On April 30th…well I can’t remember a thing that
happened during the day. But that evening, I got Lierre all snuggled into her
bed (her big girl bed since we transitioned her so we could reuse the crib).
Tim had recently had a cold and was on the upswing—but was still resting on the
couch. Jack our dog was dozing somewhere. All was peaceful and restful and
quiet. What was I doing? Reading up on birthing message boards of course! J I was peaceful inside,
but also felt a little buzz of adrenaline in my veins every now and then,
knowing that (hopefully) within the next week I would be holding my second
sweet little girl in my arms. I pulled up a few sites I had saved on Pinterest
about good stretches to relax my back (which had been feeling tight) and tried
a few. I also sat on the birthing ball and half-heartedly circled my hips,
telling myself it relieved some of the intense pressure I had been feeling
“down there” if nothing else (for those non-birth addicts, sitting on the ball
is supposed to help open everything up).
I finally shook Tim awake on the couch and we made our way
to bed at about 10:45-11:00ish. Later that night I woke up feeling a little
uncomfortable in my lower stomach. I lay still, not paying much attention to
them since I had been having Braxton Hicks on and off for weeks. A few minutes
later, after I had dozed off again, I was awoken once more to a little more
discomfort. I sighed inwardly, marking off another night of not sleeping well
in my mind…. And decided that maybe if I got up to pee (again), I could come
back and get more comfortable. I stood up and heard a very distinct POP! I
stood still for a moment, but still didn’t think much of it since my lower back
and hips had been popping a lot at night. I took about four steps towards the
bathroom and felt a slight rush of liquid. I stopped, mouth open… no… there is
NO WAY my water just broke? And isn’t it supposed to be like a huge gush?? I
shut the bathroom door and hollered out…
“Hey Tim?”
“Yeah?”
“Either my water just broke…. Or I peed in my pants!”
“….Really?!”……………. “Shouldn’t you know the difference?”
I sat down on the toilet and asked, “What time is it?”
It was exactly 1:00 a.m.
[Lemme just throw in here that I’m super proud of myself for
remembering to ask what time it was and also looking to see the color to make
sure it was clear and free of meconium.]
I will spare y’all some of those details (although, if you
are pregnant and wondering, feel free to message me and I will be happy to
discuss it!).
Tim was very, very calm. After we both Googled what it
should be like, smell like, look like, etc, I called my doula, Kimberly. Given
the hour of night, she was pretty much like “So are we having a baby tonight?”
Haha. I explained what happened. She assured me that, while there was a slight
possibility I peed, the better odds were that my water had broken.
[Seriously, there was hardly any liquid at all. Sometimes
the baby’s head can block the leak. Plus only about 15% of women’s water breaks
before they are in labor.]
Kimberly also reminded me that if I went to the hospital
right then to have them check, there would be no leaving. We had talked pretty
extensively about staying home as long as possible. (And no, it is not like the
movies where you need to rush to the hospital as soon as your water breaks. You
can have your water broken for at least 24 hours before you really have to
worry about infection.) I had had exactly zero contractions at that point,
unless you count the minor discomfort that had awoken me. She said that two
things would probably happen. Either a.) my contractions would start picking up
in about 45 minutes to an hour, or b.) nothing would happen and we’d head to
the hospital in about 12 hours. We hung up, promising to call with
contractions.
We also went ahead and called my parents, as they were
coming to our house to watch Lierre whenever we went to the hospital. My side
of the conversation went something like this “Yes…I think my water broke, but
I’m not feeling any contractions yet. No need to rush. Just wanted to give
y’all a heads up in case you need to get anything together. But really… I don’t
see anything happening any time soon, so just go back to sleep and we will call
you when something more is going on.” I seriously thought there was no rush
since Lierre’s birth was about 18 hours.
Yeah…. Bad move on my part. But we will get to that.
Knowing that the hospital wouldn’t want me to eat when I got
there (which I was fully planning on disregarding), I decided to eat a snack. I
made a whole-wheat waffle with peanut butter and drank a glass of orange juice.
