*I typed this in the recovery room following Kinley's birth. I meant to post it on her first birthday. I'm a few days late. (Don't worry.... I did remember her birthday!!! And what a celebration it was!!! Photos to come)
I have really been wanting to write a detailed account of what I remember about Kinley's birth while it is still fresh in my mind. What better time than now?! Of course, this will all be from my perspective. Trevor may have to post something down the road because his experience of the same events sheds a different light on things, to be sure. We've spent much of our one-on-one time since the birth (what little there has been) comparing notes and remembering the high points, low points, and life-changing moments. I warn you: this post will be long and detailed. If you want the condensed paraphrase, check the Facebook status updates from the past few days. Birth stories also tend to be a bit difficult for the squeamish to handle, so be forewarned.
Wednesday, March 24
Trevor had his first class at 7:35, so we both woke up early to start the day. My parents, who had been staying with our friends in the next building, came over for breakfast, and we began to think about how we would fill the time between mid-morning and 10:30 p.m. - when I needed to be at the hospital for my scheduled induction. Trevor attended classes and Chapel while Mom, Dad, and I enjoyed a pretty low-key morning at the apartment. Dad made a fabulous pork roast for lunch, and Trevor joined us for the meal before going back to classes and the library for some study time.
In the afternoon, Mom, Dad, and I walked to Navy Pier. It's nearly a 4-mile trek. After seeing the sights at the pier and enjoying some yummy fudge and coffee (decaf for me :)), we took a cab to an Italian restaurant where we met Trevor for supper. We had an awesome meal of Chicken Pesto Linguinie - my intention was to carb-up in order to have energy for labor and delivery. In reality, I had no idea what a marathon it would be and how I would be relying on strength and energy that doesn't come from a hearty meal but from the Lord.
In the three hours we had between dinner and our hospital appointment, Trevor and I were a bit, shall we say, frazzled. Though I'd thought we'd been ready for weeks, this evening proved otherwise. Trev was loading my labor playlist onto my MP3 player, cleaning off the memory cards of both our cameras, packing some things into the hospital bag, and also doing some other random things I can't remember at the moment. The funny part about it was that he was doing all these things simultaneously... sort of. He would work on one thing, then start another, then another, then go back to the first for a hectic moment, then back to something else.... He tends to be easily distracted, but this time it was to the MAX! I could tell he was nervous.
As for me, I was doing silly things. I wanted to paint my nails to make sure they looked good in pictures when they were holding a baby. So I gave myself a mini manicure. I was also making phone calls to arrange a few things for a campus breakfast we were supposed to be hosting on Saturday. When we had originally planned it for the 27th, 10 days after my due date, I was sure we'd be showing off our newborn little girl, scrambling eggs, and pouring coffee. Wrong! If you'd have asked me in February, I'd not have imagined I'd be late. I don't know why I thought I could avoid something so common! I also took a shower and finished packing the hospital bag.
Then there was the rush out the door. I was ready. Dad was ready. We went down to the car. We pulled the car around, and Mom comes out. She looks in the backseat, "I thought he was already here!" Where could Trevor be? I realized he was probably looking for his cell phone. I'd thrown it in the bag to make sure we'd have it, but I'd forgotten to tell him. In fact he was searching the apartment frantically for his phone! Finally he came down resigned to the fact that he may have to just go without it. I felt bad but was glad I could reassure him that it was in the bag.
I was really wanting to be calm going into this thing, and thankfully, I was! It makes me smile, though to think of what a bundle of nerves Trevor was that night. If I'd known what I was getting into, I probably would've been freaking out!
Mom and Dad dropped us off at the hospital, we checked in at triage, and they sent us up to Labor and Delivery where we were taken to a beautiful room! I was given a gown, an IV, and a couple monitors and told I'd have to wait a few "minutes" for the midwife or resident to come in a place my suppository (a slow release medicine that softens the cervix, induces mild contractions, and is intended to get labor going as naturally as is artificially possible). Well, we waited and waited... nearly midnight by now. Finally we decided to try to get some rest. The Dr. came in after 2:00 in the a.m. to finally place it. After that I slept off and on until about 6:30. I knew I'd need the rest and energy, but it's hard to rest with monitors beeping and thumping and nurses coming and going.
Thursday, March 25
The hope was that the suppository would get my body moving so that Petocin could be avoided. But we'd have to wait to find out until 2 pm. In the meantime, Mom and Dad arrived to hang out with us and wait. I was having mild but rhythmic contractions by mid-morning. Mom and I played cards. Trevor went to get coffee and food. Dad drove out to the suburbs to visit a family from our home church who had a son going through a pretty serious surgery in another hospital. Mom and I laughed like crazy at random things... that made it tough to breath through those contractions, but it made the waiting easier.
