Birth story
I started this just days after Elliot was born, but finally got around to finishing it today.
Thursday, January 17th started like any other day late in my pregnancy. I woke up uncomfortable and experiencing sporadic minor contractions. With my first three babies, I was always dilated and progressing for weeks. Little Man was the only one of the babies who came early, however. With both Kiwi and Mason's pregnancies, I drove myself crazy the last few weeks thinking that any day could be the day the baby would come. This pregnancy, although I felt little contractions for weeks, had nothing happening at 38 weeks. I really didn't want to be induced this time around (I had been with Kiwi and and Mason) and so I had mentally prepared myself that he absolutely was not coming early and had set my sights on the day after his due date.
Wednesday night I had been super uncomfortable and I woke up not feeling much better Thursday, but just chalked it up to being pregnant. My due date was still nine days away, so I knew it wasn't today (I had done a really good job convincing myself). We went out our normal Thursday routine which includes taking Abby to gymnastics in the morning. While at gymnastics, Mason wanders around and plays on the mats and equipment while I follow him. In the course of the hour we were there, I had three contractions, one of which I actually had to stop for a minute and could not lift Mason up to help him on the bars. Still, I didn't think it was anything. After gymnastics, we dropped off Abby at kindergarten and Mason and I made a quick trip to the grocery store. I continued to have contractions about every 20 minutes. I started to get a little excited, but still convinced myself they were probably going away. As the cashier rang up our milk, I had a contraction and thought, "Maybe this is it!" followed closely by, "Look at me buying milk like nothing is going on and nobody knows that I'm in labor!" I felt like I had the best secret.
By the time I got home, however, I had convinced myself again that it wasn't the real thing. I did call both Mike and my mom and told them that I was having some contractions so to be on alert, but that they would probably go away. I then put Mason into quiet/nap time and he actually fell asleep (which rarely happens). I went to lay down and see if my contractions would stop, but they continued to come about every 15-20 minutes. I called my doctor (who also happens to be my aunt) and she told me to drink water "up to my eyeballs" and see if they would go away and then call her back. I did and they didn't. I started to think to think this might be the real thing, but was sure I had hours left until it would be time to go to the hospital. The kids came home from school and we began the normal routine, but I started to have a hard time. I had to stop in the middle of helping with homework and realized that in the business of after school I had stopped timing the contractions and they were now coming ten minutes or less. Still, I could talk through them and it wasn't five minutes apart yet. I talked to my mom who informed me she was packing her overnight bag and coming down. I called Mike and told him if he reached a stopping point at work, to please come home and finish from home.
After that, things seemed to be a little hectic. Although I still wouldn't classify the contractions as painful, they were definitely getting uncomfortable. Somewhere in there, I called my doctor back and she told me to come in. I told her Mike was on his way and we would come when he got home, but that they weren't bad yet, so I'm sure we had time. And although not horribly bad, they continued to come more and more frequently. I started to get a little nervous. I got the bag packed and told the big kids they could watch TV. When Carson asked how many shows, I said as many as they wanted to which he replied, "This is the best day EVER!" He also said, "Mommy, I'm kind of glad your tummy hurts. Not that I want your tummy to hurt, but that means the baby is coming!"
I was relieved when my mom got here, but concerned because I hadn't got all the laundry folded (rational thoughts of a woman in labor). I called Mike to see where he was and told him they were getting more frequent and he was still forty minutes away. He said at this point he started to get a little worried, but that I sounded so calm he figured it was okay.
When Mike got home, I considered having us stay to eat dinner with the kids, since I was sure I had hours to go, but suddenly strong one hit and I thought it might be best to leave. As we pulled out onto the road, Mike asked if we had time to hit a drive through for dinner and I considered it, but another contraction hit and I discovered that sitting seat belted into a car is about the worst way to experience contractions, so that idea was dropped. The hospital we were going to was about 25 minutes away all back roads. Mike, probably like many men, had always wanted to be able to speed to the hospital blowing through all the red lights. Instead, we were stuck on a two lane road, behind a slow truck. My contractions continued to come every 4-5 minutes on the way there.
