How can so simple a word really encapsulate all that I have experienced in the last three weeks? My world has changed so drastically, as everyone promised it would, that it's going to be difficult to capture the whirlwind of change that has occurred.
I suppose the whirlwind starts with the holiday season. Christmas Eve (which is also my birthday), Christmas Day, and the hustle and bustle of putting away all of the decorations and presents afterward. I usually wait with the tree undressing until after New Years, but with all of the pending activities, the day after Christmas was the doom of the tree. Of course, this holiday season was all the usual, except I was very large, and what I heard more than seasons greetings was, "How are you feeling?" and "When are you due?"
The 27th, a Friday night, I decided to take a shower after having a lazy day in sweats, watching TV, and napping. While I was in the shower, I recognized that my stomach felt a little different. I had never been able to identify a Braxton Hicks contraction, though everyone promised me that 'I would know'. Well, I still didn't know. I just felt different. I asked Travis if he was ready to go that night if it was the day. He said he'd prefer to go in the daylight, but we both knew that if the time came, it didn't matter. Travis made the suggestion that I put a towel down in the bed just in case. They say it's women's intuition, but Trav was on to something. About 10 minutes after 10, I felt the gush in my dozy state. I immediately told Travis, "I think my water just broke." Trust me. Nothing wakes you out of a dozy state like knowing that within a matter of hours you will be pushing a baby out of that same spot. Travis shot out of bed and asked what we had to do. I started shaking and went to sit on the toilet. Hadn't I had over seven months to prepare for this moment? I called the obstetricians' number and the switch board operator took a message. Jody Hill, the midwife in the office whom I had never seen at the practice, was the one on call. Great; now I get to have a woman deliver my first baby, and I've never met her. She called me back, asked a couple of questions, and told me to put on a pad and call back in an hour to determine that it wasn't just me wetting my pants. An hour passed. Travis started the car four times in this hour with the automatic starter to clean it off. He also started running around collecting the last minute items that we had set aside. Maternity bras, Lanolin, chapstick, paperwork. My favorite line in that hour was when he commented that he wished he had been more like the ant and less like the grasshopper. : ) I was concerned that I'd be in pain at this time, but I really wasn't. I was just anxious. I started googling how to measure time between contractions...but how would I know to time something I couldn't feel?
An hour passed...I called the line back with one completely soaked pad disposed and pad number two on. I was worried that she would inform me that I should wait until contractions were so many minutes apart. She asked where I lived...and with my answer she told me to come on in. The roads were just slightly wet, but the weather was clear. Another answer to prayer. After hearing my own birth story of going by ambulance, the troopers telling my parents that the roads were still open but "good luck", and my grandparents having to smash their car doors into the snow in order to get out of the vehicle at the hospital, we were so happy for the nice weather. On the way, we listened to Jesus Culture and sang our lungs out. I began feeling the twinges of contractions and understood now how I could tell the difference between being at ease and feeling the bit of discomfort. About six minutes apart...but not truly painful.
I had thought that my run with the gushing had ended, until I stood up off the trashbag/towel we had placed on the leather car seat only to have fluid leaking down my legs. I walked with Travis holding my arm from the parking garage into the emergency room entrance of the hospital. The woman called up to the maternity floor to have someone escort us to the third floor. She made small talk with us while we waited about being this visit being our first, predicted that I was having a girl, joked about the "Caution: Wet Floor" sign that I should carry behind me. The girl showed up to take us upstairs, took one look at my pants, and asked if I was going to Labor and Delivery. I figure that a pregnant woman with a little amniotic fluid down her leg is not the worst thing that has come into the emergency room.
We were taken to the nurse's desk upstairs where they looked for our paperwork. Our nurse, Theresa, introduced herself and took us into the delivery room. I took off my soaked pants and got into the awesome hospital gown, did a urine sample, and was put into bed with two monitors around my belly-one for the baby's heartbeat and one to see contractions. My parents arrived at this point. All was lighthearted. They checked out my contractions and asked if I could feel them yet. Then the midwife, Jody, came in. She checked my dilation-3 or 4 centimeters and 90% effaced. She asked what my birth plan was, and I quickly told her that I was not opposed to an epidural and that after the birth I wanted Emerson placed on my chest skin-to-skin. She informed me that I was in the best possible situation, but that she wanted to wait on the epidural because if given too early it could slow contractions. I agreed with what she said-after all, she had done this before.