Sure enough, about 45 minutes later I started feeling
contractions. I leaned over the birth ball and held on, swaying my hips and
moaning “ow, ow, ow, shiiiit.” Over and over. But they were about 14 minutes
apart, then slowly about 8-9 minutes apart. We checked in with Kimberly and I
think Tim took over conversations with other people at this point. She reminded
him to make me drink, drink, drink water and keep going to the bathroom as a
full bladder can slow/stop the babe from coming down. Easy to do in the
beginning…. Much harder to do when I was starting to feel nauseous. I went to
the bathroom at some point with a very upset stomach. I returned constantly to
my birthing ball (sometimes with Tim’s prompting as he said I seemed to handle
contractions better when leaning over it). Everything gets a little fuzzy to me
at this point, so here’s how our texts with Kimberly went.
3:46 a.m.
“Shaking. Uhg.”
Kim: With contractions or in between?
Anna: So intense they make me shake when finished. Tapers
off though.
Kim: *sent a screenshot talking about shaking in early labor
Kim: Your body is doing exactly what it should be! Slowly
breathe through each contraction and try to stay focused.
3:53 a.m.
Anna: So intense making me feel like Heimlich wanna puke
Kim: The contractions?
Anna: Yes.
Kim: Are they getting closer together?
Anna: The last 3 were 6:00 min apart.
3:55
Kim: Ok I’m going to call you.
--no answer—
Call me when you can
[At this point I threw up and Tim was trying to take care of
me and coordinate with my parents and Kimberly while also doing a last check of
our bags.]
4:35
Tim via my phone: Parents coming. We will be leaving when
they do.
Tim: 1-2 minutes apart
Kim: Meet u there. Call me if you need me sooner.
Anna: This is starting to feel impossible while having
contractions.
4:42 .m.
Kim: You can do this!! One contraction at a time. I’ll see
you very soon. Try not to think about how fast they are coming. Breathe slowly
with each one. Get on your hands and knees and rock your hips. You felt
comfortable doing that. You are working hard. Let your body do what it needs to
do and try to relax in between so your body can bring your baby down.
4:49:
Kim: Hanging in there?
How close are your parents?
5:15 a.m.
Tim via my phone: Heading to hospital by EMS now.
Kim: Holy crap I’m on my way.
So during this time, my contractions jumped pretty quickly.
They had been about 14 minutes apart, then 8, then 6, then very suddenly 1-2
minutes max in between.
Let me explain a little bit more about what was going on in
my head and at our house that lead to an EMS ride. Just to remind you in case you were just skimming… at 4:35
we sent a text saying we were going to leave soon. By 5:15 we were on the way
to the hospital via the ambulance.
With Lierre, everything was a nice increase in
contractions…. Getting closer about every half hour. We made it to the hospital
in plenty of time. Contractions were slow and steady. I didn’t start feeling
like “I can’t do this” until I was at least 6 cm about 10-12 hours later, at
which point I asked for an epidural.
This time around… It really
was making me panic that I was feeling the “I can’t do this anymore” feeling
after “only” three to four hours. I thought I was weak. My mind was majorly
playing tricks on me. While draped over the birthing ball I was thinking “I
can’t do this. How is this contraction STILL HAPPENING?! This is awful. I’m
going to die. I feel like I’m being ripped in half.”
At one point, I think after Tim called my parents to hurry
up and come, I remember moving the ball to our bedroom, and literally pounding
my fists on the ball screaming “I DON’T WANT TO DO THIS ANYMORE!” and really,
truly meaning it. It seemed like the greatest injustice in my brain that was
being flooded with all kinds of labor cocktail hormones that I should HAVE to
keep doing this…. And that I had no say over how fast or slow it would go.
While yelling that phrase, I startled myself even further by the high-pitched,
out of control sound of my voice. I reminded myself of when Lierre throws an
extreme fit when she is just exhausted and beyond reason. I remained hunched
over on the floor, on all fours, or on the ball because any other position
seemed close to impossible…. It made every contraction much worse to be
upright.
Finally, realizing how close they were and hoping my parents
would be there soon, I decided to go to the bathroom one more time before we
left. It took Herculean strength to move myself off the floor, walk to the
bathroom, and sit down when contractions were coming about every minute, minute
and a half…. Meaning by the time I left the floor, to sitting down on the
toilet, I had likely already had another contraction. And by the time I was
ready to stand? Another contraction. And another. And
OH-MY-GOD-I-AM-NEVER-GOING-TO-THE-CAR because sitting upright is KILLING ME.
I heard Tim mumble outside the door that he was going to let
my parents in.
I remember reaching one hand out to the toilet paper holder
and squeezing, while the other hand reached out and grabbed the shower curtain.
