The Arrival of Colette Cynthia: A Birth Story

Alternate title: Weren't We Just Here?

Here is the saga of little miss Colette's birth. But first, a little about her name. Family names are important to us. Both my mom and Alex's mom are Cynthia, so we were delighted to be able to honor both of them at the same time. We also named her for St. Colette, who reformed the Poor Clare sisters in the early 15th century. We have loved this name for several years and finally had a chance to use it! And Colette is a diminutive of Nicolette, a derivative of Nicholas (she already has Uncle Nick entirely wrapped around her little finger, of course)--so if she starts going around punching heretics, we will know why!

All the usual disclaimers apply: lots of messy details, words like "cervix" and "dilation," stop reading now if you don't like reading lengthy descriptions of labor and childbirth! And it is embarrassingly long--I'm not good at keeping an actual journal any more but I don't want to forget any of this. Just think, I could have written this right away instead of waiting two months. Imagine how long it would have been then! You're welcome.

And in case you're like me and prefer to read birth stories in chronological order--because *gasp* there might be spoilers if you read the newest one first!!!!--here are the boys' stories:

Michael -- a very Bradley birth
Liam -- fast and furious
John Paul -- third time's the charm

(Yes, I know I'm weird.)

This birth story starts all the way back in March 2015. Okay, not really. The relevant backstory starts in March. This pregnancy was a bit of a surprise, and it came with a fair bit of anxiety. As soon as I knew I was pregnant I started reading birth stories--ever since my first pregnancy I've loved birth stories, and I guess it was a way to ramp up excitement for this baby and ignore the anxiety. So over the course of the pregnancy I read literally hundreds of birth stories and branched out into midwifery blogs and research articles. By the end I was joking about my degree in midwifery from Google University. The downside was that I was constantly thinking about labor and delivery for almost the entire pregnancy... not conducive to patience and living-in-the-moment.

Fast forward to November 1st. I was two weeks out from my due date of November 13th (which I knew for certain from charting my fertility and for which I had had to argue with my healthcare team---I'm sorry, but I don't care what your ultrasound says. There is no way I conceived when you say I did... yes, I do want you to write down my due date as November 13th instead of November 7th, thankyouverymuch).

I woke up that Sunday morning with sure signs that labor would be kicking into gear and we would be meeting our sweet new baby within a day or two. Discernible contractions while lying down and the beginning of what seemed to be bloody show? Yep, based on my extensive experience of my last two babies labor was definitely imminent. 

Of course I would be going into labor on the day of Liam's 3rd birthday party. I had worried about this for weeks. But I wasn't in labor yet and there was no need to get everyone all excited--maybe I could make it through the party. So we went to Mass as usual, prepared for the party, had the party went to bed, and...

Got up the next morning. Not in labor.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

For almost two weeks.

For almost two weeks I would have some signs of imminent labor. In the afternoon and evening I would have irregular semi-painful contractions. I was having occasional signs of bloody show. When I went to bed the contractions often got more noticeable rather than less. But when I would get up during the night to try to speed things up by walking around or doing lunges up the stairs, the contractions would stop completely. What was this? Contractions while resting but not while being active? That was the total opposite of everything I had read or heard.

I was exhausted. I was frustrated. Would I ever have this baby? Or would I just be stuck in this prodromal labor limbo forever? And to top it all off, my hemorrhoids (sorry, TMI, but I did warn you) flared up in a major way on the 5th or 6th. Like, pain-worse-than-childbirth, how can I possibly push out a baby like this? I was miserable. And scared. And the contractions stopped completely for a couple days. Great.

On Monday I called my OB, but they said that was an issue for primary care. So I was able to get a walk-in appointment with primary care (there may have been tears involved), and my doctor said there was no way anyone would do anything for a thrombosed hemorrhoid on a woman who was 39 weeks pregnant and the only "treatment" was to deliver the baby. Lovely. But she did recommend a lidocaine cream which made a huge difference--where was that for my last three pregnancies and deliveries?!

My discomfort subsided over the next couple days, and the intermittent not-quite-labor-but-not-Braxton-Hicks contractions came back. Every evening. In the the middle of the night. Going away when I tried to get them going harder.

Finally it was my due date, Friday November 13th. Same old story. I was 2cm dilated and starting to soften at my 40 week appointment--nothing to get excited about. Some definitely uncomfortable contractions that afternoon... continuing on through dinner prep and dinner... and closer together after going to bed. So I got up and had a snack just in case this was it (my MO for the last several nights). No contractions. Walked and prayed downstairs for an hour. No contractions. Went back to bed and... couldn't sleep because the contractions were less than 10 minutes apart and starting to hurt. After almost two hours of dozing and timing contractions, I finally woke Alex up and told him this might really be it. Contractions were anywhere from three to eight minutes apart, lasting anywhere from 45-90 seconds. I wasn't ready to go the hospital yet, but I couldn't do it by myself any more. So we puttered around and slowly got ready over the next hour. We decided that yes, it was almost hospital time. Thankfully Alex remembered to eat something before we headed in--we weren't going to make the same mistakes we did with Michael's labor.

