Wow, it's been a crazy past four months. I'm now a full on mommy instead of a mommy-to-be when I posted my first and only entry in this blog. Probably shouldn't have started a blog right before giving birth, but oh well.
FYI: This is very lengthy. It's really the story of the birth of my first child and I want to remember every detail. I do not expect anyone to read this entire thing. Again, it's more for my record.
The Grandparents-to-be arrived on Sunday, June 2nd. They came up hoping and wishing baby girl would go ahead and make her arrival. They also came up to help me finish up the nursery and to do some other things around the house. They were such a huge help during those few days before I became a mom. It was great to spend time with them, just me, my mom and my dad. I'm so thankful we have a great relationship. My dad retiring in April worked out wonderfully with them becoming grandparents. Monday we walked around Ikea for a few hours and I had what I suppose are Braxton-Hicks contractions, who knows? This lasted for a few hours and then abruptly stopped. I thought I'd go into labor that night since this was the first time I'd had any cramps. I think it was that evening when I got quite emotional outside because I wanted me and Donald to have one last night to ourselves, but my parents were there. He tried to console me and my raging hormones by telling me we'd had enough nights just the two of us, but I wasn't satisfied with that response. I pictured us alone, sitting there or laying in bed one night and me calmly saying, "It's time." My parents being in the other room wasn't part of the plan. Thursday morning, my dad said him and my mom talked and they thought it would be best to go back to Sylvester. He knew we were all going to be in pretty close quarters for a week or so whenever she did come and didn't want us to get irritated with each other. They left shortly after lunch. I started having more BH contractions that afternoon, but then they stopped again after a few hours. Turns out, Donald and I would get our final night together.
Friday, June 7th, I made a huge chicken pot pie and stuck it in the fridge. I figured Stella would come soon and my parents could pop it in the oven to bake for when we came home from the hospital. Good thinking on my part. It was a nasty, rainy night, but I'd decided a long time ago I wanted to go to Scalini's. Anyone who lives around Atlanta knows why I wanted to go. That night we went for their "labor inducing eggplant Parmesan." Technically after a pregnant woman finishes the dish, she has 48 hours to have an "eggplant baby." Seriously, that's what they are called. They put the mom's info in a binder and if you have the child within that time frame, you get your picture on the wall with 400+ other eggplant babies, a Scalini's onesie and a $25 gift card. (I've yet to make it up there with her birth certificate because they don't open until 4 pm and I'm never in the area then.) I finished the dish (or all I could fit in me after consuming various fried appetizers, the most delicious garlicky and buttery rolls and salad ) around 6:15 pm. D and I decided to head home, get in our pj's, sit on the couch and watch crappy television. Around 8:45, I was laying on the couch with my head on his lap when I heard and felt a "Pop" noise. I sat there for a second and then slowly sat up, but never said anything. I continued to stay upright and then felt a slight trickle of water. I got up and walked around, then a few minutes later, felt another tiny trickle. I called my friend, Melissa for advice because I actually wasn't sure if it broke. I'd expected a huge gush of fluid like on the movies, but this definitely was not that. She couldn't say for sure, because her water never broke, but she thought it had. I told her I'd keep her posted then called my parents. At home. In Sylvester. Three and a half hours away. It was about 9:30 at this point. I went to our bathroom to talk on the phone so I wouldn't disturb Donald as he was watching a movie I was absolutely not interested in: Abraham Lincoln Vampire Hunter. 'Nuff said. My dad answered and we talked for a few minutes about the fact that my water may or may not have broken. Finally he says, "Let me have you speak with your mother. She has more experience with this sort of thing." So she's all, "What do you mean you