At 2:00, the suppository was removed, and 30 minutes later, I was evaluated to see if things had progressed and if my body would continue contracting on its own. I was still only dialated to 1 cm. I was a tad more effaced, but not enough to avoid the Petocin. So they started that in the IV. Contractions gradually intensified over the course of the afternoon. By the evening, I was still only dilated to 2 cm. Even so, I was fixed on the idea that March 25 would be my little girl's birthday. I had this impression that the process would suddenly speed up, I'd push for a bit, and she'd be here. In reality, I still had another long day to go.
I honestly don't remember which meals my parent's brought for Trevor and which ones he went out with my Dad to get. I do know that the three of them never left me alone. Trevor was able to go out and get some air (and food) from time to time. Mom would stay with me, we'd talk through the contractions. We'd laugh when we could. And it was so wonderful to have them there! Looking back at the facebook comments, I know they were a bit anxious, stressed, and worried. Why is this taking sooooo long? Well, during the process, I never had a sense of anything except their patience and support. And I knew my baby and I were covered in prayers! What an incredible blessing!
Thursday evening, between 9:00 and 10:00, a room with a birthing tub opened up. I had really wanted to have a water birth, so my midwife made arrangements to move us to the room with the tub. At this point I was thinking, "Ok, the midwife is going to check me again once we're moved, I'll be 5 or 6 cm, and I'll get in the tub and have this baby in the middle of the night. Fine by me!" Contractions were getting increasingly intense and painful and were coming closer together. I was sure they must be doing something, making a way for this baby to come. I still had no concept of how difficult they would become.
Well, she did check me again. I was still only 2 cm dilated. At this point, I was pretty discouraged. While I was in the bathroom, I could overhear the midwife talking to Trevor. I could only hear bits of their conversation, but I heard her say "C-section." Now, I certainly wasn't at the point yet where I wanted "OUT" of this whole labor process. Honestly, there may have been a point, somewhere, when a C-section would have sounded appealing. Fortunately, it wasn't then. It also wasn't near the end when they gave me the option again. If they had asked me somewhere in between, I may have opted for it. I am so blessed that it didn't come up during that window of opportunity. Instead, I saw the Lord's provision through it all. The things that were suggested were brought to the table at just the right time.
To sum up Trevor's conversation with the midwife as I now understand it, she was saying that after all this time, my body really hadn't progressed much. I was going on 40 hours without any real sleep. It had been about 30 hours since I'd eaten. I was pooped out and discouraged. She said many couples would opt for a "C" at this point. She also said that if I didn't want to head for the operating room just yet, I at least needed to get some rest. With contractions as intense as they were, the only way to rest would be with a narcotic. Going into the labor, narcotics were listed on our birth plan just below C-section. Drugs were something we really really didn't want. An epidural was listed above C-section. That was an option. Narcotics weren't. Our reasoning: narcotics pass through Mom's blood to the baby and make the baby drowsy. If a baby is in the drowsy state when born, she could have some trouble breathing and responding to stimuli as she should. We really didn't want that. In response to this concern, the midwife explained that the narcotics would only have this effect for 3-4 hours. She also said we were at least that far out from delivery. My heart sank. I was still thinking she would be in my arms before the sun came up. The midwife said she thought it would be at least six hours. Maybe 8. ( in reality it would still be 20 hours). She said a new midwife would be on shift by then. In the mean time, she wanted me to get some rest. We agreed that it would be a good idea and opted for the narcotic once we understood it wouldn't have any effect on our girl.
At this point my parents decided to go back to our apartment. Knowing they'd be able to get 5-6 hours of sleep before coming back to the hospital, they decided being in a bed would be better than being in the waiting room. I know it was hard for them to leave. They had planned, when they had arrived at the hospital Thursday morning, to stay until their granddaughter was born. They hadn't thought they would leave without holding her. We all went into it with our own expectations, but no one expected things to take so long.
After the narcotic was administered, Trevor set up camp on the pull out sofa bed. I started to doze off pretty quickly. I rested for about 3 hours (as they had expected). Coming out of that drug-induced high was soooooo much fun. It was really bizarre. As I woke up, my arms and legs felt super tingly. I couldn't feel the contractions. I could just see on the monitor that they were happening. My vision was blurry, and I was trying to figure out if Trev was still sleeping on the sofa bed. The nurse and midwife were coming in and out of the room, but I don't think they noticed I was waking up. I couldn't get myself to talk. When I did try, there was silence. Finally, I started giggling. The tingling in my arms and legs just felt so funny, and I was in a weird mood. I tried to wake Trevor up to tell him how crazy it felt. I was absolutely giddy. And laughing. He didn't want to wake up yet. Finally, I found the ability to yell at him. He freaked. I think he thought I was having the baby. He came staggering over. On only four hours of sleep, mind you. I was laughing and tried to tell him how funny I felt. When he realized I wasn't in pain and wasn't having the baby yet, he wanted to go back to bed. I was bummed. I just wanted to laugh with someone.