Contractions got worse. I started shaking with each one, my body in a sort of shock. As a child, I would always shake when I vomited. The same fear was gripping my body now. I lay in the bed, but discomfort was increasing every minute. The nurse came in and I told her that I had some indigestion, would she bring me some Tums? She returned with two chewy something for heartburn. As soon as I got them down with some water, I started puking. The first one was almost immediate, and I threw up in the towel next to my head. My mother frantically searched cabinets for a little basin to throw up in. They pushed the call button and the nurse showed up and pointed out the blue bags in a dispenser on the wall. Let's just say that over the next couple of hours, both Travis and my mother pulled more of these blue bags out of this then I would have cared for. With every contraction, I puked up water and the contents of my stomach...which eventually turned into bile because I had nothing left. The contractions were wracking havoc on my body. I tried to pray and sing a song in my mind while gripping the bedrail. I had told Travis to try to sleep, which he did for a little bit. I woke him up to use the bathroom; a huge ordeal now that I had an IV pole to tag along behind me.
At this point, the night became hour after hour of a mixed together time of pain and trying to find relief. We walked the halls a bit while I was up and not sleeping. My parents were now sitting in the waiting room with the lights off watching the television. Sleep was not coming easily to any of us. When we got back to the room, I stood for a while. This seemed to help with contraction pain as my lower abdomen was no longer folded on itself. The nurse came in and asked if I wanted to try an exercise ball. As soon as I sat on it, I recognized that the pain was low enough in my abdomen that sitting on the ball made it worse. I almost immediately stood back up off the ball and thanked the nurse for bringing it...but told her that I didn't need it. I then lay back in the bed to try to get some sleep. It was futile. Contractions started coming more frequently and harder. I continued to throw up, so I sat on the edge of the bed in an effort to make it easier with the vomit bags. I would go from hot to cold, covering up then asking Travis for a cold washcloth. He continued to rinse the washcloths and place them on the back of my neck. I would also hold one to my forehead. Over and over again. In between, Travis would rub my back and ask if I needed anything. He told me that he never wanted to put me in such pain again. (Jumping ahead-Now that I've seen him with Emerson, I won't hold him to this statement). I whimpered with a couple of contractions...trying to push myself off the bed to get in a position that provided a reprieve from the pain, but nothing worked. I never screamed or cried. It wasn't until after the fact that Travis reminded me through one especially tough contraction that I had quoted Bugs Bunny after he pretends to get shot my Yosemite Sam with an, "Agony. Agony. Oh, agony."
I told the nurse on her next visit that I was about at the edge of the amount of pain I could handle. She assured me that she would talk to the midwife, Jody, and ask her if we could do another check of my dilation. They tried to limit the number of times they checked (thankfully) because they wanted to reduce the chance of infection. One thing no one mentions is how painful getting your cervix checked is...especially when you are having contractions on top of it. The nurse got the go-ahead and tried to wait in between the peaks. There were no longer true valleys to the peaks-only plateaus above the baseline. I told her to just go ahead and check. She told me that, "I was a little tense. Try to relax." Easier said than done, sister. I felt as if my back was arched off the bed as she shoved her arm up and inside. When she was done, she told us that it was tough to tell because of my tension, but that she believed I was about eight centimeters. We could tell the anesthesiologist and get the epidural. Hallelujah! The nurse told me that he would be right in.
Half a decade later, a young Asian man entered with paperwork and a blue bundle on a cart. He went through a bunch of paperwork asking about medical history, previous anesthetics, and a bazillion other items. I was falling asleep between contractions at this point, so I was having trouble focusing on what he was saying between exhaustion and pain. I guarantee that most women would have signed away many valuables at this point in order to get the relief of the epidural. So, I signed a shaky signature and tried to sit still as he gave instructions. He told me not to touch anything blue because it was sterile. I wanted to tell him that the last thing I was planning to do was play with his confusing crap on the bed next to me, but I patiently heeded his advice. He told me step by step about the local anesthetic, the very cold tape stuff he would put on, and how important it was to hold still. Apparently, Travis was cracking up at the way that he spoke about each item and the emphasis he had about how I was to "Get ready for it." I sat as still as I could through a contraction...and as I lay back down, my legs began to tingle as if waking up from being asleep. They were heavy, but I could still feel them. What I couldn't feel were the contractions. Before the anesthesiologist even left the room I had started falling asleep. May God bless that man.