At this point let me just say how incredibly wonderful it was to have my mom staying with us--she helped make the weeks leading up to actual labor so much easier, and it was so nice not to have to call anyone to come over in the middle or the night or wake up the boys to take them anywhere!

We left for the hospital around 4. I was terrified of getting sent home like we did with John Paul. Thankfully I had two contractions (albeit lighter ones) during our eight minute drive to the hospital. Maybe I really was in labor after all! As we pulled into the parking lot we were laughing--weren't we just here to have John Paul? It was only 20 months ago (to the day--almost to the hour!), and it felt like it was just yesterday. Okay, I must not be in labor because I can joke and laugh. Dang it.

We entered through the ER entrance, filled out our paper work (thank goodness, another contraction!), and waited for someone to come down and escort us up to Labor and Delivery. And waited. And waited. It must have been at least 15 minutes--I guess we didn't look far enough along to warrant more of a rush. A couple more contractions...hang onto Alex and breath through them... not too bad... Finally the nurse/orderly/whoever she was arrived with the wheelchair. I asked if I could walk, and she looked at me like I was crazy, but she didn't argue. We made it upstairs to the new (since our last visit) Labor and Delivery floor. Thank goodness--triage was now a private room and not a tiny little curtained-off cubicle! A student nurse started the looooong process of checking us in. When her supervising nurse arrived I was both pleased and alarmed to recognize her as our labor nurse with Liam. Very nice, fun English accent, but very loud inside voice.

We successfully completed our hour of observation and question-answering in triage. I continued having contractions 6-8 minutes apart, some of them light, some of them painful. Finally I had a big one that baby girl did not like. The nurses got quiet and serious watching the monitor and had me change position. Her heart rate picked back up, but they wanted to keep an eye on her. Then they finally checked me--4 cm and 90% effaced. I was elated--yes, I was finally actually in active labor and would be having a baby that day.

We moved to an LDR room and got set up with the monitor there. I got my IV for antibiotics, and we tried to settle in. I was so impatient to be off the IV and monitor. Being in bed was not comfortable. I just wanted to get in a warm bath and have the glorious respite I'd had with John Paul. There were a couple more contractions where Colette's heart rate dipped lower than they liked and took a while to pick back up. Thankfully rolling onto my right side instead of my left seemed to solve the problem and they eventually let me out of bed. In the meantime we got a new nurse for shift change. She was absolutely lovely--quiet, supportive, and unobtrusive. And I finally got the okay to get in the bath. 

Almost as soon as I got in the tub one of the two Kaiser OBs on duty poked her head in to say hello. What she actually said was "Well hello Ashley! Are we having a baby today?" In a very loud, overly cheery voice. Well, no, not really--I just like the tubs at the hospital. Of course I am having a baby! I had seen this particular OB for a prenatal visit at 36 weeks and decidedly did not want her delivering my baby because I felt her manner was somewhat condescending and a little abrasive. But there was nothing to do about it now--I certainly wasn't going to try to hold out until she went off shift!

Much to my dismay, the tub was nowhere near as comfortable as it had been during John Paul's labor. and in my completely exhausted state (I'd been up for over 24 hours and hadn't eaten in over six hours at this point) the heat was making me light headed. So I got out and went back to the bed to try to rest in between contractions. I was able to doze lightly between contractions for about half an hour. By now the contractions were definitely painful and bordering on an urge to push. I simply could not relax through them. I had thought for weeks that Colette was probably posterior, and now I was sure of it. I felt every contraction sharply in my lower back and hips. And I was too exhausted to even think what I was supposed to do about it.

I was so ready to give up. I was weepy with exhaustion and just wanted it to be over. And I was partially convinced that there was no way I would be having this baby naturally--that I had somehow jinxed myself by reading too many birth stories and thinking too much about this labor. She was posterior, I was too tired, I had started all the Spinning Babies alignment stuff too late and hadn't been consistent enough with it and her head wouldn't fully engage, I would need pitocin to progress and then I would need an epidural and then she would go into distress and I would need a C-section... etc. etc. etc. And despite recognizing on some level that these thoughts were not entirely reasonable I knew I didn't dare let myself hope I was in transition.

Meanwhile our new nurse had been checking on me occasionally and had told me to let her know as soon as I felt like I might need to push so she could call the doctor right away, because this was my fourth one and although she was perfectly capable of delivering a baby on her own she would really rather not because of all the paper work (I loved her sense of humor). I, however, was determined that this time around I would not say anything about needing to push "too early." I would just let my body do what it needed to do and not be subjected yet again to being told to fight the urge to push before I was fully dilated. And everyone around me expecting this to go quickly just made me even more afraid that it wouldn't. Even when I started to feel myself pushing with the contractions.

