relieved and
hoping it wouldn’t happen that night because I was just too exhausted.
I DID like the mystery of putting the kids to bed each night
and wondering if this would be the last night before they’d get to meet their
newest little sibling. I DID like the
wonder they experienced as they walked through my pregnancy with me. Lily and Connor at ages 5 and 3 knew that
Mommy had to pee in a cup because the doctor needed to check it for protein to
keep baby safe. They knew that Mommy’s
buns had to get checked by the doctor to make sure the baby was ok. They knew the nurses and doctors by name and got to
experience the whole process at the levels they were able.
At my 40-week checkup, Spencer asked to
put the urine cup in the little cubby in the wall, because he knew where it
went. They got to hear the heartbeat
each week, watch my tummy grow, and talk regularly about how horrible it would
be for me to get a shot when I went in to have the baby. Because shots are terrifying when you're 3 or 5. (Obviously, they had NO idea what labor
actually entails…)
They learned to be gentle to Mommy’s tummy, and Connor often
would turn to me with a smile when sitting on my lap and say, “Mom! Baby brother kicked me!” And he was always right. J They learned that there were things Mommy
couldn’t do because of my big belly, and all of the kids became very helpful at
cleaning things up, picking things up, and following direct requests/commands
to help Mommy.
I have always liked the “special” feeling that comes with
being pregnant. Not the tangible or
physical natures of the state. I could
do without those, generally, but the “special” that’s intangible. People ask questions they normally wouldn’t
ask - they have a ready reason to talk to you and you can have ready responses
so conversations even with the most awkward of people are eased. You can think up jokes and be witty with
people in a way that you can only when you’re pregnant. (“When am I due? What are you talking about?...) And these are largely only 3rd
trimester opportunities. They exist for
such a fleeting time.
Everything is
about you – you have to eat well, you have to rest well, you have to take care
of yourself, you have to pamper yourself, you get to give yourself grace in
ways you don’t when you’re not pregnant.
People offer to do things for you that they would normally never offer
to do, and the expectations on you as an adult and community member are eased. Because it’s such a short time of life and
you should really enjoy it to the full extent you’re able. (Hemmorhoids and all…)
There is much to love and cherish about pregnancy, but those
final days are hard. You must plan life,
or at least I must, or I’ll go crazy just sitting at home waiting for things to
happen. But the more you plan, the more
tired you are and you never want to let yourself get too tired, because
inevitably that will be when you go into labor.
And you need strength for labor!
You can plan your life, but nothing can be set in stone because at any
moment you could have to drop everything and rush to the hospital. There always has to be a contingency plan for
getting the kids where they need to go, getting bags where they need to go,
getting you and your spouse together and where you need to go. I mean, obviously, if you didn’t have your bag
with you, you’d survive.
The hospital
puts you in a sexy backless gown, and they take care of all of the gross
laundry of anything you ooze on. But
there are things like chapstick, gum, a tooth brush, etc. that are all so
helpful to have, and to be without them when you want them would be so
hard. And of course all it would take is
a phone call to any of 100 people and they would rush to do whatever you asked,
because you’re in labor and they’ll do anything to help – run this or that here
or there, check on the cat, water the flowers, anything.
And people ALWAYS take your phone calls when you’re nearing
your time. Answered on the first ring
and with an air of expectation in their voice they say, “Hello?!?” So I respond, somewhat guiltily, “I’m not in
labor. The reason I’m calling is…”
For me, there’s a small group of people who
we notify when we go in, prayer partners, friends, family who support and
uphold us in ways only they can even from a distance. It’s these people that I always feel a little
bad calling in those final days. I
always feel like I should send a text a few minutes before I call that says,
“I’m not in labor, but I’m going to call in a minute.” Just so they don’t have that heart jump from
the expectation.
The Final Wonderings
You spend your days wondering at each pang, each abnormal “normal”
pregnancy twinge, “Could this be the start?”
And you try things – foods, positions, contortions, exercise,
activities, sex, and a slew of other things in hopes of bringing on the end. Except when it really comes down to it, you
don’t want to do the end either. It’s
miserable and you dread it. Though not
with your first, because you just don’t know yet.
You go into your first labor feeling like you’ve educated yourself, feeling
like you can handle it, excited because you’ll soon get to experience this motherhood
business, and you have NO idea the ride you’re about to take. At least, I did.
With the early contractions you think to yourself, “This
isn’t so bad. I can handle this!” And then they start to get painful and you
begin to wonder, “How much longer can I take this?” But you remind yourself of all the reasons
you don’t want to start that intervention landslide.
