When my sister Crystal planned her weekend trip for May 17th
through the 20th I was not worried about having a baby. I wasn’t due
until the 29th and had prepared myself to go past my due date. My
boss even had to talk me out of scheduling a full day of work for the 23rd.
My hunch of a late delivery was confirmed at my appointment Tuesday the 15th
when I was only at a 2 with too little effacement to note.
We spent Friday afternoon
in the Mission district of San Francisco shopping the thrift stores. After
picking Brent up for the night we finished the evening by eating dinner in
Chinatown and enjoying treats to-go from Tartine Bakery.
I woke up Saturday morning and complained of “real”
contractions. These were much different than the Braxton Hicks I’d been timing
each evening for a week. These ones hurt. Nothing more than the strength of a
side ache, but still, enough to make you scour. We spent the day touring around
San Francisco. And by touring I mean walking. And walking. And walking. We
started out with a 1.5 mile walk from the parking garage at Fisherman’s Wharf
to the Farmer’s Market in the Ferry Building. We wised up for the trip back and
hopped on a street car. We walked around Pier 39 watching the sea lions and
street performers. We ended the day by dipping our toes in the ocean near the
Cliffhouse and filling our bellies with giant burritos from the Mission
District. It was a fun and miserable day. Fun to spend time with my brother who
just moved his family here to the bay. Fun to see my sister Crystal who is much
too far away in San Antonio. Miserable to be waddling around with an 8 pound
baby in your belly. But at the end of the day, the fun definitely outweighed the
miserable.
We got home exhausted. I tried to hide my panic as I came to
terms with the fact that this baby might be coming early. I can’t go to bed! I
need to pack my hospital bag! Blow up the yoga ball! Put my Hypnobabies tracks
on the iPod! So much to do. All while stopping every 8 minutes to time a
contraction. We bustled around that night preparing to have a baby. A baby that
could potentially make us wait another 2 weeks before arriving. Am I really in
labor? I went back and forth between panicking that this was really happening
and preparing myself for disappointment if the contractions faded away.
Brent kept insisting that I relax and take a bath. I finally
conceded once I finished packing bags for Brent, Jace, and myself. I took my
time in the tub and Brent and I watched my belly dance around. Charlie was such
an active baby. So active, in fact, that his movements went from being magical
to downright painful after 36 weeks. This night in particular he seemed
determined to kick his way out.
We went to bed around 11:00 and I fell asleep quickly. My
contractions woke me up at 2:30. I used an app on my phone to time them. They
continued at 8 minute intervals. They were too strong to sleep through, but I
was able to relax and stay in bed. I woke Brent up at 4:00, not because the
contractions were unbearable, but because I kept erasing my labor info from the
app I was using. We talked and he rubbed my back. We were both able to sleep
from about 6:00 to 7:00. Well, sleep in 8 minute intervals that is. Jace woke
up around 8:00. We snuggled and he drank a sippy cup of milk like usual. Soon
after that, it was getting to the point that I could no longer function through
the contractions. They were still manageable, but I would kneel on all fours
and rock through them. Since they were still so far apart, I had a lot of
recovery time between each one. This was the main reason I was able to tolerate
the first part of my labor so well. This continued through the morning.
I had to take care of a few things once morning hit. I was
supposed to pick a friend up from the airport that day. In a panic, I sent a
couple texts and emails to take care of that. I also texted my friend Keri that
she might be watching Jace that night if we ended up at the hospital. We had
planned a Sunday together at my brother’s house before Crystal departed from
SFO. Since that was no longer happening, we needed to coordinate with my
brother to get Crystal from our house in the East Bay to their house. They said
they would finish breakfast and come right over.
Brent insisted that I lie back down and listen to my
Hypnobabies tracks. I had planned on reviewing all my hypno material before the
pregnancy was over. That didn’t happen, but I was feeling fine about it. After
being so disappointed with how Jace’s birth went, I decided not to get my hopes
set on a certain scenario this time around. Did I want a natural unmedicated
birth? Yes. But I had decided to just see how it went. If I felt that I needed
an epidural, I would get one. But I was going to give it my best effort.
