Birth Story! Don’t say I didn’t warn you

Posted on October 25, 2019 by Good Times with Jess

Rainbow Baby is here! I’m thrilled and Captain has PTSD.

On my due date we went for a regularly scheduled check-up. RB (Rainbow Baby) was doing well and I was doing well. My midwife was happy for us to wait to go into labor naturally, which is what I was hoping for.

Four days later we went for an ultrasound to make sure everything still looked good. RB was doing well and there was plenty of amniotic fluid. I felt relieved. Then they took my blood pressure: 160/90. My midwife was alarmed. She asked,

“Are you anxious?”

“Now I am!”

She gave me some time to calm down and then she checked again, 160/90.

She told us to go to the hospital to get blood work, a urine test and a non-stress test for RB. She recommended taking our bags with us in case they wanted to induce me.

I started freaking out. I was already on the verge of a freak out at any point in this pregnancy.

The day was not supposed to be going like this. I had been looking forward to an afternoon nap and then an anniversary dinner with Captain.

And the least of it, but not helping my anxiety, was that the next day was our Angel Baby’s birthday. A year to the day that she died. I was becoming a hormonal, emotional wreck.

We went home, had lunch, packed our hospital bags. I got in the car and told Captain,

“I don’t want to go. I have a really bad gut feeling about this.” I was feeling like my blood pressure was up because I was anxious and that instead of calming down I was just getting more and more anxious. I felt desperate to stay home and rest.

Captain felt strongly about going to the hospital and getting tested. I agreed to go with the stipulation that we’d leave if I wanted to.

The non-stress test showed baby was still doing well. My blood pressure was still 160/90. The blood work was normal but there was protein in my urine and they diagnosed me with preeclampsia.

I understood the severity of this. I also understood that no one was whisking me away for a c-section.

It was 5pm. The midwife wanted me to stay at the hospital and start an induction. She said it could take up to 2 days. I said,

“If it could take 2 days, then I’d like to go home, get a good night’s sleep and start the induction in the morning.”

“We don’t recommend that.”

They wanted to monitor the baby and me in case things got worse. The doctor came to talk to me. He said that if I were 30 weeks pregnant they’d hold off on inducing me.

I knew if I stayed in the hospital I wouldn’t sleep and how the heck am I supposed to have the stamina for a 2 day induction if I start off by pulling an all-nighter? I felt desperate to be well rested for this.

Against the doctor, midwife and Captain’s better judgment, I went with one of the strongest gut feelings I’ve ever had. I signed myself out of the hospital and agreed to come back at 9:30am the next morning to start the induction.

We got take-out. Not the anniversary I’d imagined, but at least I was home. Captain was terrified. I became a little more nervous. If anything bad happened now, I was 100% responsible and what would that do to our marriage if we both blamed me?

I took a long hot shower, followed by a long hot bath. I was determined to relax. So you can imagine how that went. Captain was snoring in no time and my mind was racing. At 11pm I got crampy. Nothing too bad. At 11:40pm I was too uncomfortable to stay in bed and also excited that maybe labor was starting on its own.

I began tracking my contractions. They seemed really close together for having just started. They were coming every 3-4 minutes, but only for 35-40 seconds. I wasn’t convinced this was for real, although the intensity felt for real. I figured I should track them for an hour to see if there was a regular pattern, but by 12:30am I told Captain we should go to the hospital.

Even if it weren’t for real, I was nervous enough about my blood pressure and RB.

Captain woke my mom up at 12:40am. I repacked my bag, changed my pants, told my mom she could go back to sleep, turned off some lights, told Captain to let my OB office know we’re headed to the hospital.

At 12:55pm we left. After the fact my mom said she was one minute away from making us stay and calling 911.

I knew from BB that contractions in the car are no fun. So when a really bad one hit me half way through the 15 minute drive to the hospital I figured I probably had one more to get through and then we’d be there. I moaned through a third as we drove up the hill to the hospital. Captain asked,

“Can you walk in?”

“Yes.”

Another contraction as we pulled in by the emergency room and with that my water broke. I screamed at Captain,

“The baby’s coming I can’t walk in!” I ripped off my pants.

He sprinted for the emergency room and came back with a man and a woman pushing a wheelchair. I climbed into the wheelchair, wearing one of Captain’s undershirts and nothing else. I instructed Captain on what bags we needed and we were off.

I was told that the woman said to stop screaming and asked what happened to my pants. All I remember is her trying to cover my crotch with my t-shirt and keep a hand there in case Baby popped out.

