My oldest turned 3 last weekend. Every day he grows further from being a toddler and more into an adventurous, sweet little boy. I thought I'd share his birth story. I never thought to write it down when he was born. This past winter, I wrote out the bare bones of it, and the week leading up and following his birthday, I sat down and reflected on it deeper. It was fun and a bit emotional going back and recalling all the events, emotions, and choices of that day and I'm excited to share it with you.
We were all set. The due date was approaching and the doctor assured us baby's head was down. She was positive I'd have the baby before my due date while she was on holidays. We had made it and all that was left to do was wait.
As I crawled into bed the night of July 28th, I experienced a couple light contractions. My mother-in-law joked that I wasn't allowed to go into labour while she was watching a performance of the Lion King. I assured her I didn't think it would happen that night. I settled into bed figuring real labour would keep me awake and if it wasn't labour, I'd be able to sleep. I slept very well that night.
The next morning, as my husband was getting ready for work, I experienced a contraction. He came and kissed me goodbye and I nearly told him labour was starting and he should keep his phone near, but I kept silent and let him go without any indication. There was no point worrying him if it wasn't labour. And if it was, he probably had time to work the full day. After all, I was a first time mom and it wouldn't be that fast.
Shortly after he left for work, another contraction came. The contractions had been ten minutes apart. I got up to go to the bathroom twice, and my bowels cleared out completely. I read after that could be common before labour begins. Another ten minutes and another contraction as I was crawling back in bed. There was a popping sensation and wetness on my legs. I knew it couldn't be urine as I'd just come from the bathroom. Fluid leaked every time I moved. I placed a towel on the bed and sat contemplating what to do next.
It was 8 o'clock. Curtis would have just made it to work. The doctor had said to go to the hospital if my waters broke, but the contractions weren't that close together. After a couple minutes, I decided to call Curtis and see what he thought we should do. I tried his phone three times, each time with no answer. It was rare for him to be without his phone. In between calling him, I text my mom, needing someone to know what was going on, but not sure who to contact. She offered to come if I couldn't reach Curtis.
I tried his number one last time, mentally preparing to call his boss or coworker should he not answer. Even in labour, my introversion kicked in and I dreaded having to call someone who wasn't family or a close friend. To my relief, he answered. Apparently he had left his phone in the hanger and gone to the breakroom for coffee. A pilot had been walking by and said "someone's phone is going off like crazy".
Anyway, I told him my waters had broke. Should he come home? I didn't know. Were the contractions bad? They definitely weren't pleasant. They were still ten minutes apart, but felt a bit more intense. We finally concluded it was best for him to come home.
He got home fifteen minutes later and showered quickly while I ate a bowl of cereal. I tried to put on a clean pair of underwear and pad so as not to leak everywhere, but the underwear was much too small. To my embarrassment, I had to wear a Depends my sister-in-law had given to me after her birth. Now, after two more births, I wouldn't dream of being without Depends!
We arrived at the hospital just after 9 o'clock a.m. I gave my information and papers to the triage nurse and was given a bed in assessment. In my ignorance, I thought that was where I'd give birth. Right there, with only a curtain separating me from the next labouring mother. It worried me a bit. The nurses confirmed that my membranes had indeed ruptured and I was 3-4 centimeters dilated. We were admitted and a couple hours later, were comfortably situated in our own room.
My mother-in-law arrived around 11:30 a.m. with lunch for my husband and a smoothie for me. The nurses encouraged me to get up and walk the halls to help move labour along. I absolutely hated walking while contracting. Each contraction I had, I would crouch down to the floor moaning. I remember crouching and holding onto Curtis' leg at one point. We returned to our room after a bit where I laid down and continued to moan through contractions. The nurse reminded me to breath, otherwise I wouldn't make it through without taking something for the pain.We used the shower a couple times and te heat felt amazing on my back. It was the only coping method that helped.
Around 2 p.m., the nurse came in with some news. The last time she had checked my progress, it had felt like baby was breech, that baby was coming butt first, instead of head down. The doctor wanted to do an ultrasound to confirm.
At that point, I only half believed her. My doctor had said she was 99.9% sure baby was head down. She couldn't have been that wrong. Baby had been in the same position for weeks. Even if baby was breech, it wasn't a big deal. Right?
The techs came in to do the scan. It was an easy check. They scanned my lower abdomen and sure enough, there it was. Breech. Our baby was breech. The techs went to inform the doctor and we were left to process the new development in the birth of our baby.
The doctor came in with the anesthetist. A breech baby changed things. Baby would need constant monitoring. A c-section was presented as the "only" option and if that were the case I'd need to deciced whether I wanted a spinal tap right before surgery or an epidural right away so it would take effect before surgery.
