There's something about the impending birthday of one's child that screams, "Let's go reflect (in excessive detail) upon the night you were born!" I don't make the rules. I just show up on the blog seemingly out of the blue, casually mentioning that I now have not one, but TWO children, the second of which is nearing two years old. This is just how that goes.
When writing the birth story for my firstborn, I felt eloquent, wiser, learn'ed. I felt like I needed to put to words the insane day that had officially launched me into motherhood proper, and I was as mindful as possible about how I shared that tale. Years later, I come to you now not wiser, but worn. My weariness stemming from the one certainty that comes with being a second time parent: uncertainty. Each pregnancy and birth is as different as each person on this earth. The tiny new humans we bring to life are unique, and so is the journey we take with them.
So, as our little son approaches two, let's revisit his entrance.
I maintain that birthing persons are super heroes, and also maintain the same disclaimers as my first birth story:
- Semi graphic labor details to follow (will put the most graphic asterisked in a foot note, skip if you prefer - or if you're like a co-worker who stumbled upon this blog and is thinking "yikes, I don't want to know!").
- Note that the exact timestamps are because I asked my husband to keep track in a notepad - with our first we had texted updates to friends/family throughout my labor, but given the time of day, we didn't this time. I still liked having a log. Also had a few photos for time referencing.
- Every labor and delivery story is unique, this was mine: that of a healthy, white, middleclass, cisgender woman, with a pretty straightforward pregnancy, a supportive partner, and access to a great hospital (plus the wonderful staff that came with it).
- I was very lucky to have a labor without massive complications. I'm not sure what a "normal" labor truly is, but mine was not out of the ordinary. Given that our second pregnancy had ended in a missed miscarriage, I spent a lot of time anxious about loss during all three trimesters, but was grateful that at no point during L&D did I feel fearful about the wellbeing of our baby boy.
The scene: At 38 weeks pregnant, I was settling in for the long haul. For my first, I was induced at 41 weeks, so I assumed we'd be on a similar track. Being pregnant in the peak summer heat with a very animated toddler was like running a marathon twice daily, and my exhaustion was doubled by the last minute frantic cross-training of a former coworker / friend who would be covering for me while on maternity leave. (They hadn't let her start earlier, so I had only a few very long days anchored to my desk to try and prep her.) I was running on empty: fully mentally and emotionally depleted.
On top of it all, there was the guilt of how we were about to completely disrupt our life as a trio, how our daughter's world was about to be turned upside down and she didn't even know it. And the deeper fear continued to creep in, the fear that something would go wrong. This had shifted from my first pregnancy, in which I was maybe more selfish, this time I was terrified that something might cause my little girl to lose her mom. So each daycare drop-off hug felt like it could be the last time, and the sadness was crippling some days.
Cue Thursday morning:
I woke up a shell, not feeling great, completely overwhelmed. At drop-off, I openly wept at not just my daughter's current teacher but also the teacher for the room she was about to move into. I was so scared about all the transitions happening at once, so afraid our girl would feel unsupported. Those beautiful, kind women propped me up and assured me all would be well. I didn't believe it, but instead moved forward with the day, feeling unwell and nervous.
A stressful work day, a regular night post-daycare, and then it was bedtime. My husband was doing most of the bedtime duties at that point since A) I was too massive to get in and out of our toddler's floor bed and B) I needed to rest proper.
10pm : Went to bed early since I wasn't feeling well. Texted my husband shortly thereafter saying I was so sore and couldn't lay on my side because it hurt too much.
10:45pm : Realized that this wasn't normal pain and it might be contractions. Since I'd only ever felt induced contractions, this was new territory. I scrambled to find the sheet from my OB sayin what to look for to know if it was time to get to the hospital. 4-1-1. Strong contractions every 4 minutes, each lasting 1 minute long, for 1 hour. 4-1-1, I frantically told my husband as I had him setting timers and counting.
And this is where the logistics panic started. Because what if it was a false alarm and we triggered the "arrival plan" for nothing in the middle of the night?? We had really hoped maybe I'd go into labor like right around daycare drop-off so we'd have 8 hours to activate the grandmas, but instead the "night mode" (yes, I had a document with all these scenarios that I'd emailed out to everyone) was happening. We'd need local support (my MIL) to bridge the gap at home while my mom made the 3.5 hour drive south. The plan was for my mom to stay at our house with Irene for the days we were at the hospital for delivery and recovery - with support from my MIL/sister.
But now, we'd be leaving while our daughter slept, without a proper goodbye. And my mom would be driving in the dark, after a full day, having not gotten any sleep yet. And we'd be waking up my MIL to also drive in the dark to to have a semi-sleepless night wondering what's going on with us. My stress was mounting. I basically spent an hour sobbing in a chair in our bedroom, holding my massive bump, in increasing amounts of pain, saying "not now, sweet boy, mommy can't be her best right now, I don't have the strength I need to do this right now, please wait." But it was happening, ready or not. And then we knew we shouldn't wait anymore.
((AND fun fact, my OB whom I respect and adore and trust with my life and who I had planned to have deliver my second child... was on her one vacation of the year. Due to get back a few days later. And of course, I'd also slept poorly the night before but instead of going to bed, I was getting ready to pull an all-nighter and birth a human. So it was like every single less-than-ideal scenario was playing out. NOT STRESSFUL AT ALL.))
11:35pm : We activated the phone tree. My husband called his mom to come watch Irene / be at our house while she slept. I started texting my mom, who was mercifully still mostly awake. By midnight, my MIL had arrived and my mom was already on the road. I spent another half hour crying (for good measure) as I made sure everything in the go-bag was set.
