Baby Jack's Birth Story, Part 2

The nurse led us to our room, and they started me on antibiotics (I was GBS positive) with a hep-lock, which we had requested so I didn't have to be confined to bed – something especially important to me now that my water had broken and the clock was ticking until this baby needed to arrive. 

About that time, our new nurse, Terry walked in for 7 am shift change. She was bright and cheery, with a nice Alabama accent, and though you’d never know it by looking at her MissAlabama-like appearance, she had four school- age kids at home. She introduced herself and said “I’m not a stickler for rules. You can do whatever you want: walk, drink, shower, eat…as long as you let me monitor you every once in awhile to make sure that baby’s looking good.” That sounded good to me.

She added “I’m as hands on or hands off as you want me to be. You tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. You tell me to leave you alone and I will. You tell me to hold your hand all the way and I will.” I thanked her and told her I wasn't sure what all I would need, but I appreciated her support and flexibility.

Terry started to ask me admittance questions (even though I had filled out preadmittance forms) and Luke asked if I wanted him to go get the other bags. I told him to go ahead, since things seemed to have stalled. Just after he left, I had my first really good contraction. I keep thinking about how to describe it…the words that come to mind are deep and intense - almost shockingly so. The only thing I can compare the feeling to is if you've ever been physical therapy/massage therapy for an injury, you may know that feeling when the sports medicine person presses on or massages the injured area, and it hurts, deeply, but in a helpful kind of hurt? That's exactly what it felt like to me.

So, Terry was trying to ask me questions ("What is your highest level of education?", etc) and I was having to focus on the contraction rather than answer her. She stopped asking me questions and got me a yoga ball, which I sat on for a bit, but it wasn’t what I needed. I ended up just leaning over the bed, and Terry pushed on my back, giving counter pressure through the contractions. THAT helped. Thankfully, about then, Luke came back in, and he took over, pushing on my back, and Terry left the room. I kept thinking, once one contraction would pass…"Ok, maybe we should walk now…” or “Ok, maybe I should get in a bath and see if that helps.” but before I could even speak those words, the next contraction came. And the next. And the next. I could tell Luke was surprised by what was happening. He later told me he was thinking, “They CANT be coming this close together.” I’m so very glad he didn’t say that because they most definitely were. I was shocked too. I had always pictured labor as a contraction approaching, then arriving, breathing through it, then having time to compose myself, talk a bit, and then get ready for the next one. That was not what was happening. I felt like I could barely get a deep breath in before the next one came. It was very intense. I remember thinking “If we are just now getting started on this labor thing, I don’t think I can do this for12 more hours.” After a few more contractions, I looked at Luke and said “I don’t know what do to with this.” And he said “You ARE doing it. This is it. And you're doing a great job.” The next time I was able to catch a breath, I was more confident, realizing labor was really here, and I said to Luke “I’m doing it. My body is doing it. Exactly what it’s supposed to be doing.” That felt so very good to know ‘it’ was working. Five hours after my water had broken, we were finally starting good labor.

As intense as that time was, in the midst of it, I remember looking out our huge picture window, and seeing the snow coming down, and then looking around and realizing it really was just Luke and myself in the room. As it turns out, the nurses were stuck at the hospital and had been there for three shifts straight. At the time of my labor, since there was only one other woman in labor that day, and hers was progressing very slowly, they were all taking a pizza break, listening out for when I needed them. So, it really was just Luke and myself, in a room with the sound of my breathing and his gentle encouragement. 

After working through these intense contractions for a bit, Terry peeked back in, watched us for a minute, and then said “I know I checked you just a bit ago, but it seems like these contractions are coming pretty close together. Would it be ok if I checked you?” I agreed, hoping to hear this was doing something. I remember thinking “If I’m still at 4, I might cry.” She checked me…and I was an 8! I felt so relieved! No wonder this was so hard! I had just gone from a 4 to an 8 in less than two hours. We were really making progress, and I felt encouraged again that I could do this!

Terry said “Since you seem to be feeling the contractions in your back, why don’t we lower the bed, and you can try child’s pose and see if your belly pulling down will help relieve some of the pressure from off your back." She was so right - it very much helped. 

Then, things got even more intense. This is when all talking stopped, and all I did was breathe and rock. I was very much in the zone, and just did exactly what my body was telling me to do.