Later, multiple nurses asked me what happened to my pants. Baby was coming out so I took them off. I am unclear on how I was supposed to have a baby with pants on.

I left a trail of blood through the halls. Days later a couple drops were still there.

The ER peeps rolled me into an empty maternity floor. Staff appeared out of nowhere.

I’d seen meconium in my amniotic fluid and was terrified that RB wasn’t ok. I screamed at the nurse,

“Is my baby alive?”

“I have no idea.”

RB was crowning as I threw myself onto the triage table. I knew I wanted to be on my side. My midwife had said that’s the best bet if I want to minimize tearing.

The triage “bed/chair” was in an upright position. I was on my side diagonally across it. Captain had one of my legs which he handed off to a nurse and I was resting my head on a side table thing.

I was given the all clear to push and RB came right out. It was 15 minutes since we left home and 2 hours since labor started.

RB was whimpering! They cut her cord and whisked her away. Captain went with her. He came back to report all was well. She swallowed meconium but hadn’t inhaled it.

The doctor who was there for the delivery wasn’t part of my OB practice, so she peaced out.

I asked Captain for the angelica root tincture that my midwife had recommended I take to help release my placenta.

The gruff nurse said,

“You’re not putting anything in your mouth, I don’t even know who you are.”

“I don’t know who you are!”

The doctor from my practice showed up. The same doctor we’d seen a few hours earlier who didn’t want us to go home. He was so kind and funny. He said if my midwife said to take it, I could take it. He asked,

“What time was the baby born?”

Everyone looked at each other. I looked at the clock. I have NO idea. No one knew. A nurse said,

“1:10?”

So let it be written.

The doctor started the task of inspecting the damage. I cringed and waited to hear the worst. I knew I was supposed to push the baby out slow and easy and nothing about this had been slow. Although fairly easy!

The doctor sent the gruff nurse for anesthetic. There was some misunderstanding and she came back without it. He sent her away again. When she came back he said,

“You took so long that the patient is all healed up.”

And that is how I found out the most amazing news: NO STITCHES!

I’d been hoping for minimal tearing, but I didn’t have the audacity to begin to hope for NO tearing.

Our healthy rainbow baby was placed on my chest at 1:30am, 20 minutes after she was born. And as for her sharing a birthday with our angel baby, it feels miraculous. I wouldn’t change a thing, except maybe leaving for the hospital 10 minutes sooner so as not to traumatize poor Captain. But maybe this cured him of the temptation for a third.

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Baby Bop is Born!

Posted on July 18, 2016 by Good Times with Jess

She’s out! And I’m back. Baby Bop is 11 days old.

I’ve been thinking about you. I know it’s been too long, but at 3:00 am when I’m trying to get Baby Bop to relinquish my nipple so I can go back to sleep, blogging seems like an unattainable goal.

Here’s Baby Bop’s birth story with all the gory details. Don’t say I didn’t warn you…

Baby Bop came hard and fast and I was in a state of denial right up until I met her. I knew I would have a baby eventually at some point, but I was convinced labor would take days, not hours.

Tuesday night July 5th, still pregnant, Captain and I drive back from the Cape. We pull over for my millionth bathroom stop. I peer into my underwear. It’s my mucus plug! It’s out! I know that’s a sign that I’ll be having a baby soon. In case the fact that I’m almost 40 weeks pregnant wasn’t enough for me.

I’m tempted to save the gelatinous plug and show Captain, but decide he’ll probably appreciate me describing it instead.

Wednesday July 6th I go about my daily life. Everyone is texting,

“Still pregnant?”

“Still pregnant.”

Wednesday evening I confirm details for a walk with some mom friends the next morning, Thursday, July 7th.

Thursday July 7th, 4:00 am: I wake up with a cramp that feels like I really need to poop. I do that and go back to bed. 4:30 am, same cramp again. I try to go to the bathroom, no major success. I go back to bed. 5:00 am, cramp again. Are these contractions?

5:30 am: another cramp. I can’t stay in bed for it. They seem short, irregular and not that bad. Maybe this is false labor. I drink a ton of water. This is what my doula said to do if I was having pre-term contractions. Yes I realize I’m full term.

I relax on the couch. 7:00 am: I decide that just in case this isn’t false labor, I should stay home and skip the walk with my mom friends.

8:00 am: the cramps that I’m not convinced are real contractions are still short and irregular. Captain wakes up for work. He wants to stay home. I convince him to go to work. He insists on packing his bag for the hospital. I don’t think he needs to do this, but I don’t argue.