This was the point of the night that I actually rested. It was probably only an hour or two, but my comfort level had increased a thousand-fold. I stopped puking and relaxed. But then I felt a pressure between my legs. It was 7 AM and the nurses were changing shifts. My new nurse, Terry, was someone I had known from a while back. Her daughter was taken to the prom by the foreign exchange student that had stayed with us years ago. We reacquainted ourselves with each other. She asked if I was comfortable having her for my nurse. I told her that as long as she was going to help me get the baby out, I was fine with it. I told her about the pressure and the new amniotic fluid coming out. She let me know that many girls think that they're ready to push, but that they rarely are...so I waited. I felt more fluid and more pressure. I told my mother and Travis that it was increased. They told me to hit the call button...but I didn't want to jump the gun, so I waited some more. Finally, Travis had it with my waiting and hit the button himself. Jody came in and when I spread my legs, she remarked that she saw the baby's head. She began to put a rubbery-looking gown on her front side, lowered the bed at the bottom, and put a "slip and slide" with a bag at the bottom underneath my lower extremities. Apparently this was going to be messy ; ) A nurse came in and told her that the girl across the hall was also ready to push-to which Jody responded that she'd have to wait (and later found out that she wasn't truly ready).
I only pushed for 20 minutes, but it was the workout of a lifetime. Jody had me on my back with knees to my chest, Terry holding my right leg and my mother holding the left. Travis stood by my head. She gave me a brief rundown of what pushing should look like-I was told to take in a deep breath, pull my chin to my chest, and push like I was taking a poop. She then told Terry that she was to keep an eye on Travis, who was uncertain about the whole thing...and then turned to Travis and told him that if he was to pass out, he was going to stay on the floor because she had more to worry about than him. And we pushed. I had told her that my goal was to get Emerson out in three pushes. She laughed and said that it was a good goal, but not likely...adding that everything this evening had already gone better than expected, so I could give it a try. After pushing on my back, she had me flip to my side...monitoring the baby's heartrate the entire time. They gave me an oxygen mask and told me to breathe deeply to provide oxygen to Emerson. I then was told to flip on all fours. This was where I was for the majority of it. She kept telling me that I was doing wonderfully. Travis said he looked to see where I was at, only to find that he could barely see her head still. I'm glad he didn't tell me this at the time. I pushed and pushed. I remember thinking that I was slightly embarassed that my butt was up in the air with several people's faces in it, plus I had a fear that I really would poop. I'm happy to say, this didn't happen. Suck in air, chin to chest, push. Both Travis and my mom later reported that I probably did this for a total of 3 times and in 5 different reps...and I was told I could reach down and help deliver her. I felt down on a gooey, warm blob and when I pulled, I could see her. She wasn't covered in the cottage-cheesy stuff, but she was a little purple and bloody. My mom was crying, Travis was crying, and I was misty-eyed. They put her on my chest and began rubbing her down with towels. She didn't cry, but they were concerned with the amount of liquid she had swallowed. A nurse began sunctioning out her mouth repeatedly. They then brought her over to the warming table and sunctioned her some more. At about this point, I delivered the afterbirth quickly and with no complication. Jody told Travis that he should definitely look away during this portion of the process. I was in such great relief that I probably would've gotten off the table and done a jig except that my legs were still under the epidural's spell. After doing a quick weigh-in at 7 lb and 7 ozs, they returned her to my chest where she lay until she started to breastfeed. I knew from videos that babies did a crawl to their mother's nipple but to actually see it play out definitely made me recognize how beautifully and wonderfully we have been created by our Heavenly Father.
