Jack's Birth Story

I wrote this a few weeks ago but time is flying. Someone once told me that "the days are long but the years are short." I'm finding the days to be long but the weeks are just whipping by. Madelyn is 19 months old...not sure how that happened...and Jack is 2 months old. What?? I might as well start designing their high school graduation announcements.

Jack's birth was as different from our expectations as Madelyn's was but in the opposite direction. After Madelyn's birth we were left with a less than glowing view of the whole thing. After Jack's...we are just left glowing. It was a completely unplanned, God ordained, healing experience.

(I'll warn you now, the story is a bit long.)

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We serve a God who has more in store for us more than anything we can ask or imagine. This is certainly the case with the birth of John Emmett. After Madelyn’s birth we were a bit traumatized. We had seen a midwife for all of our pre-natal care and in the end we were planning for a home birth. Because we went to 42 weeks we found ourselves in the hospital for an induction. I wrote out the details of that experience already so in summary after 40 hours of unmedicated labor we ended up with a cesarean. Our daughter was healthy and we told ourselves that it was all that mattered. We struggled through a physical and emotional recovery after her birth but eventually we emerged out of the painful haze. My heart still bore a scar just as large and thick as the one on my abdomen but as the months passed I noticed each of them less. 

Our second pregnancy was very similar to our first except that we were under the care of an OBGYN practice rather than our midwives. In SC it is against current law to plan a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean) at home. We accepted this without question and planned to welcome Jack into the world in a hospital setting though we still planned for an unmedicated birth. 

Fast forward to the end of the pregnancy and my OB was lightheartedly pleading with me to go into labor as she didn’t want to have to fight me on letting me go longer than 42 weeks. We were already grateful to have a practitioner willing to let us go that long and not encouraging or forcing an induction or repeat cesarean sooner than that. I had little doubt that we would go the full 42 weeks, if not further, but we tried all of the wives tale induction methods anyway. We even went so far as to make the famous Scallini’s Eggplant Parmesan which is said to cause labor within 48 hours. I didn’t deviate from the recipe at all, which is saying something if you know me, but with no results other than a delicious family meal and fun memory. Fresh pineapple? No. Spicy food? Nada. Long walks? Exhausting and nothing. “Special Spouse Time”? Fun, but no labor. Finally we tried Clary Sage, an essential oil that our doula had recommended. Who is to say whether it was the catalyst or if it was just our time but within days of taking warm baths with the oil as well as rubbing it on the bottoms of my feet I started to feel sporadic contractions. We were excited but after the ups and downs of Madelyn’s birth, I refused to think it was anything other than my body preparing for labor. The days continued to tick past and I continued to take baths and have one or two contractions here and there. 

On Tuesday, March 3rd, we had an appointment with my OB. She checked me and we were told that I was less than a centimeter dilated and the cervix was high and tight. Not favorable readings for labor to start anytime soon. We were 40 weeks and 5 days and the doctor again pleaded with me to go into labor. As we were getting ready to leave she had us schedule a series of tests for that Friday as well as another appointment to see her afterwards. If we were still in the same situation come Friday she said we would have to begin discussing a repeat cesarean. I held it together until we left the office and then slowly fell apart. The old wounds started aching and I realized just how much I did not want a repeat of our first birth experience. We started discussing the pros and cons of scheduling a cesarean verses trying for a pictocin induction and then ending up with a cesarean. I knew we did not want the latter option and we decided to wait and let the tests on Friday determine our next course of action. 

At that time I reached out to several friends for encouragement, advice and prayer. One of them, a strong prayer warrior, told me that she would be praying for my body to naturally and easily bring this baby forth. Her wording struck me and I told her that I liked the way she had phrased it. She laughed and said that she would be praying that the baby march forth. I didn’t understand until she repeated it - she prayed the baby would “March Fourth.” We both had a good laugh but as March 4th was the next day I didn’t put much stock into the actual date request. 