Little by little, I began to feel the contractions again. They were getting pretty rough. About 90 seconds apart. The sun began to peak through the curtains. March 26. I knew it would be the day. The hospital staff wouldn't let me go to the 27th. A new midwife arrived, one I'd never met. Turns out, she was AMAZING! God knew just the sort of personality I would need. I always say this, but she reminded me of a basketball coach. She would sit in the chair like a coach sits on the bench with her elbows on her knees. She'd analyze me like a coach watches her players, trying to decide what play to call. She was serious, matter-of-fact, and super duper encouraging. None of that touchy feely nonsense. She got down to business.
Anyway, she checked me and said I was 3 cm dilated. By this time, I had come to expect slow progress, so I think any progress at all was encouraging. As Trevor woke up, the midwife talked with us about using the birthing tub. She said she normally wouldn't let a Mom get in the tub until she was 6 or 7 cm, but she thought it might relax me enough to move things along quickly. She and the nurse began to prepare the tub. It's a big, jacuzzi/submarine looking thing that hooks up to the wall. It has doors and railings and such. Kinda strange. I'll post a photo in another post.
Oh, a bit about the nurse.... She was lovely. She was very encouraging and sweet. She did her job so very well. She and the midwife worked together so well. I'd had some not-so-good nurses while I was there, but the one who saw me through the delivery was wonderful.
I got into the tub just as Mom and Dad were arriving at the hospital. Mom came in and sat with me while Dad and Trevor went out to get some breakfast and coffee. The warm water was relaxing. We had some worship music playing. At this point, I really wasn't feeling frustrated or discouraged. Just relaxed. Contractions were still coming on pretty strong, but there was something serene about the experience at this point. I stayed in the tub until about 10 a.m. when the midwife checked me again. I was at 5 cm, and we decided she should break my water to get things moving. This was the most painful part of the experience up until that point. The actual breaking of the water, I mean. It was awful. I tried to grit my teeth, but wound up yelling and crying. I got back into the tub as contractions escalated. By 11, I was just standing in the tub, leaning on Trevor, moaning, moving back and forth, totally unable to get comfortable or relieve the pain in any way. The water was hot. I was uncomfortable. I'd thrown modesty out the window by this point. In the birthing tub, you can't wear a gown. Some women opt for no apparel whatsoever. I had a bra on. That's it. Finally, sometime around noon, I felt like I needed to push. The nurse began to prep the room for delivery and called two other nurses in to assist. The table where they clean and weigh the newborn baby was set up and pulled over next to my bed. The midwife said I needed to get out of the tub so she could check me before she let me push. I was too hot in that tub anyway, so we were going to go the rest of the way without it. She checked me, and this is where it gets shocking and horribly discouraging: I was 4 cm. Remember, I had been up to 5. The stress of the harsh contractions after my bag of waters broke caused my cervix to become inflamed and constrict rather than dilate. Honestly, I didn't know that could happen. By this point, I was a hot mess. I was shaking, crying, moaning, trying to catch my breath. Telling Trevor something like, "I don't know if I can do this!" If the midwife would have suggested we prep for a C-section at this point, I probably would have complied. Rather, she said that if I was feeling pushy, I probably needed to use the bathroom.
