I'm happy to admit it: I love birth stories. I love hearing about the many, many ways children come into the world. I know some people dislike them, preferring that that kind of information be kept private, but I love them. Especially when I am pregnant, I love searching for and reading about the experience of women meeting their child for the first time. And because I love these stories, I share mine. I share the thoughts, feelings, and experiences. And yes, I do believe some information should be kept private. There is such a thing as too much information.
In the past I have shared Alaina's story (retold four years later), Levi's story, and Katelynn's story. I don't think I have ever shared Caleb’s. To be honest, though, with a planned induction and an epidural, there isn't much to tell there. I'll write it sometime though, because regardless of how uneventfully he entered the world, it is his story (and my blessing).
And here, for those who are interested, is Bethany's story. Consider yourself warned though…I am wordy in these birth accounts. I know that it won't be long before the little details are forgotten. And I don't ever want to forget.
Bethany’s story really begins with the stories of my other children. Four children. Four times on Pitocin.
With Alaina, contractions started naturally (on the day of a scheduled induction). After 15 hours of "good, solid contractions" (as told by the nurse) I was still at 2cm. Later I had Pitocin, had my water broken, and delivered 19.5 hours after the first contraction.
With Caleb, I was induced, mostly for the convenience of my doctor (who was already on call that day) and my mother who was traveling 12 hours to be there. I delivered 9 hours after Pitocin was started.
With Levi, I was induced immediately after a regular doctor's appointment where an ultrasound showed that my fluid levels were dangerously low. I was given a cervical pill to induce labor. Contractions started within an hour and a half, but eight hours later I was still at 3cm. I was given Pitocin, had my water broken, and delivered about two hours later.
With Katie, I was induced at 11 am, had my water broken at about 2 pm (when I was at four cm) and then delivered at 5:55 pm.
So…you can see a pattern here. My babies like to stay put. My body doesn't like to do what it is supposed to do. Pitocin has been the eviction notice all of my children have needed.
I really, really wanted this birth to be different.
That said, in the end, I really don't think it matters how a child is born into the world. Naturally, epidural, C-section, induced, vacuum extraction…whatever. My worthiness of mother has absolutely nothing to do with how I deliver. Not one tiny little smidgen. Even so, I still really wanted to go into labor naturally. I wanted that moment where I thought, "Oh wow…this is really it! I am going to have my baby today!" It was something I hoped for, prayed for, and to be honest, was jealous of others over. I knew the odds were stacked against me and my non-dilating body, but still, I hoped and prayed.
On Tuesday the 15th, I had a doctor's appointment. I had seen the doctor three days earlier and she said my fluid levels were at the very lowest she could safely allow them to go. Without making things complicated, you need a certain measurement of fluid, depending on your point in pregnancy. Mine needed to be 8 cm or above (average is up to 25 cm). On Saturday the 12th, I was at 8, down from 9 on Wednesday the 9th. I was told to come back in on Tuesday and if my levels had dropped at all, I would have to be induced. It was an odd few days. It was felt weird not knowing if Tuesday would be the day or not. I didn't know if I should pack, I didn't know if I should arrange child care, I just didn't know. And as much as I wanted to have the baby, I really wanted things to get started on their own.
Tuesday arrived and I was sort-of packed and sort-of had a plan for the kids. I went to my appointment, pretty much expecting to have to be induced. I was so excited to meet my baby, but sad to give up on my dream of starting labor on my own. At my appointment, the ultrasound showed that my levels had actually gone up a bit (8.7) and the doctor said I didn't need to come back for another week! I was a strange mix of disappointed and cautiously hopeful that there was still a chance of labor starting naturally.