Wednesday, March 4th I woke up and commented to Josh how I had had the best night of sleep in recent memory. He left for work and my mom (who was staying with us to help prepare for the baby’s arrival), Madelyn and I left to run errands. Somewhere in Target I felt strong cramping, like gas pain after bad Mexican food. The first one caught me by surprise and the ones that followed had me stopping to breathe through them. I was convinced it was just gas though as I felt it only in my back and didn’t feel my stomach contracting. We went on with our errands and I occasionally paused to allow a cramp to pass. By the time we got home and fed Madelyn I decided that a warm bath would help release whatever was built up in there. I took a bath while Mom but Madelyn down for a nap. The gas pains weren’t easing up but I decided to try taking a nap. After awhile I determined that it was fruitless and went downstairs. I found that if Mom pushed on my lower back while I was having a gas cramp then it made the discomfort bearable. I wasn’t timing anything — why would you time gas cramps? Around 4pm Madelyn woke up from her nap. I didn’t want her to see me in pain but I also needed someone to push on my lower back. I texted Josh at work and asked him to come home if he were able to take off a bit early. I told him that we might be in early labor and there was a chance the baby would be coming in the next few days. He headed home while Mom took Madelyn outside to play. I walked around the house and waited for Josh to arrive. Once he got home he was able to push on my back when the cramping came and Mom was able to keep Madelyn distracted. We had dinner and put Madelyn to bed. I don’t know where my brain was but I still didn’t think I was in labor. This is probably why I was caught off guard when Josh asked when he should tell me that these gas pains were coming two to three minutes apart. Two to three minutes apart? Gas cramps don’t come in a consistent pattern. I started to think that these could be contractions so I asked him how long they were lasting. Only forty-five seconds, he said. I was confused. These couldn’t be real contractions as those were supposed to last for a full minute. Slowly though it began to dawn on us that these weren’t gas pains, I was in labor! I was in labor! Laboring at home, which had always been my desire. Laboring with my husband beside me and each contraction bringing us closer to the moment when we would be able to hold our son. 

We handled a few more cramps and were discussing what to do (I did not want to go to the hospital too early and labor for a day and a half there) when I suddenly felt the urge to use the bathroom. Excuse the details and skip ahead if you’d like but I really felt that if I could just have a good BM then maybe these contractions could progress to where they were a full minute long and productive. I sat on the toilet and pushed, but nothing was happening other than the pressure and pain growing. As I mentally went back over everything I had eaten in the past few days to try to determine a culprit, I pushed again and suddenly my water burst. Thankfully I was on the toilet! I yelled for Josh and my mom who were right outside the door. Suddenly I felt more pressure and realized that it was not poop that I was needing to push out. Jack was on his way! 

At this point Josh and I had to make a decision. We had discussed in the course of the pregnancy how I was willing to give birth in a hospital and how I was willing to give birth at home but I absolutely refused to give birth on the side of I-77. Now that the water had broken and I could feel the top of his head, what were we going to do? There was no hesitation, no fear. We looked at each other and smiled. My mom started grabbing towels and Josh found the things we had prepared for Madelyn’s home birth. I continued to push on the toilet. We didn’t think to call anyone - our doulas, EMTs, the hospital. There was a complete peace and sense of destined purpose. God was in our master bathroom and we know there were angels there too, helping us in the things we didn’t know how to do but were somehow done right anyway. Call us crazy, stupid or risky - had we not felt this peace and presence, we would’ve been the first ones to agree with you. But it was there, palpable and calming, and so we became more and more excited to welcome our son into the world in our own home. 

At this point, I have to admit, I did not labor as gracefully as I had with Madelyn. This may be because I never got to the point of pushing with Madelyn but either way I am ashamed of some of the words and tones I used. Something that did surprise me though was that I found myself singing my dad’s hymn, “How Great Thou Art”, as I breathed out and pushed. It helped to keep my breathing even and my heart at peace. Most of the time, anyway. There was one push that I remember starting with “Oh Lord my God….” and ending with a word that I don’ t normally use being repeated multiple times in quick succession. Not my holiest moment. 

There was something holy about the experience though, for me anyway. At one point while pushing, I looked at my mom and told her that I couldn’t do this, she would have to go in there and get him. She looked at me and smiled encouragingly as she told me that I was the only one who could do it and that I had to. In delivering Jack, I reached the absolute end of my ability and strength and then went beyond it. I wasn’t alone in that place beyond my own abilities and the strength needed to bear Jack was lent to me in that moment. 