While I was in the bathroom, she told Trevor it was time for an epidural. My body wasn't taking us in the right direction on its own. Trevor came into the bathroom and said he wanted me to get an epidural. Honestly, I had been so focused on each contraction, on getting through the pain, that I hadn't been thinking about any options at all. I had forgotten about any alternative. I wasn't thinking about C-sections, epidurals or narcotics. I was only thinking about THIS never-ending pain. At the word epidural, I said, "Get me one right now." The nurse called the anesthesiologist who was on the floor. She was there within two minutes. Trevor had to leave the room. The nurse, midwife, and one other nurse had to hold me in a sitting position on the bed because I was shaking so violently. In all the chaos, the midwife and nurse were also trying to adjust my monitors because they were having a hard time picking up the baby's heart rate. It had been reading consistently between 120-132 BPM. Suddenly, it dropped off. Sometimes they just couldn't pick it up. When they finally got a consistent reading again, her HR was down to 65-70 BPM. The epidural kicked in. The pain quickly subsided. I had the perfect epidural. I could feel my legs and control them (to some extent :), I could feel the contractions, but I didn't feel the pain. They got me to get up on the bed on all fours in order to get a better reading of Baby's HR. Numbers were still low. Nine or ten people suddenly rushed into the room. There were syringes, shots, stuff being put into my IV. All the while, I had an incredible peace. Remember how I said I felt covered in prayer? Well, at this moment, it felt so real. The midwife was calm, though serious. She explained that they were giving me a number of drugs to stop the contractions to reduce the stress on Baby. They administered a couple other things I don't remember at the moment. She said one thing would feel like a jolt of caffeine. She said that my epidural was working well and if we needed to get to the OR in a hurry, the doctors would be able to act fast. Three doctors were in the room: an OBGYN, a pediatrician, and another pediatrician who deals with high risk/problematic births. There were a plethora of nurses, an anesthesiologist, my midwife, and my nurse. All the while, Trevor had to be out of the room. I'm not totally sure why they make everyone leave when an epidural is placed, but that's why he wasn't there. Finally, things settled down, a new monitor was placed on the baby's scalp to monitor her HR. When the Dr. was placing the sensor, she looked at my midwife and asked, "How dilated was she last time you checked?" The midwife responded by explaining that I'd constricted to 4 cm after being up to 5. The Dr. then explained that I was up to 10 cm. If everything had been ok with our girl, that would've been the time to labor down and push. As it happened, however, I was off the petocin now and on a drug that stopped contractions. Oh, the irony. The midwife and Dr. both recommended we wait to restart petocin until we'd had 2 hours of reading a good, healthy heart. They wanted her to be stable before I started pushing.
Now I want to say how blessed I was to have the care I did. There was so much wisdom and discernment in the room. Even with the OBGYN now taking an active role in the birth, they didn't rush me into a C-section. If they had thought it would be best for the baby, I would have been all for it.
It was at this time, around 1 p.m., I guess, that Trevor came back into the room. He said he and my parents had been worried. I told him he could go get Mom and Dad so they could see that everything was fine. Mom cried. I cried. It had just been such a long, emotional process, and now we were at a stand-still. I was so happy I was fully dilated, though. I was trying to keep it light. I think we laughed a bit. I don't think I shared with them at that time how close we had come to an emergency C-section. The midwife was really good about keeping us all calm, not wanting us to worry if there was no need.
About an hour later, earlier than they had expected to, the Dr. decided we should again start the petocin. They started me off with a pretty high dose - not quite where we had left off, but nearly so. The contractions came on quickly, and I was so glad I could feel them even with the epidural in place. I labored down for about an hour. Then we started to push. The midwife sent Trevor to tell my parents everything was going well. She didn't want him to tell them I was pushing; she didn't want them to expect things to happen too quickly. However, I don't think she had an idea of how long it would really take. After about 30 minutes of pushing, Trevor texted Mom, "We've got action." She knew from that info that I was pushing. The pushing was so good. So rewarding. I finally felt like I could do something. I could work hard. I could make progress. I could think about the baby getting closer and closer to being in my arms.
Going into the pushing phase, I again had no concept of how long it should take. At this point, my expectations were tending to the longer, slower side. When the midwife started to show some signs of concern after an hour of pushing, I was surprised. I didn't know it was taking longer than it should. The OBGYN came in again around this time and consulted with us regarding our options: C-section, forceps, or just continue with the pushing. They let me decide based on how tired I felt. I wanted to keep pushing. As each contraction would come, I could feel it. I would say, "Get ready, here it comes." Trevor would hold one leg, the nurse would hold the other. The nurse counted for me. I got three or four long pushes in for each contraction. I tried different positions and such. I would hear that they could see her head. Then they said it looked like she had lots of dark hair. That was soooo encouraging! Trevor was the most encouraging of the three of them. His face often held an impressed, amazed expression. To know I was making him proud really encouraged me to keep going. When he would say I was doing a good job or he could see the baby's head, I knew he wasn't messing around.
Finally, after three hours of pushing, my midwife and the doctor consulted and said I was down to two options: C-section or forceps. We chose the forceps. The doctor and a resident came in and prepped for the forceps-assisted delivery. There wasn't any more pain associated with the forceps. There were two hard parts about it: 1) not being able to push through the contraction while they were placing the forceps and 2) watching Trevor's face. Rather than seeming impressed or amazed, he started to look scared, almost horrified. That freaked me out, and I found myself yelling at him to look at my face - not my... you know.... He now tells me they looked like massive steal salad tongs. I never saw them. Once they were placed, another contraction came. This time I could push. I don't know where the strength was coming from, but it wasn't mine. More than 48 hours without food? There's no strength there. It was from God, I'm sure. With Him, all things are possible, the miracle of birth, especially.
One long push. I was looking at the ceiling. Trevor's face was too scary.
Then I heard my midwife saying, "Steph, look down now, look at your baby."
And Trevor just said, "Babe, LOOK!"
And there she was. A perfect little red mess of a miracle.
I was laughing and crying all at once.