But this nurse was absolutely fantastic. She heard the change in my vocalizations before I even considered telling her, and asked if I was pushing. I said yes, sort of, and she was ready for business right away. She asked if she could check me, and I reluctantly said yes. I thought I was probably only at a 7. And I didn't know how I could possibly go on much longer. I think I told Alex as much. In fact, I was mentally preparing myself to ask for an epidural because I was just. so. tired. But much to my delight and relief I was a 9 and completely effaced--and the nurse said I could go ahead and push as I needed to.

The miracles didn't stop there--when she called for the doctor she discovered that my not-favorite OB was still in the middle of a C-section and so I got the other Kaiser OB. They got things set up, made suggestions for position changes rather than giving directions, and were quite simply amazing.

I pushed for about 20 minutes. At first pushing didn't seem to be doing much, so I asked the doctor to break my water and she also had me lie back a little more to help Colette maneuver past my pubic bone. Pushing was so much more work than I remembered, but I was so relieved to finally be at this point.  

During this time it was discovered that for some reason my second dose of antibiotics hadn't actually been ordered and so they weren't going to be able to administer it in time. Then Colette's heart rate started doing unpleasant things, so they attached an internal monitor. They really didn't like what they were seeing, called a NICU team, and told me she needed to be out now. I pushed so hard I almost blacked out a couple times, and I yelled so loud that I had a sore throat and cough for several days. They gave me oxygen (which I hate--the mask makes me feel claustrophobic), and finally there she was. It hurt more than I remembered with the boys and I was sure she was huge and I had torn like crazy.

They put her on my chest and despite the panic of the last few minutes she was absolutely fine. She pinked up and was breathing and crying immediately. I was sobbing and shaking--the usual afterbirth rush of hormones and relief and crazy joy.

Blah blah blah, placenta, blah blah blah, hurt more than I remembered... And much to my relief I did not need stitches--just "skid marks" yet again. Thank goodness for that. The afterbirth pains were so strong that I actually felt myself involuntarily pushing even after I had delivered the placenta. And then I had some weird spasms for about half an hour that I can only think must have been due to her butting her head against my pubic bone for so long.

She was 20 1/4" long and 8 lbs even, and I was delighted that this did not qualify her as "large for gestational age," and we were therefore able to skip the every-two-hours-heel-pricks to monitor blood sugar. She nursed well but had a shallow latch, so we had a good week of it being pretty painful before nursing was smooth going. I don't think my crazy overactive supply made latching any easier for her.

And that is the unnecessarily long tale of Colette Cynthia's birth. Heaven help us (or you, rather) if/when we have number 5... I'll need to write an entire novel about the birth!

But speaking of #5 (ha, gotcha!) everyone at the hospital was very... impressed (for lack of a better word) that this was baby #4 in only 5 years. And as the nurse was helping us into the car and saying goodbye she said "See you again next year!" It was almost funny... I guess when you have three babies at the same hospital within three years they just kind of count on you to be a regular customer.

John Paul's Grand Entrance: A Birth Story (Part II)

If you missed it, you can catch up on Part I here. And a repeat of the warning: I love all things birth story, and so I'm not holding back on the details. A post with significantly less talk about anatomy and bodily fluids is in the work, I promise!

Sorry to leave you hanging like that... just think of it as heightening the emotion of the story! We were sent home to wait indefinitely, and you had to sit around waiting indefinitely for the rest of the story (because I'm sure you were just sitting and waiting... not!).

We arrived home from the hospital around 11pm feeling absolutely discouraged and exhausted. A whole day of (what I thought was) labor, and a whopping 2 cm to show for it. Not cool, JP. That guilt that I mentioned earlier over sending Michael and Liam away for the day (and now night!) for what was apparently nothing flared right back up. We went to bed (so weird to be sleeping in our own house and not have any kids to listen for... it would have been kind of nice under other circumstances), and I slept fitfully for a few hours. I started having contractions again, but I don't know which contractions were real and which ones I was dreaming; they all kind of blurred together. It seemed like some of the contractions were getting stronger, but I tried to ignore them and refused to get my hopes up. Around 4am I got up to go to the bathroom and was alarmed at the amount of blood that I found. I decided we needed to go back to the hospital to be checked again, because suddenly I realized I hadn't felt my usually very active baby move in a while (the fact that I had been at least partially asleep and not paying attention to his movements didn't register at that point). I woke Alex up and explained why I wanted to go back to the hospital, and we got dressed and headed back out. The whole time I was trying to mentally prepare myself for finding out something was wrong and needing an emergency C-section as soon as we arrived (and later Alex admitted that he was doing the same).

