Wyatt's Birth Story

You can't tell but I am chuckling to myself as I type.  Here I thought Zoey's birth story was wild, but her little brother had to one up her.  Just goes to show I know absolutely nothing.

I had said before that this pregnancy had been physically harder than the first two, and that became more and more true as the weeks went on.  Especially the last two weeks.  My blood pressure was much higher than normal, my hands and feet were swelling, I had a constant headache, and some spotty and blurry vision.  Blessed be my OB, she decided at 39 weeks that it was time to induce and get the baby out.  Being that I was done - I didn't argue and in fact, asked to hug her.

She had said that her method for induction (cytotec) was different than pitocin and that it would be "much slower and more gradual."  So, I was excited thinking that things wouldn't be as insane and fast as they were with Zoey - who was induced using pitocin.

We checked into the hospital at 7:30pm and I was 3cm dilated.  After getting settled and answering the myriad of questions about my health, past pregnancies, and current pregnancy - I had my first dose of cytotec at 9pm and second dose at midnight.  I didn't really notice any significant change at this point - just irregular contractions.

I took a third dose at 3am and I don't know if things had been building up or if that dose was just the magical kickstarter - but holy hell.  Shit got real, real quick.  I immediately started having legit contractions, and while I wasn't timing them - there wasn't much time in between.  I got out of bed to try and walk/sway through the contractions but the nurse immediately came in and said "the baby doesn't like that..." (meaning his heart rate was dropping with each contraction) and said I had to either sit down or lie down.  Awesome.

So I sat in the rocking chair for awhile and around 5am - asked if it was too early for an epidural.  I described my contractions to the nurse as "long and strong" and couldn't help but sing a little Sir Mix A Lot "Baby Got Back" to myself to try and distract myself from the pain. The nurse sort of laughed, probably thinking I was a big wuss, and said she would ask.  She came right back in the room and said that it was fine and that she had paged the anesthesiologist.

An hour of laboring later and the anesthesiologist finally showed up around 6am.  So, she got to work on me while I was having contractions every two minutes, some back-to-back-to-back.  At some point I told Ryan to call my mom and Rachel and tell them to get to the hospital "right now."  Ryan had offered to let me squeeze his hands during the contractions (and to try and help me focus on staying still while she was trying to get the catheter in) and after the first squeeze he said "ow!" and I told him to "shut up."

After six (or maybe seven?) failed attempts of getting the catheter in my back, the anesthesiologist telling me repeatedly that I have a "beautiful back," and some puking, the nurse told the anesthesiologist to stop.  The baby was having significant dips in his heartrate and she thought that I might be "getting close."  So, the devil woman stopped poking me and I laid down to be checked.  Seriously, all that poking and stabbing for nothing.

Lo and behold - I was at 10cm with a bulging bag and he was ready to come out.  This was great and all but the only people in the room were me, Ryan, the nurse, and the anesthesiologist.  The room and the few people in it weren't prepared for delivery at all.  

Our poor nurse.  She told the anesthesiologist to "go get help" and she called my OB to let her know what was happening.  In order to keep the baby in, they told me to flip over and get on all-fours with my head below my butt.  This was by far the worst part of this labor.  I cannot even describe how uncomfortable it was and how intense the contractions were in this position and at the angle I was at.  I kept looking over at Ryan to make sure he was still standing.  I think we were both worried that like Zoey's birth, the intensity would be too much for him and he would pass out again.  But, hallelujah, he was staying upright!

I have no idea how much time passed but before long, the room was full of nurses and I was swearing up a storm.  Mostly "fuck's" and "holy shit's."  Maybe even a few "mother fucker's."  I don't really know for sure.  Thankfully most of my swearing was muffled by the oxygen mask.

The nurse told me to flip over and I wasted no time.  I grabbed my legs and as soon as the next contraction hit - I started pushing.  Like Zoey's birth - pushing felt so good.  In the weirdest way it was a relief.  So, I pushed once and heard "there's his head!"  I pushed two more times and he came on out.  Ryan said he was in a weird, semi-curled up position, but regardless - he came out.

Thank you, sweet infant baby Jesus.  Seriously, instant relief.

He was so quiet and only cried a tiny, tiny bit - I kept asking if he was OK!  The doctor and nurses assured me he was fine and I just stared at this sweet baby that was literally just in my body.  Mom and Rachel missed his birth by literally a minute and heard his first cry through the room's door.  I felt terrible that they missed it.