I was surprised at how well the hypno tracks worked. Instead
of rocking and moaning through each contraction, I was able to completely relax
and breathe during each one. They helped me focus on keeping my face and hands
relaxed. Without conscious effort, it’s easy to tense up and flex every muscle
in your body. I was able to lie in bed and relax for over an hour before my
brother arrived. Crystal had taken Jace to the grocery store to stock up our
pantry. What a good sister. When Jarom and Nancy arrived with their kids I
emerged from the bedroom to visit. We spent some time visiting while the kids
played. The distraction was good for me. I would sit in the living room and
chat for a while and then hightail it to the bedroom every 8 minutes try to
find my happy place.
After my family left, I decided to call the doctor. She said
that since I’d been having regular contractions for so long, that I should go
to the hospital. I was hoping to labor as long as possible from home, so I
still wasn’t sure I wanted to head to the hospital this early in labor. I
decided we’d wait until my friend Keri got home from church, that way we could
drop Jace off at her house on our way to the hospital. This gave me a goal to
work toward as my contractions got more and more painful.
Jace was very sweet. When a contraction would hit, I would
lean against the wall and have Brent apply counter pressure to my lower back.
Jace would run up to me and say, “A-happened mommy? A-happened mommy?” This motivated me to keep a smile on my face during each contraction.
By the time we piled in the car, I was not a happy camper.
The speed bumps in the parking lot of Keri’s apartment complex were much bigger
than I remembered them being. Brent hurried Jace inside and came back to the
car so we could speed away. Then commenced the stereotypical white-knuckled
drive to the hospital that I’ve always wanted. I told Brent to go as fast as
possible. I said I could handle two contractions in the car, so he had maybe 15
minutes to get us to the hospital. He was able to deliver on that request. I
didn’t want another contraction to hit on the walk inside, so we waited in the
hot car for the next one to pass. It didn’t come for over 10 minutes, which
left me wondering again whether I’d jumped the gun.
We got inside and were taken to our room. It was about 1:00 by then. One great thing
about my hospital is that we stayed in the same room throughout our entire
stay. From the initial exam, to the post partum recovery we didn’t have to move
all our gear from one room to the next. We met our nurse, who was so supportive
and great. I was her only patient and she stayed positive and kept
complimenting me on how well I was doing. For the next hour my nurse went
through all the rigmarole of checking me in, going through my medical history
and on and on and on. Even though I had preregistered, there is a lot of
protocol to push through before they leave you alone. It’s very hard to stay
centered and focused in a hospital.
I was so disappointed when she told me I was only at a 3. A
three?! I had labored at home for 12 hours and I was only at a three?! I had
been at a 2 four days earlier. With all that pain I had only made it one more
centimeter?! I thought for sure I would be at a six or so. Oh man, the wind was
sucked from my sails. She said they would monitor me for 2 hours and then
decide whether to keep me or send me home. What a bummer.
Did you know that
your water breaking feels just like peeing your pants? Well, I didn’t. In the
middle of her endless list of questions, I felt a warm trickle down my leg. I interrupted
her saying that either my water just broke, or I was peeing my pants. She
confirmed it was the former. We were definitely staying at the hospital now. I
was so glad we made it to the birth center in time. If I’d put off coming even
an extra hour, we would have had quite the mess to clean up.
I was then left alone for the most part. Brent would rub my
back, feed me ice chips, and press cold wash cloths onto my forehead. Oh man, I
was hot. One of the parting gifts from our day of gallivanting around San
Francisco was minor sunburn on my cheeks and arms. This raised my temperature
by about 1,000 degrees. Hot flashes and nausea were my main two problems at
this point of my labor.
I was managing the pain mostly by just moaning and breathing
through each one. When things got increasingly painful, I started counting
through the contractions. I told myself that if I could just get past 15, the
worst part of the contraction would be over. I kept thinking that I didn’t know
if I could keep this up for another hour, but I did know I could get through one more. I focused on getting through
one contraction at a time. My hands had gone numb, and this was a very
unpleasant sensation. The nurse said it was probably because I was
hyperventilating during the contractions. Brent helped me keep my breathing
slow and helped me count through each contraction.
Things were getting crazy intense, crazy fast. The nurse
told me to let her know when I started feeling “pushy.” When my pain began to
escalate, I told the nurse I wanted to push. She checked me and said I was only
at a 6. Again, disappointment. I was hoping I had made it to the finish line. I
thought maybe the pushing sensation was coming from needing to urinate. So
Brent helped me up and I tried to use the bathroom. After an unsuccessful
attempt at that, I ended up having two contractions back to back while trying.
