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Wednesday, February 10, 2016

Indy's Birth Story


Anticipation is the killer. Anticipating what a contraction feels like. Anticipating how much they will actually hurt. Anticipating if you'll be the psycho screaming at your husband and nurses. Anticipating what your angel will look like and if she'll get here safely. 

As I sat in anticipation Saturday morning I was finally figuring out that the tightening of my abdomen was a contraction. I had had my membranes stripped two days before and everything I read said women went into labor one or two days after that. So today had to be the day. It just had to be. I knew it. My contractions were there but didn't hurt at all and lacked consistency. Then they started getting closer together. About seven minutes apart. My OB's voice was on repeat in my mind, "She is really, really low, so don't labor at home for too long." And then I went pee and bright red blood streaked the tissue paper. Relying again on the things I'd read, I figured this couldn't be a good thing. I walked up the stairs and said to Tim, "Well babe I think this is it. We should probably head to the hospital." We grabbed the last couple items we needed and placed them in our bags. Tim packed up the car and we were off.

The 9 minute drive to the hospital seemed like an eternity. As we pulled in I questioned Tim with a big worry on my mind, "What if I'm not even in labor and they just send us home?" Reassuring me he grabbed our bags and we headed up to the second floor. Labor and Delivery. We're really doing this. A baby is coming. Not just any baby, our baby. She'll be here. We checked in around 8:10pm Saturday night. The nurse came in and asked me my pain level. "Super low," I told her. "Maybe a 3." She checked me and I was dilated 3 centimeters and about 85% effaced. So since my Thursday appointment, I had dilated one centimeter more but was still the same amount thinned. The nurse, Aubree, strapped everything up and I laid on the hospital bed with really no anxiety. Everything about being there should have stressed me out: hospitals, doctors, appointments, beeping, you name it, if it's around a doctor's office it typically makes me cry. So I was doing really well. As we sat and listened to the comforting sound of our baby's heart beating my contractions seemed to disappear. 15 minutes apart. 20 minutes apart. But hey I could feel a contraction and then have a visual cue on the monitor that it was in fact a contraction.

The nurse comes back an hour or so later and no progress. Another hour, no progress. The nurse called the doctor to set up a plan. "Get up and walk around for half hour and I'll check you again." Tim and I followed her instructions and walked around and around awkwardly passing the nurses station like 68 times. Yes! My contractions were picking back up, but still about 10 minutes apart. I lay back in the bed and the nurse straps me up again. Taunting me. That's what my contractions were doing! They went away again. "We're going to get sent home," I flatly told Tim. "I just know it." My fear was surfacing and my anxiety was tiptoeing in.


It was 11:40pm when we got back home, babyless. Pretty much contractionless too. How could I have been so stupid? How can I not know what is happening in my body? Why did there have to be that blood, that turned out to be nothing? Why did I even go when I wasn't feeling painful contractions? The anger was gnawing at me. The embarrassment was gnawing at me.


I couldn't take it. I hadn't missed the toilet while vomiting since I was probably six and there I was with my dinner all over the bathroom floor and toilet seat. I lost it. The buckets of tears sprang from my eyes and my breaths turned into wails and gasps. I was coughing so hard and if that wasn't enough, my pants were wet. Awesome. Seriously? Tim knelt beside me and lightly caressed my arm with his fingertip to signal my relaxation and breathing. Just like we learned in class. He sat and breathed with me on the bathroom floor. Calm and semi-collected, together we cleaned up and I finally was able to get some words out. "I either peed my pants or my water broke. I tried to smell it and it doesn't smell like anything." The panic set in once again. "How do I not know what my body is doing? I don't understand. How can I not know? What do I do? What do I do?" That set off a whole new episode of waterworks and whining. Embarrassment engulfed every inch of my being. But i needed him. As much as I hated it, I couldn't do it myself. And he was there for me. Another false alarm and another bodily function I thought I understood and clearly didn't. How much more could I handle? Not much. But with a hot bath at 2am and my best friend by my side, I was finally ready to crawl into bed.