Too happy for words.
What an awesome gift. What a perfectly memorable moment. We praise YOU, LORD!
Trevor leaned down and quietly asked if he could go over to be with her. I said, "YES YES YES GO!"
Then I heard her cry. And it sounded so sweet. They cleaned her and weighed her. She weighed 8 lb. 10 oz., and was 22 inches. The nurse asked her name. Trevor looked at me and asked, "Can I say?" I replied, "Yes! Please!" I was still laughing and crying. He finally said her name, "Kinley Joy."
Then the nurse carried her over and placed her on my chest. I'll never forget that moment. I thought I had loved her while she was in utero. I thought I had really known her, cherished her. I talked to her lots while she was in the womb. But in that moment, holding her on my chest, looking into her eyes, I was blown away by how my heart just exploded with a new kind of love, a kind of love I had never experienced before. I was laughing and crying all at once.
Then there was the rush out the door. I was ready. Dad was ready. We went down to the car. We pulled the car around, and Mom comes out. She looks in the backseat, "I thought he was already here!" Where could Trevor be? I realized he was probably looking for his cell phone. I'd thrown it in the bag to make sure we'd have it, but I'd forgotten to tell him. In fact he was searching the apartment frantically for his phone! Finally he came down resigned to the fact that he may have to just go without it. I felt bad but was glad I could reassure him that it was in the bag.
I was really wanting to be calm going into this thing, and thankfully, I was! It makes me smile, though to think of what a bundle of nerves Trevor was that night. If I'd known what I was getting into, I probably would've been freaking out!
Mom and Dad dropped us off at the hospital, we checked in at triage, and they sent us up to Labor and Delivery where we were taken to a beautiful room! I was given a gown, an IV, and a couple monitors and told I'd have to wait a few "minutes" for the midwife or resident to come in a place my suppository (a slow release medicine that softens the cervix, induces mild contractions, and is intended to get labor going as naturally as is artificially possible). Well, we waited and waited... nearly midnight by now. Finally we decided to try to get some rest. The Dr. came in after 2:00 in the a.m. to finally place it. After that I slept off and on until about 6:30. I knew I'd need the rest and energy, but it's hard to rest with monitors beeping and thumping and nurses coming and going.
Thursday, March 25
The hope was that the suppository would get my body moving so that Petocin could be avoided. But we'd have to wait to find out until 2 pm. In the meantime, Mom and Dad arrived to hang out with us and wait. I was having mild but rhythmic contractions by mid-morning. Mom and I played cards. Trevor went to get coffee and food. Dad drove out to the suburbs to visit a family from our home church who had a son going through a pretty serious surgery in another hospital. Mom and I laughed like crazy at random things... that made it tough to breath through those contractions, but it made the waiting easier.
At 2:00, the suppository was removed, and 30 minutes later, I was evaluated to see if things had progressed and if my body would continue contracting on its own. I was still only dialated to 1 cm. I was a tad more effaced, but not enough to avoid the Petocin. So they started that in the IV. Contractions gradually intensified over the course of the afternoon. By the evening, I was still only dilated to 2 cm. Even so, I was fixed on the idea that March 25 would be my little girl's birthday. I had this impression that the process would suddenly speed up, I'd push for a bit, and she'd be here. In reality, I still had another long day to go.
I honestly don't remember which meals my parent's brought for Trevor and which ones he went out with my Dad to get. I do know that the three of them never left me alone. Trevor was able to go out and get some air (and food) from time to time. Mom would stay with me, we'd talk through the contractions. We'd laugh when we could. And it was so wonderful to have them there! Looking back at the facebook comments, I know they were a bit anxious, stressed, and worried. Why is this taking sooooo long? Well, during the process, I never had a sense of anything except their patience and support. And I knew my baby and I were covered in prayers! What an incredible blessing!
Thursday evening, between 9:00 and 10:00, a room with a birthing tub opened up. I had really wanted to have a water birth, so my midwife made arrangements to move us to the room with the tub. At this point I was thinking, "Ok, the midwife is going to check me again once we're moved, I'll be 5 or 6 cm, and I'll get in the tub and have this baby in the middle of the night. Fine by me!" Contractions were getting increasingly intense and painful and were coming closer together. I was sure they must be doing something, making a way for this baby to come. I still had no concept of how difficult they would become.
Well, she did check me again. I was still only 2 cm dilated. At this point, I was pretty discouraged. While I was in the bathroom, I could overhear the midwife talking to Trevor. I could only hear bits of their conversation, but I heard her say "C-section." Now, I certainly wasn't at the point yet where I wanted "OUT" of this whole labor process. Honestly, there may have been a point, somewhere, when a C-section would have sounded appealing. Fortunately, it wasn't then. It also wasn't near the end when they gave me the option again. If they had asked me somewhere in between, I may have opted for it. I am so blessed that it didn't come up during that window of opportunity. Instead, I saw the Lord's provision through it all. The things that were suggested were brought to the table at just the right time.
