I think one of the most nerve-wracking parts about giving birth is knowing when you are in labor; ironically, the spontaneity of it all keeps things interesting and fun. The one thing I refuse to do is go to the hospital thinking I'm in labor, and then get sent home. (That happened with our son and I swore I'd never do it again. Talk about torture! Not to mention that all patience leaves when that happens.) With each child, I think my body has started preparing for labor earlier and earlier. Contractions (albeit mostly Braxton Hicks) start days, and even weeks before the actual time arrives. This pregnancy was no different. At about 36 weeks I went in for an appointment and my Group B Strep test, and I was dilated to 4 cm. I knew, however, that this didn't mean much. My body would hang on to this baby until the end. Benjamin was my earliest baby and he came only 6 days before his due date. I told myself that I wasn't in any rush; this baby could stay in there as long as she wanted.
Those last several weeks I actually accomplished quite a bit. We got the kids rooms moved and settled, I switched out clothes that were too small, washed baby blankets, burp cloths, and outfits, moved Alaina to a big-girl bed, organized problem areas of the house where junk had been piled for months, and got everything decently cleaned. There was really only one chore that I kept putting off and it was mopping my kitchen floor. We have a superstition in our family that mopping the kitchen floor is always the last thing you do before you go into labor. So mine got pretty dirty because I was determined that it wouldn't happen until we got closer to the due date.
On the morning of Sunday the 14th I woke up, and contractions started around 9 a.m. They'd flirt between 10 and 20 minutes apart, so it wasn't anything concerning. I got myself and the kids ready, Joe and I prepared our Sunday School lesson for the 14-16 year-old class, and we headed off to church. During church, the contractions started to amp up a little. They stayed around 7 to 10 minutes apart, but started getting a little stronger, to the point that I had a hard time paying attention during the lessons. I decided I needed to get up and walk around a little to ease the pressure through my back. By the time we got home, I told Joe that we needed to pack the hospital bag because I wasn't sure if it was time, but it wouldn't hurt to be prepared. By the time we got the hospital bag packed, I was feeling like it could be time, but I still wasn't positive. Joe suggested that we go hang out at his parent's house so that if it was time, we'd be just a little bit closer to the hospital, and the kids would be taken care of. I liked the plan, but asked if he could give me a blessing before we left. He agreed.
In the blessing, he blessed me with the ability to know when it was time to go to the hospital, the ability to listen to my body, and the strength to do what I needed to do to get her here safely. How grateful I am for the priesthood in my home! I knew this birth mattered as much, if not more, to God as it mattered to me. He would help me.
The kids were thrilled to be at Grandma and Grandpa's. Joe and I were able to relax and chat with his parents. Everything felt very serene...even my contractions. They continued to be irregular and of varying intensity for a couple hours. Joe's mom made a bed for me on their comfy couch and I decided that if I laid down and the contractions didn't stop we'd go to the hospital. Sure enough, after about 30 minutes and 4-5 more contractions, I sat up, looked at Joe and said, "It's time, hon." I can't really explain what happened, because my contractions didn't change - they were still about 5 to 10 minutes apart and of varying intensity - but it was a clarity and a peace given by the Spirit that confirmed that it was time to go.
Joe helped his mom put our kids to bed at their house, and we left for the hospital around 9:00 p.m. By 9:30 we were in triage and discovered that I was still only about 4 cm dilated and about 50% effaced. No progression at all! They said they'd monitor me for about 20 minutes and then check back. During those 20 minutes I had a grand total of 1 contraction. I sat there feeling convinced I was getting sent home, and confused that I'd felt so clearly that it was time. When the nurse came in, she said, "Well, you aren't having many contractions, but we are going to keep you for another hour because during the one contraction you did have, your baby's heart rate went down to 112, so we just need to monitor baby for a while and make sure that everything is okay." While I was relieved that I had a little more time to prove that I really had been having legitimate contractions all day, a new layer of worry crept in that maybe I'd felt it was time because there was something wrong with the baby. I tried hard not to let my active imagination run away or pervasive sense of realism take over.