It felt like twenty minutes but it was really two hours that I pushed while Mom and Josh supported me physically and emotionally. In a gloriously hazy moment, I remember feeling his head and then his body come out. The next thing I knew he was in my arms and then on my chest, beautiful and breathing. All I could think to say was, “I’m not broken. I’m not broken.” 

Because of the preparations we had made for Madelyn’s planned home birth, Mom had an aspirator to clean out his nose and mouth and Josh cut and clamped the cord. As we looked at each other and at Jack I couldn’t contain my joy. I asked Josh what time it was. 11:29pm. 11:29pm on March 4th. Just like what was prayed over him. His labor was less than 12 hours — a comparatively short time to the 40 hours we labored with Madelyn, especially considering we didn’t realize it was labor until the final two hours or so.

We waited for the placenta to pass and then bundled he and I up and made the drive to the hospital. My dad had arrived just before Jack was born and he was the one who drove Josh, Jack and I to the hospital while Mom stayed with Madelyn. Another miracle of the night was that she had slept through the entire thing - including Josh and Mom going into her room twice and turning on the light to find things we needed. Normally even opening the linen closet door is enough to wake her up.

I smiled as Dad wheeled me into the hospital lobby with Josh walking beside me carrying Jack in his carseat. This was once the place with only painful memories - now we were returning triumphant and whole! That was what I felt — whole. A bit battered and torn, but whole. Unbroken. Healed. 

It was my OB who was on call that night and as she walked into the room she laughed and asked us what we were doing there. I said that she had told me to go into labor so I had. We were back out of the hospital and home by seven the next morning. Madelyn woke up to find her new baby brother had arrived.

The experience was night and day compared to the first time and we experienced more than one answered prayer. Other than my friend’s prayer for Jack to “March fourth” the other one that most stands out to me was the prayer of a stranger sent with their share from Samaritan Ministries, of which we are members. She wrote that her prayer was for this birth to be healing and empowering. Even as I recovered physically from Jack’s birth, I knew that prayer had been answered. I was healed from the trauma and pain and regret from my first birth. I wasn’t broken. My body wasn’t inept. I was whole. And it was incredibly empowering. 

We give all glory to God and continue to thank Him for His orchestration of events, the ministering angels that we know were present, our health and the peace that covered us that night. He has given us more than we could have ever asked or imagined.

.dizziness and dishes.

So, pregnancy is as fun as ever. Woke up this morning with a little bit of extra time to snuggle with my handsome husband but, oh wait, no, I lost everything including my shoes instead. Being thankful for the little things, I was able to make it to the bathroom sink in time. But no matter, moving on. Except that moving on proved to be difficult this morning as the room, the hall and the stairwell all swirled around me in a twirling vortex of vertigo. I had to laugh. I didn't have time for this.

Captain blessed me by taking a work-from-home morning, having started the habit of bringing his work laptop home in the evenings. This was very helpful as he could carry Wee Bud up and down the stairs while I climbed up or down on my hands and knees like a three year old. Swaying unsteadily, we made it through the first few hours of today and I am starting to feel better. At least the floor isn't moving at the moment.

I am just not one of those women who enjoy being pregnant. Everyone talks about the glowing skin, the lush hair - I get the random upchucks, adolescent complexion and the ability to shed hair like a show dog. Whatever.


And in other news, I have a love-hate relationship with dishes. I love the satisfaction of an easy start-to-finish task such as emptying a sink full of dirty dishes and then wiping down the counters. Dirty. Clean. Start. Finish. I love it. What I don't love is how often I have the opportunity to enjoy this task. Where do all of these dishes come from??

It's a Wednesday morning. Captain is getting ready to head back to the office as it has been close to an hour since my last "whoooaaaa" and steadying wall lean. This Sprout in my tummy is happy and healthy and, from the sound of it, so is the darling girl upstairs who just woke up from her nap. I am blessed.

.the Roger Banister effect.

Yesterday, I listened to a podcast on VBACs sent to me by our doulas. I found it informative and encouraging. It sparked my interest to look up successful VBAC stories though at the time it was more for curiosity's sake than anything else.

