I have written in two parts both, "My Birth Story" and "What Came After".
My Birth Story
Friday, December 6th was the long coveted day I had been envisioning since March 26th when I first saw the two pink lines on the home pregnancy test. How was I ever going to go another 8 months waiting for our baby? There was still snow on the ground and this baby still had to grow inside me through spring, summer and fall and there would probably be snow on the ground again when she is born. Yet, the day finally arrived, and I welcomed it by waking at 2am to some horribly uncomfortable gassy cramping. It was the strangest sensation because I have not had any gassy or digestive issues the entire pregnancy, but suddenly I felt like I was having some heavy pressure on my rectum that would cause long-lasting sensations as though I need to have a bowel movement. I chalked it up to the baby pressing on my rectum, but when the pain wouldn't go away I did wind up going to the bathroom and found some relief from the pain. I went back to bed thinking, "wow, that was interesting...". Not more than 45 minutes later I started feeling some period like cramps simultaneously at the time of the famous Braxton Hicks that I had regularly since 22 weeks. The sensation ran from my back to my lower pelvis and it caused my eyes to jut wide open. Could it be?.....was I having a.....contraction? Wow, it was the most wonderful feeling in the world, I was having contractions on my due date! (Note: this is the only time I will feel positive emotions about contractions).
I became overwhelmed by excitement, anxiousness, and curiosity about what was going to come next. I reminded myself not to get too excited because you can have contractions for weeks and maybe it was just this one. But no.....another contraction followed 30 minutes later. This one triggered even more excitement because I began to wonder if today would be the day. I knew it may or may not be, but the thought that my body was doing exactly what it was supposed to and showing signs that it was getting ready for delivery made me feel so assured and happy. I made the mistake of waking Jon up and telling him I was having contractions. Both he and I tried to go back to sleep, but we were both too excited and minds racing about what the day would bring.
Friday wound up being an uneventful day. The contractions slowed down once I got up and moved around. I went to LA Fitness to power walk on the treadmill, then I headed into work wondering if today would be my last day of work since the weekend was coming. That night Jon and I sat down knowing that this may be our last night with just the two of us or at least our last night where I was feeling comfortable enough for quality time. We discussed weekend plans and any final arrangements of what we wanted to get done. The contractions picked up just slightly during the night, but I was able to sleep for 10 hours. Little did I know that this was going to be the last night in a very long time of good quality uninterrupted sleep.
Saturday was a brutally cold day outside, but the errands must get done. We went grocery shopping, and headed home hoping contractions would pick up as the day wore on. We were baby-sitting my nephew that night, but towards the end of the night the contractions started to become a bit stronger and only slightly more closer together. The nighttime was the worst. I wound up having my eyes shut, but I did not fall asleep once because the contractions came every 12 minutes and as the night wore on I started moaning in pain keeping both myself and my poor husband awake. By the morning they were 4-8 minutes apart and I had the feeling that Sunday was going to be an eventful day. Since I wasn't sleeping I got up to soak in the tub at 5:30am in hopes for some relief. I did wind up getting that relief and unfortunately--it slowed my labor down. I spent much of the first half of Sunday feeling painful, yet spaced out contractions. I hated that I was going in and out of making progress, but I know it's normal. I was incredibly sleep-deprived, but daytime napping proved unsuccessful. I was so miserable because I couldn't do much except "survive" and think about the pain. I thought to myself quite often, "oh my gosh, what if this goes on for days?! I won't sleep at all!". Around 5pm I got up and decided to go for a walk around the house. The contractions started spreading into my lower back which made me think I was having back labor, but I didn't know what back labor "really" felt like. I finally phoned my doula at 6pm and asked her to come over because I wanted Jon to help me through the pain, but we both didn't know what to do. She came over around 7pm and we visited for an hour as she showed us some strategies so that Jon could help me through this. What was interesting though was as we sat and chatted, my contractions became more manageable again and slowed down. My doula did not think I was in active labor, but that it was coming soon most likely.