Back into the ER entrance, still not looking like I'm in labor, back upstairs to L&D, same unsympathetic nurse!, back into awful little triage cubicle. As soon as we were left alone for me to change into my hospital gown I made Alex get out the holy water and pray for me and JP.  When the nurse came back I explained about the bleeding and movement, but when I was hooked up to the monitor his heart rate was just fine, and I hadn't bled any more since getting up to go to the bathroom half an hour ago. So total overreaction on those fronts (thank you, Lord), but! I was 4 cm! I almost cried again from sheer relief--I really was in labor and they were going to let me stay this time! I was so thrilled that I almost didn't care we were going to have Nurse Heartless for the next 3.5 hours until shift change.

Things just kept getting better and better--a new nurse showed up to move us to our room (after I had quickly scarfed down a granola bar in the privacy of our cubicle, against hospital policy) and she was absolutely perfect. As soon as we told her we were planning on a natural birth she started offering us everything we had asked for on our (as yet unpacked) birth plan--intermittent monitoring, a birth ball, total freedom of movement as soon as my antibiotic IV was done, etc. We only saw her a few more times, because she gave us all the privacy we wanted and just checked in every half hour for some quick monitoring. But we totally lucked out a second time at shift change and got another awesome, completely supportive nurse (okay, not luck at all--I had been praying for weeks for nurses that would be a good match for us).

And then it got... boring. There we were, settled into our spacious L&D room (seriously, this hospital has a very nice L&D ward!). Contractions were about 5 minutes apart (and didn't pick up until the end) and uncomfortable, but completely manageable. I moved around from sitting cross-legged on the bed, to walking around, to sitting in the bathroom, to sitting on the birth ball leaning on the raised bed, and back and forth and around again. I ate a lot of red popsicles and ice chips (the only "sustenance" approved by the hospital for a woman in labor), and had a protein bar and drank plenty of water and Gatorade when the nurse wasn't looking.

After several hours of this I told Alex to lie down and try to take a nap. We had both had a long day yesterday, a short night, and now what looked to be another long day. I was feeling pretty energized from the adrenaline and being in my little labor zone, but I knew I would need a lot more from Alex when things picked up, and I didn't want him to be as completely worn out as he was after Michael's birth. I promised to wake him up if I needed him. He got a nice little nap, and I sat on the bed and played Bejeweled on my phone between contractions. I was seriously tempted to get out my computer and write the birth story up to that point, but I didn't. I should have--then I would be done with it by now!

Contractions started to get more intense, and shortly after Alex woke up the nurse suggested a warm bath. One of the things I was looking forward to most before going into labor with Michael was the tub with jets in the L&D room (different hospital, le sigh), but I lasted for one contraction in the tub before deciding it was even less comfortable than lying in bed. I decided to give it another try, and this time around it actually helped a lot. I sat sideways in the tub with my legs crossed and my arms up on the side. Alex brought in a chair and sat facing me. I rested my head on my arms with my eyes closed and I think I stayed like that for over an hour--grabbing Alex's hand and breathing through contractions, then dozing in between (while he tried to beat my high scores in Bejeweled). It was probably the best part of labor, but finally I wasn't comfortable any more and it was back to my circuit of bed, ball, toilet, walking, etc.

I think this brings us up to around 11am. During all of this I was progressing fairly steadily but slowly. I think I was around 7 dilated after the bath--good, but not good enough (for me). The nurse offered several times to have the doctor break my water to try to speed things up, but we decided to wait on that because I wasn't ready to kick the intensity up that quickly with no guarantee of results.

Intensity was working its way up on its own. An hour or so later I was only 8 cm dilated starting to feel like I couldn't do this and just wanted to quit (as if that were any option). I didn't say anything (at least I don't think I did), but I hoped my feelings of giving up meant I was in transition... and then I figured that if I could think clearly enough to think that I was in transition that probably meant I wasn't. I was also starting to feel a little pushy (that's 3 out of 3 for feeling the irresistible urge to push before I get the green light--thanks a lot, body).

We finally decided to let the doctor break my water, and ohmygoodness, I thought I remembered the difference in intensity between contractions with bag of waters intact and contractions after breaking of said bag, but this was SERIOUS. It was like my body finally decided, "Hey! Maybe this baby should come out sometime, like, soon." Every contraction was a fight to not push. No position was comfortable. With both Michael and Liam I spent a majority of labor lying on my left side. Not this time! Lying down had been less comfortable than other positions up until this point; now it was just plain torture. And lie on my back to get checked and risk having a contraction in that worst possible position? No thank you! But I kept asking the nurse to check me and enduring the contractions lying down every 15 or 20 minutes because I kept thinking I had to be at 10 cm by now. Nope. I worked my way up to 9, and finally up to 10, but my cervix still wasn't 100% effaced.