All this new information was presented to me while contractions were happening. All I could think about was the pain in my abdomen and my breech baby. Everyone waited for my decision, but I coudn't come to a conclusion alone. I looked to my husband, wanting his strength in that moment. My mother-in-law suggested they give us a moment to discuss our options, but they only stood there awaiting or decision.
I asked what the side effects were for a spinal tap versus an epidural. There was a higher risk of headaches with an epidural, but a spinal tap would immobilize me for several hours after. I opted for the epidural. I don't remember the pain when they placed it. All I remember is hugging a pillow and being held in my husband's strong arms.
The epidural took effect in 10 minutes. Without feeling the pain, my head cleared a bit. The doctor came back an told us we had some options. He said if I wanted to try for a vaginal breech delivery, I could, but there were conditions. Should labour stall out or either the baby or I go into distress, he'd have to do a c-section. If I laboured successfully and made it to pushing, they'd put me on oxytocin to keep the contractions strong and get baby out fast. If I pushed for more than an hour and a haf, c-section. I was so happy to have option, I immediately told the doctor we wanted to try.
So on we laboured. The epidural was amazing and had I been smart, I'd have napped while my body worked. But with my husband and mother-in-law there, I felt rude to sleep. We all visited quietly as I slowly progressed and time went on. My mother-in-law picked up pizza for them and it smelled amazing! Unfortunately, due to the epidural, I wasn't allowed food or water. They promised to save me a piece.
By 8 p.m., I was 8 centimeters. Baby was happy and I'd been progressing 1-2 centimeters every two hours. I anticipated being told the next time they checked that I was fully dilated and ready to push.
At 10 p.m., the nurse checked my progress. There was none. In fact, contractions were stalling out. The doctors had changed over to the night shift and a new doctor came in. She sat beside me, did her own check, and checked the baby's hear beat and contractions. She turned to Curtis and me. Baby was still doing well, happy as could be. But there was some meconium when they checked my cervix, meaning baby had pooped. I was still only 8 cm, which indicated they were slowing down. Her suggestion was to perform a c-section now while we were both happy, instead of waiting and risking the trauma of an emergency c-section. If I wanted to continue to try, she'd support it, but a c-section was her recommendation for course of action.
I weighed our option. While I didn't want a c-section, I also didn't want to risk my health or that of my baby. I told the doctor I would have the c-section. She nodded and said they would get the paper work to sign and begin preparing me for surgery.
When the doctor left, I looked up at Curtis. I have never seen disappointment so clearly etched on someone's face as I did on his in that moment. He didn't want the c-section. He didn't want that kind of recovery for me. I didn't want it that way either. I took his hand. In that moment we needed one another more than ever.
Papers were signed and my body prepared. They wheeled us down to the operating room and I was transferred onto the table. My arms were placed outstretched on two boards and I felt like Jesus on the cross. A curtain was drawn up between my chest and abdomen where the surgery would take place. Curtis sat at my head and I kept my eyes on him. As soon as they were confident I couldn't feel anything, the surgery began.
We could hear the medical staff on the other side working as they cut open my uterus to birth my baby. I couldn't feel pain, but I did feel the pressure of them pushing on my stomach to get my baby out.
"It's a boy!" a nurse called out before we had even seen our baby. He was whisked to the corner where more nurses awaited to clean him off, weigh and measure him, and suction him while I was being stitched back together. Curtis was called over to cut the cord, take pictures and hold our child. He was born at 11:36 p.m. on July 29th, weighing 8lb and 2oz.
As soon as he was born, I began to shake from the adrenaline and medication being pumped into my veins from the IV. My arms shook horribly and I could barely move my head to look at Curtis as he sat back down and turned our son towards me. I later learned that Curtis had teared up when he was born, but due to the shaking, I missed that sweet moment.
When we first found out we were pregnant, Curtis had said if we had a boy, he would be named Xander. He had liked the name for years and always said his first son would be named that.
"We have a son," he said, trying to help me catch a glimpse of our baby.
"We have our Xander," I replied.
All stitched up, I was again transferred onto a bed and rolled into recovery. We spent some time there as they made sure all was well. Once feeling had returned, my baby was placed skin to skin with me. I couldn't stop looking at his red little face. He was mine and he was perfect. We established nursing and once in our room, he spent the night on my chest.
We spent two and a half days at the hospital before being discharged. We got home and settled in as a family of three. Shortly after, I began sobbing. Curtis asked what was wrong and held me in his arms as I sobbed out, "Nothing. I'm just so happy to be home." He hugged me and sent me for a shower and nap. It felt amazing and brought me back down to being calm.
That night, as we were looking at our baby, I turned to Curtis. "It feels like he has always been here and wasn't born just three days ago." I could barely remember what life had been like before Xander was born. Life was exactly as it was supposed to be.
~Emilie
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