A Birth Story

On August 31st, 2008, our lives as we knew them changed.  We had waited and longed for a baby, and finally it was here.  I can't believe in two years he has gone from this tiny, brand new baby to a cheerful, chatterbox of a toddler.

I realized the other day that I still had not written out Rusty's birth story.  I couldn't believe it...24 months had gone by and I had still put this off.  It is definitely time.  I'm afraid if I don't get it all down now I will forget.  The thoughts of the labour to come will mix in with the labour of the past and I won't remember.  I won't remember what it felt like.  I will be unable to pull up those emotions.  I will forget those images.  For Rusty's sake as well as my own, here it is.  The birth story of our precious miracle, our gift from God.

The story begins the evening of Friday, August 29th.  We were at the wedding of some dear friends.  I remember the feelings I was having.  I was coming up on a week overdue, and I think that so many of the fears that I had due to my miscarriages had me on edge and so ready to just MEET the baby.  I wanted to see this little one's face, to hear his cry, to watch him sleep.  I also, however, really wanted to be at that wedding.  My dear Nancy had waited a very long time and had been incredibly faithful in her wait for the man God had for her.  Being at the wedding was a precious gift, and as I walked down the aisle to light the candles-my job for the wedding-I was incredibly grateful to be there.  A few hours later, at the reception, I started feeling...not so great.

My back was aching, my stomach kept clenching and I just felt sick.  All of the delicious food made my stomach churn, and upon a trip to the bathroom I realized that it was all starting.  This was just what I had hoped!  My doctor and I had talked things over and planned to induce on Sunday, but my prayer was that I would be able to go into labour naturally all along, and here it seemed that prayer was being answered.  I discreetly let Kevin know, and we said our goodbyes and headed for home.

That night, Friday night, I really thought I would be in the hospital having a baby the next day.  The contractions were pretty strong, I was up all night long with them, not really able to sleep due to their intensity.  My mother was there, and sat up with me basically throughout the night.  I took long, hot showers, I walked, I watched TV with her, she rubbed my back and we thought that was it!  The contractions were drawing closer and closer together, and becoming stronger and stronger.  Some of them were so intense that I could hardly even remember to breathe.  I was beginning to feel the edges of exhaustion, but in my mind I figured that in just a few hours, less than a day, I would be meeting my baby.

Saturday morning arrived, and things slowed.  The contractions were still there, but not as intense and not as consistent.  I decided to try to get some rest, while my mom cooked and Kev just tried to stay occupied.  I remember my mom making several casseroles, me lying in bed trying to sleep-to no avail-and Kevin puttering around the house and running errands.  My mother and father-in-law had invited us for dinner that night.  They wanted to see my mom, and I am pretty sure we hadn't told them yet that I was having contractions.  I didn't want everyone to get excited when I wasn't entirely certain that things were actually starting for sure.  Even though I was in a pretty significant amount of pain, off we went.  I still clearly recall sitting at the dinner table, listening to my mom and my in-laws converse, not following any of the conversation, and squeezing my husband's knee so tightly underneath the table with each contraction that he finally couldn't help but wince and said that we needed to go.

That night, yet again, I tried to sleep.  The contractions became close to unbearable.  I laboured for several hours at home, at that point where I couldn't converse, I couldn't really think.  Every few minutes the contractions came, hard, intense, in my back.  Later I would discover that it was called back labour...no wonder it hurt so much!  Finally, I could stand it no longer.  I was sure that we must be getting close, so in we went.

That first trip into the hospital was one that I vaguely remember.  I remember my husband driving quicker than he should.  I recall leaning over in my seat, breathing fast and hard, trying to get through the pain.  I remember thinking that the red lights were horrible...that they lasted forever.  Finally we were there.  They admitted us, the nurses hooked me up, and they began to monitor.  The contractions were indeed hard and intense, yet I was only at 1 centimeter.  One measly little centimeter.  We would come to find that this would be the tale of my labour.  The nurses asked if I wanted anything for the pain, and I said no.  I wanted to try to stay aware and in the moment.  We asked what they thought, and they said that probably in about three hours we could come back and I would probably be dilated to close to 6 or 7 centimeters.