Apparently, I have a very stubborn cervix (thanks again, body). Finally, a little after 1pm, I was pronounced fully effaced and ready to push. I was in the process of rolling onto my side to sit up when a contraction hit, and the nurse suggested  a practice push. Really, practice? I've done this twice before in the last 38 months--do I really need to practice? So I pushed once once on my side, and the nurse said it wasn't really doing anything. Thanks, I didn't want to push on my side this time anyway. The OB came in as the nurse was setting everything up and Alex was helping me sit up. As she got settled at the foot of the bed she said "Okay, let's get you situated. I don't think this will be a small one!" Seriously? Is that really necessary to mention at this point?!

She told me to lie down (um, no thank you!) but a contraction started and I pushed. I was reclining more than I had wanted to be, but at this point it didn't matter--I just had to push. I ignored the doctor and nurse counting and telling me not to make any sound, and pretty much pushed the way I wanted to push. All of a sudden I heard "Stop! Ashley, he's right here! Wait!" What? Right here? Sure enough, pushing through that one contraction was just about all it took. One more push for the shoulders and JP (finally!) made his grand entrance.

I immediately asked if we could delay cutting the cord, and I was reaching down waiting for the doctor to hand him to me, but the doctor and nurse were busy discussing said cord (just hand me my baby, people!). The first thing I heard after he was born was "Wow, you're lucky!" Not a reassuring thing to hear. Turns out he had a true knot in his cord, right next to his body. Thankfully it hadn't been pulled tight and he was just fine. It was so close they couldn't clamp between his body and the knot right away.

So glad we didn't know about that ahead of time.

Finally they handed me my baby! And by some miracle I didn't tear, despite the ridiculously quick delivery.

JP started nursing right away (and has hardly stopped since--at his 2 week appointment he was almost a pound over his birth weight). Everything was wonderful except the nurse's over-zealous uterine "massage." Despite pitocin to help slow down the bleeding after I delivered the placenta (which was actually uncomfortable this time), the nurse also kneaded my stomach so hard that I yelled louder than I had during labor and just about dropped JP and punched her. She repeated this three times before finally leaving me alone (she had been just about perfect up to that point).

John Paul was a healthy 8 lbs 7 oz, 21.5" long. We enjoyed some nursing and bonding before he was whisked away to the incubator on the other side of the room for measuring, bath, etc. That took longer than expected because the nurse was training a paramedic, but that was fine. Like Liam, JP was "large for gestational age" so the hospital required testing blood sugar levels every 2 hours for the first 12 hours. And just like Liam his levels were fine all the way through.

And there you have it. The beginning of the adventures of the third Crane boy. More thoughts and pictures on our new normal coming up... eventually :)

John Paul's Grand Entrance: A Birth Story (Part I)

I'm having a seriously hard time believing that this guy is one month old already.

On one hand he can't possibly be that old already; on the other, hasn't he always been here?

It's almost scary how normal the craziness of having three boys seems already. But that's another post (and it may take another month--or more--to get it out!).

So here it is, finally, the story of John Paul's birth. If you're not a fan of all the details of labor and delivery (bodily fluids abound, and I'm not afraid to talk about them), I'd recommend skipping this one. Here are a couple more pictures from the past month to make this post worth your while anyway :)

Just over a week old

Three happy brothers

All of my boys

Totally smitten, on both sides

Okay, now for the story! (Last chance to leave!)

Ever since the crazy-strong (or so I thought) Braxton Hicks contractions started up right around 20 weeks, I was sure JP would come before his due date of March 12. Right at 37 weeks I started willing those contractions to be meaningful with all my might, but to no avail. And then I kept thinking that maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of the start of the real thing... and then they would taper off. Hmmm, this was sounding familiar... but at least I went early and fast with Liam and so maybe this was all a good sign? Nope and nope.

Yes, this was my third baby in less than four years and I still can't remember the difference between Braxton Hicks and real contractions until suddenly the real contractions hit and I'm all like "Oh, right, this is what labor feels like! I want the BH contractions back..." If God blesses us with more children I'm sure I'll go through the whole routine of false alarms for weeks each and every time.

March 12th came and went. I was trying everything short of castor oil (because, ew) and eating a whole pineapple (because I couldn't find any) to get labor going. I was drinking gallons (maybe not quite, but it felt like it) of red raspberry leaf tea so that when labor did get going my lazy-third-time-around-uterus (according to my OB) would do its job nice and efficiently. I was trying not to panic about getting the boys to my in-laws and us to the hospital and everything happening in a perfectly timed manner without having the baby in the car (even though we're only five minutes from the hospital). Turns out I didn't need to worry about not having enough time!

I woke up around 2:30am the morning of March 13th and realized I was having contractions. Nothing intense or even regular, but contractions! Lying down! This must be it! Because, of course, this is how it started with Liam, and even though every pregnancy/labor/baby is different, still this had to be it. So I tried my best to sleep some more, knowing that I would need my rest. I dozed a bit, but the contractions were distracting and I was getting excited despite my best efforts not to. At some point I went to the bathroom and saw some bloody show. Again, just like with Liam. Things were definitely on track now (and I was expecting a lightning-fast labor once things really kicked into gear... good thing the hospital was so close!). I finally gave up on sleep and got up to have some breakfast and putter around the house taking care of some last minute things.