We got to the hospital and walked into register (for some reason they didn't allow me to pre-register). Mike filled out all the paperwork while I leaned with my head on the counter trying not to cause a scene. The registrar asked if I needed a wheelchair, but the contraction at ended so I declined. Immediately upon entering the elevator another one hit doubling me over for the ride up. The nurses were friendly and proceeded to lead us to a room and started to ask me a million questions. I asked about an epidural and got a little smile and, "When you get to a certain point you can." At this point, I could not talk through the contractions and the nurse gave up asking all the questions.
I got in those lovely hospital gowns and they checked me and was surprised to find I was a seven. I asked if I would be able to get an epidural and this time got an apologetic smile and a, "Well, we can call him" (the anaesthesiologist), but it might be too late. At this point, I started to panic a little bit, since a natural birth had not been part of my plan. They called him, no one seemed to know how far away he lived (or they didn't want to tell me), and he eventually got there. They checked me again and I was at an 8. He said at this point an epidural would not take effect, but that he could do something called a saddle block that would work immediately, but would only last a short period of time. When Mike asked what would happen if the medicine wore off before the baby was born, to which he unconvincingly replied we would go to plan b (which seemed obvious to me that there was no plan b). A part of me considered doing it natural, but I had not prepared myself for that and memories of pushing for three hours scared me, so I choose to go for the pain relief. I don't think it's a decision best made at that point when someone is offering relief.
The man then proceeded to joke around with us and bring up the Lance Armstrong interview on Oprah. Meanwhile, I was experiencing the worst pain of my life. All normal social restraints seemed to be gone. While I would normally smile and laugh politely at cheesy jokes, I had to patience. I don't know what exactly I said to him, but it was something along the lines of "Stop joking!" I do know that he said, "Oh, it's time to be serious now." Mike, who was being the devoted husband, and holding my hand kept encouraging me to breath. He was very sweet and supportive, but that seemed to be the only advice he had. After hearing him say it for the 100th time, I said, "You don't even know!" In my head I was thinking we needed some more coping strategies/things for him to say, but that's all I could manage. I just didn't want to be told to breath anymore.
After being administered the saddle block, the pain immediately went away and things slowed down a little. Holly (my aunt/doctor) came. We talked a little bit, she broke my water and soon it was time to push. I probably pushed about 30 minutes and the longer it went on, the more I felt. And just as the anaesthesiologist had predicted the medicine wore off as quickly as it had set in, so I was able to feel the last few pushes, the baby coming out, and the immediate relief that followed.
And then there is the moment that there are really no words to describe. The first cry and the first time holding your baby. The moment that it feels like the world should just stop, because your whole life has been changed.
The baby who felt so heavy in my stomach felt so small and tiny in my arms. And although I wasn't aware of having a hole to fill, suddenly it is filled, my heart is full and complete, and I can not imagine ever not having loved this little child. That moment. The moment each of my children was placed in my arms is a moment that if I would relive a million times over, I would.
After a couple of hours we moved to the recovery room, where we continued to get amazing attention and treatment from the nurses. It was a small hospital and Elliot was the only baby delivered that night. My aunt had promised we would get the VIP treatment and she was right. I loved the nurse that helped deliver Elliot and was there all that night. She actually gave me a hug when she left.
The next morning, the kids came to visit and we were able to spend some time as a family of six. It took about 24 hours to name him. It came down to Elliot Dean and Collin Dean. The nurse wrote both of them on the whiteboard in our room, so we could stare at them. We finally decided on Elliot and after a couple of days, I couldn't imagine him named anything else.
Proud daddy
Our biggest and littlest. He was pretty excited that Baby E got him out of four tests at school that morning!
Smitten with her new little brother. While the boys went to explore the waiting room with grandma, she wanted to stay right next to me holding Elliot. Since we've been home she can not get enough of holding him, choosing his clothes (she wants us to change him all the time!), getting his blankets, etc. I think he's a real live doll to her.
Another picture of our family of six, this time with Little Man holding the baby. It's all about fairness with the two oldest.
Big brother Mason!
