The Birth Story

November 5th - I was on pins and needles all day waiting to hear the big news. We all woke up bright and early to a text from Gavin that it was "go time." Knowing that Gavin and Hazel were going to have their baby girl today was so exciting. I couldn't help but wonder, as I went about my day, how their birth story was going to unfold. It also really made me reflect on my own experience bringing Allison into this world. After her arrival our feet hit the ground running. My mind and body have been following some distance behind, ever since. Maybe I wasn't ready to do this earlier, the pain and agony still all too real?! Was I still too emotional? Like most things "second child" I probably just haven't had the time to stop and reflect. Anyway, today is reflection time.

After 3 plus weeks of debilitating back pain and 3 days past due, our beautiful baby girl arrived on August 29, 2011. My braxton hicks contractions were much stronger and more frequent than I remember them being with Peyton. I even had several "teases" in those final weeks where I watched the clock in disbelief as I timed them getting increasingly stronger and quicker over the course of a 1-hour time period. But each of these episodes passed as suddenly as they came leaving me physically exhausted and mentally stimulated, wondering. Always wondering. When?

In the wee hours of Monday, August 29th, I was jolted out of sleep to enjoy another testy hour that faded away into the night that passed like all the others. Well, almost like all the others. I had a few more considerably stronger contractions, but they seemed few and far apart. Then, just before 6am I was up again, followed by another contraction less than 10 minutes later. Steve woke at his usually 6am time and I was overcome with yet another contraction. He casually asked me, "What's going on?" To which I replied, "I'm not sure." Truly I wasn't. I called my mom just to let her know it wasn't a rush, but she should probably think about coming over to be with Peyton, who was just waking up. When another took over my body 5 minutes later, we knew, to quote my brother that it was "go time." I was really wishing I hadn't told my my to shower first and was thankful she made it to our house rather quickly. From that moment on my contractions were 4-5 minutes apart and strong.

We made the mistake of underestimating how quickly I would progress. I took a bath to ease the pain and pass the time. I didn't want to show up at the hospital only to be told to return later. Peyton awoke, chipper as always, and was thrilled at the prospect of a bath in the "big tub." He climbed in with me. It was a strange and surprisingly beautiful moment. He of course had no idea what was happening and his presence helped to both focus and distract me, if that makes any sense. Unfortunately, I was almost unable to get out of the bath. My contractions were so strong and coming so quickly that I found it almost impossible to get myself ready to head out the door.

The car ride was strange and made me feel terribly aggitated. I was in labor. It wasn't pretty. I was uncomfortable and wanted desperately to be anywhere, but in the car. I despised being strapped to my seat and felt like I was in a fish bowl. I tried to keep a straight face and sit still. If felt like every car we drove by was staring in at me. I grimaced. I squirmed. I wanted to scream. I let out a few groans. It didn't help that Steve was making business calls. At one point he was talking to a patient and I was moaning in the background. This made me really mad.

At the hospital the short walk across the parking lot, down a long flight of stairs and into the labor and delivery check-in was like how I imagine running the last few miles of a marathon would be - I wanted to look better than I felt, appear strong, stoic, make it look easy. Fortunately it was still early, just before 8am, so there weren't many people. A few spouses returning to their loved ones and newborns, and staff changing shifts. Instead of passing through the hospital doors like a graceful gazelle, I shuffled (remember I had back pain and hadn't been able to walk for 3 weeks). Instead, I doubled over every few steps to breathe through a contraction. Instead, I uttered and muttered and sputtered like a mad-woman. Maybe. At least that's how I felt. But, we made it through check-in and shuffle stepped our way down the hall to be greeted by very cheerful and available nursing staff (a welcome change to our previous labor experience 3 years prior).

It was clear I was well into labor so they took me into a room and expedited their monitoring procedures. Turns out I was 6 cm dilated and was progressing rapidly. I was in the bath as quickly as their policy would allow, never quick enough for a laboring mother, but a welcome change of scenery. An hour passed, maybe more. I wanted to be anywhere but inside the body I was in. I wanted to be strong and brave. I had already been worn down by 3 weeks of excruciating back pain and agony. I was more apprehensive and anxious about this labor the second time around than I was the first time with Peyton. I was mentally spent and full of doubt before the labor even began. I wasn't sure I could survive labor and especially pushing in the state I was in and even wished the baby hadn't flipped head down in the final days so I could have a c-section. I'm no stranger to surgery, but days, even hours before labor began, I wanted an escape from the inevitable. I wanted someone else to do all the work. I wanted another way out of my situation. I wanted to be knocked out. I just wanted someone to come and extract the baby out!

Extraction wasn't an option. It was up to me. Every contraction, pain, discomfort and sensation was entirely mine to be dealt with. The dark room, warm water, calming music and comfort of Steve's helping hand was about as relaxing as it comes in a labor and delivery room, I'm sure. Didn't feel so relaxing to me, but I imagined that a stranger walking in might find it so. It's soothing qualities were temporary. I was overheated, aggitated once again. The nausea hit. There seemed to be a lull in any progression. Transition time. My focus was fussy. There was a distant conversation about getting me out. How? To do what? To go where? I knew the bath was no longer serving its purpose, but I was sure there was no where else even close to giving me comfort or relief for my unpleasant disposition!

