A baby story.

Don't say I didn't warn you: this post is really long and goes into gory detail. (Though not as gory as it could be...oh man.) So you may not be interested. But in case you are: here's Ida's birth story, recorded for posterity. It only took me 4 months to write it. It's only the longest blog post I've ever written. By the way, I have no recollection of times (as in times of day), but my doula wrote her version of Ida's birth story for us and so I took the times from that.

Friday, October 10 was my 40-week OB appointment. Everything went as usual (including no cervical exam...never once did I have an exam at Dr. Tchabo's office. Weird? Maybe, but personally I detest those exams so I am fine with it), until Dr. Tchabo asked about the baby's movement. Throughout my pregnancy I had been feeling a ridiculous amount of movement, but it had started to slow down that week. Nothing alarming, really, but I mentioned it, and he immediately asked if I wanted a non-stress test. My immediate reaction was NO! since my last NST, a few days before Theo's birth, turned into a horrible marathon day at the hospital...plus I knew several women whose NSTs turned into inductions or C-sections at the slightest suggestion of low amniotic fluid. So, he suggested I do kick counts instead (count the baby's movements within an hour).

Still, the suggestion of an NST at only 40 weeks made me nervous. I was extra nervous because the baby had moved to my right side, facing left, which is bad news for labor since that position pre-labor often means an occiput posterior position for birth. Same position Theo was in...baby facing up means back labor and possibly a difficult delivery...bad news. More than one doctor had told me that my chances of VBAC were much greater with an anterior fetus than a posterior one. The average rate of vaginal births for moms with a previous C-section is 0.60% in Northern Virginia (that's three-fifths of one percent) and I knew my chances of VBAC would go down further with an NST or an induction. Dejected about the position and the suggestion of an NST, I e-mailed my doula, Brenda. She told me to do the kick counts but try to relax, do something for myself, do lots of pelvic rocks, which are supposed to move or keep the baby in the proper position, and enjoy this time with my family.

I spent the rest of the daylight hours in a frenzy of cleaning. To give you a peek into my afternoon, I cleaned every single miniblind on the two gigantic windows in our bedroom. Blind by blind.

Friday night we went to visit our friends Sterling and Jessica, who had just welcomed their new baby son the night before. We stopped by Wendy's on the way home. I'm pretty sure that we watched episodes from season 5 of Alias, since that's what we did all week before Ida's birth. Saturday morning we went to a nearby mini pumpkin patch/market and picked us up some gourds in order to remedy the appalling lack of seasonal decor in our home.


Note the helicopter shirt. Theo was obsessed with this shirt. For months he would only wear one of three shirts: the helicopter shirt, the "I See Dinner" shirt, and the "Large and In Charge" shirt. I got so sick of these shirts. Since when are 21-month-olds picking out their own clothes? He did (still does), and he threw a fit if I tried to put another shirt on him. I'm not one to stifle a toddler's freedom to choose his own clothes (except on Sundays), so I tried to bear with this phase until he outgrew the dreaded shirts. Ultimately I ended up hiding them.

We took nice long naps and then headed over to a ward picnic. I was sure we'd stay about 15 minutes, I was feeling so uncomfortable. It ended up being really fun and I was sad to have to leave by 6 so that Matt could watch the BYU game at a friend's house. I talked with several friends at the picnic, all of whom I assured I would be at church the next day. I helped myself to a multitude of cookies and cupcakes, despite not having brought anything to share. After Matt left for the game Theo and I went for a long stroll through our neighborhood while I made phone calls. Called Phoebe to say happy birthday, then talked on the phone to Bonny and Katie. I also assured both of them that I would be pregnant for a while.

We went home and I bathed Theo and put him to bed. I don't remember what I did next...probably something mindless like blogging and eating cereal. Finally Matt got home from the game and we started our final few episodes of Alias. After an hour or so, I developed an excruciating headache. A few minutes later I told Matt I couldn't take it anymore and was going to bed, even though there were only about 10 minutes left in the series finale. I think at that point Sloane was about to rise from the dead. (Seriously, didn't that series end perfectly? I loved it!) Matt clearly planned to stay up and finish it but I ordered him to come to bed with me. I don't remember ever having such a terrible headache in my life. Right before falling asleep around midnight, I said groggily to Matt, "Wow, that was a really big contraction."