You'd start with some Nubain, which makes you
feel queasy and really doesn’t help the pain that much anyway. Plus they don’t want to give it to you within
an hour of baby being born because it suppresses baby’s heart rate and
breathing. From there you can go to the
epidural, which seems like such a good option because it simply numbs your
lower half. But then sometimes it
doesn’t take or it does but only partially, or it falls out, and there’s always the fact that
they’re shoving a catheter up your spinal column, and if something goes wrong
there, it can go really wrong and cause long term side effects. Even the most minimal miss, and you end up
with two weeks of a spinal headache rather than two weeks of bonding with your
baby.
From those pain relieving
interventions, you head toward pitocin to augment labor, breaking your water to
speed things along, each of which can cause undue stress on baby and cause
heart rate to drop thus sending you toward a c-section. All this runs through your head and fights
against the voice that screams, “MAKE THIS PAIN GO AWAY!!!” But you labor on
(literally) in hopes that they will tell you to push and it will be over in 5
minutes. Little do you know it will be 4
hours before you will get relief. At least, that's what runs through my head.
But back to the pangs.
You’re constantly preoccupied, wondering what you felt and if it was
anything. Will you call your husband
soon enough? Will labor go fast and
you’ll want him home or will he waste a vacation day at home when you need him to save
that for postpartum? Will you get to the
hospital in time or birth in the car?
How will you keep from making a mess in the car? What if your water breaks in bed? In the car?
Will it gush? Will it ooze? What about cord prolapse? Will baby keep moving during the labor
process? Will you feel it? What if something goes wrong? How will you handle it? What if everything goes “right?” How will you
handle it? What about everyone around
you? Your spouse? Your kids?
Your parents? How will they all
handle whatever it is that’s going to happen?
There are SO many unanswered questions and worries in those
final days. And with each twinge, pang,
shift, or twitch, you wonder…
And you try your best to heap all those questions into a
pile in the Hands of the Creator who knows the beginning and the end. Who IS the Beginning and the End. He can handle them. He knows the answers. He’s already handled it. You just have to walk the path that He knows
you’ll handle. But it is the not knowing
that’s so very hard.
But then the knowing would be so very hard as well. If you knew that in a few hours your body and
your baby’s would agree and labor would start, then you would live
differently. You would prepare differently. You would treat people differently.
In some ways the preparation would be nice –
your children would be watched, your bags would be packed. You wouldn’t forget to throw your purse and
wallet in the car.
And you would dread
the moment it started. At least I
would. I would look forward to the
moment with the greatest kind of woe.
And if I knew the duration, I would probably just weep for myself
leading up to it. And in the midst of it, if I knew the duration, I would watch
the clock as it crawled along, just waiting for that last minute to come.
As it is, I lose track of time and assume
much less time has passed than really has because I’m so focused
internally.
But you can’t know when labor comes, and that seems to me a
grace from God.
Nolan's Story
Wednesday, May 10 was his due date. I woke up ready for the day. I had things planned, and if he didn’t come, I was going to be ok with it! It was ok to go overdue. Most of my friends who’d recently had babies had gone over their due dates by as much as 10 days and then faced induction.
Thankfully, I have a track record that that was unlikely, and I’d have enough activity in the previous week to believe that I’d made some progress from the 2cm I’d been hanging out at since my 37 week check.
The house was spik and span, and I fed the kids breakfast before we headed to Grand Island. We played at the Grand Island library and then headed for our regular trip to the chiropractor. The kids trooped along just as they had been doing for the past 2 months. They knew the routine. Snacks at the chiropractor’s and doctor’s offices and then lunch in the car on the way home. (Why are children starving the instant you leave the house?)
Chase met us as the doctor’s office as I was checking in. Crystal, Dr. Kenna’s nurse was ready for us and took us back to our room, and Amy Schreiber joined us just as soon as we got settled. Dr. Kenna was in shortly. Baby’s heart rate was in the 120’s, and Mommy was at a 3.5/4cm. Progress! But no contractions.
After lunch at Runza, we drove home, took naps, and I woke up crankier than ever before from my nap. It was survival till Daddy got home. Blessedly, he got home at 5. We ate early and by about 6:15 headed out for a bike ride for the kids. (Chase and I walked.) On the walk, I wept as I admitted to Chase how upset I was that my family would likely not be around when Nolan made his appearance. Mom had plans to leave the next afternoon for Michigan. Dad was planning to leave the day after that with Grandma and Grandpa so they could all make it to Kim’s graduation from Hillsdale College on Saturday.