It was a pretty quiet hour with very few contractions so I became convinced we were headed home. The nurse came back in and said that the baby's heart rate looked great, so they'd check me one more time and then send us home. My heart sank, but I told myself it was okay. All that meant was that she wasn't quite ready; she would come eventually. As the nurse was checking me, I could tell she was a little bit puzzled because she checked, and then checked again. Finally she said, "Well, you are actually at a five and a half now, so you've progressed. At this point I don't know if we should send you home because of how fast your labors have progressed in the past. Would you like me to call your midwife and see if she will come break your water?" The answer was a little bit too enthusiastic of a, "YES!" and they moved us in to a labor and delivery suite.
My sister Erinn is a nursing student at BYU who is completing her labor and delivery clinicals this semester, so we'd told her she could be there with us during the birth. We gave Erinn the all clear to drive up to the hospital around 11:15 p.m. and by 11:30 they'd broken my water. During the time between when they broke my water and when contractions started really picking up, I just let myself revel in all the excitement of bearing this sweet baby and meeting a new little spirit child of Heavenly Father. Few experiences can really compare with the beauty of giving birth.
As contractions started to come I told Erinn and Joe to get some rest. I'd let them know when she was coming. As I labored and the intensity of contractions increased, the words of the blessing kept motivating me to relax through each contraction. I was determined to keep a positive attitude. Around 1:30 a.m. I'd reached 7.5 cm and 90%. About this time, I decided to stay on my feet. I felt this urge to get her here, that the timing of everything was really important. I knew that I'd progress faster if I let gravity help me as much as possible so I was literally doing labor lunges and squats all across our delivery room. I'm pretty sure that if Erinn and Joe had been awake for it, I'd have given them some good laughs with my birthing techniques. I mentioned to the nurse that I was concerned there might be some cord issues because I hadn't really felt her drop as much as I thought she would. She said they'd keep an eye out for it as things got closer to delivery.
Whenever I felt my mental game slipping a little, Phillipians 4:13 would enter my mind and I would tell myself, "I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me." By then Joe'd woken up and seemed to always know when I needed to hear his voice, feel him stroke my arm, or rub my back. He would say things like, "You've got this babe," "Just relax and picture the waves on the ocean rolling back and forth," or "You are doing great. Just keep those deep breaths going." I am so grateful for how involved he is in our children's births.
Around 3:00 a.m. the nurse came in to check on me again and I'd reached 9 cm and was 100% effaced. I mentioned to her that I was starting to feel the urge to push (in hind sight, I probably should've added, "Oh and you should go grab my midwife."). I'd been up and walking around the room for quite some time, but decided that now was the time for me to get back on the bed. As soon as I did, this baby decided it was time for her to come. Joe noticed a change in the way I was handling the contractions by the little pant or grunt that followed each one. We laughed later that neither of us really let the nurse know about what both of us knew was happening. Thankfully, the nurse was still in the room at that point, because right before the baby crowned all I could get out was, "The baby's head's coming." The nurse lifted up my gown, said, "OH!" and then paged a nurse to grab my midwife. Joe said that as the baby's head was coming out the nurse actually put her hand in front of the head to stop her, but it was too late at that point. My midwife ran in with just enough time to pull out the rest of the baby's body and unwrap the cord from around her abdomen. Olivia arrived at 3:20 a.m. on Monday morning, October 15th.
As I snuggled our beautiful little Olivia, I noticed that they had a little bit of trouble getting the placenta out. After several minutes they took Olivia over to the warming bed to measure her and wipe her down. My midwife still had hold of the cord and tried coaxing the placenta out by pushing on my stomach and gently pulling on the cord. This was not my favorite. I was just eager to get back to holding my baby. It took probably another 10 minutes or so before the placenta was delivered, but everything seemed normal after that.
After making sure everything was okay, they couldn't get that baby back in my arms fast enough. I couldn't wait to count her fingers and toes, feel the peach fuzz on her skin, see how much hair was underneath her hospital beanie. Erinn held Olivia for a few minutes before leaving around 4:30 a.m. so she could try and catch a couple hours of sleep before she went to class at 7. I felt awful about the long day she had in front of her, but it was wonderful having her there.
