Your Birth: Mommy's Side of the Story

I don't remember the first time I held you.

Of the entire saga of your birth, that's the first thought that pops into my head.

I didn't have a birth plan. When the obstetrician asked me what my expectations were when it came to delivery, I responded with, "Get Ellie out and keep me alive." Really. The only expectation I did have was that the first time I held you, I would experience this magical moment that would change my life forever. I imagined a swirl of light and sparkles surrounding us in love, like when The Doctor regenerates or The Beast transforms into Prince Adam. I dreamed about this moment, and I rehearsed the first words I'd say to you.

In reality, I wasn't able to hold you until you had been on this earth for quite some time. I don't remember how much time, exactly. But it was much longer than I would have liked.

Thursday, December 19th began like any other day. Well, it was slightly different just because it was December 19th. That day is special because it's the anniversary of your Uncle Mark's death. I know that sounds sad, and it is, but it's also beautiful and good. On that day every year, I feel a little more empty as I'm reminded that he's not here anymore, but I also feel more full as I reflect on my memories with him, and as my family and I remind each other how much we love one another, as his legacy inspires us to do.

Around 11:00 AM, I started having contractions. I'd had some Braxton Hicks contractions for a few weeks, but these were different. Before then, I had wondered what contractions felt like. "Oh you'll know," they told me. Yep. I knew. This was it. It felt like a bad menstrual cramp that began in my pelvis and then wrapped around to my low back. They were about 10 minutes apart, lasted about 30 seconds, and were about a 2 on a pain scale from 0-10. Your daideo came over for lunch, and I kept timing my contractions. I was texting with your daddy the whole time, who eventually decided to come home in case it was go time. Daideo left, and your daddy finished packing up his things and some snacks while I took one last, long, glorious shower. It was just about at this time that my contractions were 5 minutes apart, and lasting 60-90 seconds. I thought that I might be leaking amniotic fluid (turns out I wasn't), so I called the doctor and they advised that I go ahead to triage. I still wasn't in significant pain. I was excited that you might be born on such a significant anniversary. I was at peace, and ready to go. In fact, I felt great.

I walked in to triage, with your daddy close behind carrying all of our stuff. I politely asked for directions to the triage unit, and the woman at the nurses' station asked me if I was visiting someone. I told her I was in labor and she laughed. "Oh my goodness!" she exclaimed. "I didn't even realize you were pregnant until you turned to the side!" All of these factors should have been clues that this was a little too easy.

The triage nurse performed a pelvic exam and deemed me not yet ready for admission. At this point, my contractions were becoming slightly more painful, maybe a 3/10. Additionally, they were only about three minutes apart. It felt like things were progressing, but they weren't progressing enough. Here's why this was frustrating: if I was 39 weeks along, they would have told me to walk around for a while and then reexamine me. If things still weren't progressing, they would have broken my water and begun the induction that was scheduled a mere 12 hours from then. Unfortunately, I was still technically 38 weeks. This meant that they couldn't do anything to speed the process along, so they had to send me home. The fact that this was such a black and white standard of practice was absolutely infuriating, but I did as I was told.

Once we got home, you really picked up the pace. My contractions were lasting 90 seconds consistently, and they were only a minute or two apart. They felt nearly constant, and the pain had definitely intensified to about an 8/10. I called the doctor's office again to ask if I should return to triage, and Dr. Cauthen herself called me back. At this point, I couldn't even speak (much less consume the dinner that I was supposed to be eating), so I put your daddy on the phone. Regardless of the pain that I was in, I remember this moment very clearly: he was so efficient yet thorough in reporting my symptoms and our triage experience thus far. He had his game face on and he was ready to go. Dr. Cauthen told us to head back to triage. Poor Chelsea was so confused. Needless to say, my road rage on the 5 minute drive back to the hospital was out of control.

It was about 7:00 PM, and triage had become much busier than it had been earlier that day. We actually had to wait for a little while before a room became available. I think we waited about half an hour, but it felt like an eternity. Your daddy left to go park the car, and I waddled around in the waiting room trying to avoid screaming out in pain (I didn't want to be too cliché, after all). When a room became available, I was relieved to see that we were with a different nurse than we'd had previously. This one was much more calming and cheerful, which I really needed at that moment. My pelvic exam looked a little more promising, and Dr. Cauthen had ordered them to admit me. I was wheeled up to labor and delivery, with your daddy following closely behind.

We got settled in to our hospital room, and a nurse came in to check my blood pressure and get me started on an IV. Anesthesiology came in quickly and started my epidural. It didn't hurt nearly as much as I thought it would; I think flu shots hurt more. Regardless, it was worth it. My pain instantly dropped from a 9/10 to a 1/10.

