Sweet baby girl

So, I've started this post in my mind a dozen times in the last three(!) weeks. Each version had a different beginning depending on my mood, the latest happenings at home, or something funny that had struck me. But since you can only have ONE beginning to a post, and here it is a whole three weeks since the baby has been born, I decided I had better just sit down and write it. Even though I JUST drew hot water to wash the dishes that have been piling up since yesterday and I can't stand washing dishes in lukewarm water so I'll end up draining it and refilling it, AND even though I was up late and slept half the night in the armchair so I should be napping during this blessed naptime, AND even though I have been dedicating every other awake (and coherent) moment that isn't filled with my children and all that entails to finishing the ranch's taxes so we can get on to filing our own. I'm still going to write this post.

*Disclaimers: Sorry for all those who have heard my story and this is a repeat. And apologies to anyone who doesn't like birth stories, you can skip the rest of this post and catch the next one, oh, probably in another month at my pace. =)

Monday, January 24th started with the regular rush of the day. We got the girls up and ready so Shane could drop them off at my parents while he did chores and we went to my appointment at 9:15 that morning. While he was gone I got ready and wondered anxiously what my appointment would tell me. All week I was secretly hoping that my water would break or at least start leaking, or I would be super dilated at my appointment, or I would start getting painful contractions. . . just SOMETHING that would give me a sign that it was time, that my body was ready, that the baby was ready, and that the end was near. I went a whole week after the doctor stripped my membranes with nothing happening (and no, it didn't hurt to get them stripped, at least in my case).

So, we went to my appointment to see where I was at this week. I was dilated to 5 cm. In my mind, I'm thinking, "What!? Only a 5? Seriously? I need more than that to go on." On the other hand, the nurse was saying, "Wow! That's great! Most women only get to a 2 on the exam table, and you're already halfway there!"

So the question remained: What am I supposed to do? I technically still had 2 more days until my "due date." Should I stick it out the remaining two days, or in the end, is it really not going to make a difference? I'm already a 5 after all. My doctor looked at me and asked, "So, what do you want to do? Do you want to set up an appointment to break your water on Wednesday if you don't go before then?" Gag. Can I really stick it out for two more days? If it was the right thing to do, of course I could.

Then the doctor continued, "Or we can go get you set up right now. I could break your water, and you'll probably have this baby by noon."

The proposition sounded frighteningly appealing. Maybe too appealing. It sounded so selfish to just say yes right then. Instead, I looked pleadingly at Shane for an answer, but his eyes only reflected my own feelings of I-DON'T-KNOW. So I said I would go home and think about it. "But I might be back," I finished lamely.

We went out to the truck each mostly lost in our own thoughts. So, I called my mom. I talked to her the whole way to her house to pick up the girls. I just poured out my jumbled thoughts, worries, etc. I wasn't sure if I wanted to pick up the girls yet because if I decided to go ahead and get my water broken, I didn't want to have to pack up the girls and drop them off again somewhere. It was easier to just leave them where they were, without even letting them know we were done "going to the doctor said". So, we just parked by the road leading to my parents' house while I finished talking to my mom.

She said, "You are the mom. You are the one doing the work, so you can decide. Don't let everyone else's opinions about what you should or shouldn't do sway you. You know your body and what is best. You are the one that has to do all the work, so you get to decide. And you don't have to decide right now. Go eat some lunch or something." It was good advice.

We stopped and talked to my sister. Shane called his mom (a nurse). I tried to call my aunt who had just had her baby. Everyone obviously had their own thoughts and opinions. Finally, we just went home and decided to talk to the one who really mattered. After talking together for a moment, we prayed about our decision. . . We were going to have a baby that day. I remember still having a lot of questions and doubts, but I felt a peace that told me everything would be okay.

Shane cleaned up the kitchen a little for me (I didn't want to leave a messy kitchen) while I finished packing my bag and called my parents to let them know what we had decided. I called my doctor to let him know I was coming in and asked where he wanted me to go. He almost sounded surprised and asked if I was having contractions. I said no, that I was just going to have him break my water, "unless that doesn't work for you." I added. He said, "Oh, well, let me see if they have a room for you."

