Due 12/13/2024
7 lbs 1 oz
19.5”
I woke up to my water breaking at around 1:35 AM. At first, I thought I had peed my pants and had cramps, so I changed my clothes and went downstairs to where Daniel had been sleeping to avoid my third trimester snoring. I decided I shouldn’t wake him until I was 100% sure that this was labor and tried to get back into bed, but another gush of fluid came as I pulled myself onto our bed (it is tall; I am not) so I went back downstairs and told Daniel, “Hey, Daniel? You should pack your hospital bag, I’m in labor. No rush though, I still have to call the nurse.”
He got his things ready and I timed my contractions — they were around 2 minutes apart from the beginning. I called the labor and delivery advice nurse and described what had been happening and they told me to go to the ER since my water broke and that the L&D department was waiting for me. Daniel loaded my bags in the car and we drove to the hospital with my contractions getting worse along the drive. We had preemptively lined the passenger seat with a garbage bag and towel to protect the seat/seat electronics from amniotic fluid, so that was helpful.
We arrived at around 2:35 AM, went through security, and checked in in the ER. The receptionist asked if I wanted a wheelchair (no) and if I wanted to sign for myself (yes) then the L&D nurse, Mary, came down to bring us upstairs. Daniel helped me change into a hospital gown, disposable underwear, and a massive pad before I got onto the triage bed where they set me up with sensors to track Skyler’s heart rate, my blood pressure, and my contractions. Daniel asked the nurse if we could keep the papers printing out showing that data for my scrapbooks and the nurses thankfully said yes. Mary asked if I had considered pain management (I was in a lot of pain at this point) and I asked what she meant; Daniel answered that I wanted an epidural. Mary asked if I wanted fentanyl to take the edge off the pain of the contractions and I hesitated for a second, felt another contraction coming, then said yes because my brain was already shorting out from the contraction pain.
Another nurse, Lydia, came in to set up my IV in my left hand (with a cute gauze glove, as well!) and drew my blood for a CBC panel, red blood cell antibody identification panel, and ABO/RH blood typing screen. An OB came in and checked my dilation — 4.5-5 cm. I had been 1 cm and 60% effaced at my appointment three days prior. I remember very little of the next little bit — I hadn’t gotten the fentanyl yet, but it almost feels like a dream.
They eventually brought me into the delivery room where I was just sort of delirious. I just remember Daniel holding me while I dealt with the pain and asked for the epidural. At some point, Daniel said, “Your dad’s here?” So I looked up, saw my dad, and I think screamed “Get the fuck out!” Daniel told me to be nice and told my dad that I’m in a lot of pain. I had told everyone that I only wanted Daniel in the room with me, so it was shocking to see anyone but him and the medical staff. My dad left after that and waited in the waiting room but later asked Daniel if he should just go home — I said yes, I didn’t want anyone else in the room.
An anesthetist, Bryon, came into the room and I think I asked if he was going to be my new best friend. He asked a few questions before placing the epidural but the only things I remember saying were that I had woken up from general anesthesia each time I had been put under so I might be resistant to that sort of thing and that my spine might be slightly curved from being an idiot and carrying a heavy purse (it was). He said I sounded like a good candidate for an epidural and started preparing to give me the epidural.
At this point, my contractions were very painful and very close together; it felt like every 30-45 seconds. Bryon asked a nurse to give me more fentanyl because I was in so much pain (despite having an already-max dose of fentanyl) while he was trying to place the epidural. Most of what I remember at this point is Daniel holding me up and Bryon telling me to curl up “like an angry shrimp”. Luckily, I have lots of experience with this.
The fentanyl had made me really tired (and made me wonder how anyone uses it recreationally) and when the epidural kicked in, I got immediate relief. One of the nurses placed a foley bulb so I could start pushing sooner, then we were able to sleep (sort of, I was hooked up to a million very loud sensors) from around 4-7:15 AM. I started to feel my contractions through the epidural around 7 and let the nurse know when she came in next. They checked my cervix and I was 10 cm dilated, but I couldn’t feel my legs at all so I couldn’t get in position to start pushing. Someone came in to decrease the epidural potency so I could move my legs and at least feel enough to not be a potato, then a midwife came in to start preparing for me to push.
