A birth story is typically just that, a mom writing about the actual birth of her baby, allowing those interested a peek inside an experience that is vastly different for every woman. But our story starts a few days before Boden, and didn't end after the cord was cut (quite perfectly by his proud daddy, I might add).
On July 1st I had a nap. Since school was out for the summer, I'd been off work for 4 days, and those days had been full of naps! Just normal naps! But after this nap, I woke up in a lot of pain. My hips had been sore for almost 6 weeks, especially after laying or sitting still for longer periods of time, but the pain often settled after moving around and relaxing. This time however, the pain stuck with me. But, it was Canada Day and my husband and I had plans to go eat ice cream and watch the fireworks with my dad, so I sucked it up. Plus, hip pain is a normal occurrence during pregnancy, and that's what I kept telling myself!
I needed help getting up the stairs (we reside in my dad's basement apartment) and into the car without crying, and our walk to and from the Dairy Queen was very slow, but the fireworks were loud and magical. We got home in no time, and went right to sleep.
At some point in the middle of the night I woke up having to pee. Naturally I went to sit up and get out of bed, and that is when it all started. That moment is when our story really began. I went to sit up and get out of bed, and I couldn't. Even 3 weeks later, that pain is still a very vivid memory. My legs were completely locked together, and all we could do was call a ambulance. Well, first we called triage at the hospital, because I still thought I may just have been being a big baby, but when you're 39 weeks pregnant and anything feels wrong they tell you to call an ambulance. And that's when I wished that I'd gone to bed with pants on!
My husband opened the front door, and woke my dad up, and led the paramedics down to our bed, then followed us to the hospital. (Side note: we are still waiting on that ambulance bill..) It turns out, my hips were dislocated, and then became locked together because of the pressure from laying on my side in bed. There isn't anything that can be done about it, except for pain killers. Pain killers that get shot into your butt muscle while you're crying and panicking like a crazy person! And then the nurses tell you to get some rest, which in all honesty is just ridiculous, because falling asleep in a hospital, especially in labor triage where the woman next to you is 'breathing' through contractions, is impossible for most people, let alone someone with anxiety issues.
We spent the night at the hospital, monitoring the baby's heart beat, as well as early contractions. After one last shot, this time in my hip (I still have the bruises), we left the hospital and went right to our OB's because we'd actually had my 39 week check up already scheduled for 9am.
I needed help getting onto the examination table, and my anxiety was fairly obvious. Right away Dr. Ben told us that I could be induced the next day, and I got scared. I was still a week early, and suddenly very nervous about the labor and delivery pain that I'd avoided thinking about for the last 39 weeks, so he gave us the day to think about it. By the time we got home I realized that I wouldn't survive the pain I was already feeling, for what could be another week before labor naturally started, so we called his office and everything was scheduled. I think the deal-sealer was that fact that he would be on call the day I'd deliver, and having him help our baby out into the world actually meant a lot to me. This was the doctor that saved my life by diagnosing my Endometriosis, and had been my surgeon for the last few years, so being able to share such a happy experience with him for a change was a big deal.
I spent the afternoon with a giant chai latte frappuccino, and a pile of pillows next to me on the couch, attempting to sleep sitting up/leaning over as I was unable to get my legs off the ground, let alone into bed. I did in fact get some much needed sleep, while the pain killers still had me feeling loopy enough to relax.
But pain killers wear off, and hips fall a part again! So in the middle of the night (technically Thursday, July 3rd) we went back to labor triage, because the pain was even worse. I white-knuckled the bed handles while my husband and a nurse rolled and held me on my side, bawling, so another nurse could give me shots of a different pain killer (much preferred, same relief but less of the loopy high feeling that made me anxious). Baby's heart beat and my contractions were monitored for 2 hours, and I was sent home again, knowing that at 8pm I'd be coming back in to be induced.
I didn't make it until 8pm. I didn't sleep all day, the pain was completely nauseating so I couldn't eat, and while I wasn't having real contractions, the pain in my hips was now shooting up my spine and down my legs. It was closer to 6pm that we were back in triage for one last round of pain killers, while we waited to be induced. My husband brought me fountain pop (my biggest/worst craving of the whole 39 weeks!) and we watched silly videos on our phones until about 9pm when they inserted a cervix-softening gel to get the party started. And then it was suddenly feeling very real. This was it, it was going to happen. It had to happen in the next 24 hours, or else I'd go in for a C section. We were going to be having our baby in the next 24 hours.