That kinda shook my resolve for a moment. I had finally decided to do this and then it felt like I was forcing the issue. I waited while he called and sure enough, the (only) birthing room was available if I wanted to go in then.

After a quick stop at Subway (I was starving, okay?) we headed to the hospital. I scarfed down about a 1/3 of the sandwich before I gave the rest to Shane. I was still hungry, but I was trying to avoid any embarrassing moments during delivery. We went to the front desk of the hospital and the nurse asked if she could help us. I was a bit dumbfounded, "Uhh, we're here to have a baby today?" I said with a question in my voice, like can't-you-see-I-have-this-abnormal-bump-on-my-belly-and-I-would-like-it-removed. So then she asked if we had pre-registered. "Pre-registered? Uhh, no?" At this point, I was thinking it was a good thing it wasn't an emergency or I might have had a hard time remaining calm during the whole situation. "See if we have room for you?" "Pre-registered?" I just wanted to have a baby.
Finally, paperwork signed, yet another lovely hospital gown donned, IV inserted, monitors beeping their existence, table with instruments prepped and covered, and cue doctor.

1:00 PM: The doctor breaks my water. Liquid clear. All looks good. He says he will be back to check on me later. I get unhooked from as many machines as possible, braid my hair, and start walking the hall outside my room. It's always amazing the myriad of feelings that hit me almost predictably during labor. Before everything starts, it is a whole lot of anxiety and fear. Once my water it broken, I get a wave of "Let's do this!" and I start walking. With gusto. I am certain I looked like I was ready to run a maternity marathon or something as I made my circles up and down the hall, carting my IV stand with me. Shane gave up trying to keep up with me, so he sat down and called family to let them know I was at the hospital. I texted family while I walked to let them know there was no turning back at this point.

1:30 PM: Contractions start coming. Nothing major, I can still walk through them easily enough. Shane runs back to the house for my insurance card which I had forgotten and to stop at the hardware store. I'm sure whatever it was he needed at the hardware store was something very critical and desparately needed to help me deliver a baby. =) While he was gone, the contractions start to come in waves, one hard one, one or two small ones.

Shane gets back about the time I start slowing down for each contraction. I look at the clock on my cell phone each time a contraction comes--2:05, 2:07, 2:09, 2:11, 2:13, 2:16. I start to lean on the wall through each one and focus on breathing.

2:30ish PM: My nurse comes back to check on me. After a quick check, she says I'm between a 6 and 7. She hooks me back up to the monitors so the doctor can get a good reading on the feed that is monitoring contractions when he comes back. I lay in bed for awhile watching the contractions come and go and reading the numbers on the monitor. 20 is "zero". By the time it hits 30, I can feel the contraction growing. 80 is killer. I start to relax and look for the release at about 56 as the contraction ebbs away.

I'm not sure what to put here: "No, I'm not scowling at my belly," or "I didn't know Shane was taking a picture," or perhaps, "Just watching a contraction." You choose.

After getting some good feed on the chart, I get unhooked again so I can be mobile. Yay! Freedom! I try to stay out of bed and off my back as much as possible during labor. The pain is so much more bearable when I can move at will. My nurse offers a birthing ball, which I had thought about using if I had the chance. It was nice being able to roll through some contractions. I thought it helped sitting on the ball.  

3:50 PM: My doctor comes to check me. I'm an 8! I have to go to the bathroom. Again. While I am trying to accomplish this while dodging contractions, I can hear my doctor talking to Shane: "Probably another 45 minutes and we'll have a baby somewhere between 4:30 and 5:00." On the other side of the door, in my mind, I'm thinking, "Please don't put a timeframe on this. Don't tell me I have to do this for 45 more minutes. Just say, 'We'll have a baby soon' and I will keep holding on for one more minute, one more contraction. But don't tell me I have to do this for 45 more minutes!"

