Ezra John: His Birth Story

I don’t even know where to begin this story…

Back in March when I found out about this pregnancy, I was so surprised and shocked. I don’t know if those feelings ever fully wore off. During this pregnancy, we had a lot of changes in our lives- from disrupting our foster placement, to thinking we were moving, to not moving, to all the daily ins and outs of life with two other kids. I was sick from day one and that lasted straight up until I gave birth to him. I had weird, itchy pregnancy rashes, stretch marks for the first time, I had severe anemia and false labor. So much false labor.

Maybe I will start there. With the false labor.

I had contractions multiple times an hour for weeks before the birth. Inconsistent, but pretty strong. I wondered when I would actually go into labor and hoped it would go really fast due to the fact that it felt like my body was doing so much work ahead of time.

I was really nervous about labor. I wasn’t feeling mentally prepared, and my body was feeling exhausted before labor had even begun. I wasn’t sure how all the moving parts of Theo being at work, the kids going to a babysitter and me getting to the hospital were going to work.

But on Sunday night, Nov 11, I started having really consistent contractions. I couldn’t sleep, so I bounced around on the birth ball and the contractions got pretty strong. I woke Theo up around 3 am and told him to call the babysitter and take me to the hospital. We woke up poor Stefanie, had her come over to our house and then left for the hospital. Since I had struggled with my iron levels, the birth center decided that I needed to go to labor and delivery triage before heading to the birth center, so we went into the triage room first. It was a pretty horrible experience. The fluorescent lights, cold stretchers and the fact that I was sharing the room with 3 other laboring women, hiding only behind a curtain. One of the other women was vomiting nonstop and I immediately started crying and panicking. The nurse was so kind and got me hooked up to a monitor, where I had to lay FLAT on my back for 20 minutes while having contractions. Then, she checked my cervix. One centimeter. One. We got sent home. I got zero minutes of sleep that night. And I was even more terrified of labor than ever before. Oh, and after all the triage business, it turns out they never even checked my iron because they pulled up my account in the computer and my iron levels were great and not even close to anemic anymore. Sigh. Either way, I obviously wasn’t in labor.

And then began one of the longest and most miserable weeks of my life. I cried every morning when I woke up and was still pregnant. I was in so much pain- my back, my hips, my legs. I couldn’t sleep on my back, or my sides. I couldn’t hardly eat anything and when I did eat, I was either extremely nauseas or had the worst heartburn. I was tired and slow and didn’t want to try to keep up with my kids- and I couldn’t keep up with them even if I wanted to!

On Sunday, I was tempted to skip church. I really didn’t want to answer questions about how pregnant I felt, how pregnant I was, and how much longer I would most likely stay pregnant. But we went anyways. My doula was at church that morning and told me to go for a nice walk by myself and just take it easy. So that afternoon I went for a nice long walk all.by.myself.

Nothing happened.

Until 5 am when I woke up to a strong contraction. My mind told me this is it almost immediately but I talked myself out of it because I had already had so many contractions for weeks beforehand. Besides, the best thing to do is rest. So I rested and timed the contractions, which were about 15 minutes apart. I would fall asleep and then wake up to another strong, sharp contraction. Finally, around 7:30 am I decided to get up and take a shower. I figured if I was in labor, a shower would be nice, and if I wasn’t…a shower would still be nice. The kids and Theo were up and when I joined them in the living room, I didn’t really want anything to do with anyone. My kids are always crazy and they were bouncing around me and shouting and yelling and I told Theo that it was time to get the kids OUT OF THE HOUSE because I was pretty sure I was in actual labor. I also looked around my house in dismay because no matter how many times I had tidied and cleaned, it was still destroyed. Theo started cleaning up the house and called Stefanie ((again)) to come get the kids. I retreated to my bedroom and closed the door because I just couldn’t deal with anything but the contractions.

It took an hour or two to get things picked up (I was so adamant that I didn’t want to come home from the hospital to a messy house) and have the kids picked up. That whole time, I was just in the bedroom working through the contractions, which were still only about 8-10 minutes apart, but INTENSE. Like, woah. I couldn’t do anything but moan through the contractions and then rest between them.