Naturally, I panicked. And that's when we first experienced how wonderful the hospitals, and nurses' hospitality was. The normal protocol calls for the cervical gel and the patient go home for 12 hours, then if labor hasn't started, another type of induction method is used. With the pain, and now my anxiety ramping up, I swore that if I went home, I wouldn't be able to make it back. I pictured the contractions starting, on top of the anxiety, on top of the hip pain, and either having to be dragged out of my house by paramedics, or having the baby on my bathroom floor where I've always taken refuge during my most anxious moments. Alas! My mom came up to visit around 10pm, and she helped us move right into our lovely private room as I was admitted! Luckily we had packed the car with our suitcase and diaper bags and grocery bag full of snacks (mostly juice boxes and gold fishes). I was helped in and out of the bed when I had to pee, and I was very thankful for the pullout couch right in the room, so my husband didn't have to pull chairs together to sleep again, like in triage. Phewf!
And that's where things start to get blurry for me. It has taken me so long to type this story because I have a new born to care for, and also because I remember so little of it. So little of the exciting part, anyways. A mixture of adrenalin, anxiety, and eventually the pain meds, and it's like I was black out drunk! Huge chunks are missing from me that day, which has actually been extremely heart breaking to come to terms with. A lot of what comes next in the story is thanks to play-by-plays that I've been lucky enough to get back from my husband, my dad, my sister and my mom.
My husband found me peanut butter and crackers in the little family kitchen on the floor, and we watched Transcendence, with Jonny Depp, on his lap top. We text my dad lots to keep him posted, and I messaged my siblings, and my best friends. Brief messages, is all my brain could handle! Turns out, labor is the only thing that can keep me off Facebook and Instagram, lol.
My husband fell asleep missing the end of the movie, and I became obsessed with my contraction-tracking app. I remember hitting that start and stop timer button over and over, flipping to the charts to see how much closer/longer they were getting. I remember the moment where I thought 'why the fuck do I keep hitting this button, I am definitely in labor!'
Around 1am there was a distinct new pain in my lower abdomen, like horrible period cramps (which was a walk down memory lane, since I'd hardly had a period in the last few years), and by 4am I KNEW it was active labor pains. I remember being so sure that the entire hospital could hear my screams and cries, and being respectfully embarrassed with every coming contraction, bent over the TV tray thing that held the lap top over my bed. By then I'd been trying to get through an episode of Greys Anatomy, and was trying my hardest to cry silently through these new pains for as long as possible, letting my husband stay asleep as long as possible. I'm not sure if I called for him to wake up, or if my yelling did it.
I definitely reached that terrified moment, which I can only assume most moms do, questioning all of a sudden if its actually possible for ME to push a baby out. I remember saying that I couldn't do it, and that I didn't want to do it anymore. I changed my mind, let's just keep him in there forever! My husband reminded me that I started telling him I wanted a C section, because I couldn't handle the contraction pain let alone delivery pain. (I have of course since learned that a C section is no easier, for different reasons)
One of the last vivid memories I have, is of my husband holding onto me, rubbing my legs, and crying with me. Sure, I'm the one with a watermelon trying to work it's way out of my body... but seeing the person you love most hurting so badly, and not being able to fix it, that's a pain only the daddies-to-be experience. I remember feeling the most in love with him, inside that moment. Two people who have created and carried a life for so many months, crying together as they prepare to make it all real. Preparing to start an entirely new chapter in life. I remember feeling the most in love. And I remember half a pink Popsicle...
Looking back at my notes (I tried to type things out as we went, or would order my husband to jot down a time or event), I'm shocked to see that I made it 5 hours before demanding/accepting the epidural. Around 9am I still hadn't dilated at all, which was extremely discouraging and confusing, so it was needle time. And believe it or not, I have no recollection of the actual needle part! The part I'd been dreading since the day I found out I was pregnant! Actually, the line attached to the needle is taped all up your back, and having that removed afterwards was more traumatizing then having the needle inserted! While unpacking after getting home, I did find a comical reminder of how frantic things were at that time though..my black sports bra was at the bottom of my suitcase, cut in half! Seeing that I remember the nurses saying you can't wear a bra with an epidural, and being in too much pain to think of anything but, 'just cut it off!!' My husband told me that the nurses looked at him for permission to actually cut it off, and I assured them'it is too big anyways!' And that was that, the big scary needle was in, and the pain was gone. Ta da!
I mean it when I say the pain was gone. It was only a few minutes until I honestly felt nothing! The pitocin drip was started around 10am to increase contractions. Not long after I was finally 4cm dilated, and as far as I know we just chilled. With lots of cold wash cloths laying all over my body, because there was no pain but plenty of heat! Again they tell you to get some sleep, because pain or no pain you're about to exert every drop of energy in your body once pushing starts, but the epidural didn't come with an Ativan, so my anxiety stayed awake. My husband got to sleep when my dad arrived, and I just laid and rested and waited.
At 12:30pm I'd reached 9cm, and my dad had to call my husband, who'd gone to get himself some lunch near by, and tell him to get back quick! He said he ran back to the hospital completely panicked, because naturally you assume it can't take long to progress only 1cm more, but that there was still a good chunk of time before anyone announced I was the full 10cm. I don't even remember him having left, lol.