After Joe held Olivia, I nursed her for the first time; she was a champ. She had no problems latching on and seemed to have quite the appetite! What an incredible experience her birth was. I couldn't have asked for it to go much better than it did.
Part 2: After Olivia
Those last several weeks I actually accomplished quite a bit. We got the kids rooms moved and settled, I switched out clothes that were too small, washed baby blankets, burp cloths, and outfits, moved Alaina to a big-girl bed, organized problem areas of the house where junk had been piled for months, and got everything decently cleaned. There was really only one chore that I kept putting off and it was mopping my kitchen floor. We have a superstition in our family that mopping the kitchen floor is always the last thing you do before you go into labor. So mine got pretty dirty because I was determined that it wouldn't happen until we got closer to the due date.
On the morning of Sunday the 14th I woke up, and contractions started around 9 a.m. They'd flirt between 10 and 20 minutes apart, so it wasn't anything concerning. I got myself and the kids ready, Joe and I prepared our Sunday School lesson for the 14-16 year-old class, and we headed off to church. During church, the contractions started to amp up a little. They stayed around 7 to 10 minutes apart, but started getting a little stronger, to the point that I had a hard time paying attention during the lessons. I decided I needed to get up and walk around a little to ease the pressure through my back. By the time we got home, I told Joe that we needed to pack the hospital bag because I wasn't sure if it was time, but it wouldn't hurt to be prepared. By the time we got the hospital bag packed, I was feeling like it could be time, but I still wasn't positive. Joe suggested that we go hang out at his parent's house so that if it was time, we'd be just a little bit closer to the hospital, and the kids would be taken care of. I liked the plan, but asked if he could give me a blessing before we left. He agreed.
In the blessing, he blessed me with the ability to know when it was time to go to the hospital, the ability to listen to my body, and the strength to do what I needed to do to get her here safely. How grateful I am for the priesthood in my home! I knew this birth mattered as much, if not more, to God as it mattered to me. He would help me.
The kids were thrilled to be at Grandma and Grandpa's. Joe and I were able to relax and chat with his parents. Everything felt very serene...even my contractions. They continued to be irregular and of varying intensity for a couple hours. Joe's mom made a bed for me on their comfy couch and I decided that if I laid down and the contractions didn't stop we'd go to the hospital. Sure enough, after about 30 minutes and 4-5 more contractions, I sat up, looked at Joe and said, "It's time, hon." I can't really explain what happened, because my contractions didn't change - they were still about 5 to 10 minutes apart and of varying intensity - but it was a clarity and a peace given by the Spirit that confirmed that it was time to go.
Joe helped his mom put our kids to bed at their house, and we left for the hospital around 9:00 p.m. By 9:30 we were in triage and discovered that I was still only about 4 cm dilated and about 50% effaced. No progression at all! They said they'd monitor me for about 20 minutes and then check back. During those 20 minutes I had a grand total of 1 contraction. I sat there feeling convinced I was getting sent home, and confused that I'd felt so clearly that it was time. When the nurse came in, she said, "Well, you aren't having many contractions, but we are going to keep you for another hour because during the one contraction you did have, your baby's heart rate went down to 112, so we just need to monitor baby for a while and make sure that everything is okay." While I was relieved that I had a little more time to prove that I really had been having legitimate contractions all day, a new layer of worry crept in that maybe I'd felt it was time because there was something wrong with the baby. I tried hard not to let my active imagination run away or pervasive sense of realism take over.
It was a pretty quiet hour with very few contractions so I became convinced we were headed home. The nurse came back in and said that the baby's heart rate looked great, so they'd check me one more time and then send us home. My heart sank, but I told myself it was okay. All that meant was that she wasn't quite ready; she would come eventually. As the nurse was checking me, I could tell she was a little bit puzzled because she checked, and then checked again. Finally she said, "Well, you are actually at a five and a half now, so you've progressed. At this point I don't know if we should send you home because of how fast your labors have progressed in the past. Would you like me to call your midwife and see if she will come break your water?" The answer was a little bit too enthusiastic of a, "YES!" and they moved us in to a labor and delivery suite.
