(Part 2 of 2)
When people ask your daddy “how was labor?”, he typically
responds…”INTENSE.” The time period he is referring to is from between 12:45
p.m. and 5:00 p.m.
After Dr. Lamar broke my water, the contractions immediately
intensified. There was no longer a buffer for pain, so it was much more
uncomfortable. I remember your Mimi and Papa coming in somewhere around 1 p.m.
That is when I had to start breathing through the contractions. I sat on a big
purple birthing ball that we brought from home and rocked back and forth for
comfort. For a few minutes, Erin sat behind me and tickled my back and head to
help distract me. Occasionally, I would lean over the bed and move my hips from
side to side through contractions. Daddy would squeeze my hips and put pressure
on my tailbone to make me more comfortable.
At some point, Wendy and Erin suggested that I get into the
shower in hopes that the warm water would relax me. Sounded great…and into the
shower I went, still sitting on the birthing ball. (It became my closest friend
that day.) Daddy sat behind me, talking to me in between contractions. I was
still talking and laughing between contractions with him. And still somewhat
aware of the fact that I was naked, in a shower, on a ball, in front of several
people. That all changed.
What you have to understand is that somewhere in the shower,
I lost complete recollection of time. And complete recollection of modesty.
Your brain shuts down and all you can do is cope to get through one contraction
at a time. Easier said than done.
Another thing worth mentioning is that the pitocin running
on the pump through my IV was at its maximum level, leading me to contract
every 1.5-2 minutes with about 30-45 seconds of down time between
contractions…resulting in intensity. Someone who is in labor on her own
normally contracts (less painfully) about every 3-5 minutes. My uterus was on
overdrive.
Somewhere around 3 p.m., I made my way out of the shower for
another check and an attempt to get your heart rate recorded. It’s kind of a
blur. I’m pretty sure I was dilated to about 7 cm. In retrospect, that’s great.
In the midst of the pain, I was devasted. Just a 7, I thought?! I couldn’t take
much more of this. (*Correction: After looking back on records, I was actually only dilated to 6cm. Wishful thinking.)
I made a beeline back to the shower and my best friend, the
birthing ball. Your daddy sat behind me on the bench with the shower wand in
his hand, spraying my back. He was awesome. Encouraging when appropriate, but
always a steadfast presence. Just having him in the room made me at ease. Wendy
stood next to the shower, talking to me and encouraging me. Erin was the
gopher, bringing ice and updating people with texts and phone calls.
And let me tell you where Jesus was.
My friend Sherril encouraged me to purposely look for Jesus
while I was in labor. Since He is always with us, never leaves us, never
forsakes us, He’d definitely be there in the midst of your birth. After
spending time praying and thinking about this entire experience, Jesus very
clearly revealed Himself to me. He, with His outstretched arms, had a hand on
Daddy’s shoulder and a hand on Wendy’s shoulder. He would lean over and whisper
in their ears. And right after they would hear Him, they would talk to me. And
you know what? It was EXACTLY what I needed to hear. “Just make it through this
contraction,” Wendy said. “You are doing great,” Daddy said.
One time, Wendy said, “You are living life to the fullest.”
I know this is not a typical thing she says to her clients in labor because she
told me so. How did she know that I needed to be reminded that I was living
life at that exact moment? That I was fulfilling a dream, crossing something
off of my bucket list? She knew because she too loves Jesus and because she had
her heart and ears open to Him. Because she loves Him, she has the same Holy
Spirit that I do and He told her to tell me that because He knew I needed to
hear it at that exact moment.
(In some special way, Jesus also made Himself evident to
your big brother Grant (2 years and 4 months old). Two weeks after you were
born, I was sitting on the bed, feeding you and asked Grant to come sit next to
me. I asked him what he wanted to talk about. Completely unprompted, he said,
“Um, let’s talk about Jesus.” I said okay…what about him? Where IS Jesus, I
asked? “At the hospital. When I was there with Grandad.” (Your brother had
never heard me mention this. The day you were born, he spent most of the day
with Grandad and Noni, with some of the afternoon at the hospital.) “He’s
really tall. With lots of hair,” he said. So in whatever way He chose, Jesus
also comforted Grant on your birthday, too.)