When Alex's alarm went off at 5:20 I told him I didn't think he should go into work, and asked him how he would like to meet John Paul that day? We both tried to get some more rest, waiting for a slightly more reasonable hour to call Alex's mom and put her on alert.

Cici came over around 7 and the three of us sat around and visited while we waited for Michael and Liam to wake up. My contractions were all over the place--anywhere from 8 to 20 minutes apart, and while we sat around they seemed to stop altogether. Cici took the boys home with her when they woke up anyway--we were all just willing John Paul to come.

That whole day I willed my body to go into active labor. Alex and I took several walks around the neighborhood (it was a gorgeous day, thankfully!). I bounced on the birth ball. And bounced. And bounced. I took a nap. I had some quality time with the breast pump. I finished up the sourdough bread I'd set to rise the night before and washed every dish almost as soon as it had been used so we would leave behind a clean kitchen when we finally went to the hospital. And still contractions were never closer than 6 minutes, never regular, often stopping for an hour or more at a time, and uncomfortable but not intense. Needless to say (but I'll say it anyway), it was a loooooong day. And throughout it all I missed Michael and Liam so much. I felt guilty for keeping Alex home from work and sending the boys away when it was apparently just a false alarm, and I was worried about how many more days like this there might before JP was finally forced into the world via the induction scheduled for the following Thursday.

Finally around 8pm I called our nurse advice line. I didn't think it was time to go the hospital yet, but the last few times I used the bathroom there was more blood than I thought there should be (I don't remember bleeding at all either time before--until the end, obviously) and so I wanted to check in. The nurse wasn't at all concerned about the blood, but she called back a few minutes later to suggest we head for the hospital. She had looked more closely at my chart and realized that I was GBS positive, and since this was my 3rd and things would (obviously!) potentially move quickly, she wanted me at the hospital in plenty of time for my two doses of penicillin.

Hooray! All I had wanted all day was to know for sure that it was time to head for the hospital--a certainty which my thoroughly irregular contractions had been denying me. So we had a snack, grabbed the few things not already packed in our bag, and headed to the hospital.

Since it was late we entered through the ER. I don't think anyone there believed I was in labor ("Hi, I'm here to have a baby." "Okay, an induction?" "Um, no, I'm in labor.") but eventually we got signed in and headed up to Labor & Delivery. We got settled in our little triage cubicle, assuming we'd only be there for a few minutes before being moved to a room. Well. When the nurse came in to check me, I was only 2 cm dilated, and my cervix was still very thick. Excuse me? I've been having contractions all day and I am only at a 2? I definitely teared up. She said they would keep us for an hour and reevaluate then.

So we waited in that horrid little cubicle on that horrid little uncomfortable bed hooked up to the horrid monitors (okay, not that bad really, but I was upset). And I didn't have any contractions. So they sent us home. And you know what bugged me the most about it? That nurse wasn't even the slightest bit sympathetic! I would like to think that if I were a L&D nurse I would at least make an attempt to be sympathetic when sending home a woman who thought she was in labor. Harrumph.

And then we had to walk past the nursery to get to the elevator to leave. I lost it (quietly). Here I was, thinking I had been in labor, only 2 cm dilated, being sent home to be pregnant forever this baby is never coming out, and I had to walk past everyone else's newborns? I managed not to sob until we were safely in the elevator.

So we went home. And now I'm going to do something which I hate when I'm reading other people's birth stories, and leave you with a nice old to be continued, because #3 is yelling for a meal, and #2 is trying to help me type this, and #1 just woke up from his nap and doesn't sound too happy about it. So, to be continued... sorry...

Update: Part II!

Liam: A Birth Story

Disclaimer: this is long and detailed, because that's the kind of birth story I like to read.  If you're weird and don't want the details just skip to the end for his stats and some pictures.

Where to begin?  Especially since I'm finishing this three weeks after I intended to have it finished...

Since Michael came a (ridiculously long) week and a half after his due date, I told myself from the very beginning of this pregnancy that I wouldn't expect Liam to come before--or even on--his due date of November 10th.  Naturally that resolution didn't last past week 36 or so.  I was having such strong Braxton-Hicks contractions pretty much every day that I felt like labor must be just around the corner.  All through week 37 and 38 and I would start having regular, fairly strong contractions when I was walking around, but they always stopped when I stopped.  So. Annoying.