I remember moaning loudly “I don’t know how to do this anymore.”
I was wishing and regretting not asking my doula to come much sooner…. I
literally was out of my “bag of tricks” to help myself through the pain I was
feeling and my brain was eliminating all other kinds of thought besides getting
through the next minute.
Then I felt it.
The beginnings of feeling “The Ring of Fire.” Looking back I
still am unsure of how close she was at this point. The ring of fire is a
pretty accurate term when you start to feel the baby’s head. I looked down too
and the toilet was filled with blood.
Tim came back and tried to say we needed to go. Yeah, no. Nope.
Nuh uh. No way. He tried again. Our exchange was something like this:
Tim: Come on! You
HAVE to get up. You are NOT going to have a baby at our house.
Anna: I … oh my
God…. Oh shiiiiiiiiit, oh no…. I
think… Yeah, I think I am pushing. Oh man.
Tim: What??!
What??? No. NO WAY. No. Get up RIGHT NOW.
Anna: I CAN’T!!!
(I was so mad at him at that moment for not understanding why I couldn’t get
up…. As if he was being unreasonable wanting me to go to the hospital).
Tim: Come on
Anna. Come on. GET. UP. NOW.
Anna: I cannot get up. I can FEEL her down
there. I can’t. stop. Pushing.
Tim: DAMNIT ANNA
GET UP RIGHT NOW AND ME AND YOUR DAD WILL HELP CARRY YOU TO THE CAR. GET UP NOW
OR I AM GOING TO CALL 911!!!
Anna: Yes. Do
that. Do that. Call now. I cannot. (*push,
push, push)
Tim called 911 and
yelled at me until I very begrudgingly got down off the toilet (per their
instructions) and onto all fours.
At this point my
body was pushing with contractions. I didn’t have much control over it. It
actually felt good to push… it gave
purpose to the pain. It kept my head in the game. I remember frantically,
disjointedly trying to prep myself for WHAT IF…. What if I did have this baby
at home? I had read up on it just in case, but … reality is so much more
terrifying than a what if.
You know how people
say that modesty goes out the window in labor? Yeeeeah…. Maybe in a clinical
hospital setting. Maybe. But when you still have your pants around your ankles,
and are on all fours grunting and moaning and sounding like someone who is
dry-heaving…. Knowing your parents are on the outside of the door…. And then in
comes a team of EMS workers?....Yeeep. Still embarrassing. Especially when one
peaks over and says “Not crowning yet.” (Oh my gosh, did he just … just look
THERE? Oh man. Everyone is looking at me. Oh man this hurts so bad. Ah this is
embarrassing). I was sweating and pushing and miserable.
They all just stood
there. I was like “Why aren’t we going?!” They said they couldn’t take me….
They were actually firemen who were responding first. I was furious and getting
so scared at that point. Then another team showed up. I asked them why we
weren’t going… Nope, they were just a medical unit, not a transport unit.
(I get it, but I
MEAN COME ON). Finally the transport unit came. They tried to give Tim some lip
about why we didn’t leave right when my water broke, and Tim gave it right
back. They tried to convince me to stand up, but at that point it felt like a
bowling ball was in between my legs. They lifted me on to the stretcher. I
remember, vaguely, seeing my dad’s face on the couch while they wheeled me out.
It was raining and cooler
outside. I had worked up a sweat so the drizzle felt fantastic. Tim tried to say he would follow behind instead of
coming in there. At that point it didn’t really matter to me as long as we all
made it in time. I had never been in an ambulance before. They have little
drawer/window type things to cover up their supplies. I lay on my side,
squeezing the stretcher rails, pulling on them with all my might when a
contraction would hit. I could see my reflection in the windows. I. Looked.
Terrified. And zoned out. I focused on my own eyes to get through. The Paramedic
in the ambulance inserted an IV (very skillfully I might add) just in case and
tried to tell me not to push. At this point, all bets were off. I was hollering
for pain medication. “Please. Anything. I want an epidural RIGHT WHEN I GET
THERE. Can you tell them that? PLEASE?! Don’t you have anything on here?!” He explained they had morphine but since I’m
allergic I couldn’t have it.