Theo got the house cleaned up and the kids sent off, and I decided we should start to head to the hospital. My contractions were so strong that I couldn’t walk from the bedroom to the house, and I was feeling so weepy and overwhelmed. I would cry after every single contraction and I just felt like I didn’t want to do it.

Theo loads us up and calls our doula to meet us at the hospital. We left our house around 10 am, so I had been having contractions for about 5 hours. We also called ahead to the birth center and they started preparing a room for us. I had a photographer all lined up for the birth, but on the way to the birth center I asked Theo not to call her because I was already feeling so overwhelmed and emotional and no longer interested in having myself photographed (can’t decide if I regret that or not).

I cried all the way to the birth center and had only two contractions. I was so sure they were going to send me home again and tell me I wasn’t in actual labor. As soon as I got there, they ushered me into my room, where they had the lights dimmed, the temperature cool, clean towels and washcloths and pads. The nurse and the midwife immediately joined Theo in supporting me through the contractions by rubbing my back or telling me where to put my knees, etc. It was so much nicer than having to go into that ghastly cold triage room.

At this point they asked if I was ready for a cervical check and I cried and cried some more. I said I didn’t want one and they said that was fine. I was so relieved. So I sat and labored for a while (it felt like hours to me), and then I finally asked them to check my cervix to see where we were. My contractions were SO INTENSE, but still rather far apart. And I was still crying after every single one (I’ve never done that in either of my other labors- I’m a crier, but I tend to just cry once and then be over and done with it- this time I was just so, so weepy!).

The nurse finally checks me and I’m at 7 centimeters. Guess what? I cried some more. At this point, who knows why. I was discouraged I was only at 7 and apparently hadn’t even gone through transition yet? I was crying because 7 centimeters hurt and I didn’t want to do 3 more and push out a baby. I was crying just because I was.

Between the nurse, my doula, and Theo, they were starting to try to get me to do things to get my labor going a little faster. Unfortunately, I didn’t want to do any of those things. They asked me if I wanted to labor in the tub, and I cried. They asked me if I wanted to go to the toilet to empty my bladder (and have some contractions) and I cried. They asked me if I wanted to be on my hands and knees and I cried. I just wanted them to fully understand that I didn’t WANT to do any of those things, and frankly I didn’t want to do labor. End of the story. Fun times and all, but now let me quit.

Finally, they started telling me to do things. Go to the bathroom and empty your bladder.  Have a contraction squatting like this (and they would force my hips down). Climb up on the bed on my hands and knees. This went on for what felt like an eternity to me, but considering the fact that we were only at the birth center for a little under 3 hours, I’m not sure when all that fit into the timeline.

Throughout labor they checked the baby’s heart rate with a doppler and as labor progressed they starting checking more and more often (and what felt like soooo much longer, but Theo said that wasn’t the case). At one point, he had hiccups and his heart rate dropped, but otherwise everything seemed normal.

After a long time of being on the bed on my hands and knees and having contractions, everyone seemed to think we were getting closer to the end (again, I hate cervical checks and they all knew this and didn’t even ask- they were relying on other signs to know how close I was to the pushing stage). My midwife gently but forcefully made me get off the bed and go to the bathroom to “empty my bladder” and have some contractions (it’s a great position for bringing the baby down). I did NOT want to do this and cried the whole time. At this point, I was just so spent. I kept telling them I was so tired and I couldn’t do it anymore. I just couldn’t do it. And I was SO TIRED. I had one contraction on the toilet, and then I stood and had a few contractions leaning on Theo. And when I say leaning on Theo, I don’t mean just using him as a support. I mean that I full on draped my body over him and couldn’t even stand on my own legs. I was JUST SO TIRED and weak.

At this point, I’m sure that if I had just rallied and stopped crying and put all my strength into laboring, things would have moved much faster. But looking back, I don’t really think I had much more to give anyways. It was what it was, and I do wish I had been less weepy and more powerful, but alas…that is how it went.

Anyways, the midwife pulled more of her “gently commanding” tricks and made me have some contractions in some strange positions that were incredibly painful and I HATED them. Everyone else was really catching on to how weak and tired I was, so they arranged for a position on the bed that I could both lay down and labor effectively.