think it broke?" At that moment, I had the movie experience. I cut her off and said, "Yep, there it is!" She tells me her and my dad need to talk about what they are going to do and she'll call back with their game plan. Only a few minutes pass and the phone rings, it's my brother, also known as "Uncle Mikey." I can hear the excitement in his voice. (He was the first person I told I was pregnant after we found out.) You would have thought he was supplying the hot water and towels for labor. My parents called around 10:30 to say they were leaving and they'd call when they got closer. While we were waiting on my brother to get to our house, Donald suggested us putting on real clothes. I was in no hurry because I hadn't had a single itsy bitsy cramp. I intended on laboring at home for as long as possible all the while stuffing my face and drinking gallons of water. I can get "hangry" and I knew they wouldn't feed me at the hospital so I wanted to get even more fat and sassy before arriving. I also wanted to labor at home until things got pretty uncomfortable as a way to insure me not giving in too early with the pain and getting an epidural. I suggested walking up and down the street a few times since I'd read that walking during labor is good. I put on my soft kitty shirt and we headed out the door. We walked down the hill and on the way back up, I started cramping. We did this two or three more times, then took a break. Michael arrived shortly after, around 11 pm. I just walked around the house, sat, rocked and occasionally bounced on my yoga ball. We'd already loaded the car so we were just chilling and relaxing. I made myself a cinnamon-raisin bagel around midnight. Around 1, Donald suggested us heading to the hospital. I didn't really think it made much sense, since I had not had many cramps/contractions and barely any pain to accompany them. He remembered the lady who gave us the tour at the hospital saying not to call everyone in your Roladex and invite them to the hospital when you don't even know if you are truly in labor. He suggested just me and him going to the hospital, having them check me out and say if I was in labor or not, then we'd know what to tell my parents when they arrived at our house a few hours later. We left Michael at the house around 1:30 am to wait on my parents and Donald drove up the bumpiest road in Cobb County: Floyd Road (they were doing construction and consequently had the road tore up). I teased about it putting me into labor, but that's exactly what happened. I had a few contractions that made me clench my body on the way. We parked and I waddled into Wellstar Cobb Hospital. I immediately told them I wanted to birth naturally. They took me into a triage room where I stripped naked and put on a very sexy cotton gown. She strapped the fetal heart monitors on me and checked my fluid. She said the test to determine if the fluid is actually amniotic fluid normally takes around 10 minutes to give results. Then she checked to see if I was dilated.
Let's back up a bit. A month prior, at 37 weeks, my NP checked me and said I was 1 cm dilated. Neither her, nor the doctor checked me again at the next two visits. They said since I didn't have anything really going on down there, it didn't make sense unless I wanted them to. I opted out.
Ok, so back to triage. Let's also add, that I'd been in labor a little over five hours at this point, so I'm truly expecting to be at 5 cm. Hoping for something more like 7 or 8, but I'd settle for 4. Well guess what folks? I'm a 2! As in 1 cm more than what I had been a month prior. To say I was devastated is an understatement. The nurse looks up and sees the test and says, "Oh wow, it's positive!" We didn't realize what exactly she meant by this because I'd already told her I was certain my water had broke. I look at Donald and he looks at me. I'm thinking, "Positive there's a baby down there? Positive for an STD? Positive I'm crazy for wanting to do it naturally?" Finally we both say, "Positive for what?" She says, "Amniotic fluid." Oh. Well, no shit. I'd told her that when I got checked in. She told me to hang out, I probably wouldn't be in the room for more than an hour.
Ok, let's flashback again. After we found out I was pregnant, I watched The Business of Being Born. I had been thinking about a home birth and discussed it with Donald. We decided to meet with a midwife who does home births. During the consultation, she mentioned something about having contractions and then my water breaking. I said, "Wait. What do you mean having contractions, then my water breaking? I thought a woman's water breaks, then they go into contractions." She kind of laughs and says, "You've been watching too many movies." She explained that most women have contractions for hours, even days leading up to birth. They typically get worse, the woman goes to the hospital, labors for a while, then her water breaks as she's walking the halls or other times it has to be broken by a nurse or doctor when the mom is getting ready to push. This was news to me. She said in the movies they have the woman's water break and then immediately act like she's in late term labor because it's more exciting and dramatic. She also said it
could happen that way, but it was unlikely. Ultimately we decided not to go the home birth route. Originally I had the "movie labor" image in my head, but it had been pushed aside when I was told it would most likely not happen that way.