To sum up Trevor's conversation with the midwife as I now understand it, she was saying that after all this time, my body really hadn't progressed much. I was going on 40 hours without any real sleep. It had been about 30 hours since I'd eaten. I was pooped out and discouraged. She said many couples would opt for a "C" at this point. She also said that if I didn't want to head for the operating room just yet, I at least needed to get some rest. With contractions as intense as they were, the only way to rest would be with a narcotic. Going into the labor, narcotics were listed on our birth plan just below C-section. Drugs were something we really really didn't want. An epidural was listed above C-section. That was an option. Narcotics weren't. Our reasoning: narcotics pass through Mom's blood to the baby and make the baby drowsy. If a baby is in the drowsy state when born, she could have some trouble breathing and responding to stimuli as she should. We really didn't want that. In response to this concern, the midwife explained that the narcotics would only have this effect for 3-4 hours. She also said we were at least that far out from delivery. My heart sank. I was still thinking she would be in my arms before the sun came up. The midwife said she thought it would be at least six hours. Maybe 8. ( in reality it would still be 20 hours). She said a new midwife would be on shift by then. In the mean time, she wanted me to get some rest. We agreed that it would be a good idea and opted for the narcotic once we understood it wouldn't have any effect on our girl.
At this point my parents decided to go back to our apartment. Knowing they'd be able to get 5-6 hours of sleep before coming back to the hospital, they decided being in a bed would be better than being in the waiting room. I know it was hard for them to leave. They had planned, when they had arrived at the hospital Thursday morning, to stay until their granddaughter was born. They hadn't thought they would leave without holding her. We all went into it with our own expectations, but no one expected things to take so long.
After the narcotic was administered, Trevor set up camp on the pull out sofa bed. I started to doze off pretty quickly. I rested for about 3 hours (as they had expected). Coming out of that drug-induced high was soooooo much fun. It was really bizarre. As I woke up, my arms and legs felt super tingly. I couldn't feel the contractions. I could just see on the monitor that they were happening. My vision was blurry, and I was trying to figure out if Trev was still sleeping on the sofa bed. The nurse and midwife were coming in and out of the room, but I don't think they noticed I was waking up. I couldn't get myself to talk. When I did try, there was silence. Finally, I started giggling. The tingling in my arms and legs just felt so funny, and I was in a weird mood. I tried to wake Trevor up to tell him how crazy it felt. I was absolutely giddy. And laughing. He didn't want to wake up yet. Finally, I found the ability to yell at him. He freaked. I think he thought I was having the baby. He came staggering over. On only four hours of sleep, mind you. I was laughing and tried to tell him how funny I felt. When he realized I wasn't in pain and wasn't having the baby yet, he wanted to go back to bed. I was bummed. I just wanted to laugh with someone.
Little by little, I began to feel the contractions again. They were getting pretty rough. About 90 seconds apart. The sun began to peak through the curtains. March 26. I knew it would be the day. The hospital staff wouldn't let me go to the 27th. A new midwife arrived, one I'd never met. Turns out, she was AMAZING! God knew just the sort of personality I would need. I always say this, but she reminded me of a basketball coach. She would sit in the chair like a coach sits on the bench with her elbows on her knees. She'd analyze me like a coach watches her players, trying to decide what play to call. She was serious, matter-of-fact, and super duper encouraging. None of that touchy feely nonsense. She got down to business.
Anyway, she checked me and said I was 3 cm dilated. By this time, I had come to expect slow progress, so I think any progress at all was encouraging. As Trevor woke up, the midwife talked with us about using the birthing tub. She said she normally wouldn't let a Mom get in the tub until she was 6 or 7 cm, but she thought it might relax me enough to move things along quickly. She and the nurse began to prepare the tub. It's a big, jacuzzi/submarine looking thing that hooks up to the wall. It has doors and railings and such. Kinda strange. I'll post a photo in another post.
Oh, a bit about the nurse.... She was lovely. She was very encouraging and sweet. She did her job so very well. She and the midwife worked together so well. I'd had some not-so-good nurses while I was there, but the one who saw me through the delivery was wonderful.
