8 1/2 weeks later, DJ's birth story

Yes, this is a birth story. It's gonna go into some (but not all) detail and will be long, so if you choose to skip this post, I totally understand.

I was blog-stalking some people the other day, when I came across some friends' birth stories. For some reason, I've been scared to write my birth story. I don't know why - maybe because I'm afraid I'll sound dumb. But you know what I realized? I birthed a child, and that's a big deal, so I'm just gonna do it. After all, it was a lot of work and deserves some recognition. And with that, let's begin.

DJ was due on the 28th of June. I was convinced I'd go into labor early - both Deg and I were early (and I'm a first child, and first children are supposedly more likely to be late arrivals) and I was feeling like I was having great signs (belly looked like it was dropping, I was getting that really swollen and ready to pop look). His due date came... and went. I waited a few more days, and nothing. Doctor's appointments came and went, and nothing. Like, I was so far from labor that they couldn't even find a cervix to see how dilated I was. My midwife scheduled me for an extra ultrasound to make sure everything was looking okay in there and for a non-stress test to ensure proper fetal movement. They both went well, though we realized the amnionic fluid was getting low, but not so low as to be worrisome. I just wanted them to induce me, so I didn't care what the results were at the time. We tentatively scheduled induction for the 8th of July, but hoped I'd be in labor before then. So of course, I wasn't. But I sure was getting antsy about getting that baby here!

The night of the 8th, we showed up at the hospital to start the lovely process of induction. They checked us in, set us up in a room, got me in the ever so lovely hospital gown, and the midwife on call came in to give me what's called a balloon catheter. I will go into only this much detail: it's used to help dilate the cervix. If you're more interested than that, Google it. Anyway... in that went, and I went on the monitors, and we waited. At 8 the next morning, my midwife came in to take out the catheter and to check things out. Zero progress? Sure, why not? So they started an IV drip with Pitocin and left me on that for 12 hours. This is when we discovered that I, apparently, have the uterus of steel. 12 hours of Pitocin and zero contractions. Like not even one of those fake Braxton Hicks ones. Talk about disheartening. And every time they went to check my progress, there was still none. And just so you know, if you've made no progress at all, it hurts like a you-know-what to get checked, so why not do that seven billion times? And why not spend countless hours walking the hallways, dragging your IV pole behind you and then going back into your room to bounce on a birthing ball? Ugh. Just to ensure the baby was okay, they brought up an ultrasound machine, so we got to see our little nugget in the delivery room while he was still in utero. He was doing just fine, but the amnionic fluid was almost non-existent. According to the ultrasound tech, this meant that if we hadn't had him in a few days, we'd be doing a c-section. I was thinking, "Um, I'm like 42 weeks pregnant - if he's not here in like 2 minutes, we're gonna do a c-section!" Anyway, we kept on the Pitocin to see if anything would happen, but... no dice. After 12 hours, they stopped the drip, let me take a shower and eat (did I mention that I couldn't eat after 8 at night?), and brought in a drug called Cervadil. Notice it sounds like cervix? Guess what it's for? And guess how it's administered? Yeah, again, if you want more details, Google it. And again, they gave me a no-eating-after-midnight order. I requested an Ambien and tried to will my body to do what it needed to do.

The next morning, they tried to check me again, and guess what? STILL no progress. Huzzah! (Read: sarcasm). I started to cry at this point. I mean, holy hell, what does it TAKE to get into labor? I was two days short of being right at 42 weeks, wicked uncomfortable, was hearing women all around me give birth, and my body was having nothing to do with labor, even with all the drugs they were pumping into me. So they put me on Pitocin again, and it still had no effect. My midwife suggested they give me an epidural and break my water. I was bugged by this because I figured that, based on the ultrasound, since there was no water to break, this was just stupid and we were delaying the inevitable. So, at this point, I had them bring in a doctor. I was losing trust in my midwife - I figured she was just prolonging this when my body clearly wouldn't go into labor ever and we just really needed to cut me open. He came in and told us he'd do exactly what she was doing. He said that if we did a c-section now, it'd be an elective c-section, but if we waited until the epidural and water breaking had time to work and it still didn't, it'd be a mandatory c-section, and that in the long run, if I could not do a c-section, it would be better for me and for the baby. Plus, he said once they broke my water, the timer would start and if I hadn't had him within 18 hours, it'd be a c-section, so there was definitely a cut-off time and a light at the end of the tunnel. I told him I'd be okay with this plan with one exception - I wasn't waiting 12 hours. I told him that if I hadn't made significant progress by 6 am, that he'd better scrub up. He thought that was reasonable and went to get an anesthesiologist.