Well I'm not like most women and I went the movie route. I also expected the contractions to start out easy and slowly build in intensity. Well right after the triage nurse left, the contractions, and I mean the real ones, hit me like a ton of bricks. During my contractions I kept thinking in my mind, "I don't know, I don't know." As in I don't know if I can do this. I don't think I ever actually said to Donald, "I can't do this" but I'm sure he sensed it in me. I broke down in triage and it felt good to cry. I just thought everything was going to be gradual. I'd have some cramps, they'd get a little worse, little more worse, they'd check me, say I was progressing nicely, heavier contractions, catch my breath, laugh a little, joke around with family, dilate more, bad contractions, catch my breath, time to push and baby! They were off the charts from the get go. While pregnant, I pictured myself slowly walking the halls in a gown and socks while Donald tenderly had his arm around my back and the other waiting to assist me if I needed it. What actually happened was me lying in bed writhing in pain and shaking. Whenever I get really nervous or anxious about something, or if I get very cold, my body will shake and my teeth will chatter. This happened throughout the night and into the morning. Not long after the nurse confirmed I was in labor and they were going to admit me another nurse came in to cover me up. She said I had visitors. We said this wasn't so. Basically we told my parents we'd call when we found out if I was going to stay and there wasn't any sense in coming up to hospital. But because they had gotten to our house so late (around 2:30), they just decided to go ahead and head up to see us. They were afraid they'd fall asleep and miss our call. I ended up staying in triage for over three hours because they didn't have a L&D nurse available. We were told a lot of babies had been born so they were just waiting for a free nurse. The problem with me being in triage for this long was the bed was very uncomfortable which meant I couldn't get comfortable. And I couldn't labor in the bathtub. Plus, it was a small room so my family had to hang out in the waiting room with Cobb County's finest. They took turns checking on me instead of chilling in the labor and delivery room with me. I'd went to the bathroom earlier which was quite a feat. It took forever because my contractions were so close together. I'd get a few steps and have one and have to stop, let it run its course, catch my breath and start walking again. Not to mention it's nearly impossible to pee while being that tense down there. The nurse checked me to see if I had dilated about an hour after being in triage. I was at 3 cm.
Finally, I was moved to a L&D room. I guess it was around 5:30 am. I got checked again and I was at 4 cm. Now the thought in my mind is, "I'm taking way too long to progress, they are going to give me Pitocin, I'll truly not be able to handle the pain, give in and ask for the epidural, then I'll be disappointed in myself. The thought of a c-section didn't enter, but I don't think it was far back. I wasn't completely against the epidural, but I wanted to be in control of my labor. I wanted to prove to myself I could do something millions of women have been doing for centuries. I also wanted badly to breastfeed immediately after delivering and was afraid that the epidural could possibly make Stella dopey and not be able to latch. I decided before I had her that if I was completely and utterly exhausted and still had a ways to go, then I'd get the epidural, if not, I'd keep on keeping on. Melissa arrived shortly after we got in L&D. She saw how intense my contractions were. The new nurse could also see this and knew I wanted to go the natural route, but didn't want me to tire too soon. She suggested that I could take a very mild pain medicine (can't remember the name) that would take the edge off of the contractions about 20% or so and I'd be able to get some rest between them. It would only last an hour and it would be administered through the IV already present. Melissa alternatively suggested that I get in the tub and see how that worked. Then if I felt I needed the medication, at least I knew I had tried that option first.
So off to the tub I went, S-L-O-W-L-Y. I swear it took longer to get me to the tub, in it and out of it longer than I was actually immersed in it. The water was lukewarm and immediately relaxing. In fact, it was the only time during the eight or so hours I had contractions that I was able to relax and stop shaking so intensely. Donald was the only one in the bathroom with me. He would brush my hair out of my face, remind me to breathe and look at me in amazement. I heard the nurse come in and she told my parents I needed to get out of the tub so they could monitor my progress. I was pissed. I was actually to a point where I could cope with the contractions and now I had to get out. I understood her reasoning but was still very angry. On the way up and out of the tub, the "I don't knows" rushed into my head again. I started crying while I wrapped my arms around Donald's neck and hung from him. Ironically as I stood there with this big, beautiful pregnant belly, clearly holding life inside of it, I felt lifeless. I felt like every bit of energy I'd had a few hours earlier was sucked from me. I remember thinking I was probably going to be in labor like this all day. I was exhausted and confused. I didn't know what to do and just wanted someone to tell me what to do. Donald was so in tune with me and he told me he thought I should get mild pain reliever so I could get a little bit of rest. I nodded my head and slowly drifted off to sleep. I'd wake suddenly, have the most intense contraction and slowly but firmly press my feet and legs across the mattress while moaning and breathing deeply. I actually think I did really good with my breathing technique. I tried inhaling through my nose and exhaling through my mouth. I absolutely did not want to hyperventilate and need oxygen. I hate that lightheaded feeling and did not want to get to that point. That would mean being out of control and I didn't want to go there. I definitely didn't feel as though my contractions were 20% lighter. If anything, they were 20% worse, but I was able to pass out for a few seconds in between. One thing that helped was Melissa would count them down for me. It gave me something to think of visually and I was able to see the "light at the end of the tunnel" through each one. The nurse suggested I focus of something in the room while I breathed. I zoned in on a sprinkler on the ceiling, but soon turned to looking at Donald's face. I did this for a bit, but went back to squeezing my eyes shut as I breathed through each one.