I got into the tub just as Mom and Dad were arriving at the hospital. Mom came in and sat with me while Dad and Trevor went out to get some breakfast and coffee. The warm water was relaxing. We had some worship music playing. At this point, I really wasn't feeling frustrated or discouraged. Just relaxed. Contractions were still coming on pretty strong, but there was something serene about the experience at this point. I stayed in the tub until about 10 a.m. when the midwife checked me again. I was at 5 cm, and we decided she should break my water to get things moving. This was the most painful part of the experience up until that point. The actual breaking of the water, I mean. It was awful. I tried to grit my teeth, but wound up yelling and crying. I got back into the tub as contractions escalated. By 11, I was just standing in the tub, leaning on Trevor, moaning, moving back and forth, totally unable to get comfortable or relieve the pain in any way. The water was hot. I was uncomfortable. I'd thrown modesty out the window by this point. In the birthing tub, you can't wear a gown. Some women opt for no apparel whatsoever. I had a bra on. That's it. Finally, sometime around noon, I felt like I needed to push. The nurse began to prep the room for delivery and called two other nurses in to assist. The table where they clean and weigh the newborn baby was set up and pulled over next to my bed. The midwife said I needed to get out of the tub so she could check me before she let me push. I was too hot in that tub anyway, so we were going to go the rest of the way without it. She checked me, and this is where it gets shocking and horribly discouraging: I was 4 cm. Remember, I had been up to 5. The stress of the harsh contractions after my bag of waters broke caused my cervix to become inflamed and constrict rather than dilate. Honestly, I didn't know that could happen. By this point, I was a hot mess. I was shaking, crying, moaning, trying to catch my breath. Telling Trevor something like, "I don't know if I can do this!" If the midwife would have suggested we prep for a C-section at this point, I probably would have complied. Rather, she said that if I was feeling pushy, I probably needed to use the bathroom.
While I was in the bathroom, she told Trevor it was time for an epidural. My body wasn't taking us in the right direction on its own. Trevor came into the bathroom and said he wanted me to get an epidural. Honestly, I had been so focused on each contraction, on getting through the pain, that I hadn't been thinking about any options at all. I had forgotten about any alternative. I wasn't thinking about C-sections, epidurals or narcotics. I was only thinking about THIS never-ending pain. At the word epidural, I said, "Get me one right now." The nurse called the anesthesiologist who was on the floor. She was there within two minutes. Trevor had to leave the room. The nurse, midwife, and one other nurse had to hold me in a sitting position on the bed because I was shaking so violently. In all the chaos, the midwife and nurse were also trying to adjust my monitors because they were having a hard time picking up the baby's heart rate. It had been reading consistently between 120-132 BPM. Suddenly, it dropped off. Sometimes they just couldn't pick it up. When they finally got a consistent reading again, her HR was down to 65-70 BPM. The epidural kicked in. The pain quickly subsided. I had the perfect epidural. I could feel my legs and control them (to some extent :), I could feel the contractions, but I didn't feel the pain. They got me to get up on the bed on all fours in order to get a better reading of Baby's HR. Numbers were still low. Nine or ten people suddenly rushed into the room. There were syringes, shots, stuff being put into my IV. All the while, I had an incredible peace. Remember how I said I felt covered in prayer? Well, at this moment, it felt so real. The midwife was calm, though serious. She explained that they were giving me a number of drugs to stop the contractions to reduce the stress on Baby. They administered a couple other things I don't remember at the moment. She said one thing would feel like a jolt of caffeine. She said that my epidural was working well and if we needed to get to the OR in a hurry, the doctors would be able to act fast. Three doctors were in the room: an OBGYN, a pediatrician, and another pediatrician who deals with high risk/problematic births. There were a plethora of nurses, an anesthesiologist, my midwife, and my nurse. All the while, Trevor had to be out of the room. I'm not totally sure why they make everyone leave when an epidural is placed, but that's why he wasn't there. Finally, things settled down, a new monitor was placed on the baby's scalp to monitor her HR. When the Dr. was placing the sensor, she looked at my midwife and asked, "How dilated was she last time you checked?" The midwife responded by explaining that I'd constricted to 4 cm after being up to 5. The Dr. then explained that I was up to 10 cm. If everything had been ok with our girl, that would've been the time to labor down and push. As it happened, however, I was off the petocin now and on a drug that stopped contractions. Oh, the irony. The midwife and Dr. both recommended we wait to restart petocin until we'd had 2 hours of reading a good, healthy heart. They wanted her to be stable before I started pushing.
Now I want to say how blessed I was to have the care I did. There was so much wisdom and discernment in the room. Even with the OBGYN now taking an active role in the birth, they didn't rush me into a C-section. If they had thought it would be best for the baby, I would have been all for it.
It was at this time, around 1 p.m., I guess, that Trevor came back into the room. He said he and my parents had been worried. I told him he could go get Mom and Dad so they could see that everything was fine. Mom cried. I cried. It had just been such a long, emotional process, and now we were at a stand-still. I was so happy I was fully dilated, though. I was trying to keep it light. I think we laughed a bit. I don't think I shared with them at that time how close we had come to an emergency C-section. The midwife was really good about keeping us all calm, not wanting us to worry if there was no need.
