Attention readers... after months of neglect, I present to you enough material to fill the void. It's a journal entry. It's for me and my posterity. So, it's a novella. When I say I'm about to share Claire's birth story, I do mean birth
story. Not summary. So I don't blame you if you don't actually read it - I did 'bold' a few phrases here and there for the quick gloss over. I didn't want to post anything else until this important story was completed. And it took me 5 months, but I finished! Finally! Hopefully, after this, I'll blog a bit more. There is certainly much to share! And now... I present: Claire's birth story + extras.
Our darling baby girl was due on January 27th, Monday, 2014 and I was fully convinced that she would arrive late. I felt fine, in fact, had just gotten a week or two of feeling more energy in the evenings and not as bloated and sore and exhausted down in my nether regions at the end of the evening. Also, baby was measuring small, and... I don’t know, due dates are such approximations, right? Anyways. I thought she certainly wouldn't debut until February.
First of all, the week leading up to Claire’s birth was fairly eventful. It was full of snow days, MLK day, lots of time with Marc. Now I cannot even remember everything we did. But it was awesome. Let’s see. MLK day we had a full schedule planned. We hit up the zoo (although Marc spent most of the time parking), then tried to do lunch at Comet Pizza & Ping Pong, then spent an awesome hour and a half at the National Cathedral watching a celebratory memorial concert that involved drummers and gospel choirs. We knew exactly where to sit for the girls to be able to freely enjoy the space and concert. They even got up and danced with a little boy who was sitting nearby. It was adorable and my heart swelled that we were able to get a good moment tell our girls a bit about the historical significance of the day. And the music was great. Then we ate at a diner in Chevy Chase (meh...) and ended the evening with bowling on at the Navy post with our neighbors, Mark and his girls, Kelsey and Lucy. I looked so silly bowling with my big belly! Talk about energy though! And I got quite a few strikes! Maybe bowling is the way to go! Packed with fun, I tell ya! The next day Madeleine didn’t have school and because of snow, Marc was home too! If I remember correctly we ended that night swimming at the Olney Aquatic Center with the Ransoms and I looked TOTALLY ridiculous in a makeshift ‘swimsuit.’ But the girls LOVED it. I taught piano both Tuesday and Friday and did my visiting teaching to Sirisha.
Anyways, Marc was around and it was fun. I felt so good (it was a real upswing from the two weeks previous when I felt super tired and crampy, etc.). I even volunteered to have one of Madeleine’s friends from school, Anthony, over for a playdate on Saturday and to babysit for Kris’ little boy, Nathan, on Monday. I was planning on life continuing as normal for another week! I did spend some time organizing the baby nursery and had clothes laundered and sorted and put away in the nursery. I had also completed arrangements and notified, in detail, a list of 5 friends who had agreed to help me out come the time to deliver - friends to take my kids, drive me, be with me, pick up Madeleine from school, everything. But there were still a few things that I need to do - like pack a hospital bag. That and Marc had left me with strict instructions that I was NOT to have the baby on Saturday, January 25th. He was on call that day with no way to switch or get off and he was the only radiologist at the hospital (aside from a first-year and an attending who was to come in later to help him read-out) that day. So... I basically told myself I couldn’t and wouldn’t have that baby in January and especially not on the 25th.
Also, as a note on preparation for the baby I attended a girls’ night held at Callie’s house by Laura . She gave a basic doula breakdown on birth and labor and had us watch some clips about “The Farm” - this midwifery compound that is really quite amazing, but also totally hippie. It was such a good night of stories and empowerment and learning and laughter!!! So fun! My preoccupation that night was how to learn to be an advocate for myself in the face of medical “intervention” that was less than “natural- or woman-focused.” I went away from the girls’ night feeling empowered and ready to say “no” to an IV and to assert my right to have a doula present and labor and deliver in whatever position felt most comfortable to me.
Friday night I went to bed feeling pretty great. We’d had a great day (can’t remember it exactly...) and I distinctly remember thinking to myself that I should really get a hospital bag ready soon (Saturday if not Monday), or at least assemble some of the things on my pre-made list. I went to bed with that high on my mental to-do list.