On Wednesday I was emotional. I wanted this baby so much…I wanted my body back and I wanted to be holding a baby in my arms. I was trying so hard to avoid self-pity while at the same time thinking that it was MY turn to get to have a baby. In my moments of jealously, I just kept thinking of all the others who have never had to wait until 40+ weeks. Coupled with the jealousy, though, was a feeling that I could only describe to Jason as "feeling funky." I just felt off that day. I didn't dare get my hopes up that that meant anything though. I had been telling myself for weeks that unless my water broke or I was having real, regular contractions, I was not allowed to think, "I wonder if this is it?"
Wednesday night we decided to go into town as a family. I had planned to make spaghetti and garlic cheese bread, but when Jason suggested a trip to town for pizza and Slurpees (with a further enticement of "this could be our last chance"), I was easy to convince. We had a great time, thoroughly enjoyed our pizza and Slurpees, and even had the little blessing of finding a little Kiosk that sells Snickers and 3 Musketeers (a real treat…I haven't seen those things here in almost three years!)
On Thursday morning, I woke up at 3:40 and went to the bathroom. I got back in bed and felt some pain. In my well-practiced self-talk, I said to myself, "Pain and cramps are NOT the same as contractions. Go to sleep." The problem was, ten minutes later I had another. Then ten more minutes, and another. So, after an hour with "real" contractions every ten minutes I finally decided to get out of bed.
And then the contractions stopped.
I was frustrated, but pretty used to the disappointment. I stayed up, checking email and doing a few other quiet things while the rest of the house slept.
At 6:15, I decided to take my walk. I usually wait until a bit later in the morning, but since I had already been up so long I just decided to go. I don't remember thinking about much (usually my walk time is my deep thinking time).
I got home around 6:45 and tried to talk to Jason for a few minutes before he left for work. While we were talking, I felt my water leak. Not break, but definitely leak. It was an odd sensation. I still would not let myself think much of it. I was far too scared to get my hopes up. In the next 20 minutes, my water leaked two or three more times. I told Jason, but told him to go to work and I would call him if anything significant happened.
At 7:30, I was sitting at my computer, and my water broke. I wasn't sitting in large puddle or anything, but it was enough that 1) I knew I could no longer say, "Well maybe this isn't really my water" and 2) I knew I should actually get up and do something -- like take a shower.
I didn't call Jason. I just showered, got my things together, and just generally tried to be ready. I was waiting for the inevitable contractions to start. At around 9 or so, Jason called to see how things were going. I told him about my water breaking (and the leaking that continued afterward). I told him to just stay at school. I was going to bring Caleb in for Speech Therapy at 10:30, and we would assess things then.
I finished packing and getting ready, but honestly, I still wasn't sure what was going on. I knew since my levels were very low to begin with I would have to do something, but I just didn't really know what. Three hours after my water breaking and I still wasn't having contractions. I knew there was time, I just wasn't sure how long I should wait. Since my water had always been broken at the hospital, with birth occurring a few hours later, this was a whole new territory for me. I was so, so scared of getting my hopes up that it was really the day I would meet my baby.
I decided that when I took Caleb into class that I would stop by and talk to the school Physician's Assistant and see what she thought. I knew that I would need to go in sometime, but I didn't want to go right away. I wanted to give it a few more hours to let contractions start on their own. She disagreed. She told me that with my low levels and the fact that it had already been three hours, I should go in. I told her I would go home first, do a few things, and then make my way over to the hospital (we live about 5 minutes away from the hospital, with the school in between our house and the hospital). She didn't think I should go home first, but I convinced her that I needed to get my things, arrange our helper to stay with the kids, and take care of a few other things. I promised her I would go soon. As I was walking out, she asked me how I was getting home. I said, "On the motorbike, the same way I got here five minutes ago." She didn't seem to think that was a good idea. I suppose I can see her point, but seriously, with no contractions yet, I was still very calm and nonchalant about the whole thing. I had had weeks of not getting too excited about what might be, so it was just easier to pretend like everything was normal. However, she insisted driving me home and then to the hospital. Jason would meet me later when he was finished with class.
