The Story of a Birth

There are many places I could begin: being twelve years old and knowing, just knowing, that more than anything else I could be, I wanted to be a wife and a mother. It could be during those years of learning about being a good wife and mother, paying attention to how good mothers cared for and loved their families. Perhaps when a handsome young man came courting, and I saw a deep yearning and earnest desire to love and raise children that so closely matched my own. Maybe it was when that man made me his wife and together we looked forward to the blessing of children within the covenant of marriage. It could have been that beautiful autumn day that I discovered I was carrying the very tiniest beginning of life, an eternal soul that God had placed in my womb.

The following months were a complex blend of joy, apprehension, excitement, and anticipation. There were doctor’s appointments, long talks with Husband, learning to enjoy pregnancy one step at a time, and waiting, filling my time as profitably as I could, including reading books on pregnancy, birth, and nursing, talking with more experienced mothers, and lots of praying.

Finally, the time drew near. Tuesday, Rebekah took me out shopping with Rachel and Sarah and they made me walk the whole day, including parking at the farther end of parking lots and an extra loop around the Super Wal-Mart for good measure. We were out all afternoon; Rebekah and I didn’t get home until dark. Husband was still up when I got back (he had worked that day) and we spent some time together before he went to bed. I wasn’t sleepy yet, so I stayed up and tidied the house. At 11:00pm, I began to have strong contractions, coming anywhere from 7 to 3 minutes apart, getting more regular (and shorter between) as they progressed. After forty minutes, I called Jamie, who was acting as my doula, and then my doctor. They both said wait, until contractions came every 3-4 minutes and got stronger. I began to gather all the last minute things for the hospital, in case this really was “it” and tried to relax when the contractions came. I quickly found that wherever I was, in whatever position, it was easiest to stay put until the contraction ebbed, even if it was more comfortable to labor with one while standing, rising from a chair to stand while in the middle of a contraction was quite painful. I put to the test all that I had learned about relaxing and followed a few new recommendations from Jamie, including a hot baths or showers (which I found immensely helpful!) So I labored thus until nearly 3:00am, when the contractions had became very strong and came less than every 4 minutes. I called the doctor again, telling her how things had been over the last three and a half hours, and she said to it was time to go. So I woke Husband and after gathering our bags and last minute stuff, off we went!

The first half of the ride was rather interesting, as the roads were curvy and bumpy (and I felt each one during contractions!) until we got to the major highways – by which time the contractions were coming every 8 minutes. I wondered if I had awakened Husband to a false alarm. We got to the hospital and checked in – the lady at the emergency entrance seemed to drag her feet and was quite droll. All I wanted was to be settled somewhere and not standing in a hospital lobby signing papers (and I had preregistered!) while laboring through contractions every 7-8 minutes. Finally they put me in an exam room, took my blood, put in a heparin lock (which, despite what everyone said about my not caring by that point, I certainly did care for she took two stabs at it and the final getup was incredibly annoying. Imagine being bit by a giant horsefly that keeps on biting and sucking [except this was pumping stuff in] and there you have it. But I digress…) She asked lots of questions and an examination revealed that I was already 4cm dilated! This was near 5:00am. Husband and I looked at each other and I asked if he was ready. He said bring it on – and we tried (unsatisfactorily) to settle on a girl’s name. Finally I was wheeled into the labor and delivery room and I alternately slept and labored with (8-10 minute and continually further apart) contractions. Husband napped. Jamie came at 7:00am, and she got me walking to try to jump start my stalling labor. A half an hour of walking with only three pitiful (and not painful) contractions brought a pow-wow with the doctor, nurse, Husband, Jamie, and me. I could either be sent home to try to sleep and/or start labor again on my own, or have my water broken.

I was already getting tired, but knew (thinking of how strong my home labor had been [which had been the strongest I’d experienced yet] and calculating for an increase and then a time of pushing) that I could make it to about 4:00pm, even having not slept the night before. I was worried, however, because once my water was broken, I was stuck in the hospital come what may (interventions and a caesarean running through my head.) Husband, Jamie, and I prayed about it. Husband was all for getting things moving, and I found that I was, too. The nurse let the doctor know, and more quickly than I had anticipated, he was there. I had sent Husband out to the car to get my contact solution, so I could refresh my lenses (or switch to glasses) before they broke the water – but there was the doctor and Husband was away! I asked if he could wait until Husband was back (only a few minutes more!) but he was going to some sort of surgery and wouldn’t be back for two hours. I said go ahead… and that was one small regret of mine (and his), that Husband was not there for it. But once it was done, the contractions came back full force! Just as strong as my time at home, and more – and often!

I cannot really say what happened the rest of that day until the birth, as I have forgot. I do remember sleeping in many little snippets, waking just as each contraction began, Jamie helping me to breathe through each one, Jamie and Husband taking turns pressing on or rubbing my back, helping me to the bathroom, Husband lifting me and helping me to turn in bed, holding me if I was standing. I had no good sense of time, but I do recall feeling as though I was stuck at 6 cm for an excessively long time, and again at 8cm. In the blur of sleep/wake/contraction/breaths/pain I found it was easier than I had thought it would be to translate the “pain” my body was telling me about to “productivity.”