We made it to the
hospital and the first face I saw was Kimberly. She hopped right up and walked
next to me into the triage room (this is where they normally check you in,
check blood pressure, make sure you are dilated enough to stay…. It looks
similar to a room you might see at a normal doctor’s office, with the little
plastic bed with the paper over it). I don’t remember anything about it, but
apparently they got my clothes off, draped a hospital gown over me, and laid me
down on the “bed.” The nurses bustled about and heard them ask to grab someone…
a doctor? A midwife? Someone checked my dilation and as the midwife walked in,
she stood there for just a moment (Tim said she deliberated for just a second)
before saying “Ok, are you ready to push?” I was shocked. Even though I had
already been semi pushing and also trying not
to push, my mind was blown that this was REALLY about to happen. I was about to
meet my daughter. I was also still in excruciating pain… and still begging for
an epidural. I think every person in the room chuckled at me, which in the back
of my mind, I got…but at that moment I was super peeved about.
There were no
stirrups, no nothing on that little table so a handful of nurses and Tim held
my legs. At this moment I was so
thankful to have my doula with me. I got to focus my eyes on Tim while Kimberly
stayed next to my head, holding my hands, brushing hair out of my face, telling
me I was getting what I wanted—an unmedicated birth. Again, appreciated it
later, but at the time I was just so frustrated!! Haha.
My midwife told me
just a push or two and she would be out. I pushed about two times and they told
me that one more good push and I would probably get to see her. That didn’t
quite happen and when she said it again the next contraction, I called them
liars and told them I didn’t believe them. I don’t think she appreciated it
very much, but I heard Tim and some of the nurses laugh at me. I started to get
emotional and Kim stepped in, literally “slapping” my face (not really slapping
me, but tapping me hard on my cheeks with her palms) while telling me to not
waste my energy on getting emotional because there was time for that
later---just push the baby out. It kept me grounded. I pushed again and felt
some progress, but was just so tired! Then I saw Tim’s face and the midwife’s
drop a little bit. They hid it well, but when I was tunnel-visioned on Tim’s face
I noticed everything. I had no idea what was going on, but I sure as heck was
going to get my baby out NOW so that she would be safe. I found out later her
heart rate was dropping a little and she also had the cord wrapped around her
neck (again not wholly uncommon, just need to be a little careful). I PUSHED
with all my might, back to back, no coaching, going beyond their coached
pushes, and finally, cheers filled the room! The instantaneous relief my body
felt was out of this world. I was honestly so shocked by what had just happened
and the abrupt change in sensations that I could hardly comprehend that my
daughter, Holly Ruth had arrived. My cord was short so she only made it to
about mid-stomach, where I semi-patted her, looked at her, and just felt
bewildered. They went to cut the cord and I asked them to wait because I wanted
the cord to stop pulsating. I think I surprised everyone with that one, given
the speed of everything else (and I think they literally snatched my midwife
while she was about to walk out, done with her shift)… but dangit I was adamant
my baby was going to get all the good stuff it could from it.
I tried to let Tim
hold her once the cord was cut, but they told me I had to hold her for at least
one hour before anyone could do anything else. After not getting to hold Lierre
for 4 hours after birth, this was music to my ears and every bit of me sighed
while I snuggled her, joyful she had arrived, elated she was mine, and amazed
that my body---the body I had questioned for two and a half years, had finally
birthed my baby. Just as God intended.
My water broke at
1:00 a.m. Holly Ruth was born at 6:03 a.m. and weighed 7 pounds 9 ounces, and
was 19.5 inches long.
We spent the rest of
the morning, unrushed, just the three of us in the hospital room we got moved
to. We got to order breakfast and take turns holding Holly, marveling over her
big bright eyes, her dark head of hair, and comparing her facial expressions to
Lierre’s.
Even to this day,
one day shy of three months, my mind can hardly wrap itself around how
amazingly blessed we are. How incredible it was to birth my baby. How
awe-inspiring it is to see a bond growing between Lierre and Holly already—with
Lierre constantly bringing Holly blankets and pacifiers and Holly smiling when
Lierre speaks to her, daydreaming about the friendship that will grow between
them as they get older. My lap is full… my heart is overflowing. To God be the
glory forever and ever.
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| Proud Daddy in our room |
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| Our first visitor, Uncle Evan |
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| Uncle Jerrold |
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| Lierre meeting Holly for the first time |
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| Mamaw & Lierre holding Holly |
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| Lierre showering Holly with her toys when she got home |
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Going home! |
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