She left the house around 8pm telling me to call her anytime if/when she needed to come back over. At 8:02pm my contractions suddenly became so painful that I was hollering for Jon's comfort about every 5 minutes. He was able to time the length of the contractions based on how long I yelled for and told me that they were not quite lasting a minute yet which meant we weren't ready to phone the Midwife. I hopped in the shower because I knew that labor may pick up overnight and wanted to get ready. The shower only made the contractions stronger and convinced me that I must be having back labor. This pattern continued on for another half hour before I decided that the only thing I could do was crawl into bed and just lay there working on my breathing and relaxation techniques. What wound up happening was that a contraction hit, and I was in the wrong position but unable to move so I only felt worse. I couldn't talk and even crying out to Jon proved hard because I can't get the words out and only screams and hollers. I thought to myself that there was no way I could continue to sit at home in this kind of pain. I didn't care that it wasn't "time" to go in yet, I wasn't about to have another sleepless night.
I managed to utter, "need......to......go to........hospital" in between gasping for breaths to Jon in which he replied, "but Kate, they are just going to send us home because the contractions aren't a minute long yet". I told him I didn't care and I just couldn't take it anymore. So he paged the Midwife for me not sure what she would say, but when Jon said, "Kate's just in a lot of pain and wants to come in" as if on cue I wound up screaming bloody murder in pain and I think that was enough for the Midwife to be convinced that it was a good idea. By this time the outdoor temperature was barely above 0, and it was about 9:30pm. We got the final pieces of the suitcase put together, fed the cats and headed out the door around 10pm. It had been snowing on and off that day so we had slippery roads to contend with. I was scared that sitting in the car would make me uncomfortable, but I couldn't think of any other way to get to the hospital and just prayed that Jon was safe but quick. The first few minutes of the car ride were silent as the contractions seemed to slow down again. And then Jon said, "Are you having contractions?". On cue, the contractions started again and became even stronger than before. All I could do was close my eyes, moan, holler and scream. In between contractions I was quiet, but I was still "recovering" from each contraction. Jon began timing them again because he could tell they were picking up. He later told me that they were about 2 minutes apart in the car. I remember thinking that I was "probably" in active labor, but I didn't think I could move through active labor that quickly so I thought the Midwife would check me and say I was 3-4 cm. I remember thinking "Oh my gosh, if I think this is bad how in the world will I get through labor when I'm past 8cm!?". I seriously began contemplating if I wanted an epidural because I didn't think I could manage any pain more worse than this or for much longer than what I was feeling it now.
We finally pulled into the hospital ramp and quickly got me into the building into a wheel chair. I was in so much pain that I didn't care who in the hospital heard me scream on the way up to the floor. We got pushed into triage immediately and both the Midwife and nurse could tell that they needed to act fast. The Midwife asked if she could check my cervix and I though to myself, "hell yes please!". As I mentioned before, I thought I was being one of those dramatic patients with low-pain tolerance and was probably only 3-4 cm so you can imagine my shock when she said, "Kate, you're at 9cm and your bag is bulging". I was so shocked and I doubted I heard her right and asked her to repeat it. Even though I was in so much pain I felt nothing but relief to know that I was actually enduring the worst and the "back labor" was actually just what "9cm felt like". In the midst of how uncomfortable I was, I at least knew this would be over soon.
I was pushed into a labor and delivery room around 10:45pm. Jon called my family and the Doula to tell them what was going on. I can only image that given no one knew how precipitous this was would only be surprised to hear that I entered the hospital at 9cm. It meant the baby was coming! I immediately hopped into the birthing tub which provided a little relief, but not much. The next 3 hours put me into a trance. There was at least six people in the delivery room including my husband and our Doula. I really appreciated that none of them expected me to do anything else except scream in pain and they provided all the comforting. During contractions I hollered in loud pain and in between I was absolutely silent, focusing on my breathing and put myself into a trance state. I could hear them chatting around me (and I later learned from Jon what they talked about which only indicated to me that I clearly hadn't the faintest idea of my surroundings because I don't remember hearing any of the conversations he told me about later). The Midwife checked me once more and said, "Kate, you're at 10cm and station 2-3 so we are going to start pushing". I stared at her dumbfoundly and asked, "pushing? I don't feel like I have to push!".