Everything seemed a bit too bright and a bit too loud out of the comfort of my "happy" place in the bathroom. I somehow managed to get myself awkwardly perched back in bed. The passage of time is foggy. The order of events unclear. The doctor came and broke my water. The nausea ceased. Yay! Just when I was sure that I couldn't be any more uncomfortable and enveloped in pain, it got worse. Nay! I was taken and consumed with pain and intense sensations throughout my body. Yet, nothing seemed to be happening. I remember asking, "Uh, what are we doing here?" The nurse replied, "Having a baby." This seemed to be an odd and funny response to me. What wasn't so funny was that they were letting me decide the course of action. Unfortunately, I was in no shape to decide nor to lead the course. I was experiencing and feeling so much that I couldn't differentiate between the sensations I was feeling. My body was confusing me. I felt like it was tricking me. I just wanted that baby to come out and I either couldn't, or wouldn't get to that pushing stage. I remember a brief internal dialog about faking my inability to join the game...maybe they'd still knock me out with drugs and send me to the operating room?

As it turns out, I didn't need surgical assistance or drugs. Although it didn't seem like it, this little baby didn't take much time at all. Progression was quick and the inevitable act of pushing came and went, not without effort, but did the job. Neither time (with Peyton & Allison) could I tell when to push. I couldn't feel the break between contractions and intensity. It was all intense. There was no distinct urge to push. My back hot and fiery sending messages throughout my body to just stop and rest. The rest of my body was urging me to end the madness. I was always asking when to push. Everyone kept saying it was almost over. I didn't believe a word I was hearing. Flash back 3 years. I pushed for nearly 3 hours! Flash forward. Every labor is different. It wasn't easy or poetic. I found that place deep within my soul that gave me a small amount of peace and serenity, courage and strength, focus and purpose. I repeated "relax, release" over and over again in my head and tried to control the few things I had a little control over, my breathing and my mind. It was about as calm and beautiful as I could have imagined my labor to be. Well, calm and perfect with one minor exception.

Exception, when I was in transition, the prospect of meeting our baby girl very real, Steve realized he'd never finished making his business calls. In his haste to get the job done, and sensing a lull in the action, he decided to finish his important calls. Distracted, as you can imagine he would be, he made a wrong call and I could hear him talking to his personal trainer, "Oh, I didn't mean to call you, but since I have you on the line, I won't be coming in on Wednesday. Katie's in labor. We're at the hospital now!" If he had been close enough I would have ripped the phone out of his hand and thrown it across the room. It made me loose focus, control and I really, really, really wanted to yell and scream profanities. I thought it, but I didn't say it. When he followed this call up with the true call, I was beyond mad. I'm not sure I've ever been so mad in my whole life! However, I kept my cool, tried to remain calm. Besides, it seems as though it worked in our favor. That surge of energy and emotion just might have been the driving force behind those final pushes and that phone call was all but forgotten (until now).

We waited to find out the babies gender until that final moment in the labor and delivery room. It seemed like the longest moment of my life when I could feel that final shock of pain and pressure and then the slippery movement of the baby as it made it's grand entrance and Steve made the gender call. We waited. Finally, he welcomed our beautiful baby girl into the world.

Steve was an awesome coach. He coaxed me through one contraction at a time; each push. The nursing staff was also very supportive and right as it turns out. It was a quick labor and delivery. We arrived at the hospital around 8am and our baby girl was born at 10:43am!

Those first moments are surreal. Nine months is a long time to wait and love a baby you have never met. When I meet someone, anyone for the first time, I like to give them my full undivided attention. It's pretty tough to do this when the labor business isn't over for mom just because she's holding her baby. I found that to be the most difficult part. Baby is a wonderful distraction, but my first moments and memories of holding both of my children are mixed with emotion. Trying to process the overwhelming experience I had just had, my whole being shaking from exhaustion and shock of the excruciating and complex ordeal, having to still undergo the unpleasant and unfinished business of the afterbirth and the doctor's job to piece me back together, not to mention the feeling of that awesome weight of a wee little one on my tummy for the very first time. It's a lot to handle all at once. I remember thinking right after both of my children were born, "Huh, so that's what labor is all about. I'm not sure I want to do that ever again." Then, when you look at that wee little one for the first time, touch their soft skin, watch in awe as they just seem to know how to find and know how to nurse instinctively, open their eyes for the first time as you gaze deeply down at them. That's when you realize how remarkable it is that your body created something so precious and unique; that it's possible that you may even love more deeply than you ever thought you could; that birthing a child is a miracle.

Allison didn't have a name for the first 48 hours so we got to know her as Baby Girl. Our baby girl. Our precious little one who completes our family.