My plan was just to go see my doctor who keeps office hours in the morning at the hospital. When I got there, though, I remembered that Thursday is the one morning she isn't there. She doesn't come in until 4pm. Now at that point I would have just gone home and waited until 4 or until contractions were well underway, but I knew our school PA would never go for that. Thankfully, she was there and is much more forceful than I am. She promptly told the hospital that my water had broken, that I needed to be monitored, that I needed to be checked into my room, and that they needed to call the doctor. Like I said, I would have just gone home.
So, they got me set up with a monitor in one of the delivery rooms. My water continued to leak, but even the machine agreed with me -- no contractions yet. Next, the nurse examined me. Two centimeters and a completely posterior cervix. Big surprise. Thankfully, they were convinced to let me check into my recovery room while we waited for the doctor to arrive. I was able to get in, get unpacked and settled, take a few last-minute self-portrait pregnancy pictures, and wait for Jason to get there.
Jason arrived a little after one, and then seeing that it would be a while, offered to go get me lunch. I figured I should try to get a good meal in while I could. So, I enjoyed some chicken teriyaki while we waited for the doctor. She arrived at around 2:30, checked me, confirmed me still at 2 cm, and said just what I expected: "It has been seven hours since your water broke and since contractions haven't started, we really need to get you started on antibiotics and Pitocin.” Ah Pitocin…we meet again.
In all honesty, though, I was really okay with it. My body DID start labor on its own, even if it couldn't finish it. I was not willing to do anything to put the baby in danger so I knew that we needed to get things going (most doctors would agree that a baby really needs to be delivered 12-24 hours after your water breaks). So, after finishing up my lunch we headed to the delivery room, where they got my IV going. I was thankful that it only took them one try to get the IV line in (my veins are notoriously difficult to get IV's in…the record is from my induction with Caleb where it took EIGHT tries -- and seven blown veins -- to get my IV started.) So, at 3:05 pm, we were officially on our way.
The next two hours or so were just long and boring. Jason and I just sat and talked and waited. At around five, there was a definite rhythm to contractions. They weren't all that painful, but they were regularly 3 minutes apart and a minute long. Slowly, they started to increase in intensity. By 5:30, I was having to close my eyes and breathe to get through them. At that point, I gave Jason the guess of 8:15 for delivery.
At 6:00 pm we had the surprise of our kids showing up! Apparently, Alaina was really upset about not being able to see me (she had left for school at 7 that morning) so our helper brought all the kids to the hospital. It was really good for them to be able to see me (and vice versa). They just had to learn that when I put my hand up, they needed to stop talking for the next minute so I could get through my contraction!
At 7:00, things were definitely starting to intensify. I was definitely managing the pain, but the contractions were coming much closer together which made my frequent trips to the bathroom much harder. After my last trip to the bathroom (when I had at least three contractions) the nurse noticed that things were speeding up and decided to check me. I hadn't been checked since 2:30 (which is totally fine with me!) I was guessing by the intensity that I was around a 6. To my surprise, the nurse said I was at 9 and started getting everything prepped.
At this point I was a little confused. Honestly, although far from pleasant, my contractions weren't that bad. I couldn't talk or stand to hear any noise during them, but with visualization and self-talk, I was getting through them really well. I was getting about a minute rest in between and really, wasn't feeling too bad. When the doctor came in a few minutes later and checked me again, she said I was at 10. Then I was really confused because I just wasn't ready.
In the past, I knew when it was time to push. I remember clearly that when I had Alaina and first felt that "urge to push" I thought that that was the stupidest phrase ever. It wasn't an urge, something I would like to do. Instead, it is something totally uncontrollable. When you get to that point you just can't not push. And so it was for my first four deliveries. I have always had to inform the nurses that the baby was coming. They never believe me until they check me, at which point they scurry around getting ready. When the baby is coming, I just know.