Yet there I was, waiting for a contraction and pushing. It was the strangest sensation to use my abdominal muscles and lower pelvis to push with all my might because I haven't used those muscles at all the entire pregnancy. At first the pain I felt with pushing was coming from the contractions, but I noticed that as pushing progressed I started to feel the contractions less and less which was such a relief. I couldn't feel the baby as much as I thought I would, but I could tell that there was something trying to come out. "I see hair!" Jon cried out and I knew that meant the head was crowning. With every push I was told I made progress, but it still seemed to take a little while. Finally the worst of the labor started when I felt that something huge was trying to break through and there were moments that I doubted I would even be able to push the head out without my bottom end completely bursting open and this scared me. I remember telling the midwife that I just couldn't do this anymore that there was no way this baby was going to be able to come out and she said with what I think was a half-joking remark, "Well Kate, what other options do you have?". She had a point.
Soon I began to feel this burning sensation and I could tell that the baby was starting to show it's face (so to speak) and then I heard Jon cry with his excited little laugh he gets when he's really happy about something, "Oh my gosh, there is the baby!" and I knew it was coming. I gave another big push and felt something slip through. Thinking it was the head and I was preparing to do one more big push with the next contraction to get the rest of the body out, but instead the Midwife reached down into the water, gave a little tug and I felt the whole body just easily slide out. A huge sense of relief rushed over me, but I didn't experience those feelings of happiness moms talk about having the minute the baby is out because I was too busy trying to pull myself out of shock. I watched the Midwife pull the baby out of the water and then Jon leaned in and said, "it's a girl!". I looked over at him wanting to ensure I heard him right before committing to the idea that we had a girl, "it's a girl?" I asked. He said, "well, let me be sure" and then he did another quick look and said, "it's a girl!".
She was brought immediately to my chest for skin to skin time. I stared at this baby and wondered how I ever got through this and even though I was happy to have a baby I was just relieved to be "done" more than anything. Jon helped cut the cord and then I passed the placenta and crawled immediately into a labor bed. I wound up having a few 1st and 2nd degree tears which proved to be really uncomfortable to stitch up. The OB doctor told me that because I went so fast that is likely why I tore because there was not a lot of time for the skin to stretch out.
Since the delivery several people have commented that I was lucky to get to the hospital when I did, but I have no regrets. It took 3 hours for her to arrive from the time of admission to the time of her delivery and I wound up pushing for an hour and 16 minutes. I was lucky that active labor only lasted for a short while and not even having the option for an epidural let me have that option of a water birth.
A few months ago I had a dream that my labor went so fast that there wasn't even time for me to get into the birthing tub. I woke up laughing at the dream because of how "unrealistic" this was. I imagined I was going to go fairly overdue, and that the labor was going to be long. So this delivery exceed my wildest fantasies. After the delivery I felt rather traumatized by the whole ordeal and kept replaying the events over and over again. It's nearly 5 days later and I'm still thinking, "never again". I am told frequently that I will change my mind and want another child, but at this point I am on a baby-making strike indefinitely.
Anya Lisbeth Eckroth was born at 1:30am and weighed in at 7lbs and 3oz. She was born with a head of what we think is blonde hair, and her eyes are a grey-blue. We don't know yet who she looks like, but those distinguishing features will likely emerge in the coming months. Anya is not named after anyone, but Lisbeth is named for the character in The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. Jon really likes the name Elizabeth and then suggested Lisbeth. At first I wondered why we'd name her after a character whose life was so corrupted and full of bad things happening to her, but Jon said, "because she has overcome great obstacles in her life to become a strong, courageous and extremely intelligent woman". Well, that makes sense. For now, all I know is that she is absolutely perfect and I can't wait to get to know this little girl.