Some people compare childbirth to running a marathon. I can see the comparison, but the analogy broke down for me here because whereas in the marathon, I had to push myself every step of the way at a certain point, labor was more like a steam train rushing forward, and my job was just to try and relax enough to hang on for the ride.

I remember at one point in my very intense breathing, a nurse told me to “Shhhh” and I decided to file away irritation for later. As any athlete knows, vocalization is paramount to physical achievement. I didn't really know what I was doing. All I knew that I was doing exactly what I needed to do to bring this sweet boy. So I just kept breathing -- and breathing loudly, almost like a  mantra from yoga class. 

In the middle of this intense, focused time, Terry said she needed to check me and to lie on my back. It felt like the most unnatural thing I could do to stop what I was doing, and to lie still and have her check me. But I did it. While I was lying there, I had a massive contraction. Wow.  Right then I knew that if I ever had to labor confined to my back on a bed, I would 100% get an epidural. It felt awful not to be able to move. 

Terry told me what I was pretty sure of – I was at a 9 with just a little bit to go, and she told Luke to call her when I wanted to push. I resumed child’s pose/cat pose and breathing,  and at about that time, I saw Dr. Goolsby peek his head in the door, wearing a flannel shirt and jeans. I felt like waving to him. It just seemed comical how intense things were with me, and how casual he was, peeking in the room.

A few contractions later, and I asked Luke, “Think it's ok to push?” He asked, "Do you want to push?" and I said, "No...I am pushing." Luke called for Terry and she said if it was ok with me, she’d work on little bit of rim left while I pushed. I told her that was fine. I remember I was nervous because I have several friends who had gotten to this point and still had hours and hours of work left. I was mentally trying to prepare for a long haul, when I heard her call for the baby nurse. I could tell a few more people had come in and were quickly, silently preparing for Jack’s arrival.

Terry was joined by another nurse at this point who said, "Oh! He has a head full of hair!” I couldn’t believe he was that close to entering the world! At this point the nurses began encouraging me to actively push. I was hesitant since I wanted this to be as gentle of a process for the baby and for me as possible. I realized I had been completely relying on my doula to be there to help me push to the point that I didn't even know what the best thing to do was. They kept telling me to tuck my chin, hold my breath, and push, and I heard them saying that, but instead I was giving a series of short pushes while breathing. Finally they told me, this time a little more sternly, that I needed to hold my breath and push. I did. I prayed he’d be ok and I’d be ok and did what the nurses said. His heart decelled a bit, so they gave me some oxygen. And, in four good, long pushes like that, at 9:39am, my sweet baby boy came into this world, quiet at first, and then screaming and bright red and beautiful. They put him immediately on my chest, and after 40 weeks and 1 day, I was holding my beautiful, sweet boy. 

Jack, held by me, Terry, Luke, and Dr. Goolsby, at a few seconds old.

Luke cut his cord and then I looked over and smiled at him, and he took a picture. 

Jack at less than a minute old.

As I held Jack, and kissed him, they toweled him off. I pulled off my cotton sundress and they covered us with a big, warm blanket, and I just snuggled and held my sweet, beautiful boy. I expected the baby would be kind of yucky, but he wasn’t. He was sweet and warm and wonderful. His initial APGAR was a 9! Luke leaned down to hug us and kiss us and look at him. “He has your exact hair!” Luke said. Dr. Goolsby shook Luke’s hand and left. And it wasn’t even 10 am yet. I began to nurse Jack, and Luke and I talked about how beautiful he was, and just spent some sweet time cuddling and so happy to be a family of three. 

After a while, they asked if I was ready for him to be weighed and bathed, so Luke took him over to the warmer to do that, while I watched. 

Jack and his daddy about 30 minutes later.

Our sweet, peaceful boy.

Then the nurses encouraged me to get up and walk a bit, so I decided to go ahead and take a shower and put on my comfy pjs, and while I did so they converted the delivery room to a recovery room, complete with fresh sheets, water to drink, a sofa for Luke, and a crib for baby. About 20 minutes later, baby was clean and swaddled, I was clean and warm, were all snuggled in bed together – and the three of rested as we looked out at snow-covered Birmingham. What a crazy morning and what a peaceful ending. 

It did not go anything like I had imagined it would, but it ended up being our own perfect story, and as my friend Abby had said about the birth of her son, it was the most special day we have ever had together – even more special than our wedding. Though we felt like we knew each other so well then, we were practically strangers compared to the loved and support we had for each other this day - the day our son was born.