Every half hour I woke up with a contraction and the acronym PURF stuck in my head. Position- So i changed into a more comfortable position if I needed to. Urination- dang straight I peed every 30 minutes. How was that even possible? Relaxation- even inhalation and exhalation, no matter the speed, but the slower the better. Focal Point- who was I kidding, the only focal point i wanted was the inside of my eyelids. This continued from 3:30am until 7:00am, at which point I refused to let any contraction wake me up again. Hallelujah, a solid two hours of sleep. Finally.


The nurse's advice from a few hours before played through my mind. "Your uterus is a muscle, so when you're being active of course it is going to contract more. Try relaxing with your feet up just like you'd be doing in the hospital, and see if you're still contracting." I laid in bed until 11:45am. I felt like I was a 16 year old sleepyhead again. My hubbs brought me breakfast in bed and I watched Tarzan as I dozed in and out of sleep. By this point I was having pain level 5 contractions about every 15 minutes. I knew they were getting stronger. Another hour past as we lounged around the living room watching TV. Contractions now about every 10 minutes some of them a level 6 and maybe one or two a level 7. I slid into the bath as Tim sat near me finishing up some last minute things for his classes and financial aid. Every time I had a contraction I would signal it with a deep cleansing breath, again just like in class. It got to the point where sometimes I forgot the breath and I would have to tap or knock on something nearby. Taking a lamaze class, Tim became very aware of my pain signals and watching the way I act and react when my body became tense. His visual breathing cues and his sense of touch breathing cues were right on point and I was able to breath with him as he timed between my contractions. A slow breath in as he moved his finger up the back of my neck and a slow breath out as he moved down. We got through another one. That one hurt. My tummy was super tight and I noticed not being able to hold focus as he tried to talk to me like I'd asked him to do. My forehead was tight and I remember reflecting on yoga with Nadine. "Relax the muscles in your forehead. Relax in between your brows. Relax your jaw. Relax your lips." It was totally working and it had to because there was no way in hell I was going back to that hospital without being in actual labor. No way. Not now. Not ever.


As I finished up in the hot bath my 4 minute apart contractions were painful. But I wanted them to be there for at least an hour. We gathered up all of our stuff we had needed for bed the night before and packed. Yes again. At one point I stopped packing, knocked on the wall, so Tim could hear from the other room, got on my knees, put my forehead on the chair and breathed. Whimpered is actually more accurate.  It was the first squeal-moan because of pain. Tim started the timer and kneeled next to me. My partner. My rock. The reason I could do this. That one lasted a full minute and I got up to grab my makeup from the bathroom and there was another one. Couldn't have been two minutes apart. Tim suggested I lie on the couch as he finished up and took all of our things to the car. "Could you give me a blessing first?" "Absolutely babe," He replied with a kiss on my forehead. It was beautiful and powerful and needed. We were going to have a baby and I knew it was all going to be okay because between my Father in Heaven and my remarkable husband, I had the best teammates ever.

We decided we would wait about another half hour. I was seriously not going back in there to have these contractions stop. Looking back, obviously they weren't going to stop, but I was moving around a bit so I wanted to make sure. Like sure, sure. To say I was traumatized by being sent home my first visit was an understatement although my nurse informed me it happens all the time with first time moms and even sometimes with second and third time moms. Who cares. I wasn't supposed to be "that girl" and I was. Oh well. I'll get over it.

As I lied on the couch I breathed through one or two contractions on my own and Tim came back in and helped with another. All of the sudden I thought I was going to explode from the inside. "I need something for my head!!!" It was the first time I'd screamed at Tim and wow he snapped into action getting a pillow and supporting my head with his body weight on the end of couch as I lay there. "We better go right now. Right now." Assisting me to the car, Tim started it up and we were off. I had three contractions on the way to the hospital. Between one of them I posed the thought, "What about Brielle?" "For a middle name?" He asked. "Indy Brielle. I really like it." Another one was coming on and Tim began breathing with me and I scowled and shook my head. Feather breaths are quick breaths in and out when you get the premature urge to push. That is what I needed right now. Who ooh who ooh who ooh at panting speed. We arrived at the hospital and I sat in the car while Tim unloaded our bags. Another contraction and more feather breathing was needed. Tim looked like a bellhop's luggage cart since I could carry nothing. Even with all of our stuff, I still needed his shoulder as another contraction hit me in parking lot. We stood on the asphalt breathing and all of the sudden, a giant water balloon had popped in my pants. This was absolutely nowhere near the feeling of peeing my pants. It was literally a pop and an uncontrollable gush of, I don't know, two cups of water. Awesome. Soaked. Alright. We continued out of the parking lot into the elevator and up to the familiar second floor.