That afternoon, while feeding Wee Bud her afternoon snack, I turned on the radio and caught the last few minutes of a program. The host was saying something about the Bannister Effect and apparently was getting blank stares by the others in the studio. He went on to explain that the Bannister Effect is based on Roger Bannister, the first man to run a sub-4-minute mile. In 1954, when Bannister ran one mile in 3.59 seconds, it was generally thought to be impossible for the human body to run a mile in under four minutes. Bannister proved that it wasn't and dozens of other runners went on to run sub-4-minute miles in the following years. It is now considered a standard time for serious runners. The host's point was that it took one person showing that it was possible for others to be able to accomplish the same feat. The program ended, and my heart and face both turned upward in a smile, thanking a loving Father for giving me encouragement from random places.

When I put Wee Bud down for her next nap, I pulled up the internet and typed: "successful VBAC stories after cesarean due to failure to progress". I found numerous sites and have been reading through them ever since. Each successful story feels like a grain of rice on a scale in my heart, tipping it's way from doubt to hope. No, no one's story is going to be the same as mine. No story that I have read has been the same as any other. But there is hope. This is possible.

I may never run a four minute mile, but by God's grace I can bring this little Sprout into the world without the need for surgery.


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Side note: the stories that I have read have been encouraging but there has been one so far that has caused tears to form in my eyes. It was just one little piece of the story but my heart resonated strongly with it. I wanted to include the excerpt here:


"Dr. N arrived at my side a couple of minutes later, checked me, and then very calmly said, 'Well..., you’re definitely fully dilated, so bear down whenever you get a contraction, just like you’ve been doing.' Oh. My. God. I choked up, grabbed his hand, and said through my sobs, 'Dr. N, I have been waiting for so long to hear someone say that to me! Thank you, thank you, thank you!'"   (http://community.babycenter.com/post/a18423245/birth_stories?cpg=2)


This can be me. My body is able and, more importantly, my God is able. I trust Him fully with whatever the outcome.

.11 Months? when did that happen?.

Our Wee Bud is almost 11 months old. 11 months old tomorrow. Which means she's almost one year old. One year old in a month and a day.

When did this happen??

Our little girl is not so little anymore. She finally started gaining weight steadily at six months and is now in the healthy upper twenty percentile for weight. She's crawling quickly, babbling constantly and eating whatever we offer. And a few things which we don't...

Oh yes, and we're pregnant again. And Captain received a much-deserved promotion. And we bought a townhouse. And a dog. And a minivan. And did I mention that we are pregnant again? All of that took place in the span of eight weeks. What a wonderful whirlwind.

With this second pregnancy, I was just as sick for the first trimester as I was when pregnant with Wee Bud. It seems to last forever but in truth it's only about six weeks of really intense nausea and vomiting and then it tapers off after 12 weeks to just occasional, random darts to the bathroom to lose whatever could possibly be offending the little life inside of me.

Another little life. I'm being given the gift of co-creating once more. It's an honor for which, now that I'm no longer weak-willed and puking, I am incredibly grateful. Captain was very gracious during the six weeks as he listened to my repeated bemoaning that I could never, ever, do this again and he'd better decide what gender he wanted and be praying hard cause this was never, ever going to happen again. And I meant it too. Funny enough, we're now at 14 weeks and I'm back to being fine with however many children God should choose to give us.

I don't see how Wee Bud could know what is going on seeing as how she still has lap room, but ever since we became pregnant she has become more snuggly. I am not minding it.

Last night we met with our doulas and are delighted to have them partner with us on this journey. One of our doulas is actually the nurse from our birth story who has become a very dear friend. It was a text from her (during the six weeks of "never-again"ing) that gave my heart the courage to assert my desire to attempt a VBAC. You may or may not understand this feeling, but after our birth experience with Wee Bud it was tempting to not even dare hope. To just schedule the cesarean and a pedicure and not face the possibility of hope, expectation, disappointment, failure and loss. Speaking with the doulas last night, I realized that there is a part of my heart which, much like my abdomen, bears a scar from our experience. No, it's not an open wound. There has been, by God's grace, a healing. We are praying and believing that the uterine scar will be a place of strength and not weakness. Now I am praying that the scar on my heart and emotions will be the same. Thankfully, these wonderful ladies (not to mention my amazing Captain) are on board with helping me process through whatever emotions may rise to the surface as we continue on this journey. Though I haven't blogged in a while, I realize that this journey may be similar to paths that others may find themselves on. Consider this blog and the random posts to come as broken twigs. I can't tell you that the way I will take (or have taken) is the right way - but as I travel on, I'm sure hindsight will offer a lot to ponder over.