One day soon, we’ll talk about how beautiful, comforting,
and life changing hearing Jesus’ voice is. He loves you and leads you just like
he does me, Daddy, Wendy, Erin, and Sherril.
And the next hour or two are even more of a blur. With
contractions coming hard and fast every 1.5-2 minutes, my goal was to just
survive until you were born. Our bodies are amazing things. We are designed to
know exactly what to do to give birth. Every woman comes up with some rhythm or
pattern to help them cope through contractions. Mine was groaning. I would make
an “O” sound and moan in short and long bursts through the contractions. Daddy
said I kind of sounded like I was singing. I think I probably sounded more like
a cow or an animal in heat. From what I remember, it was loud and awkward
sounding. But it worked.
During this time period, I remember a few things really
specifically.
A. I
only said three curse words. If you ever experience natural childbirth, you
will understand the pride I have in keeping my words appropriate. (*Another correction: I did only technically say three curse words. After this blog post, I was informed by those in the room that I repeated those same three curse words numerous times. Again, wishful thinking.)
B. I
thought my uterus was going to explode. The intensity and strength of contractions
was unlike anything I have ever, ever experienced before. IT HURT.
C. I
never, ever asked for an epidural. Not because I didn’t want one…but because I
was certain I would be dead long before they arrived to ease my pain. And I
WASN’T going to tarnish my story with asking for an epidural if I wouldn’t live
to even experience pain relief.
D. I
repeated numerous times, “I can’t do it anymore. I can’t take it anymore.”
Well, here’s the deal. Deep down inside, I knew I could continue on. But I also
knew that the phrase “I can’t do it anymore” is indicative of being close to
completely dilated, so my altered reasoning mind thought if I kept repeating
the phrase, then surely I was almost done.
E. I
felt sorry for the next-door neighbor. One of the other things my body
naturally did to help cope with the pain was bang my head into the shower wall,
in rhythm with the moans, through each contraction for the last 30 minutes of
labor. When I realized that smashing my forehead into ceramic tile over and over
again was “soothing,” I thought to myself, “Wow, this must really hurt.” I did find out later that day from my
friend and co-worker Tessa who was taking care of the patient next door that at
one point, the patient said, “So, is that what you sound like without an
epidural? If so, I want one.” Apparently, we made an impression on her.
F. I
also kept asking, “How will I know how to push?” I was quite fixated on this. I
felt pressure from your head starting at about 8cm (especially since you were
OP). Wendy kept saying, “You’ll just know.” Well, it’s true. At the end of a
long, painful moan, without even trying, I started to bear down and push. In
the shower.
This leads us to why a lot of L&D nurses get a little
nervous when their patient labors in the shower towards the end. You don’t want
to catch a baby there. Once I had the urge to push, everyone told me I needed
to head for the bed. Stacy had checked me about 15 minutes before and said I
was 9cm dilated. (It was the first time she had ever done a cervical exam on
someone standing up, in the shower. What a friend.)
I had a brief moment of clarity as I arose from the birthing
ball and began to make my way out into the room to the bed. This is my place of employment. And I’m
completely naked. And there are 9 people in the room. I panicked. All I
remember is Dr. Lamar’s calming voice coming from somewhere in the room. “I
will get you a sheet. You’ll be okay.” That really put me at ease. Not only was
my doctor in the room, ready to deliver you, I also wasn’t going to be
completely exposed to anyone and everyone I sit next to and each lunch with at
work.
I slowly made it into the bed in between contractions. At
first, they had me lying on my back. That was so unbelievably painful. I pushed
through one or two contractions that way. Daddy said I was gripping the bed
rails so tight and pulling them inward to my chest that he was sure I was about
to break them. Honestly, I bet I would have if I pushed a few more times that
way. And somewhere in the there, Dr. Lamar checked me and said that you were
OP. (We didn’t know this until now.) “It can’t be OP!” I cried…loudly. I knew
how tough OP deliveries could be. He said it’d be okay and that hopefully the baby
would rotate while I was pushing. Dr. Lamar then suggested I tried pushing on
my side. I rolled to the left and pushed through one contraction. Again,
unbearably uncomfortable. At this point, Wendy suggested that I get onto my
hands and knees and try pushing that way. A couple of things about that: We are
so fearfully and wonderfully made. It is our body’s natural way to help rotate
an OP baby and take the pressure of the back of the baby’s head off of the
mom’s tailbone when you are on your hands and knees. So obviously, this became
the most comfortable and chosen position to push. HOWEVER, it had been a
running joke amongst the L&D nurses and OB-GYNs that I would deliver that
way. Not because it’s not great and comfortable and natural, but because it looks
a little awkward to the outsider. Yet HOWEVER, at this point, I did not care
how awkward it looked…I wanted you OUT.