I remember seeing the light get brighter and brighter behind the blinds as the morning went on. I really had no concept of time. I could barely form words at this point. I had Melissa feeding me ice chips. Since I didn't have the strength to talk, I'd just turn my head towards her and open my mouth like a baby bird. She'd drop the ice in and laugh. I started getting the overwhelming sensation to push down there. I guess I started moving or moaning differently and Melissa picked up on this. I started trying to say something, but she said, "Do you have to push?" I nodded and she took off out the door. The nurse came back in and made me lie on my back so she could check me. I was at 10 cm! Finally! It had only taken about 12 hours. I later learned it took me about 11 hours to go from 2-4 cm and 1 hour and 20 minutes to go from 4-10 cm. Apparently the bath and tiny bit of pain medication helped my body relax and do what it should. I don't believe she expected to come in and me be at 10 cm. She went out to page the doctor (my OB was actually on call & in the hospital sleeping while I labored). I remember the lights coming on, the blinds being opened and people started flooding in. She pulled out the leg supports and sat my calves in them. She had me scoot up to the edge. She explained it would feel like I was on fire down there and this was normal. I'd just have to push through it whenever I got the urge to push. My OB arrived a bit grouchy and said some stuff I couldn't make out. I remember the nurse saying to her, "Oh no, she's doing this naturally." The doctor replied, "Well she hasn't even started pushing yet." Melissa chimed in, "Let's just remain positive." I guess she was doubting my ability to deliver without additional pain meds or an epidural. But I knew at this point since I'd made it to the pushing stage, I could do it. I was allowed to have 3 people in the room with me. The whole night/morning the staff was very nice and lenient and let Mama, Daddy, Michael and Donald all be in the room. But once they determined it was time, they sent Daddy and Michael out. Mama and Donald were on my left and Melissa was on my right. She had my camera and was ready to take photos to capture the moment. The first push was awful. She was dead right about the burning sensation. She told me if I kept pushing like that I'd be here all day. I definitely didn't want that so I tried to push harder. After that contraction ended she asked if I wanted to see. Donald and I looked at each other and we both shook our heads "No." At some point she walked over and said, "Oh, you've delivered a curl." She told me it was strawberry blonde which is what color I'd dreamt her hair would be. At some point my OB returned, less grumpy and more caffeinated. I pushed again, apparently like a whimp and the nurse said, "Do you want to feel the head?" I told her I couldn't reach. She assured me I could and the next time I had to push, she'd help me. I reached down and felt the head. From there on out, I pushed like my life depended on it. At some point the doctor looked at Donald and asked, "Do you want to be down here?" We'd also discussed that I didn't really want him down there and he agreed. So when the doctor asked, we looked at each other and said, "No."
After pushing for about 20 minutes, Stella Gillian Bryan was born at 9:54 am on Saturday, June 8th. She was bluish in color and covered in blood, but very alert. The staff immediately laid her on me and cleaned her up. I don't remember her crying much, but from the pictures, it looks like she was. I remember her lifting her head up, looking directly into my eyes, chirping like a baby bird and smiling at me. It was The.Most.Amazing.Feeling.Ever.Period.
I realized later on that the doctor didn't ask who was cutting the cord when I delivered. She cut it. As you can imagine, I was upset. I was actually more upset than Donald. He said it wasn't something he'd really thought much of or longed to do, so it didn't really cross his mind when the time came. I wanted him to be the one. I didn't dwell on it too long though. My mama actually said it looked as though the cord was wrapped around Stella's neck. No one said anything about it, so I'm guessing it wasn't anything to be alarmed about. Since that was the case, Donald might not have even been able to do it, but I wish we'd known that by her asking "Do you want to be down here?" What she was really asking is, "Do you want to cut the cord?"
Stella's birth was a bit longer than I expected it to be, but a truly wonderful experience. I'm not going to lie, it was very tough. I did it naturally which is what I wanted. I can absolutely say that would not have happened without the unwavering support from my husband and a great friend, Melissa. It was so amazing and satisfying to see this healthy and tiny human being before us after 13 hours of labor. If we are lucky enough to be blessed with another child, I will definitely birth naturally again.
My entire goal for labor and delivery was "Remain Calm." I had a few moments of self doubt, but with love and support I was able to stick to my goal. I believe for the most part I did remain calm. The nurses actually asked if this was my second or third child. We told them it was my first. They all commented on how well I was doing for my first, which was great to hear.