It was Sunday, January 10, 2016 at 3:20pm when we got registered and the nurse scrambled to gather up the troops and bring me a wheelchair. Anyone could tell I was in a tremendous amount of pain by this point. It was either the first or second room closest to the registration window we stopped in. "Are you planning on doing this natural?" questioned the nurse. I secretly had wanted to go natural my whole pregnancy and Tim was the only one that knew. However, I always told everyone I'd decide when I got there. Tim also knew that I was not opposed to an epidural and that when the time came he would support me with whatever decision I made. "NO!" I basically screamed throwing my head back in the wheelchair. "Okay hun, get in a robe and we'll check you and give the anesthesiologist a call." Get in a robe? For heaven's sake I could barely stand. Tim came to my rescue and helped me get out of my soggy clothes and slip into the robe while I stood with my head on the cold wall. At some point during the mad rush I told the nurse I think I'm going to poop. TMI I know, but real life. According to Tim I never did.

I lay in a hospital bed once again waiting to hear my progress. The nurse checked me and said, "Well you're complete!" I was dilated to 10 centimeters and my cervix was 100% thinned out. I had labored the whole time at home. "Um, at this point the effects of an epidural won't kick in before you have your baby, so you're going natural!" The nurse proclaimed trying to hold an encouraging smile. Shear terror swept my across my face as I wondered if the contraction pain would get any worse. I was assured that it wouldn't and that the nurses would help me. "Don't worry we'll help you. You can do this." I felt like they were all saying things at the same time and yet it was in slow motion. "Call my mom. Just keep calling her." I remember saying. The nurses called for the doctor since it was Sunday and he wasn't there. "I need to push." I almost whispered as I looked up in dire need for some coaching. "Breathe sweetie. Long deep breath in through the nose..." The nurse began, I tuned the rest out and just listed to Tim breathing as he held my left hand. The nurse, Tim and I all breathed together through the painful ready-to-push contractions until the doctor got there. Someone walked in the door and the nurse told me okay on your next one you can push. So that must be Dr. Olsen. I knew he was the one on-call for the weekend. I forgot everything I learned in class about how to push. The nurse reminded me to take a deep breath in and hold it as I pushed. I pushed three times. "Again the nurse said." Deep breath in, hold it and push. Three times. The nurse told me I could be done, but I could feel it, I knew I needed one more. So four. That contraction I pushed a total of seven times. Next contraction we went at it again. Push, two, three, four the nurse began to count. I looked over at Tim who was reminding me I was doing so great and we were almost there. He was holding my left foot and calf as a nurse was holding my right. I had pushed twice this contraction and just like before I knew I needed four pushes. On the fourth push a sudden wave of alleviated pressure consumed my body. We'd done it. I tried to peer over my belly and wadded up robe. I could see a head. Our baby's head. She was entering the world. Our baby. Our very own baby. The doctor and nurses guided me as the rest of our sweet child entered the world and my husband detached our child from me. We did it. She was here. "You're a rockstar. You were calmer than some people I've seen who have had an epidural." The nurse stated the time of birth. 3:53pm. 33 minutes after we got checked into the hospital our entire world changed. She was placed on my upper tummy as I repeated Hi baby, hi baby. Tears welled up in my eyes and my body was enveloped with a feeling I'd never felt. Love at first sight.


The rest was a time warp. A complete blur. Nurses, doctors, blood, tests, measuring, weighing, shaking. The doctor stitched me up, I guess I tore on the inside but not the outside. Your guess to what that means is about as good as mine. I remember uncontrollably shaking and shivering. The doctor told me it was the adrenaline. Completely normal. I suddenly realized I was starving. The only thing I'd eaten was half of an english muffin and a banana creamie that I didn't keep down. When can I eat? The nurses got me a menu. I thanked the doctor and he left and I kept thanking the nurses over and over. Then a nurse's earpiece informed the room that a baby was breech and all the medical staff seemed to scatter and disappear. We were alone. Our little family of three. A little more perfect and a whole lot cuter.