Four hours from the start of legit labor and contractions to the birth of this beautiful little squishy boy.  Another birth experience, like his big brother and big sister, that I will never forget.

Take Luck,

LP

Zoey's Birth Story

Last I left you, because I was officially post-dates, had only reasonable fluid levels, and my OB was concerned with my platelet count, we arrived at the hospital at midnight Monday night/Tuesday morning for an induction.  Already this experience was different than Camden's birth story, but I had no idea just how different it would ultimately be.

When I announced Zoey's arrival on Instagram and Facebook, I used the words "fast and furious" to describe it.  This is why.

We got checked in and settled, I was dilated 2-2.5cm and by 1am the nurse has started the pitocin drip.  I tried to rest as much as possible and Ryan made himself comfortable on the couch.  I couldn't get comfortable on the damn hospital bed and kept switching positions, causing the baby to move and the sensors/monitors strapped to my belly to not pick her up.  Contractions started around 3:30am.  Needless to say the nurse was coming in constantly to check my drip and vitals and reposition the monitors, so rest I did not.

This is where I get a little foggy on the timeline of things.  The really sad part is that my best reference are text messages I was sending to Tiff, Rachel, Cara, my mom, and Ryan's mom - updating them on progress.  Thankfully, the timespan is pretty short.

5:15am was when contractions started getting strong and requiring me to really focus on breathing through them, but I was still laying in bed.  Around 6:00am I got out of bed and started laboring by standing and swaying and bending over the bed.  It was around this time that I told the nurse I was ready for an epidural - knowing that they would have to check my platelet count before administering it.  (For the record, my OB was right to be concerned about my platelet count.  It had dropped over 20,000 in the last four weeks and 8,000 since checking into the hospital.)

They drew my blood and contractions were really picking up.  My mom called Ryan just before 7am saying that she was just getting Camden to daycare and would be to the hospital shortly after.  Rachel and I had been texting and she was going to be on the 6am ferry, arriving to the hospital around the same time as Mom.

At 7am, right after Ryan ended the phone call with my mom, shit hit the fan.  I was laboring (swearing, crying -- the goods), standing/leaning over the bed, and I felt fluid running down my legs.  Thankfully, my OB was just starting her rounds and was able to check my progress.  I was 5.5cm and she broke my water. A little bit of meconium was in the water, so they made sure there would be respiratory doctors and nurses on-hand when the baby was born in case she swallowed any.

Right after she broke my water things took another (giant) step up in intensity.  I told Ryan to call my mom back and to tell her that she needed to hurry.  I have no idea how, but I sent Tiffanie a text at 7:13am that said, "5.5cm, water broke. Miserable. Waiting for epidural."

Mom and Rachel still weren't at the hospital at this point but they probably could have heard me yelling and screaming from however far away they were.  I'm not even kidding.  I was yelling and screaming in pain because I didn't know what else to do.  I kept telling Ryan and the nurses that I felt like I had to poop during contractions.  (This "telling" was really done in the form of yelling and screaming).   Mom and Rachel walked into the room at some point and I have no doubt were shocked to see me bent over the bed, screaming in pain.  The nurses kept telling me over and over that I could not push yet and that I needed to lay down.  I think this was the worst part of the whole experience - feeling the need to push but having to use all my energy not to push and to keep the baby inside.

I got into bed and was somehow able to communicate (scream) "She is coming out!"  The nurse tried checking my cervix to feel baby's position and it took everything I had to not kick her in the face.  All I was able to muster was tears and "Please, stop!" (At least I managed to say, "Please"?!).  The nurse announced that the baby was right there and I was just going to have to push her out.  Without an epidural.

I think it was about this time that something red and on the floor caught my eye.  It was my red St. Louis Cardinals sweatshirt wearing husband.  The intensity of the moment and my pain/screaming/yelling was just a little too much for him and he passed out. (He really does love me!)  A few nurses tended to him and assured me that he was fine and that "it happens all the time," but I was worried and kept thinking to myself, "what the hell is happening?!"  It didn't help hearing that it was normal because I could see him through the bed rails - twitching and making all sorts of weird noises.

So, I'm supposed to push this baby out, without an epidural, and without my husband?!  Fantastic.

In the next few minutes while the doctors and nurses were all getting into their baby catching positions and telling me not to push, Ryan was able to come around and get his feet back under him.  I am so incredibly thankful that Mom and Rachel got there when they did because I don't have the slightest clue what I would have done without them and Ryan on the floor.