Saturday, January 25th arrived. Saturday morning though, I woke up around 6:00 am to what felt like a leeetle bit of pee. I figured it was just the embarrassing but totally normal incontinence that accompanies pregnancy so I asked Marc to hand me a tissue and I just dabbed it up. Then it happened a little more, so I asked for another tissue. Then, when the wetness continued, I quickly got out of bed and headed to the bathroom. Lo and behold, I told Marc that I thought it was my water. Water. Not water breaking but definitely water leaking. It wasn’t a steady stream, but it wasn’t negligible either. So I told Marc about it and the wheels started turning in my head... oh my, I thought. It’s my water. THIS is new, I thought!
Marc lay in bed watching me in the bathroom and pulled out his phone and looked up something on the great internet which told him that I would “go into labor naturally within the next 24 hours.” Great! But therein lies the conundrum. 24 hours is a pretty big window. What does leaking water mean? Marc and I had to decide if, just as in Sophie’s birth, labor was fairly short (6 hours or less) or if the 24 hours period would be filled. Should Marc call work and say he couldn’t make it and beg someone to take his place? Could he really not get off for a few hours and just come upstairs to OB? I mean, previous pregnancies put me in the hospital for only 1-2 hours before delivery. We talked and talked about it for what seemed like forever but was probably only minutes. Then I just bit the bullet and told him to go to work. I mean, really. It could take all day (although in the back of my mind I really knew that it wouldn’t take 24 hours...) and Marc was just downstairs in radiology. In my mind, surely he could sneak upstairs for the birth of his child!
I told him that if he couldn’t be with me during the day that I wanted someone, preferably Laura, with me. Laura is both a fabulous friend and a Physician Assistant and a doula-in-training. So I figured she was the help I wanted. If Marc the doctor husband couldn’t be with me, she’s my next choice. I called her at the unreasonable hour of 6:30 am and woke her and told her the situation. She assessed and said she’d come over and hang out with me. I was pretty convinced that I would go sooner rather than later. She also cautioned me that “this labor might not go like the others.” Her implication was that it might not go so fast as the others because of the leaking water situation. I didn’t know what to think or believe at that point. But, the decision had been made, so, Marc got ready for work and I took a shower and then started filling my undies with pads. I sent Marc off with a kiss and a “see ya later! It’s gonna happen! This is the day!”
Laura said she’d come around 9 am. Marc called around 9 am to see how things were, how I was and I assured him all was well and that Laura would be here soon. I was still leaking water but not feeling ANY contractions. I felt fine. Totally fine. The girls got up and were wonderful. We told them the baby was probably going to come that day and that they needed to be really good for Mommy. We had breakfast (Marc smartly pulled out some Costco muffins from the freezer), the girls played, I got them dressed. All was normal. I did text Madeleine’s friend’s parents to let them know that a playdate was off. I tidied up the house a bit and packed a hospital bag. At this point I didn’t want to go through an entire box of pads, knowing that I’d need them post-partum, so I switched to washcloths. But my genius brain took another leap and I ended up using cloth diapers to absorb my water! “Brilliant!” I thought, “Already getting use out of these things!” :D
Laura arrived and the kids quickly got to playing. I texted Natasha and Beth, my back up helpers to let them know what’s up and that today was the day. Laura and I caught up with chatting and she set up her laptop because she had to finishing some charting for her PA job (deadline at 12 noon). The girls were a little antsy, so we (too soon) let them settle in front of the TV watching Frozen. That kept them quiet but Laura and I squandered that quiet time chasing her son, Weston, around; talking; periodically charting; and I listened as Laura told the most hilarious story ever! Maybe it was the story that was contraction-inducing because I could not stop laughing as she talked. Around 10 am Marc called to check up on me, but I told him I hadn’t had any contractions yet. Laura and I tentatively made plans to let her finish charting then we’d take ourselves and the kids to the mall to walk around and get some contractions going. Marc thought that was a bad idea because he wanted to hold off contractions for as long as possible because, according to him, “If you can wait and come in around 6pm, I get off at 8 and then I can be there to help you at that point.” Uh... yeah babe. I don’t think that’s how it works, I thought. I go pretty quick when the contractions start. And I didn’t think I would make it to 6pm just leaking water slowly. I certainly didn’t want to wait that long. My cloth diaper supply was also limited, right? :) And it’s just messy. Plus the anticipation. I also balked at Laura’s idea a bit because, again, I know I go pretty fast and I’d rather walk around at the hospital than the mall. It’s a safer space, right?! So, I didn’t like the kind and gentle advice I was getting from either party - the people I had positioned to trust in this situation. I remember battling in my mind: I want to let Laura get her work done... I want to facilitate, help her out, put my impending labor to the background, take care of the kids first, let Marc be at his work, not bother him, just not bother anyone too much until it gets real. Next time I’m going to assert myself a little more, listen to that little voice in the back of my head more that says, “Hey, this is gonna happen fast! Let’s focuse here.”