Truly, I found it was just at the edge of what I could bear, and embracing it seemed to me the only way I could take it. I prayed through a great many contractions, and Jamie helped me to focus on breathing and getting enough oxygen to myself and the baby. The further along things got, the more I had to rely on a steady breathing pattern; pacing seemed to bring more air than gasping at it. It must have been transition by that point, for the contractions seemed to nearly, but not quite, overwhelm me. Husband said I slept between them (every 2-3 minutes) – I remember many times being very abruptly awakened to a contraction more intense than the last, going from a painful sleep to momentary bewilderment to remembering to relax and breathe. I don’t even remember falling asleep as the contractions ebbed, but I remember waking many times. My memory is very murky in that hour. It seemed that there was much quiet discussion around me, the outcome of which sometimes meant that I would have to change positions to shift the baby or that the baby’s heart rate wasn’t what they wanted so I got a oxygen re-breather mask (I despised that thing! I stripped it off during every contraction. It was not my favorite sensation to wake to intense pain and a feeling of being suffocated with my own hot breath!)

At some point after I had been 9 cm they let me try pushing – but it wasn’t the time yet. The doctor said there was “still some cervix left” and that the baby’s head was presenting sideways, so they put me on my side again to try to get it to turn, and let the contractions further widen my cervix. Apparently, though, it was because of the way the baby’s head was coming that it seemed that I wasn’t fully dilated. A few more powerful contractions and I felt like pushing. I had wondered how that would feel, for I’d been told that it is an irresistible urge. Well, it’s true. But I was so tired by then, it was all I could do to tell the nurse and then gather myself for what I knew could be an hour or more of pushing.

The rest really was a blur. I remember having to ask the doctor to repeat whatever he had just told me, Emma arrived, and Jamie had to be stern with me to get me to breathe. It didn’t seem like very long (until the last twenty minutes) but it was close to an hour of pushing. At the very end, I was so tired it was all I could do to keep up with my own body and the doctor. I was praying between each contraction for strength for the next, because I felt I was at the very end of my strength. Finally the doctor suggested a vacuum extractor to help the baby along and I was like, “YES! Anything to get this baby out!” For the head was coming sideways still, and I couldn’t push it further by myself. Everyone said I had pushed very well to get the baby to that point, but it was time for assistance. The doctor had to attach the device during a contraction, and the very next one he had me bear down as hard as I could (and then some!) as he pulled. Oh, mama! Such a pressure and stinging I had never felt, as the baby moved. I lost track of the pushes, but the baby’s head came out and the doctor suctioned the mouth and nostrils, and another few pushes to get the shoulders and body out. It was 5:01pm.

It happened so fast! I heard the excitement in the room as the baby was coming out, and everyone telling me to look at the baby, look the baby is coming – and I remember thinking… um, can’t see a thing, my belly is in the way! But then he was out (and that was the strangest feeling, of relief and still stinging and a distinct squish as the baby’s body and various juices came tumbling out) and the doctor was clamping the cord for Husband to cut and then the baby was whisked away by the nurses to the warming bin to be cleaned off. Nary a cry, but Husband saw him gulping and gasping as the doctor brought him out and he was soon breathing regularly in the hands of the nurses.

Husband stayed by me as the nurses worked on little one, the doctor helped the placenta out and finished his work down there, and I glanced over at the warming station to try to see my baby. I saw a flash of something down low and thought, that’s strange, I wonder if “she” is really a “he.” There was such a buzz in the room, but no one announced what the baby’s sex was when he was born – we were all expecting a girl. A moment more and the nurse at the warming bin said, “Y’all, this is a boy.” And the room was all astonishment! Finally they brought him over and laid him on my chest, pink and small and perfect. Husband and I got to see our beautiful baby boy, the child we’d waited so long to meet. They asked what we were going to name him, and Husband answered without hesitation, Zachary Dale. I beamed at him, for I knew it would be Zachary, and had wanted Dale as a middle name – for it is a family name on my mother’s father’s side. God knew all along he was a “he” and had given us his name before we were even married. It is one of John Paul’s favorite names, and I have long loved it, too. Zachary means YAHWEH remembers.

I wasn’t caught up in a grand and emotional moment, but the exhaustion of the day melted into the background with this little one next to me, and I felt that all I wanted was to be alone with this little one and my Husband and let the three of us just rest and enjoy one another. (I wasn’t to have my desire fulfilled really until we got home, as my mother, father, and brother came in to see us as soon as I was cleaned up – which was wonderful, as they got to see their grandson/nephew right off – and then with the nurses and staff coming and going the two days we were in the hospital – which wasn’t too bothersome, but it wasn’t home.)

And now he is home and growing fast! And he is my sweet baby boy.

LORD, please keep this child in your care. Let him grow strong and well, and be a blessing to many people. May he never remember a time when he did not know and love You, and help me and John Paul to show You to him in all that we do. Please help us to raise him a manner that brings You most honor, and give us the strength and wisdom to guide him while he is under out care. Thank you for this precious gift, O Lord!