HUGE- 39 Weeks Before Heading to the Hospital
I had Braxton Hicks (BH) contractions on and off during my 3rd Trimester but not enough to really make me think we'd have our baby boy earlier than his due date. Sometimes, I'd actually get kind of down. You always hear of second babies coming sooner and faster so I was hopeful not to be passed my due date and super miserable but I was also not showing any real signs that labor was coming anytime soon and feared we were looking at another induction. We know that God is always in control and had already written this Birth Story long before me typing it here so we were just trusting in that.
On Friday the 5th, I even said to my best friend, "Well, I can't be pregnant forever, right?" How prolific that statement turned out to be. I was having some BH on Friday night and they got to be pretty painful. I wondered if maybe, just maybe, I was in what some call "pre-labor." Maybe I'd even had a sixth sense earlier in the day with a compulsive need to go get the SUV cleaned, even though Jeremy said he was going to clean it in the next couple of days. That night, after Leighton went to bed, Jeremy and I watched a movie, when I guess we should have been sleeping. The BH contractions would come and go. After the movie, I couldn't sleep. Could.not.sleep. I just felt something was coming in my heart of hearts. I don't know how or why. I did the last load of laundry, wrote a last thank you note for a gift we had just received, and ate something light just in case I couldn't eat again for a while.
I started having real contractions around 2 am. At least, I was pretty sure they were real even though they weren't very strong and were sporadic. An hour later, that changed. I was trying not to wake Jeremy up but around 3 am the contractions got to be pretty painful and he woke up to the breathing techniques I used to get me through the contractions. He was surprisingly very calm (probably because I kept saying, "they are too far apart, we have a while.") and held my hand through each one. I don't think either one of us realized how serious it was about to get. The contractions were still pretty far apart and irregular so neither of us felt the need to rush to the hospital.I started to get excited, even through the pain, when I finally realized this was "it" and I was elated to be able to labor some at home even though it hurt. ***Disclaimer: I'm not going to sugarcoat anything from here on out. This Birth Story is not for the squeamish. You have been fairly warned.***
Ok,so, I am breathing through intense contractions while trying to get ready and finish packing hospital bags (the items we use every day that we couldn't pack until last minute) Taking a bath made the contractions a little less painful and slow down some so that was good. I was feeling pretty proud of myself for laboring naturally at home and not dashing off to the hospital in a panic. I used to have zero, I mean zero, pain tolerance so this felt like a huge accomplishment.
We decided that when Leighton woke up, we'd head straight to the hospital and make sure I was far enough along to be admitted and then we'd call the friends we had lined up to keep Leighton to come get her until one of our relatives could make it to relieve them. Well, waiting for her to wake up couldn't wait any longer come 7 a.m. when I.was.dying. I was letting the contractions get to me as they got stronger and stronger and closer and closer and I couldn't stay on top of them. I was fearful that my water would break any minute and I really didn't want that happening anywhere but the hospital. We got Leighton up and the car packed as fast as humanly possible (and when I say "we" I mean my amazing husband did these things while I ow ow'd and and breathed and vocalized my way through contractions.) My poor, sweet, amazing little girl wavered between being upset and scared because she didn't know what was going on and mommy was clearly having some issues, to saying very compassionately, "It's ok mommy. You're ok. You're fine." At this point we had clued our family in to what was happening and my mom was already en route.
The drive to the hospital was pretty awful. The car ride definitely makes the contractions worse. Jeremy ran 2 red lights and 2 stop signs, drove a
Flowers Hospital Where We Delivered Our Boy
We pulled up to the ER (where you have to check in if you come to our hospital in labor). Jeremy flew out of the car and got me in a wheelchair, Leighton out of the car seat and all of us to the front desk, all in record time. It was about 7:30 a.m. Another pregnant woman was being admitted and she was still walking with a smile on her face. As I breathed through one particularly bad contraction she said "I think you are going to have yours before me." I said "I am just hoping I don't have him right here in this lobby!" At least I could still make a joke, right? A million ridiculous (and a few non- ridiculous) questions answered and a few signed papers later and we were being wheeled up to labor and delivery. I was, of course, instructed to gown up and get in bed. We were all definitely anxious about me missing my window of opportunity for an epidural. My amazing nurse got my fluids started and blood work done and after another million questions I was being checked. At 8 am I was a 6 with contractions every 4 minutes. Wow. I was proud and terrified at the same time. I thought, "I can't believe I labored naturally to a 6," and "Oh no, what if I don't get my epidural in time?"
Admitted
Blue (Well, Turquoise) Toes for My Boy (My New Favorite Color)
Monitor
Obviously, During A Contraction
Sweet Nurse- LOVED Her
Then, my water broke. I was so happy everything was happening naturally this time, exactly the way I had envisioned it, but this was all happening too fast! I needed that epidural, now! The nurse quickly got me fully admitted and got anesthesia to my room and he administered my epidural while Jeremy took Leighton downstairs to meet our friends. It was harder than I ever imagined to say goodbye to her. My girl. My first baby. The last time I would see her as my only baby. I cried, we kissed, she kissed my belly one last time (her favorite thing to do). And she was gone.