Anyways, the morning progresses with chit chat and feeding kids Costco muffins and Laura somewhat working through her charting and me changing my cloth diapers. The girls have gotten antsy, and Weston is getting rambunctious/tired, so I set up the pack’n’play in the nursery and Laura sets him down, probably around 11 or so. Right after that, Laura heads up to my room to finish charting, realizing that she’ll never get it done and won’t be able to devote attention to me until it is done. Also right around that time I think I start feeling a contraction or two. Probably the first contraction was around 11:15am, but... I didn’t think it was that bad. I realize, however, that I need to get ready to leave the house and get the kids taken care of. So, I think, I need to get them lunch; get my kids fed before I farm them out or bring them to the hospital. I start making macaroni and cheese. And that’s when the contractions start.
But, because I highly doubt my powers of strength, I either dismiss the contractions or I play them down. Stir, stir, stir the mac and cheese. Then, I would bend over, breathe deeply, and rest, like in doggie position, over my little kitchen stool. Get through a contraction, then stand up and stir the mac and cheese. This is the most vivid part of labor that sticks with me. Stir mac and cheese - bend over stool for contraction - repeat. I shout up to Laura that I think I’m going to go sooner rather than later. I don’t want to bother her, because I know she needs to get her charting done, but I’m starting to think that I need to hurry her up, because it’s gettin’ a little real. She does dash down once or twice to massage my back or use the scarf/belly band thing to relieve pressure, but it doesn’t seem to help so I kind of shoo her away to finish her work. Marc calls around 11:30 or so and I tell him that I’ve been having a few contractions but they aren’t bad and that we’ll get the kids ready, feed them, pack up, then Laura will bring me to the hospital in an hour or so. He asks how far apart my contractions are - I haven’t timed them, so I guess: “Um, maybe 5, no, 10 minutes apart? More?” Marc’s voice is filled with alarm and incredulity, “Are you sure? An hour? Maybe you should get here now. Soon. You go pretty fast.” But I tell him the kids need to eat first and then, don’t worry, I’ll get there.
The timeline gets fuzzy here on out. I start to take Marc’s words to heart, start doubting myself less, start wanting Laura with me, start realizing the contractions are real, start thinking they are closer together (I never timed them, but in retrospect, I think at this point they are definitely as frequent as every 5 minutes), start thinking I need to get myself to the hospital. Laura is finishing up charting, she asks to let Weston sleep for another 1/2 hour, the girls start eating mac and cheese at the table, I bring my bags down, I text or call Beth to see if she’ll take Sophie. No answer. I check with Sophie to see if she wants to come to the hospital with me and Madeleine or if she wants to play with friends until baby arrives. She confirms, “No blood! I want to play.” I text Natasha and she comes and gets Sophie with her little overnight bag. Then I prep Madeleine and see if she still wants to come to the hospital with me. She does! So I tell her to sit tight, we’re getting ready to go to the hospital. I think I call Marc to tell him we’re getting ready to come in to the hospital.