Thursday, January 17th started like any other day late in my pregnancy. I woke up uncomfortable and experiencing sporadic minor contractions. With my first three babies, I was always dilated and progressing for weeks. Little Man was the only one of the babies who came early, however. With both Kiwi and Mason's pregnancies, I drove myself crazy the last few weeks thinking that any day could be the day the baby would come. This pregnancy, although I felt little contractions for weeks, had nothing happening at 38 weeks. I really didn't want to be induced this time around (I had been with Kiwi and and Mason) and so I had mentally prepared myself that he absolutely was not coming early and had set my sights on the day after his due date.
Wednesday night I had been super uncomfortable and I woke up not feeling much better Thursday, but just chalked it up to being pregnant. My due date was still nine days away, so I knew it wasn't today (I had done a really good job convincing myself). We went out our normal Thursday routine which includes taking Abby to gymnastics in the morning. While at gymnastics, Mason wanders around and plays on the mats and equipment while I follow him. In the course of the hour we were there, I had three contractions, one of which I actually had to stop for a minute and could not lift Mason up to help him on the bars. Still, I didn't think it was anything. After gymnastics, we dropped off Abby at kindergarten and Mason and I made a quick trip to the grocery store. I continued to have contractions about every 20 minutes. I started to get a little excited, but still convinced myself they were probably going away. As the cashier rang up our milk, I had a contraction and thought, "Maybe this is it!" followed closely by, "Look at me buying milk like nothing is going on and nobody knows that I'm in labor!" I felt like I had the best secret.
By the time I got home, however, I had convinced myself again that it wasn't the real thing. I did call both Mike and my mom and told them that I was having some contractions so to be on alert, but that they would probably go away. I then put Mason into quiet/nap time and he actually fell asleep (which rarely happens). I went to lay down and see if my contractions would stop, but they continued to come about every 15-20 minutes. I called my doctor (who also happens to be my aunt) and she told me to drink water "up to my eyeballs" and see if they would go away and then call her back. I did and they didn't. I started to think to think this might be the real thing, but was sure I had hours left until it would be time to go to the hospital. The kids came home from school and we began the normal routine, but I started to have a hard time. I had to stop in the middle of helping with homework and realized that in the business of after school I had stopped timing the contractions and they were now coming ten minutes or less. Still, I could talk through them and it wasn't five minutes apart yet. I talked to my mom who informed me she was packing her overnight bag and coming down. I called Mike and told him if he reached a stopping point at work, to please come home and finish from home.
After that, things seemed to be a little hectic. Although I still wouldn't classify the contractions as painful, they were definitely getting uncomfortable. Somewhere in there, I called my doctor back and she told me to come in. I told her Mike was on his way and we would come when he got home, but that they weren't bad yet, so I'm sure we had time. And although not horribly bad, they continued to come more and more frequently. I started to get a little nervous. I got the bag packed and told the big kids they could watch TV. When Carson asked how many shows, I said as many as they wanted to which he replied, "This is the best day EVER!" He also said, "Mommy, I'm kind of glad your tummy hurts. Not that I want your tummy to hurt, but that means the baby is coming!"
I was relieved when my mom got here, but concerned because I hadn't got all the laundry folded (rational thoughts of a woman in labor). I called Mike to see where he was and told him they were getting more frequent and he was still forty minutes away. He said at this point he started to get a little worried, but that I sounded so calm he figured it was okay.
When Mike got home, I considered having us stay to eat dinner with the kids, since I was sure I had hours to go, but suddenly strong one hit and I thought it might be best to leave. As we pulled out onto the road, Mike asked if we had time to hit a drive through for dinner and I considered it, but another contraction hit and I discovered that sitting seat belted into a car is about the worst way to experience contractions, so that idea was dropped. The hospital we were going to was about 25 minutes away all back roads. Mike, probably like many men, had always wanted to be able to speed to the hospital blowing through all the red lights. Instead, we were stuck on a two lane road, behind a slow truck. My contractions continued to come every 4-5 minutes on the way there.
We got to the hospital and walked into register (for some reason they didn't allow me to pre-register). Mike filled out all the paperwork while I leaned with my head on the counter trying not to cause a scene. The registrar asked if I needed a wheelchair, but the contraction at ended so I declined. Immediately upon entering the elevator another one hit doubling me over for the ride up. The nurses were friendly and proceeded to lead us to a room and started to ask me a million questions. I asked about an epidural and got a little smile and, "When you get to a certain point you can." At this point, I could not talk through the contractions and the nurse gave up asking all the questions.