And then in was Friday.....
12:30am : Snuck in to whisper some goodbyes to our sleeping little miss. She woke up crying and my husband held her for a little bit to get her back to sleep. I unleashed the last of my tears as well and then locked it down. 15 minutes later we were in the car.
1:20am : Finally checked in at the hospital. Had a fun little SNAFU with parking (there was a security guard asleep in his vehicle and so we had to buzz to get someone to open the parking garage arm to get in lol) and then we had to go through a different entry than planned because it was not normal hours, so everything was just slightly off, but we made it.
 |
| LFG. |
Spoiler alert: things went fast from here on out. While my daughter's birth had been a marathon, my son's was about to be a sprint. I still had to run the same distance, but MUCH faster. With my first labor and delivery, I'd tried to stay in my power and be confident in my strength, this time I was unprepared and broken, and continually bemoaned to anyone in the room, exhausted, "this is happening too fast, I'm not ready" as I clamored internally to find some solid ground.
1:45am : Admitted, in a room. First check: thick cervix, 5cm dilated. Things were happening, it wasn't a false alarm, this was the real deal. It was mostly just us with a very sweet young nightshift nurse, who was very kind as I explained that I was running on empty so didn't have energy to be as chatty and nice as I'd normally be.
2:00am : IV placed. I had been flagged for Group B Strep again, so it was already in the plan to have a nice pouch of penicillin ready to go.
2:40am : Epidural placed. I wasn't fucking around like the last time. I ordered that thing pretty much the moment I had gotten the IV placed. Once the epidural is in, they tell you to rest. But mine was short-lived as the little monitor started to go off.
2:55am : My numbers started to drop, so they gave me medication for low blood pressure. I started to quietly panic, thinking this was the start of a serious of scary medical events that would lead to something awful: an emergency c-section, losing my life, my baby dying, etc. Every single intrusive thought screamed as loud as possible. So maybe that helped, but my blood pressure was back up within 15 minutes.
3:05am : Blood taken for labs. Another check: thin cervix, 7cm dilated. That darling L&D nurse was on the horn, like "can we get a labor doc??" And she gently said she'd be ready to catch my baby if needed. Confidence level for both of us was palpably low, but we smiled and agreed we'd make this happen.
3:10 am: Since my blood pressure was looking good and things were moving, they set a Foley Cath (they'd waited to do this after epidural because of my numbers dropping). And then it was time for the good old "labor shakes" again, so they piled warm blankets on me and told me to try and sleep. (I have a cherished photo of me as giant blanket pile with a head sticking out that my husband took at 3:24am lol) I briefly met another older nurse who said they were reaching out to the on-call doc (aka the backup for when my OB was on vacation). I'd gotten to meet two of the backup docs as a just-in-case (since my due date was so close to my OB's time away), and of course the one on duty was the one I hadn't met. The older nurse assured me that she would also be ready to catch my baby. Assurance was at an all-time high (sarcasm).
3:45am : From under the blanket mountain... my water broke. I was in a pool and my micro nap was thoroughly ended. Another check: 9cm dilated. For those keeping score at home: you need to hit 10 to deliver.
4:00am : Lots of pressure. 9+ cm. Even with an epidural numbing the pain, you still feel pressure, and your body still burns massive amounts of energy with each contraction. The wee night nurse was grabbing any other nurse or person she could find to help her catch a baby. The on-call doc was on her way but the highway on/off ramps were closed from nighttime construction, and she lived 45 minutes away......
4:05am : Complete. We at a 10 outta 10, baby. Continued promises that the on-call doc was coming. Meanwhile, out of the corner of my eye, I could see the older nurse was getting suited up and I could see my night nurse calling the desk again to ask status.
4:10am : Lots of pressure. A quiet vigil of nurses, who were all way more chill than me, started to show up, telling me to just breath, while I demanded to know if I should be pushing. They all were like "no no, no pushing" the on-call doc was coming, just wait. And I was like "But I think this is pushing timeeee, this feels like pushing tiiiiime, TELL ME WHEN TO PUSH BECAUSE IT IS TIME AND I'M DOING IT WITH OR WITHOUT YOUR HELP." And I remember telling the one nurse that I really liked her glasses between waves of contractions.
And somehow, she literally sprinted into the room just in time: the doc. She got up in there to help with the final stretch... and she caught the baby.
4:27am: Official time of birth. As they handed our baby boy to my husband to hold, I introduced myself to the woman who delivered my baby and said thanks. She delivered my placenta, did some quick stitch work, and was gone. I never saw her again. She was like a phantom OB who swooped in and disappeared.
Our steadfast little night nurse did all the follow-up things, and by 7:30am she had me in a wheelchair to roll up to the Mom & Baby Ward. I sleepily thanked her for being our one anchor in the speed run, and she was grateful she hadn't had to catch the baby. I ended up seeing her again in the days ahead because, with the full moon, lots of other moms went into labor and the ward was so full that they needed to have nurses help out in different sections. A few days later I definitely brought her a card and photo of us - we'd done it. It felt like her victory as much as mine.
8:25am : I got breakfast in our recovery room. Having not eaten in about 12 hours, I was starved.
9:55am : I finally went to sleep, after what was the most stressful all-nighter of my life.
At that point, we were officially a family of four. We'd bolted into a new chapter, ten days before what would've been my induction date, and eight days before my due date. The little lord was impatient to join our crew, and he's spent every day since impatiently demanding our love and attention. And it's a beautiful little life.
No comments:
Post a Comment