Laura is frantically packing things up, Weston is still asleep and all of the sudden, my planning falls apart: who is driving to the hospital? Laura? Me? In whose car? Who will have Laura’s kids? Should we move the carseats? Etc. I can’t think clearly. Chaos. And I’m contracting. The stool is my permanent sidekick. I decide to call on someone else to bring into the chaos: Liz S. I barely know her. She’s a bundle of kindness and I’ve waved “hi” to her at church and chatted with her maybe once or twice, but know her well I do not. Still, I call and she is there in a flash. GOOD DECISION, Natalie! She has one son, older, who can be with his dad, so Liz is all mine. :) Liz drives to my house, walks in, I’m bent over my stool on the front room floor, kids and bags around me. Liz walks in and asks Madeleine, “where’s your mom?” Madeleine points to the ground in front of them both. :) Laura was getting Weston up and out ot the car, and asks me how I am. I’m bent over the stool in a low voice moaning and I say that I need to push!!! Liz immediately says, “Whoa! We need to get you to the hospital! Get in my car!” But ridiculous me, I protest. I’m confused and try to make sure my van is at the hospital so Marc can drive it home, or something, or that Laura should drive me... I don’t know. Whatever it was, it was confusing. I was so glad Liz was there, but I wanted her to take Madeleine to the hospital, meet us there. I wanted to be in the car with Laura. But Laura had her kids. I wanted Laura because she’s the doula. And... I don’t know. I really was not thinking clearly. Forget what everyone else is doing or not doing, I’m realizing that I need to push!!! I really want to push.
All of the sudden, we can’t formulate a coherent and workable plan for Laura’s kids or cars. Thankfully, at the last minute she contacts Megan and Tiffani and somehow works off dropping her kids off with one of them. Liz takes charge and overrides my blubbering about needing the van. She and Laura hash it out quickly because I’ve finally checked out mentally. Laura decides to drop off her kids and meet us as the hospital. Liz grabs my hospital bag, puts Madeleine in Jacob’s carseat booster. Walks me to my car, trying to rush me, but at this point, I’m in pain, total, real contractions, so I’m moving slowly and gingerly. She opens her door and my first thought is, “Oh no! Leather seats! I barely know this woman and I’m going to have a baby in her car and ruin her seats!” But in and go and off we go. We left the house around 12:50 pm.
I call Marc from the car and get some other resident. I can barely think or hear him, but I think he tells me Marc has headed up to OB. I just mumble something about good, I’ll be there in 5 minutes, tell my husband I’m on my way! (I still have no idea who that was and I have yet to apologize for how abrupt or incoherent I was on the phone.) Liz runs a red light, but then stops at the [long] red light turning onto Rockville Pike. I’m clutching her door handle and shaking my head over the red light. A few minutes later she pulls right up to the ER on base and leaps out. I think the time was about 1:00pm. And her story here is just fabulous (as in horrible fabulous): she runs to the front desk and says, “My girlfriend is in the car and she’s having a baby!” The receptionist looks as her and says dryly, “What do ya want me to do about it? You know these things can take like 6 or 7 hours...” Whaaaa? I guess she motions to the wheelchairs, Liz grabs one and runs out to the car, she helps me into it (it’s not fully open and locked and I remember thinking the wheelchair has to be for some hugely obese person because it’s... huge). She gets Madeleine out of the car and we run in to the ER area. The very unhelpful lady at the front desks motions toward the main hospital area and mutters, “OB is on the 6th floor.” Sheesh.** We head to the first set of elevators, as I shift over to one side of the wide wheelchair and hustle Madeleine to sit beside me so she doesn’t have to trail behind us running like mad. I am thinking three things at this moment: 1) we look like a classic movie scene, careening through the hospital, screaming as Liz pushes me in the wheelchair, 2) my contractions hurt! and I want to push! I’m gonna push! Oh no! and 3) oh no, oh no, we need to know where we’re going, which elevators are closest!?