Afterwards
Several hours after the delivery Jon and I tried to get a little nap in since we hadn't slept the entire night. It proved fruitless for both of us since we both had so much adrenaline pumped in us. Personally, I had just endured the biggest transformation in my life both physically, mentally and emotionally--how did I expect I would just go to sleep 6 hours later? I kept rehashing the events of the night before and how it all played out.
I thought about the stitches, all of the blood and wondered if I would ever physically feel the same again. I knew I would, but my mind was so preoccupied with what I endured. A friend stopped by for a visit while I was in the hospital and asked, "so Kate, are you like, just in complete bliss right now?" in which I honestly answered, "well, I haven't really had time to think about her. There are so many people coming and going from this room and I'm so focused on my body."
The nurses kept pushing down on my stomach to make sure the uterus was shrinking. It made it all the way up to my ribcage by the end of the pregnancy and had already receded to below my belly button by the second day post-partum. I went to the bathroom and was shocked to see that my belly had deflated so fast that I looked like I was 14 weeks pregnant. As strange as it sounds, I missed that pregnant belly. I spent so many months making it grow, and having the identity that I was pregnant and expecting. Now the baby was out and I was forced to immediately jump into the next stage of our lives. Surely we had done everything to prepare for that, but I don't think you can ever be fully prepared for something that you don't understand until you endure it.
As the end of our 2nd day loomed on and we were thinking about going home I began to wonder what it was going to be like to get our baby home and away from all the chaos and stimulation that had consumed us over the past few days. Would we like our new lives? Would I be able to quickly jump from being fairly independent and physically active with all the freedom I needed to being home-bound, physically unable to walk more than a few minutes, and horribly sleep-deprived?
As Jon and I stepped out of our room to go home visions of what had happened over the past few days crept over me. We walked to the front desk to check out and flashbacks of Jon pushing me in the wheelchair to triage screaming my head off rushed over me. I laughed at my former self thinking, "you have no idea what's coming....". We got to the elevator and now instead of everyone seeing my pregnant belly smiling at me they all looked at our baby in the carseat and smiled and cooed at the baby gushing at how cute the baby is (hint: all babies look alike!)--all the attention is now on the baby. Everyone loves a baby.
We walked down the main hallway towards the car and I remembered a few nights ago when Jon was pushing me from the ramp to the hospital and how I was in so much pain that I hollered as loud as I could not caring at all of the passerby's who had little smiles on their faces because they knew what was going on. Now I was silent and calm.
Jon told me to wait at the front entry and he'd bring the car around. I stood there waiting by the double doors for the car and thought about how I was going to get in the car and there was going to be a baby in the backseat. I wondered what we were going to do when we got home. Would we set the baby down and look at each other and go "now what?" acting like our lives were back to normal. Or would we be too exhausted to do anything but sleep? Would be excited or scared?
We drove home and got onto Highway 100 and I thought about the car ride over those nights earlier when it was dark and snowy outside. I had sat in the very same seat calling out every few minutes and now I sat there in a sense of calmness wondering about our new reality.
After we got home I saw that our house was exactly how we left it. There had been no time to clean up in the midst of the mad dash to the hospital. There was the "What to Expect When You Are Expecting" book sitting out that I was reading that night active labor started to learn how to cope with contractions. The heating pad I used to help with the back cramps was still plugged into the wall. I looked around the house and how much had changed in our lives since we had last been in it. Jon brought Anya into the nursery to show her where her the new bedroom that we spent the last 3 months preparing for her.
I went over to the couch and picked up the What to Expect When You Are Expecting Book and placed it back on the bookshelf, and wrapped the heating pad back up placing it back on the shelf of the bathroom. It was almost time to feed Anya. So I went to her nursery and pulled out the Boppy pillow to help nurse her on the couch, found the Lanolin nipple cream, and then plopped myself on the couch. I was ready for Jon to bring me to her so we could nurse and that would begin our new lives.
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