We agree he’ll leave work at noon, head to CVS for more hemorrhoid wipes and the grocery store for watermelon. I’m dying for watermelon. Then we’ll go to my previously scheduled pre-natal appointment at 2:00pm.

In birth class we talked a lot about having a plan of things to do to keep busy during early labor. I decide to clean the bathroom, shower and then have a coffee and write a blog. It’ll be great material to blog between contractions. If these are even real contractions.

11:00 am: I get out of the shower. I’m starting to have to really focus, breath and moan to get through each contraction. Blogging seems like it might not happen. I pack my hospital bag, just in case.

It seems like I should start tracking what’s happening. It looks like I’m having a contraction every 4 minutes for about a minute. I’ll see how the next hour goes. I’m not convinced it’s regular yet.

Noon: Captain texts that he’s leaving work and headed for CVS and the grocery store. I’m stuck in the bathroom, leaning over the counter, moaning through contractions. I’m tempted to tell him to come home, but I really want watermelon.

I call the doctor’s office. I don’t think I can go to my pre-natal appointment. I’m coping well at home, but can’t imagine walking to the office. Somehow I manage to talk through a contraction and the nurse tells me,

“We don’t want to send first time moms to the hospital too soon. It would be great to see you here first. We’ll move your appointment to 1:00pm.”

No need to argue with this lady. I don’t have to go. Captain gets home at 12:45pm. He’s surprised to find me moaning away in the bathroom. He sees that I’m tracking the contractions. He asks,

“How frequent are they?”

“Looks like every 3 minutes for a minute.”

His eyes go wide,

“Isn’t this when we’re supposed to go to the hospital?”

“They wanted me to come in for my pre-natal appointment. I’ll call them again.”

This time on the phone with the office I do not manage to talk through my contraction. The nurse says,

“You should go to the hospital now.”

We call our doula. She says,

“You should go to the hospital now.”

Captain says,

“I’m going to get the car.”

I guess I’m going to the hospital now.

Having contractions in the car is HARD. We pull up into a line of 6 cars waiting for valet parking. I jump out. I’m standing for the next contraction whether or not I scare the old man on the bench.

At 1:50pm Captain and I head into the hospital. I’m moaning as we go. The woman at the front desk says,

“In a couple of days, when you leave, come see me about parking.”

I tell her,

“Oh we don’t know if we’re getting admitted.”

“You’re getting admitted.”

We fill out our hospital paperwork and the nurses and midwives meet us in the hallway of the maternity floor. The head midwife tells me,

“We’re going to skip the triage room and go straight to your labor and delivery room.”

I guess that means I’m getting admitted.

One of the main reasons I chose the hospital we’re at is so that I can relax and labor in the tub. I ask,

“Can I get in the tub?”

“We’ll start filling it.”

I ask again,

“Can I get in the tub now?

“Oh we turned it off, but we’ll turn it back on.”

Unbeknownst to me they tell Captain,

“The baby is coming at any moment, she’s not getting in the tub.”

I asked for no or few vaginal exams, so we don’t know for sure how far along I am. I feel the urge to push and agree to a vaginal check. The midwife announces,

“You’re fully dilated!”

I guess I am having a baby.

I feel something bulging out like a balloon between my legs. It’s Baby Bop’s amniotic sac! I had told our doula I only wanted photos after the birth. She tells me,

“This is really rare, may I take a photo?”

I have the photo and I’ll show you in person if you ask, but I’m not posting it on here. I knew I’d stopped any hair maintenance down there, but before the photo, it was easier to be in denial about how hairy my butt is.

The excitement in the room seems to have given way to a nervous vibe. I keep having very painful pushing contractions, but nothing is happening. They have me change positions several times. My eyes are closed and I’m holding Captain’s hand. I drop it and shout,

“Where are you?!”

“I’m right here.”

Everyone is encouraging me to push Baby Bop out. I’m concerned about not tearing my lady bits. Someone says,

“I wonder if she’ll have curly hair like her momma.”

As another pushing contraction sweeps over me, I mutter,

“I can’t even get into that right now.”

Baby Bop’s heart rate is decelerating. She’s turned around and is now posterior. Or what they call sunny side up. Her head is stuck. The midwife tells me,

“You need to push your baby out on the next contraction or we’re going to have to do an episiotomy and a vacuum extraction.”

Perineum be damned. I push with everything I have and some that I didn’t know I have. At 3:49 pm, 2 hours after we got to the hospital, Baby Bop comes flying out!

Thank goodness it’s over and who is this person? The two hours of stitches begins.