Unfortunately, neither I nor Liz had talked through or done a practice run through the hospital via the ER entrance. But the first set of elevators we come to by radiology does not go up to OB. So I’m screaming as Liz pushes the ‘up’ button: “Not this one! Not this one! No... it only goes to... to the 3rd floor!” So we wheel away and I’m gripping the side handles and softly screaming “We need OB! We need to get to the 6th floor! Somebody! OB! I’m in labor! C’mon!” Military hospitals are ghost towns on the weekends, so the very few random people there avoid us like the plague and aren’t helpful at all. We finally turn a corner and I lock eyes with a uniformed person coming towards us at the far end of the hall. I screamed at him, pleading with my eyes, “We need Labor and Delivery! 6th floor! The elevators! I’m in labor!” And then, my water broke.
“My water just broke!” But luckily, the man recognizes that we are in need, he guides us to the elevator, hits the button, comes up with us, and I think even makes small chat with us. I feel a sense of relief because someone listened and yes, we were in the right set of elevators.
The doors open and it was like entering heaven: MARC!!!!!!! My husband is here! Yes! Thank you! He’ll be here for the birth of our baby! It felt so nice. For what seemed like an entire 30 seconds I just felt calm and happy. He looked calm and happy. And then he opened his mouth. :)
“Here, here is the assessment room. Turn her in here, Liz.” Marc says. And then I go crazy on him, “What? No! NO ASSESSMENT! Are you kidding me? I’m ready! I need to push! I don’t need an assessment! This baby is coming! NOW!!!!!” It was about 1:10pm, Saturday, January 25th. Liz fades into the distance, I don’t really remember her, but I vaguely realize she’s gone to park her car and takes Madeleine with her and says she’ll come back with my hospital bag. I wanted to smack Marc. I wanted him to believe me. I wanted to get in a room and have that baby! Now! But they dragged me in there. Wheeled me up to a table and Marc tells me to get on the table. Oh, if looks could kill. I wanted daggers to leap out of my eyes at him. Get on the table? Lift me, for heaven’s sake! I’m in mad labor! So he gently lifts me out of the wheelchair and they pull down my wet skirt and shoes and socks and I get up on the table - on all fours. Because this is the position I’ve been laboring in - remember the kitchen stool? Yeah, that’s it. So I’m up on this table, on all fours, like a dog, my pants are off, my nekked heiny is facing the doorway, I’m saying I need to push and I feel so undignified. And I’m thinking: 1) why in the world would anyone want to be an OB, or particularly an OB nurse? and 2) labor is SO undignified. Whatever shred of dignity a woman has, she loses it in these moments.
Some OB resident came in and told me he had to check my cervix, see how progressed I was and again, I tried to give him “dagger eyes.” But he was determined and as I grittily told him I was already 100% effaced and ready, he stuck his two fingers in and whoop! There it was. He checked me. And said, [no surprise here!] “Yep. You’re 100%, you’re ready.” I wanted to scream “DUH!!!!!!!!!! I KNOW! IT’S MY BODY!! I’ve done this before!” But thankfully, his diagnosis matched what was reality and they quickly got me on a table. They wheeled me across the hall to a delivery room, and I think at that point Laura made it into the room. They shifted me around a bit and tried to get me on my back, but I looked at Laura and I asked her more than anyone else, “Can I stay on my side? I feel... comfortable, can I labor on my side?” And Laura said yes and the nurses said yes, so I felt happy. I lay on my right side, gripped Marc’s hands and arms and Laura stood back and some nurses and whoever was down there held my left leg up and they said, “Okay! You’re ready. Anytime you want to push, you can.” And then... I wasn’t ready. “Wait, wait, I’m not ready. Just a minute.” Or I needed a mental readiness moment. I breathed deeply, remembering what it actually is like to push and I mentally steeled myself. “Okay! I’m gonna push!”