I woke up with a start at 1:30 a.m. to an even bigger contraction. I lay there for a while, thinking, "Well, maybe this is it." Theo's labor started with contractions about 10 minutes apart, which didn't get closer together for almost a day, so I thought I should try to rest in case I had a similar labor in front of me. Imagine my surprise when a couple of minutes later another contraction came, and then another. The baby was still facing the wrong way, so I could feel them in my back too. I dragged myself out of bed and tried sitting on my exercise ball. I tried various positions. I couldn't get comfortable. Matt was snoring away. I decided to try a bath to relax myself so that I could sleep. So that Matt wouldn't be startled by the water running, I woke him up to let him know where I'd be. (I'm sure he appreciated that.)

I started falling asleep in the tub despite contractions and hoped that feeling would transition to my bed, but it was not to be. Matt woke up on his own...I was being kind of loud in my "coping"...and I instructed him to go sleep on the couch so I wouldn't keep waking him up. So he moved to the living room and I continued coping. After a half an hour, probably less, I couldn't take it anymore and went into the living room. I woke Matt up again and told him, "I can't do this by myself." So he turned on the light and started counter-pressure (the only way to handle back labor, if you ask me) and timing.

After a few hours, the contractions were closer together, some even on top of each other, about a minute long each, and the baby hadn't rotated, so I asked Matt to call Brenda at around 5:30 a.m. She instructed him to have me crouch with my head down for an hour...a last resort for rotating a baby during labor. This was possibly one of the worst hours. I stayed in that position with Matt's encouragement until just before Brenda arrived. ("I just want to lie down, Matt...I just want to lie down, Matt...That's it...I'm lying down.") Matt also called Hester and asked her to come watch Theo.

Hester arrived just as Theo woke up--perfect timing. She gave him breakfast and entertained him for the next several hours while I hung out in my bedroom with Matt and Brenda. This is where it really starts to become a blur. I lay on my bed on my left side with my eyes closed throughout most of my labor at home, despite Brenda's suggestions to get up on all fours. I remember Brenda kept telling me, "This is what you want," which was one of the affirmations I told myself during pregnancy ("This is what I want"--meaning a natural birth to increase my chances for a VBAC). It got so annoying that finally I told her, "No, this is not what I want." After an hour or two of thinking to myself, "This is a crock. I want an epidural," I gathered up the courage to inform Matt and Brenda of this decision. They didn't refuse, of course, but instead suggested I try getting through a few more contractions. This exchange would repeat itself several times over the next few hours.

I started a funny little routine of calling out, "Help!" as soon as I could feel a contraction coming. Then Matt would push against my back and Brenda would kneel by the side of the bed and talk to me. In between contractions I was tired enough that I dozed off for a few seconds each time. At around 8:30 I got into the tub at Brenda's suggestion. I hoped this might help and it did not. Being in the tub felt awful and I was super cold. So I got back out and lay back on my side. Soon I began feeling the urge to push when my contractions peaked. I remember asking Brenda, "I can do this, right?" What I meant was, "I can still have a VBAC with an epidural, right?" (She had her first VBAC with an epidural.) But re-reading the birth story Brenda wrote for us, I see that she thought I needed her to tell me I could do it without drugs. At any rate she started telling me "You can do this," and regardless of what she meant, it was helpful.

By 9:30 or so I was convinced that I was going to deliver this baby right there on my bed so Matt called Dr. Tchabo. I told Brenda I felt pushy and she said, "We need to go to the hospital now." We got up to walk to the car, a feat I was entirely unsure I could accomplish. I begged Brenda to ride in the backseat with me and she said she would--but then when we were about halfway there I realized she was in her own car. Trickster! Matt sped the whole way there and I lay on my side on the back seat, pushing my feet hard against the side door and twisting Matt's arm with every contraction. He even ran a few red lights (so did Brenda) and it was pretty much your stereotypical rush to the hospital. I remember thinking the sun was pretty bright and the freeway seemed empty. At least if I pushed the baby out in the car, it wouldn't be too hard to pull over.

We arrived at the hospital and Matt helped me walk to the elevator. I think he may have carried me at some point but I was so out of it that I don't really remember. We went to the check-in desk and the nurse was like "Blah blah blah, something something, insurance card" until I yelled, "I have to push!" Then they wheeled me to a room right away. They offered me a hospital gown and I said no thanks. Honestly how is a person supposed to change clothes while in that condition anyway? A resident checked me. For some reason I thought she had broken my water and I started yelling at her, "Why did you break my water??" "Ummm, I didn't break your water" but I didn't believe her. Anyway, I was at a seven.

A seven! Three more centimeters to go, what the heck! I had been convinced the baby was about to take its first breath as I sat in a wheelchair.