It didn’t REALLY matter when they all met Nolan, except that it did, because it’s my favorite day, the day everyone comes to the hospital to meet this new little creature I had some miraculous privilege in making. It would just feel like a huge void if everyone was here to meet him except my family.
But I resolved through tears to be ok with it. We headed home and started getting the kids settled into bed.
As I tucked in Connor and Lily, I reminded them that if I wasn’t there when they got up, then Grandma Becky would be - that would mean the new baby was here. It was about 8:50 by the time I walked out of their room, and headed downstairs. Chase and I spent the next hour or so preparing, trying to will labor to start. We asked Mom to come to the house at about 9:45 to sit with the kids while we went on another walk.
The night was still and clear and crisp, but mild. I started timing contractions, and they came regularly every 2 minutes as long as we were walking, but only lasted 30 to 45 seconds. I could walk and talk through them, and after 30 minutes of walking, I was just frustrated. There had only been one I hadn’t talked through, and I was sure that this was just early labor that would stop if we stopped. I was getting tired, and it was late, so we headed home.
On the way home we debated putting bags in the car, but decided against it and sent Mom home, though we quipped that maybe she should just stay on the couch. After she left at 10:30, we went upstairs and climbed into bed. Chase turned on The Big Bang Theory (the one where they get a dining room table, against Sheldon’s wishes), and he tried to sleep. As I laid there still timing contractions on my phone’s app, they got slightly farther apart, maybe 2 mins and 30 seconds, and slightly longer, averaging maybe 50 to 60 seconds. I started breathing long and deep to relax through them.
At 11:15, I texted Mom asking her to head on back, I thought it was probably time. As we packed up the car and gathered things around the house, I stopped every 2 minutes to have a contraction. I started leaning over something, breathing and swaying. My hands and arms were shaky and I remember being annoyed. That wasn’t supposed to happen till transition, and I obviously wasn’t that far along. I figured my blood sugar had gotten low and I needed to eat. But eating sounded horrible. Still, I forced down a few dried dates in hopes that they would stop the shakes and settle my stomach. I drank a bit of water.
Mom was sitting at the kitchen table as we went about gathering things. I went to the bathroom and finally saw the confirming “bloody show.” It was time. I went to the kitchen table and had a contraction. I was telling Mom a few details for the kids, then another contraction rolled in. She commented, “You’re having another one already? You’d better get to the hospital!”
We were finally ready, so that’s what we did. I remember the still night as we walked down the back steps. I stopped to have a contraction by the trash can. It was a relief to sit in the car, knowing we were headed to the hospital. Finally. It was finally time.
We took off for the hospital, both in our own worlds, but glad that this pregnancy would soon be over. As we headed out of town, my insecurities began to turn to anxiety. “Are we really going to be able to do this?” Chase reached for my hand and responded without missing a beat, “Of course you’ll do this. You’ve done it three times before without any medications or complications. I’m less nervous this time than I was any of the previous three times.”
“Really?”
“Yeah!”
As another contraction rolled in, I felt infinitely more confident. We can do this. I can do this. We’ll meet this little creature soon, and I’ll have him in my arms rather than in my stomach!
We made it 5 miles outside of Central City before I realized we’d forgotten to grab my purse, which contained my photo ID which I needed to check in at the hospital. Confident I’d be fine, because I was handling the contractions well, we turned around. Chase ran into the house, grabbed my purse and ran back out. We headed for GI again. But by the time we reached the first stop light a few blocks from home, it occurred to me that my wallet wasn’t in my purse. We turned around again. “By the 4th time, you’d think I’d remember what to pack.” I quipped.
As we headed toward GI for the final time, I was relieved. We’d be there soon. Contractions rolled in like waves consistently every 2 minutes and lasted what felt to me like 20-30 seconds, but each time I opened my eyes as they passed, I was surprised to see that it had been over a minute.
Once we were through Chapman, I commented to Chase that I was glad we were on that side of Chapman, closer to GI than not. During one contraction I felt the car go over the rumble bars on the right side of the road. As I came out of the wave and opened my eyes, Chase exclaimed, “Did you see that?”
“No, I was in a contraction.”
A semi was left of center, almost completely in our lane. Chase had to swerve almost off the road to avoid an accident. Fortunately for all of us, he was driving defensively and extremely alert at that point, despite that it was now after midnight.