I come out of the bathroom and my doctor has been replaced with my nurse. She is actually from my ward and I was so glad she was my nurse from start to finish. I really enjoyed her. She had been warned that I deliver fairly quickly which was why the instrument table was prepped and covered right away, rather than waiting until I was "closer". She also kept telling me that if I "felt ANY vaginal pressure" to call her right away. She reissued the warning as she left the room and said she would be back to check soon. I decided to get back on the birthing ball and try to muddle my way throught the next "45 minutes". I walked from the bathroom door, but only made it the foot of the bed before another contraction hit. I gripped the handrail, and suddenly I felt a moment of panic, as an intense urge to push came and I literally felt the baby coming. In a moment of panic I put my hand between my legs and said, "Oh no! I think she's coming!"

If there was any doubt in my mind before about what the nurse meant when she said "any vaginal pressure," it was gone and it was pretty clear to me, this baby was coming out. Shane jumped up and buzzed the nurses who came rushing in. Like a whirlwind, they started prepping the room and one said, "Call the doctor. Get him down here right now."

I protested and said, "Well, don't bother him. He said it would be another 45 minutes. I don't want to call him for nothing." He had been gone barely 5 minutes, if that.

"Oh no sweetheart. It's better to be safe than sorry," the other nurse replied.

My doctor rushed in the room, smiling. "That was a quick 45 minutes! Let's check and see where you are at. Can you get on the bed?"

That was precisely my intention, but it was slightly challenging trying to get my body to listen when it was so focused on delivering the baby at that point. But we succeeded in getting on the bed.

My efforts were rewarded when the doctor checked me and said,"Yep, you whipped right open. You're there. Can you give me 30 seconds to get dressed?"

"I think so," I replied trying not to push. But the doctor was already trying to get garbed up for delivery. Within a matter of seconds, it was showtime. Off goes the end of the bed, out come the stirrups, and the last of my modesty goes out the door. But I didn't care. I was going to do this. And I was going to do it well. I wasn't going to fall apart between pushes like I did with Mesa. I wasn't going to stop holding my breath and pushing until my 10 seconds was up and I was going to focus. I could feel my contraction coming, so I verbally prepared myself: Chin down to chest, hold my breath and push for 10 seconds. Three times for each contraction.

So, deep breath and push. One contraction and her head crowned. The doctor asked if I wanted to keep pushing, but my contraction was leaving, so I said I would wait for the next one. He said, "I think we can get her here next push." I hung onto that thought. Sure enough, next push and her head was out. The cord was around her neck, so we stopped and cut that before delivering the rest of her.

Time of birth: 4:10 PM. A mere 20 minutes from the time the doctor checked me and said I was an 8, to baby born.

A little bit blue in the face from the cord being wrapped around her neck.

Brand new!

Hospital stats:

7 lbs. 15 oz.

21.5 in

We did it!

We did it! And I say 'we' because Shane was right there with me, holding my hand through each contraction and giving me strength when I needed it most.

I was so worried about so many things that really didn't matter in the end. She was a whole pound lighter than Mesa, even after two extra weeks of incubating. She just really wasn't ready to come out yet. It really reaffirmed to me that the baby and your body know best and that she really needed to wait those extra two weeks. 

Rain and Mesa meeting their new sister. What fun! Three girls: ages 3 and under!

The girls came to say hello (we found out later they weren't supposed to come to the hospital because of RSV season, but oh well).

Rain taking care of the baby.

Rain has quickly adopted the "mother" role and says she needs to take care of her. She loves to give her kisses and rub the hair on her head. She likes to hold her and always watches in case her binky falls out so she can put it back in her mouth.

Mesa thought she was interesting at first, but is struggling with relinquishing her "baby of the family" role. If I am holding the baby, she won't let me touch her. She will be crying and won't let me give her a hug until I "mose baby" (move baby). She also asks me to "care" (carry) her more these days. I hope we can adjust soon.

Meeting Paca and PacaMa - my parents.

And alas, we still have not named her. Shane could have named her at the hospital, but I am still having an internal struggle with feeling right about her name. She is so sweet and mellow. I have lots of feelings bottled up inside about her, but nothing that can translate into a name yet.

Getting bundled up and ready to go home!

Stay tuned: Up next--Photoshoot!