Motherhood Monday: A Labor Story {Part 2}

Last week, I kicked off my Motherhood Monday series with the beginning of my birth story. But, much like the actual event itself, it was waaaay too long! So, here's Part 2!

By the time I was officially in "active labor", it was late afternoon on Thursday. We got set up in the room and I felt amazing. The adrenaline rush of knowing that I was really in labor was enough to dull the strong contractions. I got in bed and tried to get comfortable, turning on my HypnoBirthing affirmations and trying to relax.

The nurse assigned to us was absolutely wonderful. She was completely on board with everything we wanted to do and so sweet and helpful. {Thank heavens it wasn't nurse "What makes you think you're in labor?" Whew.} Over the next few hours, I spent time on the birthing ball, waddled walked around the room, tried to watch TV, had my mom and in-laws drop by for a visit and spent time in the jetted tub. Meanwhile, Steve just stayed by my side doing anything and everything to make me more comfortable {and also taking video of how much more subdued my contractions were when I was practicing my hypnobirthing techniques, which he got quite a kick out of}. Just having him there was the biggest help. Aside from squeezing my hips really hard during contractions for the better part of an hour, there wasn't much he could actually do.

Several hours later {I think. It all gets pretty hazy from here.}, close to 3 a.m., my doctor stopped by to see how I was doing. I was barely hanging on to sanity, not so much because of the pain, but because of not being able to rest. {Remember, we were going on day 3 of no sleep.} He brought up the big question: Pain relief.

We had talked at length about keeping things as natural as possible, but I had also let him know that if things got extreme {read: I was in labor FOREVER}, I wasn't opposed to an epidural. For that reason, I had met with the anesthesiologist when we pre-registered so that I could be cleared ahead of time in case I opted to go that route.

The doctor asked me how I was feeling {um.} and asked if I wanted to be checked and have my water broken to speed things up. The only downside would be the intensifying of contractions, which I was fairly certain I couldn't stand right then. He said he figured I felt that way and asked if I had thought about an epidural. Why, yes. Yes, I had. Several times. But I didn't want to do it. I was trying to avoid it as long as possible, but after 2 days and 12 hours of what I had experienced, I wasn't sure how much longer I'd last without hurdling myself out the window.

It was at this point that I was so glad that I switched doctors at the 11th hour and that I found someone who was so understanding. We talked over the pros and cons of the epidural and he asked me {in my delirious state} why I didn't want one. I was honest and said that I wasn't a fan of the thought of needles in my spine, numbness or strong medicine in general. I don't even take Advil unless my head feels like it's about to explode. He expressed his concern about my pain levels continuing to exhaust me to the point of rendering me useless when it was time to push -- a place you definitely don't want to find yourself in the tiring process that is labor.

After talking it over with Steve, we decided that without knowing how much longer I'd be laboring, an epidural was the best course of action for getting some rest before the big moment. I was relieved, but terrified... and frankly a little disappointed at that moment. But good ol' Hypnobirthing affirmations popped into my head: "I am prepared to meet whatever turn my labor takes." Maybe it wasn't the path that I hoped for, but by the time the anesthesiologist came in and administered the epidural, I was at peace with the decision.

{By the way, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I barely felt a thing, though I'm pretty sure I squeezed the crap out of the nurse who let me hold onto her while the whole thing was going down. The anesthesiologist -- let's call him, "Mr. Personality" -- was super quick and impressed with my getting to 6 or 7 centimeters without meds. I wasn't interested in trophies or chatter.}

As it turns out, labor with an epidural is a cake walk. Had I not been exhausted to the point of lunacy, I probably could have gone back to baking. {Except, of course, for the fact that I was numb from the armpits down and couldn't stop shivering for some reason.} Incidentally, not everyone goes completely numb when they have an epidural -- but I did. From my chest down I didn't feel a thing. I could slightly move my left leg but not my right. It was dead weight. A few times it fell off the bed and I had to ask Steve to pick it back up because I couldn't lift it myself. So weird.

The rest of the night went by slowly... but with no pain; just a strange sensation that remains when your belly contracts.  4 a.m... 5 a.m... 6 a.m... Still progressing ever so slowly.