A coworker had said on a couple of occasions that having a baby makes you believe in God. She was absolutely right. The creation inside of me for the past 9 months was amazing as well, but holding her now in my arms, with 10 perfect fingers and 10 perfect toes just sealed the deal. After some more cuddling on my chest, she was again taken by the nurses for a bath and for vaccinations. Terry helped me out of bed and immediately into the shower. She stood just outside the curtain to make sure that I was not going to pass out due to the heat of the shower and the major loss of blood. I felt like a million bucks. They readied our room and we were transferred from the delivery area to the maternity section.
The nurses were in and out a bit to do vitals and make sure that all was okay, but for the most part, we were left alone with our new baby to try and get into the groove of parenthood. There were many visitors too, of course. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins...all of whom remarked on how beautiful and perfect she was. She slept through person after person holding her...a trait that she's kept until today. Of course, no one is here in the middle of the night when she's awake : ) We were able to go home on the 30th...and I felt ready. Because we had been with her so much on our own in the hospital, I didn't feel unprepared to take care of her at home. Unlike the days of yesteryear where they were taken to a nursery, the nurses were rather hands-off when it came to changing her and such. We had to let her go a few times for a few different reasons (heel-prick blood test, slightly cool and needed to be put under a heat lamp, jaundice check, hearing screening), but the rest of the time she was where she belonged-with us. Travis must have said a thousand times how pretty she was. He was already completely in love with this little creature...and I loved him so much more for how he showed it.
The three weeks that she has been with us have been a lot of trial and error. Emerson has given us a new appreciation for sleep...and breastfeeding has been its own adventure of patience, steadfastness, and frustration. Never have the two assets on the front of my body been such a focal point in my life. We were awake for several hours for one night while Emerson cluster-fed, which apparently is common for newborns who are helping your body establish a supply of milk. The next night, she would get so angry that she failed to latch...and this continued for hours. I was in tears, feeling completely helpless that I could neither feed my baby nor get her to understand how to feed. I asked Travis to get out the breast pump. He washed the parts at four in the morning so that I could get a bit of milk for our little girl. Thankfully, she took to the bottle fine as I had been using a nipple shield from the hospital to help her develop the amount of suck she needed. But still, after several hours of clean diapers, I knew that we had to take new precautions-and we bought formula. After reading several blogs, websites, and medical advice, everything said not to supplement. What Travis said helped me get over my guilt and recognize that there was a bigger picture here-he reminded me that, "She needs to eat"...which is when the heart-wrenching decision was made. I knew of other women who had struggled with breastfeeding, and I had thought the same thing...whether formula or breastmilk, they need to eat. But now, with it being my own child, I was losing my mind about it all. Exclusive breastfeeding is to help with IQ and reduce the risk of SIDS by half...not to mention to savings and ease. The bottom line was this-Emerson was hungry and we needed food.
I try to focus on other parts of motherhood. The softness of her skin and her overall scent give me a new appreciation for humanity. Never have I been so intent on listening to someone breathing or listening for some sign of life. I'm sure every new parent goes through the phase of waking up to every little noise, just to ensure that their baby is still alive and well. Already, parenthood has taught me that I need to trust that the God of the universe is watching over and caring for us...because otherwise the worries of being a mom can be enveloping. I hope that I can remember this beyond the third week of Emerson's life...when she is throwing temper tantrums at two, making her first friend, scraping her knees...and beyond. Her story has just begun...and so has the new twist in our own lives...but I think we are so ready. I don't know how I could do it without Travis. He has been absolutely mind-blowingly amazing as a husband and father in the last three weeks-helping me keep my sanity whether up in the middle of the night with a hungry baby, listening to the drone of the pump hour after hour, listening to me whine about having a vacuum on my tender lady bits, or putting up with my amazingly whacky mood swings. With several days of crying for little reason to, he would just hold me and ask if there was anything he could do. I told him that just asking was the best thing he could do. My motto has become "One day at a time." It's the best I can do at this point. What mother could function in any other capacity? And why would you want to do anything else? By recognizing today, I can soak up how blessed I am with Emerson's presence in my life for the moment and stop worrying about tomorrow. I can hold her and kiss her to my heart's content right now. She has clearly stolen my heart. Motherhood is so much more than birthing a baby. Motherhood is the most amazing life change that I have ever undergone...and my words are lacking in expressing the joy that has come to me. Pictures may start to do justice. <3