Dr. Cauthen came in to perform another pelvic exam. I remember apologizing to her, because she was supposed to be on vacation and my induction was scheduled with a different obstetrician. She was on call that night, which meant she had to spend the eve of her vacation with me. She laughed at me, and said she was excited that she got to do our delivery after all. Anyway, my pelvic exam looked better and it looked like I was getting ready for you; however, you hadn't moved down much. Dr. Cauthen broke my water and started me on some pitocin to try to move things along.

Daddy and I hung out, I tried to sleep, and they kept coming in intermittently to check me out. Around 12:30 AM, they told me that it was time to push. I was suddenly very aware of the fact that I didn't really know how to push. I'd been told that an epidural would numb my instinctive ability to know how to push, and at that moment, I perseverated on this fear. What happened to that confident woman who didn't need childbirth classes? Well, after a couple of practice rounds, my doubt faded and my confidence returned. I had my eye on the prize and I couldn't attend to such distractions. I had always wondered about the more vulgar aspects of childbirth and just how bad it would be. For example, I was so nervous about your daddy having to see me...like THAT. But I have to say, once you get in the zone, none of that matters. I could only think about one thing: getting you out.

I pushed for about 90 minutes. Dr. Cauthen was really impressed by how quickly I learned how to push and how effective they were. She, the nurse, and your daddy sat at my feet breathing words of encouragement. I knew I could do it. Towards the end, though, it just got more and more exhausting. Things start to get fuzzy from here. I remember Dr. Cauthen starting to look a little apprehensive, but telling me we'd keep trying. I remember your daddy telling me, "It's going to be okay. Whatever we have to do, it'll be okay. She's going to get here." I found out later that even though we had made a lot of progress, you had just hit a wall. Your head was too big (because of your big brain, of course!) and I was too small, and it just wasn't working out. I started to fall asleep in between pushes, but I rallied for each one nonetheless.

Finally, Dr. Cauthen spotted some meconium, the first bowel movement a newborn has. It's a product of the amniotic fluid you swallowed in the womb, and it's thick and tarry and can be fatal if aspirated. The fact that Dr. Cauthen could see it was a bad sign. This meant that it was no longer about trying to push against a brick wall. A vaginal delivery had become dangerous. She told me that I needed a c-section, and I agreed. I really didn't want you to enter the world this way, but I almost felt relieved when Dr. Cauthen told me we were changing course. On some level, I expected it. Maybe I'd always known it would end this way. But it was a relief because it meant it was almost over, and it meant you were almost here. Best of all, it meant my work (and I had been hard at work for the last 14 hours) was over.

I remember your daddy looking more worried than I felt, probably just because he feared how I would react. I vaguely remember the anesthesiologist coming in and getting me started on something, and then I remember feeling even more profoundly tired than I had earlier. I asked your daddy if they gave me something to make me sleep or if I was just tired from pushing. I don't remember his answer. I don't remember signing the consent form. I do remember entering the OR and feeling very overstimulated. It was so bright, and everyone was so chipper and chatty. I wanted to tell them to shut up so I could sleep, but I was too tired. I remember feeling extremely claustrophobic when they began to prep me, especially with that big blue sheet so close to my face. I remember telling myself to just keep my eyes closed, because I knew that opening them would be scary.

It's so weird - I was awake but I wasn't. I felt someone touching my stomach, but it didn't hurt. I also felt something, you know, down there occasionally. I found out later that they needed to push you back up in order to pull you out of the surgical incision. Dr. Cauthen quoted The Princess Bride at one point. I don't remember the context, but I remember completing the quote aloud and I remember her exclaiming in delight that I knew the reference. Your daddy kept talking to me, but I don't really remember what he was saying. I must have been complaining about something, because they kept giving me more drugs. I was shaking, so they gave me something. That drug made me nauseated, so they gave me something else for the nausea.

The only part I really vividly remember was the exact moment of your arrival. Someone hollered for your daddy. I remember this distinctly because they called him "dad." He was behind the sterile curtain with my face because he wasn't scrubbed in, so they asked him if he wanted to peek over as they pulled you out. I thought it was pretty cool that they knew exactly when to tell him to do this. It was very "Here ye, here ye, Ellie is almost here!" I felt more pressure in my abdomen than I had throughout the surgery, and I wondered why I didn't hear you yet. Daddy had excitement in his voice that I had never heard before as he narrated your birth. "They're pulling her out! She's here! She's perfect! She has all of her toes!" I couldn't tell whether he was crying or not, but I could tell he was happier than he had ever been. I remember wanting to smile, and being uncertain of whether I actually was or not. Finally, I heard your cries. Your lungs worked, and you were alive. I don't remember the first time I held you, but I remember this was the greatest sound I had ever heard in my entire life.