About an hour later, earlier than they had expected to, the Dr. decided we should again start the petocin. They started me off with a pretty high dose - not quite where we had left off, but nearly so. The contractions came on quickly, and I was so glad I could feel them even with the epidural in place. I labored down for about an hour. Then we started to push. The midwife sent Trevor to tell my parents everything was going well. She didn't want him to tell them I was pushing; she didn't want them to expect things to happen too quickly. However, I don't think she had an idea of how long it would really take. After about 30 minutes of pushing, Trevor texted Mom, "We've got action." She knew from that info that I was pushing. The pushing was so good. So rewarding. I finally felt like I could do something. I could work hard. I could make progress. I could think about the baby getting closer and closer to being in my arms.
Going into the pushing phase, I again had no concept of how long it should take. At this point, my expectations were tending to the longer, slower side. When the midwife started to show some signs of concern after an hour of pushing, I was surprised. I didn't know it was taking longer than it should. The OBGYN came in again around this time and consulted with us regarding our options: C-section, forceps, or just continue with the pushing. They let me decide based on how tired I felt. I wanted to keep pushing. As each contraction would come, I could feel it. I would say, "Get ready, here it comes." Trevor would hold one leg, the nurse would hold the other. The nurse counted for me. I got three or four long pushes in for each contraction. I tried different positions and such. I would hear that they could see her head. Then they said it looked like she had lots of dark hair. That was soooo encouraging! Trevor was the most encouraging of the three of them. His face often held an impressed, amazed expression. To know I was making him proud really encouraged me to keep going. When he would say I was doing a good job or he could see the baby's head, I knew he wasn't messing around.
Finally, after three hours of pushing, my midwife and the doctor consulted and said I was down to two options: C-section or forceps. We chose the forceps. The doctor and a resident came in and prepped for the forceps-assisted delivery. There wasn't any more pain associated with the forceps. There were two hard parts about it: 1) not being able to push through the contraction while they were placing the forceps and 2) watching Trevor's face. Rather than seeming impressed or amazed, he started to look scared, almost horrified. That freaked me out, and I found myself yelling at him to look at my face - not my... you know.... He now tells me they looked like massive steal salad tongs. I never saw them. Once they were placed, another contraction came. This time I could push. I don't know where the strength was coming from, but it wasn't mine. More than 48 hours without food? There's no strength there. It was from God, I'm sure. With Him, all things are possible, the miracle of birth, especially.
One long push. I was looking at the ceiling. Trevor's face was too scary.
Then I heard my midwife saying, "Steph, look down now, look at your baby."
And Trevor just said, "Babe, LOOK!"
And there she was. A perfect little red mess of a miracle.
I was laughing and crying all at once.
Too happy for words.
What an awesome gift. What a perfectly memorable moment. We praise YOU, LORD!
Trevor leaned down and quietly asked if he could go over to be with her. I said, "YES YES YES GO!"
Then I heard her cry. And it sounded so sweet. They cleaned her and weighed her. She weighed 8 lb. 10 oz., and was 22 inches. The nurse asked her name. Trevor looked at me and asked, "Can I say?" I replied, "Yes! Please!" I was still laughing and crying. He finally said her name, "Kinley Joy."
Then the nurse carried her over and placed her on my chest. I'll never forget that moment. I thought I had loved her while she was in utero. I thought I had really known her, cherished her. I talked to her lots while she was in the womb. But in that moment, holding her on my chest, looking into her eyes, I was blown away by how my heart just exploded with a new kind of love, a kind of love I had never experienced before. I was laughing and crying all at once.
If I have a fast labor in the future, as unlikely as it is, I won't know what to do. All I know now is slow, long, and hard. In the future I won't expect that the first nurse to tend to me will be present when my baby comes. More like the 5th, and toward the very end of her 12 hour shift. And in the future, I won't be so disappointed when I arrive at the hospital and see that the midwife from my group who is presently on call is the one I don't like much at all. Instead I will realize that more will come, more will go, and the midwife who's on call 2 days later, on a 24 hour shift mind you, will be the one who will actually be cheering for me as I push my baby into the world. I will anticipate a marathon. Not a half. Not a 5K. Certainly not a sprint. But I will bring with me to the experience a new kind of hope. A hope that KNOWS full well what a miracle birth is and what and extraordinary blessing it is to hold your newborn baby on your chest and vow that you will do everything in your power to express your overwhelming love for them until the day that you die.
I love you, Kinley Joy! I praise God for your life and for the day you were born. I praise Him for all the joy you've brought to our family and how you've flooded my heart with this wonderful, new love. I just want to stare at you as you sleep in your bassinet. But staring at you makes me want to hold you. So I'll end this epic right now and hold you for as long as you'll let me.