So there you go. We're pregnant. I have a dog sleeping at my feet and an almost one year old napping upstairs. The laundry is going and dinner is planned. The windows are open and I spent a little time in the sun. Life is not perfect, but on days like this, I don't think I could ask for anything more perfect for me.

.no longer the nanny.

Wee Bud is five and a half months old now. Our lives were changed when we put her on a schedule. We are not fanatic about it but, my goodness, it has been a life saver! Wee Bud responded to it almost immediately and became happier day and night. She was sleeping through the night within a week. It was almost as if she were wanting some amount of predictability and when we gave it to her she was delighted. Having been a nanny for years, I was used to parents telling me their child's schedule. It was easy for me to keep the child on that schedule. Once we had Wee Bud though, I found myself wondering, who gives me the schedule? I had no idea. 

I voiced this to my friend, who I happened to have nannied for in the past, and she looked at me with astonishment and something like amusement. "You are the parent now," she told me. "You set the schedule."

This simple obvious truth revolutionized my approach to Wee Bud.

I was no longer the nanny. I was the parent. I knew how to care for children. I now have the additional task of training them. 

We put Wee Bud on the schedule. Within a week, we allowed her to cry herself to sleep. (That was a torturous night with divine benefits that I will have to address in another post.) 

With having a schedule, our child is happier. We are happier. Our home is happier.

I feel like I am required to put something in here like "every child/parent/home is different." And you already know that to be true. But just because everyone has different cars and driving styles doesn't mean that basic road rules are different for everybody. Just something to consider.

Ah, she's awake. 

.uncapturable magic.

When I was in college, I bemoaned to my dad that Christmas had lost it's "magic". He smiled and said not to worry. The magic returns with children.

This is my first Christmas as a mom.

Although I know there will be more magic in the years to come, when Wee Bud has more understanding and is able to interact to a greater degree, the magic has already started to return. When we decorated the tree, it was with her reaction in mind. And when we turned off all of the lights in the house and turned on the lights on the tree the look on her face was priceless. It was one of those "uncapturable" moments.

I've been thinking more and more about those "uncapturable" moments. And the moments that I sometimes miss by trying to capture them. Be it in picture form, or a video clip, or jotting something down. So often I find myself missing the present by trying to remember the present.

Captain and I were talking about this the other day. I have a very distinct memory of the 4th of July when I was seven years old. I had just received my first camera for my birthday a few months earlier and was determined to photograph the fireworks display. As everyone around me oo'ed and ah'ed, I concentrated on pushing the shutter button at just the right time to capture those momentary and spectacular blossoms of fire and light and sound. At the end of the night, I had a full roll of film (remember those days? Wee Bud won't even have the experience of not seeing pictures until after they have been developed...), anyway, I had a full roll of film but no real memory of the fireworks themselves, just of my trying to take pictures of them. That night has stuck with me and has come to the surface of my thoughts at various times in the years since then.

Never more so than now.

Somehow, when I held my freshly-born Wee Bud and someone talked about the habits of three month olds, my brain filed that away for "sometime in the future." That sometime is already here and I don't even know how it happened so quickly! She will be three months old towards the end of December but she's already 11 weeks old. And holding her head up. And rolling over. And possibly in the beginning stages of teething. Ai ai ai. I'm now realizing that the "six month stage" is also not "sometime in the future" but "practically tomorrow." This is why I want to capture these moments but I fight myself from picking up my iPhone to take more pictures and instead I stare into her beautiful, still-blue eyes and smile and laugh as she responds in kind.

She just woke up. This post isn't finished. But I wouldn't waste the two minutes to finish it and miss her "good morning, Mommy" smile. It's my favorite.

.insanity.

It's been said (over said, in my opinion) how the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. 

This may be true in the world outside, but for parents of new humans there is a different and quite opposite definition of insanity. 

When it comes to newborns, doing the same thing over and over and expecting the same results is insane. 

I am insane. My own mother, who has for the most part recovered from the insanity my own childhood caused, finds great humor in our conversations whenever I proclaim that I have gotten a handle on one aspect or another. And she is right to laugh. I'm realizing that my parenting methods are like my cooking methods. It never works exactly the same way twice. 

And it drives me insane. :)