I started pushing just with the nurses for a while, they got the bed all tricked out, the mats on the floor, and the room all ready. Its fascinating to look at the few pictures we got, and see ways the body accommodates what's going on.. I've been able to do the splits since I was in Kindergym, but my knees were behind my ears in that delivery room! Because I couldn't feel anything, I simply trusted the nurses and pushed when they said a contraction was coming, 3 big breathless pushes at a time, then a little break. And then Dr. Ben was called in once we were really ready.
My dad remembers how cool, and calm the doctor was, which is impressive to us because we forget they've done this 1000 times. My dad stayed to my left, just behind my husband who was holding my leg. Not too long later, as things looked more and more promising, through the brilliance of technology my little sister joined us in the room too! My dad had her on FaceTime, on his phone and able to see it all happen from her home on the other side of the world.
I remember Dr. Ben saying that he was going to preform an episiotomy (where they widen the hole by cutting it..stupid tiny vaginas!) and me freaking out, and crying about it. When I pushed, the baby's head would move down instead of out, so he needed a little extra space. Next I freaked out and cried some more when he said the word 'forceps'. I'm sure I made terrible jokes about him decapitating my baby. I was assured by everyone who was watching that the forceps barely touched his (perfectly round!) head, and just helped him slide right out.
I don't remember the last big push, but do I remember the room filling with excitement and noise and cheering, and this one little cry as Boden was lifted onto my tummy. My sister said that Dr. Ben announced how handsome he was, just like his Grandpa, and that he couldn't wait for us to have another one! I remember grabbing desperately for him, trying to feel him, because without my glasses on I couldn't see him. I remember my husband cutting the umbilical cord which was WAY bigger then I'd imagined. And then I remember he was gone.
The top of my tummy was cold again, as the nurses took him to the corner of the room, all flustered. Dr. Ben kept me distracted, talking the whole time while patiently stitching me back up. He told me how wonderful I'd done, and not to listen to what the nurses were saying, because everything was just fine. I told him I needed to hold the baby before they took him away (because I knew they were going to take him away), and I do remember him calling over to one nurse to 'let the mommy hold him before you go', but they didn't. After reassuring my husband that I'd be ok, he and my dad followed the nurses to the NICU (but we'll call it the nursery, because that sounds far less scary), then my mom came into my room, and shock set in. Actual shock, after the adrenalin dropped and the room went quiet, I felt my brain break down. There was sweating, and chills, and so much shaking. I remember my entire body aching, because of the shaking. There was a very pushy nurse left in the room with my mom and I, who freaked out a little ordering antibiotics and Tylenol because all of a sudden I had a fever...and a fever in mom means something would have been passed onto baby...and I kept trying to tell her that this was just a panic attack. I sweat and I shake, and I can't breathe when I'm having a panic attack, I kept telling her I wasn't sick! For the record, my blood work came back negative for any kind of infection. She made my mom leave the room even though I asked her not to (you took my baby away, and now you're going to take my mom away too?!) thinking that would help, and then she held my face yelling at me until the shaking stopped. I went to sleep.
While I was sleeping, he was fighting. He was fighting, and his daddy was taking care of him. Two brave princes.
When Boden was on his way into the world, he took a few gulps of fluid into his lungs. The nurses also quickly noticed that his tummy was descended, and his ribcage was a little uneven. All of these things added up to our baby not being able to breathe well enough on his own. He also had extremely low blood sugars, which had to be tested and monitored constantly. The pediatrician was worried about an infection (because of my stupid panic attack fever), and lots of blood work and chest X-rays were ordered. My husband said that he spent time on a fancy bed that moved up and down, to help him breathe, and because of the pictures he took I know that he spent time with a huge oxygen mask on, and tubes down his throat. I remember crying when my dad came back to show me the picture he'd just taken, of my little baby, oxygen mask and all, sleeping calmly on his daddy's bare chest. Knowing they were skin to skin was such a huge relief to me, having imagined him being stuck in a box with no contact or comfort.
Once I was awake, and ok enough my husband wheeled me to our new room, which was nice and close to the nursery. We settled in with all of our things, and then he wheeled me down the hall to meet our son. All of the nurses said congratulations as I came through the room, past all the other teeny sick babies, and they commented on how beautiful he was. We parked by his little box, I stood up with my eyes closed, taking a huge breath, and then let my eyes land on him. And he was. He was so beautiful. All mothers will always say that about their child, but I've been around babies in my work life for years, and I know that sometimes children have to grow into their looks! But Boden was just gorgeous, immediately. I still ask him, 'who made you so pretty?' Because really, how does something that wonderful grow inside a deep, dark tummy? Magic.