Home we went.  We settled in, and I was hard at work.  I was breathing, my mom was rubbing my back, and we both told Kevin to try to get some rest.  It looked like we could be in for the long haul, and my mom knew that once we were in the hospital I would want Kevin in the room with me, so she took that shift at home.  She was truly amazing.  Every three minutes the contraction would come, intense and furious.  My back would feel on fire, and I would do everything I could just to breathe through it.  She would rub my lower back with all of the intensity she could.  She kept watch outside the bathroom door while I tried to use a hot shower to ease the pain.  She kept me hydrated. She tried to get me to eat a snack every now and then.  Finally, it was nearing 4 a.m. and we were hitting that three hour mark.

This second ride to the hospital was absolutely brutal.  I don't even remember any of it.  This time I wasn't even aware of the red lights, I just needed to get there.  I hardly had the ability to walk through the doors, thankfully this time I didn't have to go through the entire admittance process, since I had been there just hours before.  Once again, we got set up and the nurses hooked up the monitors and checked me.  My heart sank when they said that still, after all of those hours of intense labour, I was only 1.5 centimeters.  In three plus hours of intense labour I had gained just one-half of a centimeter.  The nurses were surprised.  They felt I should be much farther along.  They encouraged me to take just a bit of morphine to ease the pain.  I didn't know what to do.  I remember looking at Kevin, in so much pain, not knowing what to think or even to say.  Finally I asked if I could just speak with him and we were alone.

I broke down into tears.  I had so very much hoped to go through this with no medication.  I didn't know what to do. I hadn't slept since Thursday night, and it was now close to Sunday morning.  I was exhausted, in incredible pain, worried for my baby, and just 1.5 centimeters.  I didn't know how to get through it.  He said he felt like I should be able to get some rest, and they had all felt that could happen if I was able to get some pain medication, a bit of morphine, I believe.  So I said yes.  They administered it, put me in a bed, and told me to rest if I could.  I could still feel the contractions, but the edge was off, and I was waiting for the doctor.  My doctor was not there, she was away, and it was to be the doctor on call.  As we waited, I actually drifted off to sleep. 

I woke about fifteen minutes later when the nurse came to check on me to discover that the contractions had seemed to ease off a bit.  They were still there, but not as crippling.  Was the medication that strong?  I asked the nurse and she told me that she had to wait for the doctor.  I didn't know if that was good or bad.  Finally, she was there.  The doctor came in.  I had seen her before at my maternity clinic and I knew she was good.  She was the one who had delivered my own doctor's babies, and she was kind and caring.  She went over the logistics with me.  My labour was stalling.

Stalling.  After two full days of hard, intense, what should be dilation inducing labour I had stalled.  And I was still just barely 2 centimeters.  Many women walk around dilated to 2 centimeters for weeks without ever feeling a thing.  I couldn't help it, I started to cry.

The doctor ran through the options.  I could return home, wait it out, try to get some more sleep.  The problem with that was that I was still feeling pretty intense contractions, and there was no guarantee that my cervix would dilate with those contractions, as it hadn't seemed to do so to that point.  My other option was to induce.  I was scheduled for induction that morning anyway, in fact if I hadn't gone into labour at all I was scheduled to be arriving at just about that very time to begin the induction.  Again, I wanted to discuss it with Kevin.  After taking into consideration my exhaustion and the lengthy process we had already been through, we decided induction was the best option for us and for our baby.

Around 9 a.m. I was in my delivery room, being hooked up to monitors, being assigned the nurse-the wonderful and sweet Becky-that would stay with us through it all, and feeling the pitocin going into my veins.  So it began.  Within a very quick amount of time the contractions amped up and I did my best.

I walked around the bed, I sat on the birthing ball, Kevin rubbed my back and my mom came in and out, doing what she could.  My friend Serenity arrived, and took up a post on the side of my bed.  It wasn't planned for her to be there, but she was a crucial part of the process for us.  The pain became more difficult than I thought possible.  I breathed as best I could.  By now the morphine from 4 a.m. was long gone.  I was still determined to do the best I could to try to get through it.  I agreed to the nitrous oxide, and took a hit of the "laughing gas" with each contraction.  They upped the dosage of pitocin and with it the contractions intensified yet again.  I was unable to do anything at that point but lie on the bed, trying to get through each one.

I remember a few things.  I remember thinking about my baby, my excitement to meet him, thinking if I could just keep going I would finally get to see his precious face.  I remember trying to look at the clock, but being unable to focus.  I wondered how much time had gone by, where I was at, what was happening.  I remember Serenity, right beside my face telling me to breathe, breathe, breathe and Kevin behind me, rubbing my lower back with all the strength he could muster.  I remember grunting out directions for him to rub lower and then being crippled with pain and unable to think.  I felt unaware.  But I knew my baby was coming.

