Anders's Birth Story

Well, so far you've only heard Zach's version of the night Anders was born. Although he did a great job, let's face it--his perspective is only second hand! I've been wanting to write down all the juicy details and debating about whether to put them online. I really love birth stories and the longing to share mine just won't go away. I won't tell you every detail, but consider yourself warned--if you're faint of heart or just don't want to know that much about this personal experience, stop now!

As you know, I was five days overdue and going...slightly crazy. Five days doesn't sound like a lot in retrospect, but when your baby could come any day for about 21 days AND you have absolutely no control over when this crazy life-changing event might happen, you start to get a little impatient.

I had had lots-o-braxton hicks contractions, which were adding to the insanity, and on the Wednesday before my true labor began, was timing hard contractions while family waited to see if this was the real deal. It wasn't.

That Friday night/Saturday morning, a METAL CLAMP AROUND MY UTERUS woke me up right at midnight. "Oh yeah...THAT'S what a real contraction feels like!" was this first thought that popped into my head. I smiled because I had been rooting for my uterus to get down to business for some days, and I knew it was finally listening.

I laid in bed wide awake waiting for the next one. I think it was less than twenty minutes later that the vice tightened again. After that one, I got out of bed to pack my toiletries. I didn't get very far when another contraction brought me to a stand-still. These were for realsies. Couldn't talk, couldn't walk, had to use the wall for support.

Having had so many false alarms and knowing it could be a long night, I didn't want to wake Zach up until I really needed him. I wrote down the times of my contractions on the marker board on the fridge. Unlike my slow-but-steady 12 hour labor with Isaac, these contractions were rapidly getting closer together: 20 minutes, 18 minutes, 12 minutes, 9 minutes! Time to wake the hubs!

Zach doesn't recall what I said to him. It was just after 1:00am when I woke him with, "Honey, I think we're going to have a baby tonight." "What? Yeah? Okay." He was up and running around like a chicken with his head cut off after he saw how I was acting through the first contraction I had after he woke up. By then they were bringing me to my hands and knees and I couldn't help but moan through them.

Zach got our stuff together and called Jake, our good friend who we had put "on call" for just such an occasion. Zach went to pick him up so he could stay the night with Isaac and I called my parents who were going to make the three hour drive down here. My mom (who was a Labor and Delivery nurse for a lot of years) was going to be present for Thor's arrival.

Zach doesn't think this is quite as funny as I do, but when Zach and Jake got back to our condo, Zach was apparently on "auto-pilot" and stopped to check the mail. At 1:30 in the morning. While his wife was in labor. I tease Zach that when he's nervous like that, he's all motion and no forward progress.

Anyway, Zach and Jake came in and I was between contractions and sitting on the bed, ready to go. I told Jake he could come in and chatted with him until the vice clamped down again and told them to leave. Zach went to put our bags in the car and I had a contraction so hard that I threw up in the trash can that was luckily near by. (Actually, as I write this I realize that I have no idea who took that trash bag out for me--Jake? Mom? Whoever it was, thanks!) Then I walked to the entry way of our building where I had to get back on my hands and knees through another contraction, praying that no neighbors would come in from a night on the town just then! I know Jake could hear every ungodly sound I was making, so he's gotten a bit of an education on labor through me.

We pulled up to the hospital at about 2:00 and my water broke as I walked in the door. When I got to the hospital when I was in labor with Isaac, Zach and I parked the car and I walked through the entire hospital, stopping during contractions on the way. This time we used valet parking and I took a wheelchair from the door. It was simply a harder labor!

Also when I was in labor with Isaac, by the time we got to the hospital, I wasn't really talking anymore, even between contractions. Zach had to answer all the nurses' questions for me. I was just sort of inside my head, in "Labor Land" as I've heard it called on other blogs. This time, though, between many contractions I was downright chatty! Others, though, seemed to keep me in their grip until the next one.