There were still wires and tubes, and the IVs in his tiny foot made me so sad, but he was breathing on his own, and settled all warm and quiet. At this point all I was allowed do was reach my hand through the little plastic door and pet his hand with my finger, but his hands are still my favorite part of him, and maybe that's why. I just stared, and smiled. Not much needed to be said. One of the nurses went over all the medical things with me and I tried my best to listen, but his perfect nose and perfect pout and perfect ears and perfect belly were far too distracting.
Later that night we wheeled back to the nursery, after attempting to eat my dinner, and I got to change his teeny bum for the first time! A dirty diaper has never made me so happy, the first excuse to really touch him. And then it was my turn to feed him. He got formula that they provided, wanting to be able to measure his intake easily, as his sugars were still low. I honestly couldn't have cared less about breast feeding in that moment though, he was in my arms and I would have given him a bottle of diet coke if that's what they'd asked me to do! He smelt even better then they say new babies smell...where does that smell come from?! It really is the most comforting, intoxicating scent. He was warm and weightless, and I never wanted to let go, but my body and my brain were still in recovery mode, and he needed to be hooked back up (we'd unplug the monitors etc every time we took him out to hold him), so we kissed and let him go back to sleep.
That was the first night I slept, completely uncomfortably of course, but I slept. On top of the labor exhaustion, that mean nurse had also come to our room and told me that if I didn't take a walk around the floor I'd get a blood clot that would go to my heart and kill me, and I'd be responsible for leaving my husband alone with a baby. She actually said that. Who says that?! It's not like I haven't already cried my face off enough? But I obliged, and we walked until she realized I'd left a trail of blood behind me, because I still had my catheter in, and it was letting all the afterbirth blood leak down my legs. More crying. Lol
The next morning the nursery nurses called us down, and I tried my hand at breast feeding. And it was neat! That's all I can really say about the process. It is certainly fascinating, the body providing for the life it just finished growing. It was definitely wonderful getting to be that close to our baby, sharing body heat and nutrients. Very neat. (I will say now that in the end, we decided that pumping to feed was the best choice for us).
The rest of the day was spent watching Greys on the computer, trying to eat, struggling desperately to get in and out of bed, and peeing on a schedule since my catheter had finally come out (which wasn't as terrifying as I'd imagined, by the way). I took Tylenol and Advil on a schedule as well, to deal with the SLOWLY dissipating hip pain, and the nauseating pain that accompanies an episiotomy. I tried napping, and was happy for the few visitors we got. Then every 3 hours we'd make our way to the nursery to change and feed our little man, each time eagerly checking what his sugar drip was at. The lower it was, the better his natural blood sugar reading was, the closer we were to getting him the heck out of there.
Our Sunday was very similar, though I got outside for a little walk with my mom and my husband, which was helpful. I'd basically been living in the hospital for 5 days, and was going a little nuts. The hospital is one of the safest places to be when you're not feeling well, but an anxiety disorder does not understand that. My body was aching for my own clothes, our big clean shower (the shower I had at the hospital was rejuvenating, but the actual stall was dark and gross). I craved being in my own bed with my husband, and especially just having actual alone time as a family. I just wanted to be a family.
At 11pm, my husband set up the most wonderful surprise for me, and my craving was answered. He'd told me that while he was out in the hall fetching more ginger ale (it's likely I polished off 10L while staying there) a nurse let him know shed be in to check my vitals and such (there's no feeling like having your hard, shrinking uterus poked and squished every few hours), so I put my gown back on and my pump away, when there was a knock at our door. I heard the nurse coming in, but instead of pushing the blood pressure machine in front of her, she was pushing a little bed! Boden's blood sugar was where it needed to be, and his breathing was healthy, so they unhooked him and, finally, gave him to us! He was all ours, and seeing him without all the tubes and wires was absolutely breathtaking.
That was a long night, as the NICU nurses still came in to double check his blood sugar levels (I cried with every heel prick) and vitals, then we'd change and feed him and try to sleep in between. By 7am the next day I was overly ready to go home, almost angry. It was wonderful having so much help for the first few days, we really were eased into the whole parenting thing. There were people caring for our baby, people caring for us, my meals were all prepared for me, and our loved ones came to us. But it'd been long enough.
Around 9am the pediatric surgeon came in and let us know that all his lab results were good, and his X-rays were clear, and we would be discharged soon! Then, while I literally sobbed hysterically, she fixed his little tongue tie (which had been keeping him from feeding efficiently. The procedure took all of 90 seconds, and he was far braver then I was.
We all tried for some more rest on and off, and I enjoyed my last tray of hospital food as we got our things together, and took lots of pictures. At 7:00pm we were officially discharged and my dad came to help us move back home! We got him dressed for the first time, and buckled him into his car seat for the first time. The drive home was quick and quiet, and we laid him right in his crib. And then we kissed. A lot. And shared a really good cry. Because we were a family, and we were finally home.
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