We got to the hospital and Chase parked. I made it to the boulder outside the front door before I had to stop, lean on the rock, and have a contraction. Amy Schreiber, who was already in the main lobby, came out to meet us. I think she was afraid I might birth the baby right there by the rock! Ha!
We headed up to the 2nd floor, and the charge nurse had my chart in hand. I told her that I had bloody show, contractions 2 minutes apart, and that this was happening. Could I please skip triage? She smiled and said, yes. When she saw on my chart that this was my 4th, she figured I probably knew that this was the real deal. We followed her into room 222.
As she started to get monitors ready to track contractions and baby’s heart, I changed into the sexy backless gown, and I turned the water on in the tub – all the way hot. I asked them for the paperwork to sign, pointed out the vein I wanted the IV in, and requested the birthing ball be brought into the room. I leaned on the side of the bed to have a contraction and my hands were shaking. The charge nurse said, “Oh! You’re already shaky.”
After my IV was in, they checked me, and it was the most uncomfortable check I’d ever had. I wasn’t in a contraction, but was breathing as if I was it was so painful. When the nurse finally pulled back, she said, “I think you’re complete. Your bag of waters is low but loose, and I can’t find any cervix behind it.” “Get out the baby stuff!” said the another nurse.
“Don’t break my water!” I begged. “Can I get in the tub now?”
After being pestered to not push in the tub, which I promised I would let them know the second I felt the urge to push, they let me in. (Turned out the hot water there was actually hot this time, unlike when I went in with Spencer. It was gloriously warm to get in the tub!)
I soaked in there for what felt like 30 minutes, but turned out it was about an hour and a half. (Why does labor seem to make time speed up for me? I think most people feel like it drags on forever.) Amy and Chase took turns sitting with me or were both in there and the nurse, Andrea, checked in regularly.
My goal was to get Nolan to descend a bit into the birth canal as he was still pretty high. After an hour and a half in the tub, my bag of waters was getting tighter, and it was now clear that there was an anterior rim still on my cervix. So I was like 9 and 3/4cm, sort of. I knew that that rim wouldn’t go away unless I was upright, and I was beginning to not cope as well in the tub.
I moved to the bed, which I had them drop the end on so that I was on all 4s. I had Chase push my hips together, which helped me not feel like I was totally going to fall apart at the hips. I would utter “ooooppppeeennn” over and over again through contractions, envisioning my body opening to let my son out without tearing. I did it quietly enough that I don’t think anyone knew I was saying anything, but it was out loud enough that it was audible. After 20 minutes or so that way, I moved to the birthing ball. At 3am, Andrea checked me and as she did, my water broke.
Meconium in the fluid. But not a ton. I knew things were about to get real, so I got back on the birthing ball.
“I should have asked for the damn epidural.”
For the first time in 4 unmedicated labors, I swore. I lasted for 3 contractions on the ball before I asked to be checked again.
“Oh!” the nurse said. “I need you to breathe through the next 3 or 4 contractions.”
“Can you call Dr. Kenna now?” I asked, thinking that she was going to call after those few contractions.
“I just did.” She said. “The reason I need you to breathe through a few contractions is so that he doesn’t come before she gets here.”
Oh good. Oooooooh good.
By 3:15 Dr. Kenna had arrived and we were in the phase where it was up to me how fast Nolan would be here. My goal was not to tear, so I needed some help to just breathe him down.
I remember a nurse asking if I wanted Nolan put straight onto my chest after he was born. “Yes! Yes. That’s why I do all this work – for that moment.” The question seemed absurd and ridiculous to me at the time. It still does. Of course I wanted to hold my baby at the first possible second.
I switched from “horse lips” breathing during contractions to “moo-ing like a cow.” (Ina Mae knows what she's talking about when she says to use those sounds to help cope!)
I asked between contractions, “Is he close? Like, you’re seeing head, right?”
Dr. Kenna nodded.
“Like is he crowning? How much head are you seeing?”
Dr. Kenna said “Eh…” and held up her fingers, maybe ¾ of an inch apart.
My head dropped back on the bed in discouragement.
Dr. Kenna said, “I can tell that when you get to the point where your body wants to push him out, that’s where you almost hold him in. You need to let your body push him out.”
“But I don’t want to tear. If I push at this stage am I going to tear?”
Dr. Kenna shrugged.
I pooped at least twice on the table, and I remember how unpleasant it was for Dr. Kenna to clean that area, thanks to my hemorrhoids… Ugh.