That was unbearable. I was no longer holding it together. Some of the
contractions were coming without any real rest period between.
I made it back to the bed and had one doozy of a
contraction. I told the nurse that I was ready to talk epidural. I asked her to
check me again and she reminded me that I had just been checked right before I
went into the bathroom. That seemed like an eternity ago to me. Time does not pass normally to a laboring woman. It’s
like the seconds drag on but the hours fly by. I know that doesn’t really make
sense.
I was going back and forth on what to do. She said she would
give Brent and me some time to talk it over and she’d be back in a couple
minutes. She left just as another contraction hit. That was all the discussion
I needed. I couldn’t do it anymore. I was ready for the epidural. She came back
in after a few minutes and I told her I was ready for the anesthesiologist. She
said she had to use the restroom and then she’d put the order in for my
epidural. “Really?” I thought, “You choose this
moment to answer nature’s call?” There wasn’t much I could do but buckle up for
the upcoming contraction.
She came back in and said the anesthesiologist should be
there soon. I asked her if she would please
check me again. I wanted so badly to have made progress. She reluctantly agreed
and said in a surprised voice, “well, you’re at a 9 and a half!” In retrospect,
I know I was definitely at a 10, but she said 9.5 since my doctor hadn’t
expected me to progress so quickly and was still out and about enjoying her
Sunday.
I’m not sure if it was hearing that number, or if my body
was suddenly ready, but whatever the reason, a switch had been flipped. The
next contraction hit just after her announcement and I started my counting.
“One… two… three… FOUR!!!” The last number came out like a roar. I was pushing,
and there was nothing anyone could do about it. I can’t explain it. My body was
on cruise control and this baby was on his way. It was a huge relief to push.
The worst was over. I could now fight back against the pain. The nurses kept
telling me that the doctor was 15 minutes away and to try not to push. Ha ha!
That would be like trying to stop a galloping horse that is running from a
ravenous lion. Nature had taken over and I was definitely pushing, doctor or
not.
Turns out that the doctor was loading groceries into her car
at the store about 5 minutes away. She wanted to stop at her house to drop off her purchases on the way
to the hospital. This put her about 15 away. As the nurses realized how quickly
my baby was coming, they called her back and said, “We’ll pay for your ice
cream! You need to come NOW.” The doctor rushed over and burst into the room in
her sandals and capris. They threw a gown and booties on her and we were in
business. I was pushing on my side and they wanted me to turn over to my other
side, but wanted me to switch to the other side because of the baby’s position.
I told them no, politely, I’m sure (ha ha) but they insisted and helped me
turn. I pushed once on the other side before they insisted I go to my back.
Once in that position the doctor told me to brace myself during the next push
because he was coming. He made his arrival on the third push after the doctor
arrived. I started pushing involuntarily at 4:16, the doctor arrived at 4:23,
and after pushing through three contractions, Charles Donald Barberis was born
at 4:28. Eight pounds 5 ounces, 20.5 inches long. Nine days before my estimated due date.
I absolutely cannot describe the feeling I had. They placed
my wet, screaming baby on my belly and I cried, “My baby! My baby! My baby!”
over and over while the tears streamed down my face. I was too shocked and
exhausted to even look at him, but I will forever remember that moment when I
held my Charlie for the first time. I had overcome and conquered something that
seemed totally insurmountable. The moment that I had given up was the moment it
was over. I was proud of my body, and proud of my baby. We had worked together
and had done what felt impossible. We were instantly bonded because we had
already experienced this incredible journey together. I’ve had some amazing
days in my life. The day I got married, the day I graduated college, and all
the other clichés between. But there something different when you have a baby. You
change in a moment. Every mother can
remember the moment they held their
baby for the first time. That is a universal feeling no matter what your birth
experience, adoption included. Add to that euphoria the feeling of
accomplishment of reaching the top of your own Mount Everest. It was a life
changing moment.
Brent was so sweet and supportive throughout the whole
experience. He handled everything like a champ. The nurses were all impressed
with how well he did. Especially when he got a sneaker full of fluid when
Charlie was born. I wasn’t positioned at the end of the bed like they normally
prefer so there was nowhere for the waters to go except off the side of the
bed, right into Brent’s cuffed jeans and sneakers. He is a total trooper and
laughed it off. I’m glad I have Brent to share my life with. I’m glad I have
all three of my boys to share my life with.