My sister Erinn is a nursing student at BYU who is completing her labor and delivery clinicals this semester, so we'd told her she could be there with us during the birth. We gave Erinn the all clear to drive up to the hospital around 11:15 p.m. and by 11:30 they'd broken my water. During the time between when they broke my water and when contractions started really picking up, I just let myself revel in all the excitement of bearing this sweet baby and meeting a new little spirit child of Heavenly Father. Few experiences can really compare with the beauty of giving birth.
As contractions started to come I told Erinn and Joe to get some rest. I'd let them know when she was coming. As I labored and the intensity of contractions increased, the words of the blessing kept motivating me to relax through each contraction. I was determined to keep a positive attitude. Around 1:30 a.m. I'd reached 7.5 cm and 90%. About this time, I decided to stay on my feet. I felt this urge to get her here, that the timing of everything was really important. I knew that I'd progress faster if I let gravity help me as much as possible so I was literally doing labor lunges and squats all across our delivery room. I'm pretty sure that if Erinn and Joe had been awake for it, I'd have given them some good laughs with my birthing techniques. I mentioned to the nurse that I was concerned there might be some cord issues because I hadn't really felt her drop as much as I thought she would. She said they'd keep an eye out for it as things got closer to delivery.
Whenever I felt my mental game slipping a little, Phillipians 4:13 would enter my mind and I would tell myself, "I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me." By then Joe'd woken up and seemed to always know when I needed to hear his voice, feel him stroke my arm, or rub my back. He would say things like, "You've got this babe," "Just relax and picture the waves on the ocean rolling back and forth," or "You are doing great. Just keep those deep breaths going." I am so grateful for how involved he is in our children's births.
Around 3:00 a.m. the nurse came in to check on me again and I'd reached 9 cm and was 100% effaced. I mentioned to her that I was starting to feel the urge to push (in hind sight, I probably should've added, "Oh and you should go grab my midwife."). I'd been up and walking around the room for quite some time, but decided that now was the time for me to get back on the bed. As soon as I did, this baby decided it was time for her to come. Joe noticed a change in the way I was handling the contractions by the little pant or grunt that followed each one. We laughed later that neither of us really let the nurse know about what both of us knew was happening. Thankfully, the nurse was still in the room at that point, because right before the baby crowned all I could get out was, "The baby's head's coming." The nurse lifted up my gown, said, "OH!" and then paged a nurse to grab my midwife. Joe said that as the baby's head was coming out the nurse actually put her hand in front of the head to stop her, but it was too late at that point. My midwife ran in with just enough time to pull out the rest of the baby's body and unwrap the cord from around her abdomen. Olivia arrived at 3:20 a.m. on Monday morning, October 15th.
As I snuggled our beautiful little Olivia, I noticed that they had a little bit of trouble getting the placenta out. After several minutes they took Olivia over to the warming bed to measure her and wipe her down. My midwife still had hold of the cord and tried coaxing the placenta out by pushing on my stomach and gently pulling on the cord. This was not my favorite. I was just eager to get back to holding my baby. It took probably another 10 minutes or so before the placenta was delivered, but everything seemed normal after that.
After making sure everything was okay, they couldn't get that baby back in my arms fast enough. I couldn't wait to count her fingers and toes, feel the peach fuzz on her skin, see how much hair was underneath her hospital beanie. Erinn held Olivia for a few minutes before leaving around 4:30 a.m. so she could try and catch a couple hours of sleep before she went to class at 7. I felt awful about the long day she had in front of her, but it was wonderful having her there.
After Joe held Olivia, I nursed her for the first time; she was a champ. She had no problems latching on and seemed to have quite the appetite! What an incredible experience her birth was. I couldn't have asked for it to go much better than it did.
Part 2: After Olivia
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