Around 1am on the morning of November 3rd I woke up to a contraction.  It was just barely strong enough to wake me up, not particularly uncomfortable, but it was wildly exciting because thus far I hadn't been having contractions when I was resting.  I tried not to get my hopes up, but the contractions continued almost regularly for the rest of the night, and when Alex woke up I told him I thought there was a good possibility we would be meeting Liam that day or the next.  Thankfully it was a Saturday and we didn't have to evaluate whether or not Alex should go to work.

Despite the auspicious beginning to the day, my contractions didn't stay regular.  We decided to take a trip to Ikea in the hopes that walking around the blue and yellow monstrosity would get labor going (and keep it going).  As usual, I started having strong, regular contractions while we were walking around--and, as usual, they subsided when I stopped walking.  After Michael's nap we all went outside so I could do laps around the yard.  The contractions started up again as expected, and they did seem to be getting stronger.  By this time I was absolutely fed up with wondering whether or not I was going into labor for real.

For a pick-me-up we decided to do Chipotle for dinner, and Alex and Michael left to go pick it up.  Much to Alex's dismay, just as he was loading M into his car seat he realized that M was in desperate need of a new diaper, as well as a new pair of pants.  I was in the bathroom when Alex came in to wash his hands, and just as he was about to leave again my water broke.  We've never been so thankful for a diaper blow-out (and probably never will be again).

Since we're still living with Alex's parents, Michael was originally going to just stay home with Papa and Cici when we went to the hospital.  However, they just happened to be out of town that night.  So we called up Josh and Kari to see if we could drop M off at their house for the night.  They were happy to oblige, and I was thrilled because M loves going to Abby's house.  I also called our healthcare appointment/advice line before we left, because we needed to make sure the nearer hospital had room for us before showing up there.  After trying to convince the nurse on the line that my water had actually broken (they must get a lot of false alarms--she didn't seem willing to just take my word for it) she instructed us to head to the hospital which was, thankfully, not full (the alternative was to go downtown to the hospital where we had M; we loved delivering at that hospital, but really didn't want the drive this time).  We finished packing and got everyone and everything into the car, I vetoed our earlier plan to stop at Chipotle on the way so Alex could get some dinner, we dropped off M, and Josh and Kari very thoughtfully traded us a well-stocked cooler for our firstborn.  An hour after my water had broken, we arrived at the hospital.  It was about 6:15 and the front entrance was still open so we just assumed that was where we were supposed to go.  Whoops.  The admitting desk was closed although the entrance was open, so we traversed seemingly endless hallways to get to the ER so we could check in there.  Meanwhile I was leaking amniotic fluid all over the hospital and hoping that anyone who saw us would realize that the very pregnant woman waddling through hospital halls was probably in labor and hadn't merely peed her pants.  Gross, I know.

Once we got to the ER they called a labor and delivery nurse down to pick us up.  And, naturally, I had to convince her as well that my water really had broken.  She obviously didn't look at my pants before ushering me into the wheelchair.  When we got up to the L&D triage room she handed me a gown and pointed me to the bathroom while explaining that they would do a culture on the fluid I was leaking to see if my water really had broken.  Thankfully as soon as I stood up and started walking she saw the evidence for herself and was finally convinced.  She immediately moved us to our room and started getting us situated.

With M we were in the hospital for almost 7 hours before my water broke, and everything was very quiet and low-key (minus, you know, the contractions and all).  This experience was completely the opposite.  From the time we entered the room to the time Liam was born we were left alone for maybe a total of 5 minutes.  The first order of business was to simultaneously put in my IV (strep B positive, blech) and ... take my medical history?  Seriously?  This hospital is connected with our healthcare group, and so I kind of just assumed they had access to my medical records.  I don't remember being asked anywhere near this number of questions with M.  Three needle sticks and uncountable questions later I was getting my antibiotic and was able to concentrate on contractions without talking to the nurse in between.  For, you know, five minutes.  Then the OB on call came in to introduce himself and talk to me about... I don't even remember what.  Being strep B positive, getting tested for HIV so they didn't have to test Liam after he was born and apparently I should've been tested during pregnancy (really? is that just standard for everyone?).  So. Much. Talking!

Thankfully our nurse and the OB were both entirely supportive of our desire to have a natural labor and birth.  They just talked in really loud voices.  A lot.  And even though we'd been told on our hospital tour that the hospital policy was only ice chips and popsicles during labor (lame) no one scolded Alex for giving me juice and water.

I didn't get to move around as much as I'd planned, mostly because everything went so quickly.  I was stuck in bed while they labored (ha, get it?) to get my IV in and got their initial monitor readings.  By the time the antibiotic and the questions were done, my contractions were so hard and fast that I didn't want to try to get out of bed.  I did have Alex raise the back of the bed all the way and kneel facing it for a while, and that was helpful.  But these contractions were so much more painful than I remembered with M--thankfully my labor was much shorter.  Labor with Michael was a marathon; Liam was a very intense sprint.  I suppose part of that is laboring for only about an hour after my water broke with M, and for several hours after it broke with Liam.  That cushion makes a huge difference.