My labor & delivery tips:
1. Don't wait as long as I did. Trust your body but don't be embarrassed if you don't know or understand something you are feeling. 
2. Take a prenatal class. 
3. Use all of your resources. If you're not at home, ask what is available to you. Most facilities have a jacuzzi you can use, if your water hasn't broken, heating pads, exercise balls, popsicles etc. Ask if you don't know. 
4. Have a coach who understands how you act when in pain. Give them tools that you respond well to so that they can help without having to ask you every second what they can do. Whether it's breathing techniques, music, talking to you, a pastry roller, a sweet & sour sucker, a cool wash cloth, a head massage or something else. Practice so you both know what works and what doesn't.
5. Plans change.



In the hospital with my baby:
Breast feeding is by far the most difficult thing ever. Labor and delivery was hard, sure, but that was all physical pain. Seeing my little tiny new human struggle and squirm and scream because she is starving wrenched my soul with guilt and pain. What was wrong with my body that I couldn't provide a means where my baby could get food? Was it the way my nipples stuck out? Was it the way I was holding her? I felt like I was doing everything wrong even though the nurses and lactation consultant told me I was doing it right. Seeing my baby suffer from the lack of food was so emotionally devastating it was beyond worse than labor and delivery. trying to feed a baby for three hours and then only getting her to latch on and eat for 6–8 minutes was crushing. My husband and I cried and cried together. Feeling helpless together.


As we filled out her birth certificate it was still weird to call her by her name because the only thing I'd known her as for 8.5 months was baby. But I looked at her initials, I.B.B. I started crying. It sounded like Hi baby. The first thing I said to my sweet child when she was born to this earth.


Being at the hospital was exhausting. Always being monitored and checked. It was like I was being flooded with all this new information and tested at the same time. Plus, getting no sleep and the thought of how you're going to do this on your own looms in your mind. It was draining.


Our baby was small and needed glucose blood tests every 4 hours or so. Her poor foot looked like a bulletin board where all the papers were taken down but the embedded staples still remained. Covering the surface with tiny lines encapsulated with a small amount of bruising or blood.


We were so overwhelmed by love and fear and nervousness and excitement. We feel so accomplished and so blessed. A healthy 6 pound 18 inch bundle of pure perfection straight from the arms of heaven. It's never going to be easy or perfect, but the time is right. Everything is going to work out.


After birth body- seriously TMI right here:
1. It hurts. Literally everything hurts down there. From the tippy top to the tailbone. Get extra ice pack supplies and mesh panties. Have a nurse teach you how to make the ice packs. My nurses were wonderful, but if you're worried it doesn't hurt to have some cookies on hand to offer to the nurses beforehand so they feel more obligated to comply. :] Our nurses loved the m&m cookies.


2. The first #2 will hurt and more than likely bleed. But it won't be too bad if you take your stool softeners! So do that! That's all.


3. If you're going to look down there just remember you gave life to a human. Your body is seriously incredible.


4. You will be so so so tired. Try to have a helper stay with you. My mother in-law was seriously a godsend that week and it was so nice to have my mom there for two days after she left. If that's not an option but people offer to help, let them! Sure you probably could do it all yourself, I mean you just pushed out a baby for crying out loud. But, you will recover more quickly if you rest and let others help.


5. Have maxi-pads and extra dibucaine ointment on hand at home before you go into labor. The stuff the hospital gives you runs out fast.


6. Have Lanolin nipple ointment ready to go if you're planning on breastfeeding. The nipple shield completely saved my emotional sanity. Forever bless the nurse that brought one into me. I would have given up without one. It's a tad inconvenient, so try without it first, but if all else fails and your baby won't latch, it might be worth looking into.


7. My linea nigra was more prominent after birth than during pregnancy.


8. Uterine contractions after birth really hurt too.


9. Stretch marks suck.  


10. There are so many changes to the body but how incredible is it that this is possible?All of our organs and muscles just get out of the way to make room for baby. Our body provides a safe home for our baby to grow and develop. Our body provides food for our baby with all the nutrients they need. A woman's body is a miracle that births tiny miracles.

 


1 comment:

  1. You are amazing! I am so proud of you! Way to use the training you took. I am headed for my L & D rotation soon and this got me really excited! I love your lists and the way you are helping others, it will also help you the next time to have something to refer back to. You truly are a ROCKSTAR momma!

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