I got checked in with a nurse and a resident came to check how dilated I was (which I don't remember, but I think I was about 6 cm!) The resident said something like, "Let's get you checked so you can get that epidural. You're looking pretty uncomfortable," while I shook my head and the nurse told her I didn't want any intervention. I was surprised that the resident would just jump to that conclusion and say it out loud.

I was supposed to have an intravenous antibiotic because I had tested positive for Strep B (other mothers will know what I'm talking about--it's no big deal, some women just have it and others don't. If you have it, though, your baby could get sick so they give you an IV of antibodies before he's born.) Nurses have always had a hard time finding my veins, and this night was no exception. I never came so close to the stereotype of the bitchy laboring woman as when I had to restrain myself from smacking the nurse who was trying to stick me for the fifth time during a contraction. They never did get the IV in, it was too late anyway, and Thor ended up being fine.

Throughout my entire first labor, Zach had rubbed my back through every single contraction and it was the most helpful thing in the world. Wanting to earn his keep again, he tried to give me a gentle massage through this labor. NOT GOOD. My contractions had become super intense and all I could do to communicate "Get your hands off of me NOW!" was grunt and vigorously shake my head.

The main thing I remember about the contractions before I felt the urge to push was that I didn't know what to do with myself. Zach and the nurse told me, "Good job! You're doing great!" and I thought, "No I'm not! I'm not doing anything! This is happening to me and I just want it to stop!" Right before I starting pushing, I thought to myself, "I really can't do this any more!" but when you're that far along, there's no giving up! Whether you want it to happen or not, it's happening!

When a woman (without drugs) feels the "urge to push," every one in the room knows it. The sounds you make change from moans to grunts (yeah, it's no prettier than it sounds). When I started to do that, we had only been at the hospital a little over an hour. I was on my knees next to the bed and the nurse and resident (my doc still wasn't there!) wanted me to get on the bed to check my cervix so I could start pushing.

I tried my damnedest to get my uncooperative body onto that bed, but I simply could. not. do. it. I had another contraction on my knees next to the bed.

oh.

my.

lord.

and.

savior.

Poetry could be written about that contraction. Not the nice kind. I will never forget that ONE contraction. This is the grittiest thing I will write on my blog, ever: It felt like a bowling ball was trying to escape from my body. I even remember the sound I made and it brings tears to my eyes to think about it--it was a grunty moan turned into a eyes-squinted-shut scream. Before the contraction was completely over, I grunted, "He's coming!" But I was trying to communicate, "Somebody better get her hands down there so this baby doesn't bump his head on the floor!"

I still remember the sound of the nurse's and resident's voice; what had once been a request became a demand: "Okay, get up on the bed, let's go."

And then, a lull. I could open my eyes. I could talk. I could breathe. I got on the bed and it actually felt good to lie partially down.

A whole team of people from the neonatal staff rushed in; the doctor arrived, looking wide-eyed and amazed at where I already was; and they broke down the bed to prepare for my son's arrival.

Then the contraction wave washed over me again and I pushed. This time it was okay and productive, a head emerged.

Breathe. Breathe.

Another wave, "there's his shoulders," and out slips the rest.

Breathe. Breathe.

"Breathe, baby, breathe."

A deep breathe. A scream. A beautiful, Thank you God, I love you Lord, my baby can breathe, scream!

"Oh, Anders. Oh, Anders."

The doctor held him up and I saw his beautiful slimy body. Zach was all smiles and rushing between me--"Are you okay, honey?"--and our new healthy boy. The neonatal staff suctioned him out (there was meconium in the amniotic fluid) and checked him out. Then they gave him to Zach, who gave him to me, and I drank in his heavenly face for a few minutes before we parted ways for a couple hours--me to the Mother and Baby Unit, and my son to the Infant Special Care Unit.

The rest is history! He wasn't in the ISCU long and we feel abundantly blessed by his good health. Anders is the biggest answer to prayer in my whole life. Glory be to God.