After about two hours (it felt so much longer) of intense, excruciating contractions it was finally time to push. I had wanted to push while lying on my side to minimize risk of tearing again, and my OB was willing to let me try it, but it didn't work out quite like I wanted.  He and nurse still wanted my feet more or less in the stirrups, so I ended up kind of on my side but fairly twisted (which, I'm fairly sure, contributed significantly to my back/hip problems of the last few weeks).  It did achieve the desired result, however--I had only a very minor tear which didn't even require stitches.

This time around pushing wasn't the relief I had expected--it was harder than I remembered, and for the first 20 minutes or so it didn't feel like it was doing anything.  The OB had me adjust my position a bit, and finally pushing got productive.  After Liam crowned the OB announced that the reason I'd been pushing with so little result previously was that the little stink butt (my term of endearment, not his) was posterior.  So earlier when I'd thought, "Man, these contractions are hurting my back way more than in labor with Michael" it was because it was back labor!

So almost exactly 4 hours after my water broke, Liam Roderick was born at 9:13pm on November 3rd, a healthy 8 lbs 6 oz, 20" long--and a whole week early!  His head was fairly bruised from headbutting my hips and tailbone throughout labor, but you could hardly see the bruising through all his dark hair.

I got to hold him immediately, and the clever little boy started nursing pretty much right away.  The nurses gave us almost an hour to enjoy our little boy almost uninterrupted before weighing, measuring, etc.--and when they did come in for that they did everything right in our room, much to our delight.  Apparently 8 lbs 6 oz was large for his gestational age, so he had to have his heel pricked for glucose tests every two hours for the first 12 hours, but his levels were fine so we didn't have to fight any battles concerning supplementing.

I cannot find the words to express how amazing Alex was at coaching me through all of this.  He did such an incredible job of keeping me (more or less) calm and focused, fielding the plethora of questions when the nurse or doctor didn't realize they'd asked me something right as a contraction was starting, and encouraging me.  And he's still doing all that--telling me I'm a wonderful mother when I really don't feel like it, giving me permission to be thoroughly and completely exhausted even though Liam is sleeping better than Michael did, making sure I get some time for myself, and so on.  I am so incredibly blessed!

More on our first few weeks coming later... I won't make any promises about how much later, but now that my back is feeling so much better I don't think it will be another three weeks before I post again :)

Michael Alexander!

Michael was born yesterday morning, January 12 at 7:35. He was 7 lb 3 oz and 19 inches long. By 6:30 on the evening of the 11th I was having fairly uncomfortable contractions about 20 minutes apart, and by 11:30pm contractions had been averaging 4-5 minutes apart for about an hour and we headed for the hospital. I was 5cm/90% effaced upon arrival around 12:30am(and thrilled to be that far along!). Things progressed smoothly (albeit uncomfortably) until 2:30am when I was 7cm and having what felt like a completely overwhelming desire to push - I stayed there for the next couple hours and those were by far the hardest hours of labor. Alex and I were both exhausted and with almost every contraction I was trying to keep my body from pushing - but Alex was amazing and kept me calm and focused :)

My water broke when I was 9cm dilated (hurray protein) and by about 6:30 we were finally at 10cm. Our nurse (who was incredible!) helped maneuver Michael past the lip of my cervix which hadn't quite gone away yet and we were pushing. I pushed for an hour and Michael was born at 7:35!

We did end up with an internal fetal monitor for the last 45 minutes or so because they were concerned about his heart rate as we were pushing and the external monitor would not keep a continuous track on him. They also gave me oxygen for most of pushing to help his heart rate. Turns out the cord was wrapped around his neck twice, but it was a long cord and didn't cause any problems.

The ob and nurse had me pushing hard and fast for the whole hour because of the concerns over his heart rate - and I was in no mood to argue because they had made it clear that he needed to get out quickly or else they would help. I started to tear and they suggested a small episiotomy (to control it? I don't know) but I said no. I ended up with a 2nd degree laceration, but got him out without any further interventions, so we think it is well worth it! I was bleeding more than they wanted, so they did some aggressive fundal massage to get the placenta out immediately and then put me on pitocin to help my uterus contract and slow the bleeding. We weren't able to breastfeed immediately because he had already passed meconium in utero (not surprising, as we were at 41w 3d) so the NICU team was there to suppress his breathing immediately after delivery and do some deeper suctioning to prevent him from drawing it into his lungs. It was all in the same room so he didn't leave my site - one of my worst birth fears avoided! As a result his first Apgar was 4, but at 5 minutes it was 8. After they were done I finally got to hold him :)

Everyone who has visited us - nurses, family and friends - has commented on how incredibly alert Michael is and they are very impressed. We attribute this to an answer to our prayers for a strong, healthy baby and a result of being able to give him the gift of a natural birth.