Finally, it was around 1 p.m.  The nurses came to check me.  We were all sure, so certain, that by then I would be at least 6 maybe even 8 centimeters.  I had been labouring for almost three days.  I had experienced great amounts of pitocin, and the nurses said the way the contractions were going should mean dilation.  I was checked and was found to be simply 3 centimeters.  At that point, I definitely remember starting to cry.  I began to believe I would never be meeting my baby.  I wondered how much more I could take.  I had been determined not to have an epidural, but I no longer knew how to handle the pain.  My dear nurse began to discuss the options.  I recall her saying, "We can think and talk about pain management," and I simply cut her off and panted out, "Get me the epidural, PLEASE."  The order was in.

Just because the order for an epidural is in, doesn't mean it will go through. Things were busy at the hospital that day.  I laboured on and from time to time remembered to ask, "Is that epidural coming soon?"  In retrospect, I laugh.  Kevin and Serenity both told me how they feared that question.  They would try their best to keep me from looking at the clock so I wouldn't see it had been half an hour since I last asked.  They didn't want me to know that the nurse was motioning that the epidural was NOT on its way because the anesthesist was held up with another case.  They just wanted me to carry on, to stay strong.  Seren would say, "I'm sure it is.  I'm sure it's coming soon."  Finally, it was nearing 3:30.  The anesthesist finally arrived, and before he gave me the epidural, they checked me.  I was almost nine centimeters!  Those two and a half hours had accomplished so much.  I wasn't even really aware of that.  The doctor had me sit on the edge of the bed, breathe in and out, and put in the medication.  It was called a walking epidural.  Because I was so far along, they wouldn't do a full one, but since I had to wait so long, they still gave me something.  I had no idea.  I knew the edge was off.  I didn't know what an epidural was supposed to feel like...all I knew was that finally, I could actually see.

The nurses encouraged me to roll onto my side, to try to close my eyes and breathe through the contractions as best I could to rest my body in preparation for the pushing.  It would be coming soon...I would be meeting my baby soon!  I rolled over and had just closed my eyes and tried to rest when suddenly Becky wanted to check something. She asked me to roll onto my back again, then my side.  I didn't know what was happening.  They got the doctor.  Again, roll to the side and then the back.  The baby's heart rate was dropping, alarmingly.  There was no time to rest, I needed to push.

I prepared.  I tried to focus.  It was just Becky, the doctor, Kevin and I.  I followed instructions.  I closed my eyes.  I tried to breathe.  I thought of Rusty.  Dr. G asked me to feel the head, to show me that he was coming.  Kevin stood beside me in excitement.  Seeing all that was happening and knowing that any minute we would be meeting our little boy.

We knew the cord was around his neck, yet Dr. G stayed calm.  As he was pushed out, she worked quickly, efficiently.  Rusty was quickly taken away, rushed off to the waiting team to make sure he was okay.  Neonatal specialists, nurses, all kinds of doctors on the other side of the room...and then, he cried.  We heard his cry.  For the very first time, one of our babies was there, with us...alive.  I began to cry as well.  Tears rushed down Kevin's cheeks.  He kissed me, then grabbed the camera and ran to document our sweet baby's first moments. 

Finally, he was in my arms.  It wasn't the immediate reunion I had dreamed of and imagined, but it was sweet none the less.  My little boy was there, all snuggled up, safely in my arms.  Everyone else in the room except Rusty and Kevin faded away and there we were, a family.  I fell in head over heels right then and there.  As he gazed up at me with those little eyes and squinched up that sweet little face to cry I knew I was done for.  My life as I knew it was over, and I was changed.  I forgot all about the hours, even days of labour.  I forgot about the pain.  I just sat there, taking him in.

 And so began the love story of our life with Rusty.  I loved him so much that moment I met him.  I had no idea what and who he would become.  He's a blessing, a wonderful gift in our lives.  We never take him for granted.  We prayed for him, and the Lord has blessed us with the opportunity to be a part of his life.  We are so thankful.  Rusty, we love you.  You took us from being the two of us to becoming a family.  You will always be the one that made us parents and for that, we are ever grateful.