The sun rose on Friday morning, and I was still waiting to be fully dilated. On the positive side, I'd gotten to rest a tiny bit {as did Steve, poor guy}, and I was feeling more capable of putting together a sentence, not to mention pushing out a baby. Did I mention that my parents-in-law, brother-in-law and mom had all stayed in the waiting room overnight?? I felt terrible that they were sitting out there exhausted, but no one wanted to have news of progress more than I did.

Our doctor came in and chatted with us in the morning. There was progress, but I STILL wasn't at 10 centimeters. I asked him how pushing would go if I didn't have any way to feel contractions and he assured me that my body would know what to do. If you say so!

Around 10 a.m., I was checked one last time and the doctor announced that it was time to have a baby. I was excited, but the nurse kept telling me that I was about to start a process that was no picnic. Anything seemed easier than what I had just been through in the past 3 days!

I had hoped to push the baby out in a comfortable position, but because of the epidural, I was stuck with the typical "hold my legs" stance. As I had imagined, pushing was not the easiest without any way to feel when a contraction was coming or any other sensation besides pressure. But I went with it. Because, you know, I wanted to get the kid out before his first birthday.

Meanwhile, the doctor, nurse and Steve chattered away as I huffed and puffed trying to find a rhythm and catch my breath. It was such a strange thing to be somewhere but feel like I was outside the situation. I remember staring at one part of the pattern on the wallpaper with such focus that I thought I might bore a hole into the wall with my eyes. Steve kept on leaning in and whispering words of encouragement and letting me know that I was almost there. {I didn't believe him.}

After just under an hour of pushing {it didn't seem that long... time sort of does weird things when you're in that kind of scenario}, at 10:53 a.m., Cole Thomas made his way into this world and finally graced us with his presence. After THREE DAYS!

They plopped him on top of me and I looked at him in disbelief -- I couldn't believe I did it. That he was finally here. That this was the little tot that was kicking me and doing somersaults in my belly for 40 weeks. That we had a son.

It is true that no matter how tired you were before, the adrenaline you feel after such an experience makes you feel like you could jump up and run laps. That is, if your legs aren't limp noodles. But, more likely than not, you'll opt to stay exactly where you are and stare at your baby like you've never stared at anyone else before because suddenly there is another person in your family.

Steve doing the "Daddy Stare".

Cole was healthy, strong and very squished. Three days of being wedged in a pelvis will do funny things to your face. {I'm happy to say his face has now returned to normal.} He weighed 6 pounds, 13 ounces. The perfect little peanut.

Squiiiiiiiiiiish.

So, that's how my labor went down. The thing I'd been thinking about for months on end. It was pretty incredible and I'm so thankful that even though things didn't go exactly how I had imagined {does anything ever?}, the end result was more than I could hope for. Getting through slow labor wasn't easy, but I give all the credit to my amazing husband, my incredible doctor, a fantastic nursing staff and HypnoBirthing. I can't imagine what this experience would have been like had it not been for the strong support I received!

Proud dad & awesome doc!

And that's how I officially became a mama. The end to this chapter of the story and the beginning of a lifetime of new experiences. These past few months have been a whirlwind of happiness and tears and learning and insomnia. It's been a challenge to juggle bottles, baking, blogging and life... but we're getting the hang of it {most days}.

Photo courtesy of my talented friend at Erica Dunhill Photography

I have a lot to share about how motherhood has changed my life -- the good, the bad and the spells of ugly crying {mine, not Cole's}. Every day is a new adventure for sure, and I hope that these posts will be able to help other moms out there.

Moms: Feel free to leave me a comment and tell me about your birth experience. Was it what you hoped for?

Motherhood Monday: A Labor Story {Part 1}

Why I ever thought that I could avoid constantly talking about something as all-consuming as motherhood is beyond me. I tried hard. I really did. But lately, when I've had a spare second to sit down and write a blog post, I've found that unless the story revolves around slobber and diapers and baby milestones... I have very little to talk about.

The truth is this: From Monday to Friday, my life is all baby, all the time. That's sort of what happens when you work from home and have a 4 month old. Though the weekends give me short breaks where I get to talk to other grown ups and venture out of the house without being weighed down by a 20 pound diaper bag, most of my exposure to the outside world comes in the form of strolling around the neighborhood & watching The Today Show & TLC. {Scary, but true!}

So, naturally, baby talk is going to be inevitable around here for a while. Rather than fighting it, I've decided to go with the flow and turn it into an opportunity to share some of my experiences with those who might be in the same mama boat.