So, here we are, 42 hours in to the hospital stay, and no baby. I was emotionally and physically worn out, and I hadn't done anything yet. I was ready to throw in the towel - I didn't care what happened at this point. Luckily, I had a great nurse who, when the anesthesiologist came in to drug me, wrapped her arms around me and just held me. Seriously, at that point in my process, I needed that hug and to know that there were people rooting for me, especially when they kicked Deg out of the room so they could put in the epidural. Well, true to form, since I'd had nothing to eat in nearly 24 hours, my oxygen levels dropped along with my heart rate and so did the baby's. Apparently this is fairly common with an epidural, so they laid me down, gave me an oxygen mask, and within 15 minutes, we were all good, but dang - that was a weird sensation. But it did let me get a cat nap in, which was great, because let me tell you how incredibly difficult it is to sleep with a balloon catheter or Cervadil in place, even if you've taken an Ambien. After about 45 minutes, my doctor came in to break my water with this weird crochet hook thingy (I know, TMI). When she went to do it, she looked really surprised and told me that I'd moved from posterior to anterior and progressed from a 0 to a 2. Have I mentioned how much I love drugs? Seriously, apparently my body just needed some medical relaxing to get the process going. Anyway, the membranes were broken and (surprise!) no amnionic fluid gush and I was given 2 catheters - one for my bladder (since I was going to be here for awhile) and one that went up and around the baby in my uterus so they could more accurately measure contractions. They started the Pitocin again (at this point, why not spend like 36 hours on the stuff?) and told me to try to get some sleep. I was able to get a little bit, but my back hurt at this point. After all, I couldn't move from the waist down since I couldn't feel it, plus there was the matter of the child taking up all that room, so my muscles were getting tired. Regardless, I slept a bit, and so did Deg.

I woke up at around 4 and was super thirsty. Since I couldn't drink, I asked Deg if he'd go find me some ice chips (a laboring mama's bff). And about 5 seconds after he left, I got wicked nauseous. I knew I was gonna toss cookies, so I buzzed for a nurse, who barely got there in time to hand me a nice, hospital-issued barf bag. And even though I'd basically been fasting for over a day at this point, I had some cookies to toss. They said this was due to the IV fluid they were pumping into me, but I didn't care. The nurse got excited when I barfed, and soon told me why - this could be a sign that I was progressing! They looked at the monitor, and sure enough, though they weren't really strong yet, I was having contractions. FINALLY! And they checked my dilation, and I was at a 5-6. HALLELUJAH! At this point, they switched out my uterine catheter because it wasn't working right and found meconium on it - sweet goodness, my child had pooped in me. They weren't worried, so I decided that at this point, poop was the least of my worries. I had them shift me around and tried to sleep some more before the show started. That lasted half an hour - I woke up feeling extreme pain in an area on my stomach about the size of a Pop-Tart. I asked the nurse what was up, and she said that sometimes, certain sections of the uterus just decide not to like the epidural. I was pretty bummed that I'd have to feel labor in one spot while the rest of me was numb, but whatever.

Move us forward to about 5 in the morning. Guess who's puking again? ME! And my hips started feeling weird. As soon as I noticed that, I freaked out - I could feel my hips - not what you want when you've got an epidural! I asked my nurse if I could have a boost of epidural, and she checked me - I was at a 9 1/2, so the answer was no. I was so mad - I fully intended on an epidural from the beginning because I'd watched labor videos - I did NOT want to feel that. And the more time that passed, the more of my body I could feel, until I felt everything, and I do mean EVERYTHING. And it HURT. The nurses were calling the midwife, but my body didn't want to wait - I wanted to push and was involuntarily doing so - I couldn't stop myself, even though they were telling me to. So they let me do little pushes while everyone got set up. I hurt so bad at this point. I told the nurses to stop what they were doing and wheel me down to the OR and cut this baby out. They gently told me that wasn't going to happen and that I was going to be fine. I heard them tell Deg that my reaction was normal and not to worry about it and that if I got cranky, it was because, well, I was kind of having a kid. They checked me again and told me not to push since the baby needed to move down the birth canal more, but remember how previous to this, my body was already pushing on its own? Right. So the midwife gets there, two people grab my legs (I have no idea to this day whether it was nurses or Deg or, heck, some homeless bum off the streets) and I start pushing.