It was time to push and Rachel has told me that my face totally changed from "screaming and yelling in agony" to "game time."  I grabbed the top bar of the bed to brace myself and pushed once to get her head out.  Pushing against the contraction actually gave me a sense of relief, believe it or not.  The second most horrible part of this whole labor was waiting in between that push and the next contraction.  The "ring of fire" is real, people.  Thankfully, the next contraction came quickly and I pushed with everything I had left to deliver a 7 lb 6 oz, 20 inch Zoey Grace at 7:36am. 

Holy shit.

I was looking at Ryan, Mom, Rachel, and this baby with nothing but "what the effing hell just happened?!" racing through my mind.  There was certainly some happiness and joy in there too, but I was in major shock over what had transpired in the course of 30 minutes.

The crazy part is that almost (almost!) immediately after she was out, the pain I was in was gone and I stopped screaming like a crazy person. So I (almost!) immediately started apologizing to everyone that I made eye contact with for all the screaming and the crazy that had just transpired. Everyone assured me that I was fine and normal and not crazy, but holy hell I was embarrassed - even though I was acting and reacting in the only way I felt I possibly could. 

So, let's recap.

12am: Check into hospital

1am: 2-2.5cm, start pitocin

3:30am: Contractions start

5:15am: Contractions getting strong

6am: Ask for epidural and continue to labor

7am: 5.5cm, water broken

7:36am: Zoey is born

Is that mind blowing?  Or is it just me?  I'm a big believer in pregnant women educating themselves on birth and all that can happen during labor and delivery.  I think it's great to have a birth plan, but I think it's extremely important to remember that it's just that - a plan.  I didn't write a formal birth plan this time, just because I was planning on having another medicated birth and was completely happy and satisfied with that.  The joke is on me, I suppose.  Thankfully, mother nature took it's course and my body knew what it needed to do to get this lady born.

Sorry Zo Zo - things happened so fast that no fancy Nikon camera was brought out to capture your birth and post-birth.  Just the old, loyal iPhone. I swear, the girl's not even a week old and she's already getting the second child shaft.

Ryan picked Camden up from daycare that afternoon and brought him to the hospital to meet his baby sister.  He took a little peek at her but otherwise wasn't super interested and was much more excited by getting to play with Grammy's iPad.

Fine by me.

So, there you have it.  It was a crazy, amazing experience that like Camden's birth, I will never forget.

Take Luck,

LP

Camden's Birth Story

Even though I know that giving birth to Camden is something that I will never forget, I wanted to write it down so years down the road - I can look back and remember the small details.

I went into preterm labor at 33 weeks, so each week that he stayed put was truly a blessing.  At first we were thankful for each day, and just trying to hold on until 36 weeks.  Days turned into weeks and eventually we hit 39.  It felt a little magical.

I had been having Braxton Hicks contractions all day, every day since Halloween.  Even though they weren't the real thing, they still took a toll on me mentally and physically.  My doctors assured me that when real contractions and real labor began - I would know.

Saturday, December 8th, the real contractions started.  They certainly felt different and a few even stopped me in my tracks, requiring me to consciously breathe through them.  Although irregular, I knew that the big showdown was not far away.  The contractions continued throughout the day and night and into Sunday. Sleeping wasn't happening due to the fact that the contractions would come, wake me up, I'd breathe through them, consider timing them, and then wait for the next.

After the previous two days/nights, I decided to work from home on Monday.  If Monday was going to be anything like the weekend, there was no way I needed to be at work. I had a scheduled weekly appointment with my OB and was anxious to hear a hoo-ha status.  At that point, I had never been so excited for a hoo-ha status.

She checked me and I was 1 1/2 cm dilated and 85% effaced.  At the advice of our doula, I asked her about sweeping my membranes in hopes of getting things moving along.  She was hesitant, but I think the exhausted look on my face and the telepathic pleading I was sending her worked.  Even though she assured me that the sweep may not do a darn thing - I didn't care and was feeling somewhat rejuvenated.

I came home and continued working.  The contractions were getting stronger and showing signs of regularity.  At that point I could walk/pace them off in the living room, as well as breathe and talk through them.  

My Daddio came over in the early afternoon and we went on a brisk 3 mile walk together.  After the walk and a shower, my contractions seemed to almost stop.  My immediate thought was, "Oh, hell no."  I laid down and it didn't even take a full hour for the contractions to come back with a vengeance and for things really started moving along.