Though I'm not planning on going full-force mommy blog, I'm allowing a little space for something that's taken up a big space in my life with the launch of my Motherhood Monday series! You can expect candor, humor and, of course, pics of my little guy. Because I'm that person now. For those of you who have a life outside of Fisher Price & Baby Einstein... the rest of the week's posts are still for you! :)

Whether you're expecting, are in the midst of child rearing, or are nowhere near having kids, I hope you'll jump in and interact with the posts to come. Because what I've found in my very short time as a mom is that it's a whole lot easier when you've got support!

Now, to quote the fabulous Julie Andrews: "Let's start at the very beginning. A very good place to start." Four months in isn't a terrible time to share my birth story, is it? ;)

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I have never been a punctual person. It's a characteristic that I'm constantly working on, but I arrived in this world 11 days late and could never quite get caught up with punctuality.

So you can imagine my surprise when I woke up the morning of my due date and had some signs that our baby might actually be on time.

I had been having strong Braxton-Hicks contractions for weeks on end, so I was more than ready to get the process started. We excitedly called our doctor to let him know that we would keep him in the loop if things progressed quickly, but we planned to stay and labor at home as long as possible. Little did I know that "long" was the key word!

I spent Tuesday finishing up odds and ends around the house and baking -- yes, I baked while I was in early labor. When Tuesday night rolled around and things still hadn't progressed, I called it a night early and tried to sleep as much as possible, knowing that the next day could be a busy one.

Oh, you know. Just baking & contracting with my giant belly.

I didn't sleep well at all with contractions coming semi-regularly, but after weeks of sleeping on the couch because I couldn't get comfortable anywhere else, that wasn't anything new.

Wednesday morning came and so did stronger contractions. Steve decided to go in to work for just a few patients in the morning, closing the office early to be home with me in case things got serious quickly. All the while, our bags were {mostly} packed and ready to go just waiting for a signal that we should head to the hospital.

My contractions remained strong and 5-7 minutes apart for most of the morning. Our doctor was having his office hours in West Palm Beach that day, so when we called him to get his advice about whether or not we should be seen, he suggested that we go to the hospital {which is 5 minutes from our house} so that I could be checked and get an estimate of how far into labor I really was.

I was worried about this because I had a feeling that progress would be slow and that hearing "You're not dilated." would send me over the edge. All the while, I had been practicing my HypnoBirthing, listening to my affirmations and relaxation track and going to my "happy place" when contractions were strong. But curiosity got the best of me {as did impatience} and we decided to take the doc's suggestion and go get checked.

Except, every pregnant woman within a 10 mile radius had decided to give birth all at once. We received a call to tell us that the birthing wing was full -- all 12 suites! I was a little nervous about what that could mean if this wasn't a false alarm. Would I have the baby in a hallway somewhere? Amongst strangers in triage divided by a thin curtain as seen in dramatic labor scenes on TV? This was not good.

Luckily, our doctor spoke with someone and we were told to head over, that they'd find a place and that it wouldn't be a "no room at the inn" situation. Once we arrived, {after waiting for what seemed like an eternity in the waiting area} we were situated in the doctors lounge which had been converted into a makeshift room. They hooked me up to a monitor to check out baby's vitals and observed me for a little while. At this point, my contractions had started to subside {of course!!!}, so I wasn't shocked when the nurse checked me and let me know that I was only about a centimeter dilated. Bummer.

"It could be a while," she said. "Maybe tonight, or maybe not for a few more days." That is NOT what a laboring pregnant gal wants to hear. After a quick ultrasound to ensure that my fluid levels were ok {am I getting an oil change or...?}, they released me to go home for another night of waiting and fun.

Eventually my contractions picked back up again. They were stronger than they had been before but I was determined not to make a return trip to the hospital unless I was really, truly sure that progress was being made. I had a doctor's appointment scheduled for the following morning anyway, so I figured if I could hold on until then, he could tell me how close I was and send me on my way if it was time. That night was ROUGH. Like, fall asleep for 5 minutes and be awakened by gut-wrenching cramps kind of rough.

Around 3 a.m. when I thought I couldn't take it anymore and was about to freak out a little bit, I had a sudden burst of energy and decided to draw a bubble bath complete with candles, spa music and my HypnoBirthing track. It was probably one of the most magical moments of my labor. I really used every technique I had practiced leading up to these weeks and it was amazing. I felt like I was working with my body instead of against it. I kept visualizing progress. I talked to the baby in my head and urged him to come out. He didn't.