Admittedly, I didn't think my daughter was the most beautiful baby at first sight. Her nose was smooshed, head sort of oblong, eyes swollen and covered in all kind of stuff. My mama looked at me a little while after she was born while I was holding her and said, "She's beautiful Steph." I looked away and quickly shook my head "No." She said, "Steph, yes she is. She's gorgeous." I'd told almost everyone, jokingly that I bet I wouldn't have a cute kid. I told them after 6 1/2 years of talking bad about other people's kids at the office, karma would come back to get me. Donald was concerned because her head was misshapen. He thought she'd got his head! About an hour later, I was holding her and my mom was there. I looked at Stella, then looked at my mom and said, "Now she's cute!"
She was born Saturday morning so we had the whole day with her. Stella got passed around to Grammy, Grampy & Uncle Mikey that day while me and Donald just sat and stared at the beautiful little girl we created. The night nurse came in while my parents, Michael and Jessica were visiting. She asked about her diaper. We were so tired, we didn't even think to change her. It had been HOURS!! Donald put the first diaper on about 11 or so I'm sure and this was after 7 pm because the shifts had changed. I didn't even know where the wipes or diapers were. We tried to play it off and said, 'Oh well she was sleeping so soundly, we didn't want to wake her." Which was partially true, but honestly, it never crossed our minds. She said, "Oh, I'll do it." I nudged Donald's arm with the 'hint-hint' motion and we both watched so we'd know where the diapers were. I'd barely nursed her too. Michael held her for so long and she just slept. I assumed she'd cry or wake up when she was hungry. The first night in the hospital was perfect. Donald got in the bed with me and Stella and we watched TV and stared at the baby. Around 10, I went to the bathroom. As I was sitting there I heard this noise. I called out, "What's that?" Donald walks in with Stella in his arms and says, "It's 10 o'clock and she has the hiccups. Right on schedule." She used to get the hiccups around 9:30-10:30 every night. She also typically got them mid morning and around 3 in the morning, but always around 10 pm. Funny thing is, throughout my childhood and adult life, I'd gotten them several times a week. Used to be more often as a child, but it let up as I got older. However, during my pregnancy I only remember getting them once. Even now that I've had her, I've only had them a handful of times. It's as though I passed them on to her.
She barely made a peep the whole night, but me and her spent about two hours in the middle of the night struggling to get her to latch back on. I knew I wanted to breastfeed from the beginning. There was never any doubt in my mind that's what I wanted to do. Luckily, she latched on right away, but later that night we had trouble with her feeding. I was trying to be quiet so my husband could get some sleep. Since my water broke around 8:45 pm Friday night, we'd both been awake for a very, very long time. The pediatrician on call came by Sunday morning and examined Stella. Everything was great. Then my OB checked me out and got our discharge paperwork ready so we could go home that afternoon. It was overcast, a bit drizzly out. I rode in the back seat next to her, but she slept the entire time, not one fuss. We came home to the smell of freshly baked chicken pot pie and a clean house. Mama and Daddy had cleaned the bathrooms, bathtub, washed clothes, put fresh sheets on the bed, vacuumed and tidied up. The house wasn't a mess, mind you, but I definitely noticed the difference. I'd been quite obsessive about not leaving a lot of dirty clothes or dishes the last 2 or 3 weeks. I didn't want to go into labor with a dirty house.
The first few weeks were rough. Beautiful, but trying and tiring. Nothing could have prepared me for how trying and tiring. I considered myself knowledgeable about caring for a baby, but caring for a child and being the person it will one day call "mommy" are two totally different things. I read something a few weeks ago that really hit home for me. A mommy blogger wrote, "There is no greater task than the nothing you did yesterday, the nothing you are doing today and the nothing you will do tomorrow." I wish I'd seen this before I had Stella. Some days I did just lay around, sometimes because I wanted to, other times because Stella didn't leave me much of a choice. But then I had days where I just wanted to get up, get dressed in real clothes, put on makeup, eat a real meal, straighten up and have a nice, clean home. It's hard to accept you can no longer do the things you want to whenever you want to for as long as you want to. Things are better now, much easier. Not always, but most of the time. She's getting a personality. I think she's going to be a feisty one. My little girl smiles and laughs now. It's THE best. I turn to mush when she does it. I remember sitting in the recliner one afternoon when she was a few weeks old while she just stared directly into my eyes. It was amazingly beautiful. It was as though we were looking into each others souls and knew we were meant to be for each other. I sat there in amazement, crying tears of joy. I did that a lot the first month. I told Donald I was so overcome with joy and love that it leaked out in tears. I leaked a little more while writing this.