I think 2 pushes, two scream-moans, gripping Marc’s hands and arms, Laura in the background encouraging me... and... she was out!!!!! Ahhhh! Glorious! She was born at 1:24pm. I flipped to my back, I asked them to bring her to me, and they immediately did, but my shirt was still on, so everyone is trying to get my sweater and bra off and it comes off halfway and baby comes up to my chest for some skin to skin. I was so, so, so happy! I just remember saying, “Oh! Oh! I love you... I love you baby! Ohhhh. We love you so much!” So happy. She was born at 1:24 pm, weighing 6 lbs. 3 oz., 19.5 inches long.
Finally, Liz and Madeleine rush in... poor Madeleine missed the whole thing. But there was blood on the floor and she already looked pretty shocked upon arrival, so maybe it was for the best. Next baby. ;) I remember cuddling with Claire a bunch, then asking if Madeleine can get up with me, and more cuddling, making room for Madeleine after she washed her hands. Laura and Liz are taking pictures for me and I’m just loving baby. Then I remember having Marc look at baby Claire and then at some point he had to leave... he had to return to radiology. ! I let him go as he promised he’d be back in an hour or as soon as possible. He stayed with me for a bit as the OB told me that he needed to push on my belly to get the placenta out. They said something to the effect that the placenta wasn’t coming out that easily or was stuck or something, so I felt a LOT of tugging. Ripping. Pulling. PAIN. In fact, every time that they braced me for it, it was seriously painful! I complained out loud that this was worse than the actual labor! Sheesh. But since Marc was only there for the first bit of it, Liz, champion Liz stepped up and and Laura too. I gripped Liz’s arms and hands - she was such a trooper - as they ripped the placenta out of me. Sweaty hands, an eyeful of exposed me. What a good [new] friend! So, there I was, in the aftermath, surrounded by women - that’s what I remember thinking. A truly feminist moment. Marc had to be downstairs in radiology and Laura and Liz and Madeleine were there. And then I had someone call Natasha for her to bring Sophie in to the hospital. I was SO glad Marc was there, but I also felt really loved and supported by these dear ladies.
I tried to get Claire to latch and we kept up the skin to skin contact... it was wonderful. But because my heart rate was “elevated” (um, yeah, I just had a baby!) they were worried and wanted to get an IV in me to get me fluids. And baby’s temperature was a little low, so they took her for a bit to put under the heat lamp and clean her up. The IV did not go well: two nurses, multiple tries, both arms... sheesh. I SO did not want it. We spent an hour or two (?) in the room. Laura got me snacks. Natasha came with Sophie. Sophie and Michelle oohed and ahhhed at the baby. The girls colored and got snacks with Laura. They played in the corner. I cuddled and the nurses did their cleaning up of me and baby. They kept on trying the IV and warming up Claire. Marc finally came back up and we had pictures and family cuddle time. Then our guests, Liz and Laura and Natasha, those dear, dear friends, left, and we got moved to our recovery room. What an adventure.
Random memories of recovery time: loved my nurses, wrote them great reviews and thank you notes; we said a quick family prayer of thanksgiving; I remembered to have them crank up the heat so I enjoyed a toasty room, sitting comfortably in my tank top; I remembered to move around more instead of laying in bed to help the bleeding/clots exit and to help heal faster and leave a less sore bottom; Marc finished out his work until around 6:30pm and then came up to stay with me; the girls ended up staying overnight with Laura (what a sweetheart!); we webcammed with both our families; Marc bought Nando’s Chicken and we at that and gelato that night - yum!; Claire latched and I had some, not much, colostrum; I felt confident about nursing and pretty comfortable overall with her; the hospital has great soft serve icecream; I ordered meals for myself and the girls, and it was decent; I slept well and Marc slept poorly; I showered in the morning and baby was wonderful the entire time! I spent a quiet and booooring Sunday (snowy outside but warm and comfy inside) along with Claire while Marc took the girls to sacrament meeting. Then they came and entertained me and watched Claire get all her tests and weighed and diapers changed. And there we were... are! A family of five! Welcome, darling Claire Elise!!!! We feel so blessed.
I have a million wonderful pictures on FB and ones that Laura took, but for some reason can't find them now. This will have to do. Trust me. More photos (and posts!) will be coming shortly!