I remember them asking me if Daddy wanted to cut your cord. I think I was rude and said something like "I don't know. Why don't you ask him? He's right there." Your daddy did cut your cord, and he got to hold you while they stitched me up. I just remember shaking uncontrollably, to the point where it was pretty unbearable. I gripped onto the arm stirrups of the operating table in an attempt to somewhat stabilize myself, but these efforts were useless. Someone told me to try to relax, because resisting the shaking would cause me to have some pretty severe muscle spasms in a day or two. I'd just endured the worst pain imaginable with hours of contractions, followed by hours of pushing, only to have you pushed back inside of me and pulled out of a hole that had to be created surgically...muscle spasms were the least of my concerns at that point.

When the time came to transport us back to our room, they placed you in my lap. You were between my legs, so you weren't going anywhere, but I was a little concerned because of all of the shaking. When we got back to the room, I realized that I wasn't comfortable holding you when I couldn't control my own arms. They asked us if we wanted you to go to the nursery, but your daddy insisted on keeping you in the room with us. I was so unaware of what was going on at the time, but in hindsight, I'm so grateful that he made that call. The first few hours of life are so important for bonding, and I'm glad you were able to have that with your daddy, even if I couldn't be a part of it.

I don't remember much about the next 24 hours. Apparently, I spiked a fever of 103 and this required three types of IV antibiotics. I remember fighting them on the gentomycin because it's ototoxic, though your Auntie Em assured me via text message that if I had a vestibulopathy she would fix it. I remember vomiting quite a bit. I remember being in enough pain that I was okay with taking a narcotic. I remember actually being grateful for my Foley catheter because it meant that I didn't have to go anywhere. Your grandparents wanted to visit, but I didn't want any company until I was able to hold food down. Dinner on the evening of the 20th (you were born very early that morning) was the first meal I was able to digest, and it was a clear diet. Later that night, I was able to stand up and walk to a chair with some assistance. My feet were incredibly swollen, and I had a great deal of right shoulder pain, which the nurse explained was gas pain due to my abdominal cavity being open for so long. As painful as it was to stand (if you can call it standing...I was pretty hunched over because I felt like standing fully upright would cost me a staple or two), it felt good to get up.

The next day, I was able to eat a regular diet.

Later that day, the Foley came out and I was able to shower with some assistance.

Apparently, at some point I started breastfeeding.

I tried to watch SNL, but it hurt to laugh so I turned it off.

Abue, Mimi, Daideo, and Auntie Amanda came over. I vaguely remember this.

I think even without the c-section recovery and narcotics, hospitals are disorienting. We were already sleep-deprived from our early morning labor. On top of that, you didn't really know how to sleep yet! Newborns wake up pretty regularly throughout the night, and new parents don't really know how to interpret their baby's attempts at communicating. And on top of that, people kept coming in to check our temperatures, my blood pressure, my IV, your hearing, and so on. Your poor daddy just stuck it out with us, even though there was no reason for his sleep to be so interrupted.

The hospital stay was a blur, and really so was the next week or so. While I was pregnant, I worried that he would feel left out when you got here; ironically, I was the one who was left out. I had so much regret surrounding my initial recovery. I worried that my inability to deliver you vaginally combined with the massive amount of medications I received hindered your growth and development. I was really hard on myself and questioned whether what I was giving you was adequate. Now that you're almost three weeks old, all I feel is gratitude. Your daddy was truly my hero, as he had to take care of both of us as I recovered. I'm so thankful that he was able to stay home from work and dedicate so much of himself to us.

Your delivery was the Apollo 13 of births. It wasn't how I wanted it to go at all, but I still had a good experience. I had always pictured playing a very passive role in childbirth while healthcare professionals poked and prodded at me. In actuality, it was just an obstetrician, a nurse, me, and your daddy working hard together. I felt as though I was the only patient in the hospital. It was so intimate, and I very much felt part of the decision-making discussion the entire time. The recovery was rough, but you overcame every obstacle that was working against you (more on breastfeeding later).

As I'm writing this, you're almost three weeks old. You're still not at your birth weight, but you sure are eating like you're trying to get there! You're sleeping well (for 3-4 hours at a time), and when you're awake you are so beautifully expressive. We're already seeing sneak previews of your personality, and we can't wait to get to know you as you continue to grow!