The bath relaxed me enough that when I got out I was able to sleep for about an hour. All the while, my sweet husband was by my side trying so hard to stay awake with me. When I was in the bath, he set up a little blanket bed for himself in the hallway and lay there on standby for me. He was such an integral part of keeping me sane during this very grueling time.

Thursday morning came. My doctor's appointment was scheduled for 10:45 a.m. Waiting in a doctor's office is never fun... but waiting in a doctor's office while you're having contractions? Eek. When he got around to checking me, he happily announced that I was 3 centimeters... which still is considered early labor, not active. I wanted to punch someone in the face. If this isn't labor, then what the :::BLEEEEEEP::: is it?!?

We discussed my options, and it basically came down to one thing: My body was taking its time. He offered to do what is called "sweeping the membrane", a quick procedure that usually moves things along if your body is ready to progress. I didn't want to do any types of interventions, but I didn't know how many more days of slow labor I could take, so I agreed. It wasn't pleasant, but in the grand scheme of things, pain was very relative.

As soon as we left the doctor's office, things really picked up. The contractions were consistently 5 minutes apart. I had a feeling that this was a turning point.

We got back home and decided to go for a walk around the little lake next to our place to see if gravity would help things along. I would take a few steps and then have to pause for contractions... it made for a very long walk. By the time we got back to our house, Steve was getting a little nervous about the intensity and frequency of the contractions and suggested that maybe it was time for the hospital. Though I didn't want to go for fear of being sent home once again, I was restless and agreed to go.

Again, we arrived at the hospital and took the trip up to Labor & Delivery. I remember that the elevator was broken and the sweet hospital volunteer that was walking with us asked if I thought I could take the stairs. I really would have, but we might not have made it up there for another day or two. Thank goodness we found a working elevator and got to where we were going.

I think Labor & Delivery nurses are pretty awesome people. That being said, they have to take things with a grain of salt as I'm sure they got TONS of false alarms. When we walked in, one of the nurses said, "First baby?" and I said yes. Her next question was, "And what makes you think you're in labor?"

Questions like these should probably be added to a collection called, "Things NOT to ask a person in the middle of contractions."  Because when a person is grabbing on to handrails in the middle of a hallway every few minutes, it's probably safe to say that something is going on, whether it's labor or not.

Once I passed her assessment {eye roll}, I was put in another triage room. At least it wasn't the doctor's lounge this time. I was hooked up to monitors again and we were left to wait a while so that contractions could be recorded. Then... the moment of truth. A cervical check.

The nurse checked me and, though I had been told hours before that I was 3 centimeters dilated, she said she thought I was barely at a 3. WHAT. THE. HECK.

You know what happens when you're on the verge of active labor and you go to the hospital? You get to walk laps. If you're at a big hospital, that's probably not a terrible thing. But the birthing wing at our hospital {though quite lovely} felt about as big as a gerbil cage. We walked in circles for over an hour, again, stopping every now and again to catch my breath and brace myself, with strangers and nurses gawking all along. Fun times, really. My favorite part was when a brand-spanking new dad on a baby high looked at me all glowy-like and asked, "How much longer?!"

YOU TELL ME, BUDDY.

{Fun side note: Our paths crossed again nearly 4 months later when our sons were baptized at the same time! What are the odds?}

At this point, I was exhausted. And upset. I started crying in the middle of the hallway because I was convinced that this baby had rolled in Super Glue somewhere along the line and had adhered himself to my insides. He was not going to come out.

The nurse saw me obviously overcome by anxiety and exhausted and stopped for a pep talk. She told me that these things can take a while {duh}, and that I was probably dilating as we spoke {yeah right}, and not to lose hope. She also told me to keep walking and that she'd check me again in a short while. Whatever. I was over it.

When we got back to the little triage area, she returned to check me and I held my breath. I couldn't take more news of no progress. I just couldn't. She peered around my legs and said, "Congratulations -- 4 centimeters! You're in active labor. Let's get you a room."

I cried tears of pure joy. I have never been more excited to be told that more discomfort would be imminent. Maybe he would come out after all.

The pic I texted my friend when she asked if I was officially in labor yet.

... To be continued!

SPOILER ALERT: He eventually came out. :P