Anyway, so the circus continued for about 2 more hours. At some point Hester and Theo arrived with my insurance card, which I had left at home, and apparently couldn't give birth without. (Don't worry, Theo didn't see me acting all crazy...I don't think) The nurse put various consent forms in my face and kept putting them there until I signed them..."signed" them, I kinda just hit the paper with the end of a pen a few times after making sure I wasn't letting the hospital keep my baby or something. Did you know that legally you don't have to sign any of those things? However, if you decide to refuse, they will keep putting them in your face anyway.

The nurses, the resident, Matt, and Brenda all encouraged me not to push, although I really, really needed to. I yelled a few times and again, a nurse told me not to--so that I could conserve energy. I think I was a little bit sassy with her. Despite my insistence not to be monitored continuously, they stuck one on me "until Dr. Tchabo comes." Fortunately I barely noticed it. I also had to have a heparin lock IV (not connected to the pole), because I was beta strep positive and needed antibiotics, although I didn't receive any fluids. I was glad we went to the hospital so late, because I was still pretty sure I was going to get an epidural. Convinced, really. Then Dr. Tchabo came in around noon, checked me, and just when I took a breath to suggest yet again that we call the anesthesiologist, I heard him say, "You're complete. Push when you want."

My pushing phase with Theo was awful. It was absolutely the worst part of labor. I pushed for 2 hours with absolutely no progress, my epidural having worn off after 24 hours of labor. This time, I hopped up on the bed like a woman with a mission. It felt amazing. Contractions stopped hurting, I had no concept of time, I was euphoric because I could feel the baby moving down and I knew I was doing what I was supposed to do.

On my first or second push, my water broke with a rush and I thought frantically, "This is it, this baby is coming out!" Not so much, but it still felt good to push and I didn't mind. I think by this point I was kneeling or squatting on the bed, eventually leaning over the back of the bed. At some point a nurse put an oxygen mask to my mouth because there was meconium in my water. People stuck Popsicles in my face. I pushed when I felt like it. I yelled a lot. This went on for about 20 minutes. Then Dr. Tchabo broke down the bed and asked me to sit at the edge and a nurse told me to hold my breath as I pushed. "Nope, no, I'm not doing that," I answered. "I am not holding my breath. Last time I did that it ended in a C-section." By this point there were 7 or 8 people in there (it seemed like about 50 at the time but afterwards I noticed: doctor, nurse, resident, med student, a few pediatricians, Matt and Brenda) and they all laughed. "This is definitely not ending in a C-section," someone said, and that was the first time I believed it would actually happen. I had spent hours dreaming, thinking, praying, talking about it, but never knew until then. Matt kissed me and said, "You're doing it. You're doing it."

Occiput posterior fetal position, "narrow pelvis," scar on my uterus, I was doing it.

I pushed and yelled and it was over. They put the baby on my lap. For the first time since before labor started I thought, "Boy? Girl?" I looked for the evidence. I can still remember how I sounded and felt when I saw her and said to Matt, "It's a girl!" They took her away pretty quickly because of the meconium, but she was back within moments, all weighed and wrapped and ready to be hugged and kissed. She was normal. She was healthy and perfect.

I proceeded to instruct the student and resident that they should encourage VBAC for healthy moms in their future practices. I nursed Ida and barely noticed delivering the placenta. After 12 hours of feeling so, so bad, I had never felt so good. I was a chatterbox. I was probably kind of annoying actually. It was amazing how the worst pain I could imagine went away as soon as she came out.

Speaking of the placenta, funny story about this one...I asked Matt to take a picture of Dr. Tchabo. He insisted he would but never did. Instead he did take a disgusting picture of this bucket of placenta. And over there on the left, that's Dr. Tchabo from the neck down. Tucked-in scrubs, that was Matt's favorite thing.

So, it hurt a lot. It wasn't magical or dimly lit with candles and incense. It was pretty crazy and I hated much of it. Brenda and Matt were the only reasons I didn't get an epidural. I am not anti-epidural by any means because, believe me, I know the sweet peace that comes when the drugs kick in. Oh, how I know! When I hear women say they checked into the hospital fully rested, got the needle, maybe started the drip, and held a baby in their arms that same day, I am envious. I didn't want to risk an epidural this time because of my first experience. And I will never be induced because of the increased risk of uterine rupture. But I'm not ruling out epidurals should I be blessed enough to have another VBAC. It will depend on the circumstances and honestly it will also depend on how tired I am.

But in the end when Ida was almost here and I felt her moving down, turning inch by inch into the proper position, all those feelings of exhaustion and helplessness vanished. I could never have prepared for that abrupt change.

With Brenda. How I love Brenda. I am never giving birth without a doula again.

With Matt. How I love Matt. I am never giving birth without a Matt, ever.

Certainly the most exciting, probably the craziest, possibly the best day of my life.