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It's been almost three years since my first baby girl was born - the days leading up to her birth were the most emotionally and physically exhausting days I had ever experienced.
A week overdue, I was induced at 1am on Thursday. Even though I had prepared in every way that I could, my body didn't feel ready.
That night the hurry up offense of the Bronco's Thursday night football was on pace with my contractions as I bounced on a birthing ball. As contractions intensified, Ellie's heart rate began dropping with the contractions. A c-section was threatened, so I got the epidural; I did not want to risk being under general anesthesia if an emergency c-section was needed.
The nurses began to troubleshoot, try different methods to keep her heart rate up during the contractions to avoid a c-section, it would work for a while, then her heart rate would drop again, and a c-section would again be threatened. This cycle continued every few hours.
Later that evening during a particularly challenging contraction the night nurse leaned over the bed and pushed a button, seconds later we were surrounded by a flurry of nurses and I had an oxygen mask over my face. They worked furiously, prodding and moving me as if I were a rag doll and adjusting every machine in the vicinity. No one said a word to me, and when they spoke to each other it sounded like a foreign language.
I prayed. I begged God to let me have my baby girl. I thought of all the spinach I ate during my pregnancy. So much damn spinach. I felt helpless. I had done everything I knew to do to keep her safe, my heart pleaded "God please let me keep her, please". All the preparation, birthing classes, prenatal yoga...that damn spinach and there was nothing I could do to help her.
An eternity passed. All but one nurse left and she removed the oxygen mask off of my face. I looked behind me to examine the button she had pushed - an ominous bright red button - no wonder no one said anything to me. Across the room my husband just stared at the bed in stunned silence.
It happened again a few hours later.
Midnight rolled around and I fell asleep. I woke up around 1am to see the night nurse drinking her coffee as she sat by my bed. She had not come across kind, but here she was on her coffee break watching over me and my little girl.
She started talking to me about her kids. "Teenagers" she said as shook her head at their stupidity. I was comforted. God let her keep her kids, they grew up to be crazy teenagers, maybe He would do the same for me.
I don't remember all the things she said, I know she never told me things were going to be fine or that I was doing great or that it was going to get better. She knew I was in pain, she knew I was terrified and she brilliantly talked about the most ordinary things in life and I fell back to sleep.
I woke up and saw the morning nurse from the day before staring at me, at what felt like six inches from my face. My mind told me she was an angel. She didn't mind that my daughter was feisty, "still in there eh? I'll tease her out. You don't need a c-section, I'll tease her right out of there, I like the difficult ones."
I loved her for saying that.
She left to meet with her other patients. I began shaking uncontrollably. My husband called the nurse in and as she began checking the various monitors he stared at me, wanting to help but feeling like there was nothing he could do. At some point they put an oxygen mask on me and I started pushing, as the nurse was coaching me I remember thinking that pushing through the contractions was easier than trying to breathe through them and that maybe I should've just started pushing a day ago.
The nurse left to get the doctor. Our OB office had several docs, throughout my pregnancy they encouraged me to have appointments with each of them since it is a crapshoot who will be there on delivery day. A doctor I was fond of walked in with a resident I had never met, the doctor was going to let her do the catching. (I was so glad I wasn't stuck on any one particular doctor, because here was this kid I had never met grabbing her catchers mit, snapping her bubble gum like "let me at it coach".)
Fine. Batters up kid, here we go.
The nurse talked me through a few pushes. Head, shoulders, elbow...here she is! As the kid resident brought her up to my chest the baby's motion was stopped by her cord and as she slipped from the doctor's hands, she fell right into mine. I held her on my belly. She cried. That cry released a tension valve in the room - a collective sigh of relief. They put an oxygen mask near her face. I stared at her - she was purple. A tiny purple human with jet black hair and an oxygen mask. The most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
Everything changed that day and I am so thankful.
A few side comments:
A Short Umbilical Cord
We were told later that Elizabeth had a short umbilical cord which was why she was purple, was probably why she had decel(erations) in her heartbeat (which is why the red button kept being pressed and a c-section was considered) as I was going through labor, and also why she slipped from the doctor's hands.
L&D Nurses
The nurses were the most incredible women to have advocating, troubleshooting and guiding us through the birth journey. Thank you to all labor and delivery nurses, you are incredible.
The Birth Plan
I didn't make a birth plan. I had talked to my husband about an ideal scenario of no drugs and pushing her out. I told the nurses that my birth plan was to get her out safely, whatever that would mean. I had read and heard a lot of women talking about childbirth like an experience - the kind you would find at Disneyland, or at a spa, where they would go into it with expectations, ideas about how they wanted the experience to make them feel (I want to go Disneyland and feel happy, go the spa and feel relaxed, go through childbirth and feel...) and I thought it seemed incredibly selfish and shortsighted. Selfish because childbirth isn't just about the woman and the experience for her. Shortsighted because the birth, even if it is or feels long, is such a short amount of time in the big picture. The perfect playlist, birth plan, hospital bag and doctor are just a blip in the radar. Even the first month, which seems like such a triumph, is just a blip.
I say that for anyone reading this that is pregnant and thinking about what labor will look like. It will be different than anything you read or heard about. It will be worse and it will be better, all at the same time. The birth is the easy part. The healing afterwards, the changes you will endure the first several months are far more challenging, so please don't set yourself up for expectations about a birth "experience", set your sights on a healthy baby and a good attitude. When you get to the hospital, be nice to your nurses and be nice to your husband. When you get home, be present, give yourself grace and for heaven's sake sleep when the baby sleeps.
Our first picture as a family
One Month Old
Three months old
Two years old
Our Ellie Belle is incredibly strong-willed and sensitive. She is brilliant and funny. She is wild and curious yet gentle and shy. From the day she was born she has been a powerful little force, shifting the entire orbit of my life. I've wanted to be a mom for as long as I can remember, she made me "mom" and I can't thank God enough for letting me have my baby girl, she is an incredible blessing.
Say your prayers and eat your spinach ladies. God is good.