So on the next few contractions I worked harder at moo-ing longer before diving into my fast breaths out to slow his coming. Eventually the contraction happened where his head didn’t recede. It had come partway out and despite that the contraction was over, the ring of fire burned on and he didn’t ease back in. I fast-breathed/panted and thought I was going to die until the next contraction came and his head slowly made its way out.
“The head’s out Steph! His head’s out! His head’s out!” Chase said over and over again. He knew that was a big deal for me, so he made it a big deal.
I took a breath and pushed hoping his body would come quickly. I felt Dr. Kenna working his shoulders out, and then he was here!
“Oh!” I reached down and took the slippery little ball of wonder from Dr. Kenna’s hands. Knowing meconium was in the fluid, I remember being slightly concerned that he hadn’t let out a huge scream yet. As I settled him on my chest, the nurse began to rub his back and that first loud scream came (though he’d been breathing before that).
I could feel the cord still attached to me, but I was focused on the little creature, now no longer alien but entirely human laying on my breast. This was the moment. This moment is the one I lived for through the hard that was pregnancy and labor and delivery.
“I’m SO glad that’s over. I’m so glad that’s over.” I said over and over again. Everyone in the room laughed as I repeated the sentiment over and over again throughout the next hour.
Amy snapped shots of Nolan’s first moments on the outside, and after about 10 minutes of cuddling, I handed my 3rd son off to be cleaned up, weighed, measured, and diapered before being handed back to me. He smelled so sweet (thanks to the Pampers Swaddlers diaper!).
3:40am. Nine pounds even. Twenty one and one quarter inches long. Thirteen and a half inches for his head (though it felt like so much more). Everyone safe, healthy, here. Perfection.
“Dr. Kenna, you missed the due date by almost 4 hours. Do we get a refund?” Chase teased.
Dr. Kenna laughed and replied that due dates aren’t an exact science, but she was pretty close.
Nolan latched on and nursed for a long time. We agreed to wait for his first bath until siblings came the next morning. Chase told me later that our nurse, Andrea, kept saying about me, “She’s textbook.” Evidently my labor was just what you'd expect from a mom laboring without medication.
Amy's comment was, "You were just so controlled."
From my perspective, I had to stay in control of myself. If I didn't, I would've spiraled and not been able to cope. That happened with Lily, and I hated the way it felt. It's why I begged them not to break my water with Nolan. Each time when my water breaks, it gets infinitely more painful and harder to cope, so the longer I can labor with water in tact, even if it takes hours longer for baby to come, the better in my mind because I can handle it. But that's just me.
After all the excitement subsided, I couldn’t shut down to sleep (I never can), so I dozed for maybe 40 minutes before 7am when I ordered breakfast. Chase zonked out on the couch for about 3 hours. He didn’t wake up for nurses coming in and out, for me ordering breakfast, or anything else.
Visitors started around 9am and over the course of the next 36 hours, I showered, Nolan's siblings came, my family and Chase's came to visit, dear friends stopped by to see the newest Francl, and I had my day, my very favorite day of showing off my newest little one.
In Retrospect
Looking back now, almost 2 months later, it was definitely a good experience. I mean, except for the labor and delivery part - that was super painful! I'm so grateful for those who were there that night, ready to check me in and who responded positively when I told them what I wanted.
One thing that has become very important to me as a laboring woman is the freedom to labor how I want to, but to have the support (emotional, physical, and medical) of those around me in case anything goes awry. It was a short experience - about 3 hours from the time we arrived till Nolan was in my arms, so I guess it wasn't that long to cater to me. But still. It was quiet when I asked for everyone to be quiet. I was in the tub when I wanted to be. They put the birthing bar on the bed when I asked, though I never ended up using it. They put warm blankets over me as I labored when I asked. Water was always put to my lips with merely a point of my finger.
I used to think that if I had to be a nurse, I'd want to be a labor and delivery nurse. But I think they have a really hard job - walking with women through some of the physically darkest, hardest hours of life. Those hours and moments that feel to the mother like death just before new life shines a new ray of hope into the world.
But what a privilege to be part of that process.
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Spencer was very concerned any time Nolan's pacifier wasn't
in his mouth. Here, you see the green paci that Spencer is
giving to Chase for Nolan. And notice that Spencer has his
own orange paci in his mouth. |
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| Going home. |
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First outing with all 4 - to church on Sunday morning.
Also, cars eats. So many car seats. |