Let me tell you what. I HATED that position. I HATED THAT POSITION. I was on my side with one of my legs cranked entirely up into the air, with someone holding it up, bent at the knee. It was awful. But I’m also thankful that they made me do it, because it worked. And there was no way I was going to be coming up with creative positions to move this baby down and get him out. I was completely spent.

As soon as I got into that position, my body “labored down” and started pushing. I was really, really ineffective at first. I was so tired I felt like I was drifting in and out of sleep (with my one leg still spread way up to the heavens, oh yes) and each contraction was just awful. However, everyone gathered around me and just started encouraging me in so many ways and so many words. Seriously, I could not have done any of this without the team that I had.

I started pushing and with each push, everyone told me the baby was coming down and I was doing great. I was STILL crying and kept biting back with my own lovely comments to each encouragement. Someone would say, “You are stretching out!” and I would say “I don’t care, I just want him all the way out!” or someone would say “I can see his head!” and I would say “Well, then pull him out”. I wasn’t very kind, but everyone kept chuckling.

It felt like an hour, but I think it was only a few minutes when the midwife got her gown on and handed Theo a pair of gloves and told him to go stand by the birth exit instead of by my head. That was really encouraging to me because I actually knew it was getting close to the end.

I started pushing really effectively and then POP! my water just exploded everywhere. Everyone in the room literally jumped (except me haha). I didn’t feel any different after my water broke, but I suddenly noticed the atmosphere in the room changing. I was hoping it meant the baby was just going to shoot right out, but instead I heard “Meconium” and hushed instructions that included “NICU”, “call”, “tell”, etc. etc. The room filled up with people real fast, but I was too busy pushing to even know or care who or how many people were in there.

I kept pushing and it was HARD. The midwife was right there the whole time trying to help me stretch out and not tear, and Theo was completely ready to catch the baby. I finally pushed hard enough and his head came out, which Theo held while we waited for the next contraction. Ya’ll. One of those things they don’t tell you is that when you are birthing a baby, you don’t always just push and have the entire baby in one push. No, no. The baby can be half hanging out of you, and you have to just stop and wait for the next contraction to come along to help you get your baby out. Anyways, as soon as his head emerged, the midwife quickly stuck her finger inside to his neck and gently pulled the umbilical cord out and over his head (it had been looped around his neck once). Then, a contraction came and I finally pushed that kid out, delivered completely by Daddy and then handed straight to me (even with the meconium and the cord issues). He was born at 1:32pm (about 6.5 hours after labor started). He was very PURPLE and he didn’t scream immediately, so I started crying and asking if he was ok. Then, he cried and a couple people lifted him up and thumped him and rubbed him and handed him straight back to me. After the cord stopped pulsing (it was only like 2 minutes), Theo clamped and cut it and they handed my boy off to the NICU team who assessed him right there in the room. He never left me the whole time. He was 100% fine and his lungs were working great (the biggest risk with meconium).

I just laid there crying (no surprise) with relief when someone commented that this baby looked a little bit bigger than my other ones had been. I laughed a little but had NO IDEA what they were talking about. I thought they meant maybe a few ounces, and maybe I had finally birthed a baby in the 7 pound range.

Our wonderful, wonderful doula helped with the initial support and bonding and then said she was going to head home. But first she wanted to hold the baby to guess how much he might weigh. She guessed 8 pounds 14 oz and I was wondering if she had lost her actual mind or what she was talking about. Tera was 6 pds 14 oz and Kiah was 6 pds 7 oz.

At the birth center, they are really good with skin to skin and bonding and except for the initial assessment by the NICU team, no one touches the baby except for Mom and Dad. They just wrap him in a blanket and hand him to me while the midwife stitches and the nurse cleans me up. So it wasn’t until well over an hour after birth that we got the kid onto a scale.

9 pounds 2.9 oz.

Finally, it all made so much sense. That was a BIG baby!!! For reference, I am about 5’4″ and weigh around 115 pounds pre-pregnancy. I’m not a large person and I’ve always been pretty stick-straight, too. So I now stand as a fantastic example of the fact that even small women can grow and birth big babies.

But we shall see if I will EVER, EVER do that again.

Welcome to the world, Ezra John Hines.

I get it now.

You really were worth all of it.