In light of the grievous events that occurred today in our beloved city of Boston, I was hesitant to post this blog entry. But I decided that, on this sixth anniversary of the birth of my first baby, I choose to celebrate life in the wake of immense tragedy and hope that we can remember why we keep going on when the world feels like it's turned upside down.
This post has been six years in the making. While I'm sure I've forgotten some things, many of the details of those days remain crisp in my mind as if they just happened. With the benefit of 6 years rather than a few months hindsight, I find myself with observations and reflections that I would not have otherwise had, as well as having gone through two subsequent births, that could color this story. I tried to keep these out of this retelling, and just put to words my memories of that day and night.
I went to bed Friday night, April 13, not imagining that the next day was going to change my life forever. For whatever reason I was convinced that the baby was going to be late. My due date was April 17th and my OB had actually scheduled an induction for April 26th, 11 days later. I was sure that was when things were going to happen for me. I worked that Friday and had reactions set up over the weekend; there was no reason to think that I wouldn't be there Monday to work them up. So when I woke up Saturday morning with light cramping, I didn't really think much of it.
Brec and I proceeded with our typical Saturday morning which consisted of a long walk around our neighborhood with our then punky puppy who was a mere 10 months old!
It was when we returned to our apartment, we received the first inkling that this might not be a normal day. Walking across our bedroom I felt a trickle down my leg and knew that something had changed.
Turns out for me one of the most important snippets of information we learned in our childbirth class was that despite what you might think from seeing women give birth on TV or in the movies, actually less than 10% of women have their water break with no prior signs that labor is imminent. In those 10%, rather than the dramatic crash of fluid, a slow leak is more common, something I never knew before but was glad to have retained when it turned out that was exactly what I was experiencing.
We talked the doctor on call who instructed me to come to the hospital within the next 8 hours if active labor had not already started for labor stimulation with pitocin. We had prepared to head to the hospital when the contractions lasting a minute were 5 minutes apart for an hour, but already our path was to be different. First lesson in parenting learned: children are unpredictable.
For the next several hours we made phone calls, went to the store, packed bags, and installed the infant car seat in the car (Yep, we really waited until then to do so.). I began to have contractions, but nothing terribly strong or regular. At the most they were 15 min apart, and in hindsight I was probably a day away from active labor.
I think we made our way to the hospital around 4:30 ish feeling nervous and not really believing that the next time we walked into our apartment, we'd be bringing home our baby girl. Because I was still within the 8 hour window, after getting checked (I was a mere 1 cm), admitted, and escorted to a labor & delivery room, we took a few laps around the L&D floor. UNC has a service that provides doulas upon request if one is available. We requested one feeling nervous about the idea of having my labor augmented with pitocin. I really wanted to have a vaginal birth and was glad to have the extra support of a doula to help me achieve my goal. A woman named Angie answered our call and became our assistant for the duration. Realizing at this point the writing was on the wall, the nurses began the process to hook me up to pitocin was which completed around 6:00 pm, the full 8 hours after my water had broken. I stretched out in the bed and waited for things to happen (and apparently chatted on the phone!).
A little while I began to feel some discomfort and I decided to try out the birthday ball which turned out to be a fabulous position. The only drawback was that the monitor could not seem to get consistent readings, so the nurses were often in and out trying to reposition it. Mom arrived just around the time I got onto the ball.
We had classical music playing and had turned on the TV to find Moulin Rouge! was on. It seemed like a good omen. However, as is supposed to happen, labor progressed, and the contractions became harder to manage. All of a sudden the TV became too much and was shut off immediately. I was in the throes of active labor. I tried to focus my energy on the music and follow along with the pieces, the one that particularly stands out in my memory is Dvorak's 8th symphony. My contractions were pretty long, coming very close together, and the pain was lingering in between them. I just couldn't seem to get a handle on things. At some point during this time, Lucy came into the room, having driven up from Wilmington to be there for the birth. I looked at the clock around 11, and thought given that I was a first time mom, surely I had 8 hours or more of labor to go, and I couldn't bear it that long. So I decided it was time to get an epidural.
The call was put in, and in a blessedly short amount of time, the anesthesiologist came into our room. Intensity of the contractions aside, I remember the worst part was having to tell the anesthesiologist nurse taking my medical history my current weight in front of my mom and Brec. I had gained 45 lbs during the pregnancy, enough said. When it came time for the procedure, everyone but Brec exited the room. I had to sit on the bed, legs dangling and roll forward. Not the most comfortable position. I actually don't remember specifically contractions coming while I had to hold that position, but likely they did. Eventually it was done, the epidural was successfully put it, and now all I had to do was wait the 10 - 15 min for it to take effect. Those next minutes were some of the most painful of my entire labor. Because I now had the epidural in, I was forced to leave the comfort of the birthing ball and lie on my back in bed. I briefly lost control of my breathing, and in a panic the pain became overwhelming. Luckily Brec was right in my face telling me to breath and helped me weather the storm as the drugs slowly started to kick in.
At this time the nurse came in to check me and announced that I was 7 cm dilated! No wonder things had been hurting, my body was doing it's job. Everyone came back into the room and around midnight Dad arrived from Richmond to join the fray. I remember the next hour as being completely surreal. As I proceeded to go through transition, I could feel the pressure of the contractions but the pain no longer. They were coming fast and strong. I said to Lucy that even this far into labor, I couldn't believe this is going to result in a baby!
After an hour or so the activity from the hospital staff picked up. I could tell even with the epidural that pushing was imminent as the pressure was coming from very low in my pelvis. A sentiment confirmed by my L&D nurse, Leigh. Lucy and Dad wished me luck and left the room, the bed was detached, and I moved into position. Initially the nurse tried to have me push for 3 x 10 counts per contraction. That simply felt like trying to run uphill. I ended up absolutely being able to feel them come on which really helped, and would push and hold twice for each one. It was slow, but we made progress and pretty soon our baby girl's head was visible. All the while Mom and Brec were cheerleading me on; their sense of awe at actually beholding her head really helped me dig deep.
In the midst of everything, I guess I was actually moving along faster than they thought I would, I heard Leigh on the phone with whom I can only assume was the doctor saying this baby was coming, they needed a doctor, and to send Nana now! Of course when I heard this, all I could picture was the giant dog who portrayed the children's nanny in the play Peter Pan. Soon after, not the attending I'd seen earlier at my admittance, but Nana walked in (neither a dog nor a grandmother but a very capable resident from Turkey whose nickname happened to be Nana.). Before long I experienced, what I remember thinking was aptly named, the "ring of fire", and my beautiful baby girl was out and placed on my chest. I think I said, "Thank God she's out of me, " and checked to make sure she really was in fact a girl. It really did feel wonderful. Unlike our other two, we took one look at her and announced her name. After pushing for about 25 min, Clara Jean Carson had arrived at 1:37 am, April 15, 2007.
Mommy & Daddy take a first look.
She's got healthy lungs. She actually settled down pretty quickly which really surprised me.
Freshly minted grandmother joins in the picture.
Away from Mommy's arms made her decidedly not agreeable. 8 lbs, 8 oz, 22 inches long!
Her rooting instinct seems to be top notch.
Teeny, tiny feet!
Daddy gets a closer look.
I can't believe I did it!
Back in Mommy's arms, Pop-pop and Lucy were called back into the room to meet Clara!
First nursing.
A big yawn for Pop-pop.
Lucy greets her niece.
Snuggled in Daddy's arms.
What a day!
Welcome to the world, Clara Jean. Most of the time, it's a great place to be.