One Last Belly Kiss
The epidural hurt worse this time than with Leighton (I didn't even really feel it with her). But it worked and was heaven and I was thanking God that I finally had relief...for about 30 minutes. This is where it gets good folks.
First, I started to feel everything on my left side. Well, this happened when I had Leighton so I thought maybe it is just something with my body. So long as I was getting a good bit of relief I thought I'd be o.k. Then I could feel everything, everywhere. Not good. It's now 9:30 a.m. My mom has made it with KK doughnuts and coke. Mama knows what her daughter wants after delivering a baby! We were all very concerned with my pain. I was checked again and was between a 7 and 8. The anesthesiologist came back in and administered more meds to see if it was the dosage that wasn't working, or if it was the epidural itself. He gave me a dosage he would give a C-section patient and said if that didn't do it, it was definitely the epidural. It didn't work. I was in off the wall pain. There was talk of natural childbirth if we didn't have time or if the anesthesiologist wouldn't redo my epidural. I was a basket case. I said, "Ya'll don't understand, I have the worst pain tolerance in the world, I can't do this naturally!" My awesome nurse spoke up and said, "Girl, you labored at home until you were 6 cm and you are doing it. You are doing it right now. You have made it to 8 cm naturally, with only 30 min of relief. That is amazing and most people don't do that." She made me feel a little better but I still in no way wanted to do this naturally. My poor husband and mother didn't either. They were both white as ghosts and holding back tears (ok, mom let a few flow) watching me in such agonizing pain.
They checked me again and I was a 9. I silently begged God to give me an inch, well I guess a centimeter. The anesthesiologist out of the goodness of his heart (and, perhaps because I was scaring everyone else on the floor) came in and re-did my epidural at 9 cm. He had to try a couple of times which didn't feel good but he finally got it and it worked. Praise.Jesus. All I could feel was the pressure. Oh, the intense pressure. I felt like we had to be close. And we were. 10 cm....but baby boy was facing the wrong way, of course. So they turned me on my left side to try to turn him. I felt SO much pressure and I just wanted him out! My nurse told me it was ok to push if I felt I needed to but it would be pointless because of the way he was facing. I would bear down when I absolutely had too but was trying to save as much energy as I could. It seemed like forever but he finally turned and I could start pushing for real.
We pushed for a little while and then the Dr. came in and we pushed some more. Pushing and resting became the pattern for the next little while and it took all of my strength and the help from some oxygen to not pass out asleep during the rests. My Dr. needed to make a cut (same as when I had Leighton) to help get baby boy out (my kids have big heads, they take after daddy ;) ). When she went to do so, that was when we discovered my epidural hadn't worked quite as well as we had thought. I.felt.it.all. I can't even put in to words what that pain was like. She gave me a local, which also hurt like crazy, so she could finish the cut.
At this moment, I knew it was almost over. I got a little emotional knowing that my last pregnancy (God willing) was coming to an end. All of the hard work of the last 39 weeks; the body changes, the kicks, the stares from strangers, the being unable to bend over to shave my legs, the being careful about what I ate and drank, the wonder of what and who baby will look like, worries about health, feeling so proud of my big round tummy and growing a whole person with the help of God, it was all about to end in an instant. A few more pushes and it would all start to become a distant memory. 9 months and 3 weeks feels like an eternity, until it's over. I wasn't sure I was ready for it to be over.
Isolet- Waiting For Baby
I looked across the room at the empty isolet, where they would soon place my baby boy to warm him up, clean him off, and suction him. That empty isolet is one of my favorite parts of birthing a baby. It's so tiny and warm and so full of promise. I stared at it and took it in so I'd always remember. (I can't believe I am crying as I type this.) I took in his last kick. I knew it was the last one I'd feel with him inside me because the pressure was at a point where I couldn't stop pushing. So, I didn't stop. I pushed and I pushed, oh it hurt, until the nurse said "Sybil, look down."
And I did. And there he was. My son. Our son. Our beautiful baby boy. I burst in to tears because he was so amazing. I could tell he was a big boy. I remember thinking he looked so clean to have just been born. His first cries came when they suctioned him. I heard, "Time of birth,12:07 pm."
I was already begging to hold him. It took so long for me to be able to hold Leighton because they had to make sure she was ok at a month early. I wanted this to be different, more how I'd always pictured it. And it was. The laid him on my chest and I wished him Happy Birthday and smothered him with kisses and told him how beautiful he was. Jeremy cut the cord.
Then the nurse got down to cleaning and measuring him. I was amazed when they called out "22 inches long" and even more amazed when they said, "8 pounds."
I delivered the placenta and the Dr. stitched me up, which I didn't feel thanks to another local (which I did feel, ouch) and it was done. Our Asher was here, not even 5 hours after rolling in this place. Jeremy and I will never forget that day. By the end we were out of breath and crying tears of joy and relief. Everyone kept telling me how great I did and how proud of me they were but I just kept looking at him as I nursed him. Our son. That is what I was most proud of.
He Owns Me
Asher Greyson McGhee. Born April 6th, 2013. 12:07 p.m. 8 lbs. 22 inches. "Happy Am I, The Women Shall Call Me Blessed. So She Named Him, Asher." Genesis 30:13.
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