But this was totally different. I felt no urge to push whatsoever. When the doctor told me I needed to, I just didn't really know where I was supposed to draw that strength or desire from. When your body is doing half the work for you, you can't do anything but join with it. But this time, it was all up to me.
So, it took longer than my previous births. For the first couple on contractions, the doctor kept pushing on my stomach. I told her I hated that. She told me she had to. I said no. I thought that at that point she just stopped, but Jason later informed me that he actually removed her hand. I can’t emphasize enough how thankful I was at this point. There was no way I was going to be able to concentrate on pushing (with no desire to do so) if I had to focus on the pain my doctor was causing me by pushing on my stomach.
Over the next ten or fifteen minutes, I just kept working with the contractions. There was still no urge to push but I just did my best, taking what I knew from previous experiences and hoping it would be enough. No one in the room was doing or saying anything. So, I just tried to count to ten in my head with each contraction, tried to remember to bring my chin to my chest, and just kept hoping that something was happening.
After each contraction, I would ask if any progress had been made. My doctor, just standing at the end of the bed, just shook her head and said, “You need more power!” Great. I was starting to wonder what in the world I was supposed to do. I was working just as hard as I could and yet she kept saying nothing was happening.
Perhaps it was a motivational technique, because after a few more contractions (and a few more “you need more power!” comments), she nonchalantly said, “Okay, next contraction and she will be out.”
“What?” I had a little trouble believing her after her less-than-enthusiastic responses to my pushing, but lo and behold, one more contraction and there she was. My new little girl. My little Bethany Noelle.
Immediately they brought her up to my chest. No cleaning her up, no suctioning out her nose and mouth, no APGAR scores, no nothing. Thankfully she was crying and so I wasn’t too concerned, but I was surprised. A few minutes later they came and cut the cord (the men must not do it here because they never asked Jason if he wanted to do it and never really gave him a chance). Afterward, Bethany continued to lay on my chest while they finished up everything with me.
It was such a different feeling getting to hold my baby for so long. Usually, after the first two-minute hold, the baby is whisked away to be cleaned, checked, and who knows what else. But this time I think she was laying on me for a good 30-45 minutes. I couldn’t really see her, but it was amazing to just feel her on me and to know that the last nine months all lead to this amazing, bright eyed little girl.
While holding her I was able to call my parents and Jason’s parents, let our friends and staff here in Indonesia know, and to take a few minutes to rest and soak in the events of the day.
Finally, it was time to get mama and baby cleaned up. Jason went with the nurse and Bethany while I stayed and was given a hot sponge bath. They finally checked Bethany over, weighing and measuring her, and going over her body part by part. They then brought Bethany back to me where we got to officially meet and tried-- very unsuccessfully-- to nurse. After about 45 minutes with no nursing actually taking place, we asked if we could go to our room. A few minutes later the wheelchair arrived and we were on our way.
Once in the room, we tried nursing again and she just couldn’t latch on. I was frustrated, kept trying, and eventually gave up deciding I would just get a little sleep and try again in an hour or two. That first night only gave us a few hours of sleep (and many failed nursing attempts) but it’s just one of those times in life where you realize sleep can wait. Bethany did finally latch on, but it wasn’t easy. The next few days would prove to be equally hard. But perseverance pays off, and now a week later, I can definitely say we are over the worst of it.
The next day was filled with attempts to sleep, nursing, big siblings coming to visit, friends dropping by, and just being in awe of our newest little blessing.
My fifth child, fourth country. Every experience has been different. Every experience has been filled with its high points and low points. But each experience has ended with an amazing miracle in the form of a tiny little baby resting sweetly in my arms.
I am so blessed.
Welcome, Bethany Noelle, to our world and to our family. You have been eagerly anticipated, prayed for, and loved from the very beginning. We are so excited to see God’s plan for your life, as an individual and as a part of this new family of seven. You are a precious blessing and we couldn’t be more grateful to be given the chance to love you, teach you, train you, and watch you grow into the woman that God has created you to be.