One of the nurses suggested that I lie on my back with my knees in the air, feet held up by Daniel (on my left) and a nurse (on my right). They acted as my stirrups, then I pulled on my thighs to get leverage to push whenever contractions came. The nurse told me to “push like you’re pooping” so it became quite obvious why so many women actually poop while in labor (and I have no idea if I did or not, thankfully). Daniel made sure to let me know that he was staring at the wall and inspecting the paint job because I hadn’t wanted him to see Skyler actually coming out; I wanted to maintain some sort of modesty. Daniel, the nurse, and the midwife were all great cheerleaders. I think I told them, “This positive reinforcement is great” because they were all saying I was good at this, updating me on the progress (“look at all his hair!”) and telling me when to start/stop pushing. The midwife also applied a warm compress to my perineum to prevent tearing. Toward the end, the midwife told me to stop pushing and let my body take care of it, so I did. I assume my body kept pushing on its own because I was definitely still having contractions.
Thirty minutes after I started pushing — at 10:13 AM — Skyler was born! They put him on my tummy and told me not to pull him up too high because the umbilical cord was still attached. He whimpered a little, then relaxed as soon as he was lying on my tummy. I cried immediately when I saw him, mostly from shock that I had done it and probably from the rush of hormones. We got some really cool pictures of the umbilical cord, too, then the doctor cut it when the time was right. He was perfect and pooped on me within the first hour which was very reassuring (yay his digestive system is kicking in!)
I think I told Daniel I loved him several times. He took some pictures of me and of the placenta, or what they could get out of me. We found out that I had an adherent placenta that would not let go and was losing blood relatively quickly; they said that most vaginal births lose 500 milliliters of blood, C-sections lose 1 liter, and I had lost 1.1 liters. They also kept handing me pills, I was parched so I kept asking Daniel for water, and they injected each thigh with something. I think I started shaking a bit (I’ve heard this is from the epidural) and I threw up. Daniel was uneasy at this point and told me he was trying to stay strong but that this was his nightmare — the doctors were talking about getting an on-call surgeon in or getting help because of my bleeding and adherent placenta. They needed to do a D&C to remove the last piece(s) of placenta from my uterus so it would shrink down, not get infected, and so I could breastfeed effectively.
They got a surgeon who could do it, asked if I wanted to bring my cell phone (I said no because I assumed I’d just go straight back to Daniel right after–I should have said yes), and wheeled me toward the surgery room. I asked the nurses who were going with me if this sort of thing would be allowed in Texas since they have all the anti-abortion stuff and they said that because it’s after birth, it would be allowed. They also said it was sweet of me to be thinking of that while going through my own D&C.
When I got to the room, they transferred me (my body was still pretty much a potato, I felt like I had no energy or control over it) to the bed for surgery and asked how I was doing. I was surprised at how many people were in there, it felt like there were 15 people. They gave me something that I think made me black out, I don’t know what it was. I just remember waking up and asking if everything went well and I was brought to a room for recovery. I was still very thirsty. They asked if I wanted Daniel and Skyler to come in and I said yes; they eventually came in (Skyler was wheeled in in a little bassinet). Daniel kept giving me water and apple juice and gave me my phone, but I don’t think I could use it (I was still mostly incoherent and violently shaking). They had me hold Skyler and try to nurse; he latched but I wasn’t producing milk (or even colostrum) yet–that took 5 days, so Skyler got formula from a tiny syringe instead. Daniel updated me on what had happened; he had gotten some skin-to-skin time with Skyler and they had gotten Skyler’s measurements (19.5” and 7 lbs 1 oz) and given him his initial vaccine and vitamins.
After recovering for an hour or so, they brought us to the postpartum room where we stayed for the next day, watching football and trying to adapt to our new reality.
We ordered a lot of food from the hospital but I wasn’t very hungry and could barely eat anything despite not eating for around 24 hours. Nurses and doctors kept checking on us and introducing themselves and I only remember Lydia, the same nurse who had placed my IV when I had arrived, and one extremely polite and respectful nurse who averted his eyes every time he checked on us.
After many visits from pediatricians, OBs, and lactation consultants, we left on the evening of Sunday, December 8. I was pushed out in a wheelchair by the extremely polite nurse and it was drizzling on the drive home. Daniel’s mom brought us dinner, met Skyler, and we started our parenting journey.
It’s easily been the hardest year of our lives (and such a contrast to the easy pregnancy and labor process!), but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Seeing him grow from a tiny, squeaky potato baby into a toddler who makes puns has been incredible, and this love far surpasses anything I had ever experienced or even imagined.