I wanted to DIE it hurt so badly. At one point, I remember screaming, and I'm not normally a screamer. At this point, there were two things keeping me going: one was a promise given to me in a priesthood blessing that Deg had given me, which was that I'd have the strength and willpower to do things I didn't think I could do (and we definitely were at that point). The other was the thought that the longer this took, the longer it'd hurt, so the harder I worked now, the sooner it'd be over. I don't remember a lot from this time period (I think, because of the pain, my body has blocked a lot of it out), but I remember that with one particular push, I thought to myself, "I'm not stopping until that head is OUT of there!" About two pushes later, at 5:50 in the morning, that baby was laying on my stomach while they cleaned his mouth and nose out and Deg cut the cord. Then up on my chest he went while whatever magic was happening downtown.

My body went into shock and I was shaking (not shivering, shaking) uncontrollably, but I didn't care. I held that little baby and just talked to him and told him how everything was going to be okay. I was surprised at how not slimy he was (but now that I think about it, there was like zero fluid in there to make him slimy) and how warm he was. It's just a magical feeling to hold your new baby on your chest and in your arms. I looked over to see tears in Deg's eyes (and that dude is definitely not a crier). That is a moment so special - this new little life, so beautiful and so perfect, straight from God's arms to yours. It was so surreal - I kept thinking how this ha to be  dream and couldn't be real.

The nurse brought me a juice (it'd been 36 hours sans food or drink, so I was SUPER grateful for that juice), but it made me throw up and my blood sugar dropped way low. They handed the baby to Deg so I could puke (because I love puking, apparently) and then started the measurements and weight and whatnot. DJ came in at 6 pounds 8 ounces and 20.5 inches. They cleaned him up for real, dressed and swaddled him, and handed him over to Deg. I was given 3 graham crackers and some water to try to keep down, and the process of getting us moved to the maternity ward began.

Because I'd gotten so sick after delivery, we had to wait almost 3 hours until they transferred me to a wheelchair, put my special little man in my arms, and wheeled me to our new room. While we were waiting, we called our parents. It wasn't until I was on the phone with my mom that I started crying. And she just let me. Deg had texted her that DJ had been born, so when she answered and I heard her voice, I just started crying, and she just started crying right with me. It was a really special moment that I hope I never forget. Seriously, the three things I want to remember from that day are holding my baby for the first time, seeing Deg holding him for the first time, and calling my mom. As soon as we calmed down, I started to tell her all about her grandson. She was flying in the next evening, but I think both of us wanted her there right then so she could snuggle that little dude. We sent pictures and talked a bit longer and then I was wheeled down to the maternity ward.

The next few days were a blur. The hospital we used has your baby room in with you, and because Deg and I were new parents, every time DJ made a noise, we were up and hovering. Deg even slept with his shoes on! So we were exhausted, but we didn't even care. Our friends Ben, Heather, and Monica came over for a little bit to meet DJ, we Skyped with my siblings and Deg's parents, and took 3 million pictures. And then, my mom came. Her flights had been delayed, so she didn't get in until almost 1 in the morning, but came to see us at the hospital anyway. It was a really special thing to watch her snuggle her brand new grandchild - she was loving it and I was so grateful that she was there. Maybe it was hormones, maybe it was exhaustion, maybe it was just the beauty of the moment, but I had to try really hard to choke down my tears. I was overcome with how very loved this little boy is, and how much Deg and I are loved as well, and not just by our earthly family, but our heavenly one, as well. Eventually, Deg took her back to our apartment, and the next day, we came home, which is another story, and this post is long enough.

What the heck - let's thrown in a few pictures while we're writing the longest post ever!

My whole body was so swollen. When we got home and I was looking through pics of the hospital, I saw this one and said, "Holy crap, I look like hell!" Ah, pregnancy!

He is so precious and so very loved.

He loves to have those hands up by his face. At the ultrasound at 10 weeks, his hands were up there, and that's been a trend for him ever since.

Aren't most kids mad when they're naked and being weighed? Seriously, he has the most pleasant disposition of any baby ever.

Dad holding his new son - the best thing ever

He was alert and awake from the get go - I guess he was just that excited to meet us!