So it was, on my hands and knees I started pushing. I
remember Stacy trying to get your heart tones and then checking my pulse at the
same time. I knew she was having a hard time distinguishing between your heartbeat
and mine and that yours may be dangerously low. And I got very nervous. In 1.5
seconds, I came to a quick conclusion that I was about to be rolled out of the
room for an emergency c-section. As long as you were healthy, I didn’t care.
“The baby is down!” I cried out. Stacy and Dr. Lamar assured me everything was
fine…you were fine. I felt immediate relief. And I continued to push. Once my
mind wrapped around the fact that I was pushing, I got really nervous again. I
pushed almost 2 hours with Grant. It was horrific. I was certain that I
literally would not survive 2 hours of pushing again.
Enter Jesus. Without me saying ANYTHING, Wendy leans over
into my ear and says, “This does not have to be the same as last time. You are
almost there. This is different.” Pretty amazing, huh? Yet again, exactly what
I needed to hear to continue on.
Somewhere in the midst of a push, I felt something crack. It
happened to be your right collarbone. (But I’m still not certain it wasn’t my
tailbone, too.) And after that crack, I felt you start making your way out.
There is something called “The Ring of Fire” in delivery
when a baby’s head is crowning and about to exit. Let me tell you…I know where
it got its name. IT BURNS. At that point, I had this overwhelming desire to
push but Wendy convinced me to pant through a contraction or two so I wouldn’t
tear as badly. Then, I heard someone say how much hair you had. And I heard the
excitement in your daddy’s voice as he said that you were almost here. I had to
start pushing again. And after 10 minutes total of pushing, out you came.
I thought I heard Dr. Lamar say the word “she” or “her” but
I wasn’t sure. And honestly, I don’t know who even announced that you were a
girl. I heard afterwards that Dr. Lamar asked Daddy, “Do you want to tell her?”
and Daddy said he wasn’t sure himself of your gender and was really afraid he
was going to say the wrong one. At some point, it sunk in that you were a GIRL.
I wasn’t completely shocked, but I couldn’t believe it. I HAD A GIRL!
I immediately felt relief after you were out. I rolled back
over and they handed you to me. You were BEAUTIFUL! You had so much dark, thick
hair. I saw what everyone was talking about! And you were so long! (21.5” and
8lb 3oz). Your head was perfectly round and you were so alert! I held you for a
few minutes, cried, laughed, hugged and kissed Daddy, and handed you to the
nursery nurses.
Blair Elisabeth, after you were born, I was the happiest,
most fulfilled person on the planet. You were here. You were healthy. You were
a girl. I delivered naturally. If I could do that, then I could do ANYTHING!
Your big brother Grant got to meet you first. He was
enamored and gave you a giant kiss right on the mouth. He ran out into the
waiting room and told all of your grandparents that you were a girl. Everyone
was so excited…especially your grandmas! The family, Wendy, and Erin all loved
on you. All of my work friends came and saw you. Sarah, Katie, Alli, John,
James, David & Bery all came to see you. We texted friends and family and
put a picture of you up on Facebook. You breastfed beautifully about an hour
after you were born. You, my dear, were quite a hit! And rightfully so.
There are a few days I look back on in my life with absolute
thankfulness, gratitude, and joy. The day I believed in Jesus and asked Him to
be my Savior, the day I married your Daddy, the day your brother was born, the
day I went to something called Discovery, and October 30, 2012…the day you were
born. I am beyond grateful and so honored that Jesus picked me to experience
your birth and to be your Mommy. Other than knowing Him, there is nothing
sweeter.
I love you, sweet Baby Blair. I will always cherish you and
will never forget how precious of a gift you are. Thank you for being my
daughter.
Love,
Mom
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