*this post is of my own personal experiences and should not be taken in place of professional medical advice*
My husband and I were ready for a baby. It would come up in casual conversation
and be taken into account when making decisions on our house projects. So when that second line came up on that little piece of plastic, it’s needless to say we were excited. Not only would this child be our first, but he is also the first grandchild on both sides of our family… talkabout spoiled.
I had a pretty easy pregnancy, not going to lie. I had minimal amounts of nausea, only gained about 40lbs and despite the gestational diabetes, my little man was developing beautifully. Despite the fact that you could have the picture perfect pregnancy and no sign of any issues at any point down the line; I don’t care who you are, labor is a scary thing to think about. ESPECIALLY for your first baby since there really is no way to mentally prepare yourself or expect what is to come.
I (despite my absolute fear) was determined to have a natural labor. I was going to have my water break at home, w
hile my husband was there with me. We would go to the hospital, and I would give birth to my son without any pain medication 12 hours later. Yeah, I want to go back and slap myself too, don’t worry.
Wouldn’t that be a perfect world? If all babies came out on their predetermined ‘due date’. No fuss, no guessing. No concern of your water breaking in the middle of a grocery store. They would just make their way into the world in the most peaceful manner possible (as peaceful as it could go that is) on the day they were expected and planned for.
You can imagine my irritation when my due date had come and went, and there wasn’t the slightest sign of labor approaching. I had officially moved out of my bed and resorted to sleeping, sitting up on our couch because the hip pain was too much laying down – I’m sure all you Momma’s out there can sympathize with that one.
Because of the diabetes, my doctor said she did not want to go past 41 weeks for fear that my child could grow too large, and create complications. So a few days after our due date, we went in for an induction – mind you, I spent most of the night prior walking laps up and down m
y street trying to wish this boy out.
Despite my efforts, this kid wasn’t budging so we packed up our baby bag and endured the very surreal car trip to the hospital. I was prepped for induction, Tuesday June 28th after checking in at 7pm. Go figure, once I was hooked up to the monitor, we realized I had been having mild contractions about 3 minutes apart… which continued throughout the night (building in intensity). When the nurse came in the next morning to set up the Pitocin, I was wishing she would say I had progressed enough to skip the need for medical intervention… but it was just the opposite. After almost 12 hours, I was barely ½ centimeter dilated.
So this is where the fun began…
Despite my wonderful husband doing what he could to aid my pain, the yoga ball, the walking, mountains and mountains of pillows, I got the Epidural 17 hours in. It’s a good thing too since when I was checked shortly after, I was just hitting 2cm dilated.
I pretty much slept after that point. That is until we began to approach our 24th hour of labor. See, my little man was monitored externally with the belt, so every now and then the nurses would come in to adjust as his heart rate would disappear from their system. On top that, he did not take well to the Pitocin in my system, so each time they tried to increase my dosage, his heart rate would drop. This last time they came in to adjust, the room filled with urgency.
I was woken up by them adjusting me and the monitor, trying to find his heart rate. An oxygen mask was secured over my face and I was being told to sign a form for consent on a Cesarean. It was obvious then, that my hopes for a somewhat natural birth were shot out the window. In that moment, I felt like a failure. I couldn’t naturally give birth to my son the way it was supposed to happen. Not only that, but I was in a panic for 30 seconds since no one would tell me what exactly was going on and if what I thought was his heartbeat that I was hearing, was indeed him.
It was at this point in time where I’m became so thankful that my husband is 1. Not shy by any means and 2. Could care less what people thought of him. Once Bradley’s heartrate was confirmed as stabilized again, he kicked all of the nurses out of the room and demanded our Doctor to come in so we could understand what was going on, and discuss our options.
Once my Doc came into the room, we found out that everything was technically alright. The concern was that my labor was hardly progressing (I was just reached 6cm at 24 hours in) and any progress that I WAS having, was completely erratic. My poor baby was exhausted, I was exhausted and it was clearly showing in our heart rates. Since his heart rate had stabled, I was given the choice to continue on and try for a vaginal delivery, but in that moment, something in me told me we would be facing a C-Section regardless.
Within the hour, we were prepped up, families were brought up-to-date on the situation, and at 7:07 pm on June 29th, 2016; our little Bradley entered the world. Not one part of that process went as I intended it to, but I honestly wouldn’t go back and change a second of it. I may have a scar from where this boy left my body, but every time I see it, I’m proud of what we went through to get him here. All 6 ½ lbs of that healthy, beautiful boy.