4pm came and so did active labor.  Ryan had come home early from work and we were watching Game of Thrones while I went in and out of contractions.  It was a nice distraction at first, but then every 4-5 minutes I was down on the floor in child's pose and completely oblivious to anything and everything going on around me.

I labored at home until 7pm when my contractions were consistently four minutes apart.  Our doula, Laura, came over and discussed with us the hospital's procedure and treatment of women in active labor.  I was in a lot of pain and unable to do anything to help ease  the contractions, so I decided it was best we head for the hospital.

While in the triage area, I was checked.  2 cm dilated and 90% effaced.  I was happy that all this work and pain was doing something, but I needed to get to 3 cm before they would admit me.  I was in serious pain and the thought of being sent home to labor triggered another, "Oh, hell no."

After an hour of breathing, lunges, squats, and "other activities," I made it to a 3 1/2 cm.

Halle-frigging-lujah.

We were admitted and moved to another room.  My contractions were coming fast and strong.  They were peaking and re-peaking two or three times before dying down.  Needless to say that after two nights of no sleep and the general exhaustion that was setting in from laboring - this Mama was dog tired and ready for an epidural.

My platelets needed to be checked before an epidural could be administered and I swear the lab people were trying to kill me with how long they took to return the results.  I was in the clear, and at 4 cm dilated, got my epidural - which wasn't nearly as bad or painful as I expected it to be.

I'm not sure exactly when it started happening but baby was having decels (decelerated heart rate) around this time.  The nurses were keeping a very close eye on him, moving me into various positions to try and get his heart rate to go back up, and trying not to alarm me.  But alarmed I was.  They were able to get his heart rate back up and figured he was probably just grabbing onto the umbilical cord.

The epidural made me about 1,000,000 times more comfortable.  I didn't like the heaviness in my legs, but when considering the alternative - I decided I could live with it.  While the epidural made me more comfortable, it also slowed my labor down.  They gave me some pitocin to try and kick things up.

Have I mentioned that this labor was not going exactly as I had planned or thought?

A very long and sleepless night (if you lost count - that 's three in a row) later, I made it to 5m and then 6 1/2 cm.  At around 7:30am, my OB came in and broke my water.

I'm not kidding when I say that 30 minutes later, I was at 10 cm dilated, 100% effaced, and ready. to. go.

The nurse said that my OB was next door with another patient who was ready to push.  It was up to me to wait until she was done or start pushing and have the baby delivered by a hospital laborist.  I really wanted the baby to be delivered by my OB.  I wasn't feeling any urge to push just yet, and Laura suggested that letting baby's head rest down in that position for a period of time would help stretch things out in preparation for birth.  So, we waited.

During the hour we waited, Laura told me to practice pushing while I had contractions, and reminded me to push through my bottom like I was having a bowel movement.  It was then that I panicked and realized that at that very moment, I didn't know how to have a bowel movement.  I had no idea how to push through my bottom.  I even think I said out loud, "I've been having bowel movements my entire life and at this moment, I am completely clueless." 

Perfect.

After several awkward attempts - I remembered.  Pushing started and I swear I've never felt more discouraged in my life.  I felt like I was working harder than I ever have and yet was making absolutely no progress.  I remember enjoying (or something like that) a nice combination of Ryan's encouragement (as well as having my Momma, Rachel, and Laura there too!), oxygen, a wet wash cloth on my forehead, and water in between contractions.  I also remember saying, "I can't do this," about 100 times.

The progress came.  I could feel the baby moving down and getting closer to making his debut.  When the nurse said my OB was coming in it gave me a huge boost and confirmed for me that all my hard work was actually working.

He crowned and I felt his little head.  I pushed a little more and felt even more.  I think it was two pushes after that and he literally shot out.

When my OB held him up with his lower half still yet to come out and told me to take him, I couldn't help but feel like Kourtney Kardashian as I pulled him onto my chest.

At that moment I realize I had done it.  We had done it.  It wasn't at all as I had planned or expected, but in the end - I did what I felt was best for me and us and I have no regrets.

I had initially planned on only having Ryan and Laura in the room with me, but after having my Mom and Rachel in the room throughout all the laboring - I knew I wanted them in there too.  

Lots of tears were shed by all as we welcomed Camden into the world.

Take Luck,
LP