I got in those lovely hospital gowns and they checked me and was surprised to find I was a seven. I asked if I would be able to get an epidural and this time got an apologetic smile and a, "Well, we can call him" (the anaesthesiologist), but it might be too late. At this point, I started to panic a little bit, since a natural birth had not been part of my plan. They called him, no one seemed to know how far away he lived (or they didn't want to tell me), and he eventually got there. They checked me again and I was at an 8. He said at this point an epidural would not take effect, but that he could do something called a saddle block that would work immediately, but would only last a short period of time. When Mike asked what would happen if the medicine wore off before the baby was born, to which he unconvincingly replied we would go to plan b (which seemed obvious to me that there was no plan b). A part of me considered doing it natural, but I had not prepared myself for that and memories of pushing for three hours scared me, so I choose to go for the pain relief. I don't think it's a decision best made at that point when someone is offering relief.
The man then proceeded to joke around with us and bring up the Lance Armstrong interview on Oprah. Meanwhile, I was experiencing the worst pain of my life. All normal social restraints seemed to be gone. While I would normally smile and laugh politely at cheesy jokes, I had to patience. I don't know what exactly I said to him, but it was something along the lines of "Stop joking!" I do know that he said, "Oh, it's time to be serious now." Mike, who was being the devoted husband, and holding my hand kept encouraging me to breath. He was very sweet and supportive, but that seemed to be the only advice he had. After hearing him say it for the 100th time, I said, "You don't even know!" In my head I was thinking we needed some more coping strategies/things for him to say, but that's all I could manage. I just didn't want to be told to breath anymore.
After being administered the saddle block, the pain immediately went away and things slowed down a little. Holly (my aunt/doctor) came. We talked a little bit, she broke my water and soon it was time to push. I probably pushed about 30 minutes and the longer it went on, the more I felt. And just as the anaesthesiologist had predicted the medicine wore off as quickly as it had set in, so I was able to feel the last few pushes, the baby coming out, and the immediate relief that followed.
And then there is the moment that there are really no words to describe. The first cry and the first time holding your baby. The moment that it feels like the world should just stop, because your whole life has been changed.
The baby who felt so heavy in my stomach felt so small and tiny in my arms. And although I wasn't aware of having a hole to fill, suddenly it is filled, my heart is full and complete, and I can not imagine ever not having loved this little child. That moment. The moment each of my children was placed in my arms is a moment that if I would relive a million times over, I would.
After a couple of hours we moved to the recovery room, where we continued to get amazing attention and treatment from the nurses. It was a small hospital and Elliot was the only baby delivered that night. My aunt had promised we would get the VIP treatment and she was right. I loved the nurse that helped deliver Elliot and was there all that night. She actually gave me a hug when she left.
The next morning, the kids came to visit and we were able to spend some time as a family of six. It took about 24 hours to name him. It came down to Elliot Dean and Collin Dean. The nurse wrote both of them on the whiteboard in our room, so we could stare at them. We finally decided on Elliot and after a couple of days, I couldn't imagine him named anything else.
First picture as a family of six. Six! Are we seriously responsible for FOUR little people?
Our four kiddos. Even though I think we may be crazy, I can't get enough of these cute mugs.
Congrats Melissa! I actually got a little teary eyed reading this. That moment these sweet babies are placed in our arms really is a taste of heaven and I too wish we could relive it over and over and over (without the whole pregnancy part) ☺
ReplyDeleteWhat a sweet family!! I'm getting all misty -eyed looking at your family picture!! I'm glad everything went well with the delivery. I love his name too, good choice!
ReplyDeleteThis is so sweet, Melissa. I loved reading all about your experience. Such an exciting time for you and your family!
ReplyDeleteGreat recount, Melissa! You had me laughing and crying all with this post. Congratulations again--I miss you!
ReplyDeleteI love a good birth story- thanks for sharing. You are such a great writer and this was very powerful. Babies really are the best.
ReplyDelete