Gabriel Christian's Birth Story

It was the Monday-est of Mondays-- a rainy dreary day in February and I was exhausted from teaching my kinders. I knew I was in the home stretch of work with only four more school days to teach, but being almost 39 weeks pregnant while also being on my feet all day was becoming increasingly difficult. To make this day even longer, I had an evening appointment at my OBGYN for another ultrasound.

The baby is measuring too big, the baby is measuring too small, your belly isn't growing at the correct rate -- some of the many reasons I had more ultrasounds than the average pregnancy. Granted, I loved being able to see the little guy move, suck on his fingers, squirm away from the doppler. With each ultrasound I was able to invite a new "guest", first GiGi (my mom), then Grandma Mayer, and today was my sister Stephanie's turn.

I had the same ultrasound technician with each of the many ultrasounds. Prior to this day, she was very friendly, took her time, let us count his little fingers and toes, and assured us each time that everything looks great! This time was different. I wasn't sure if it was due to the fact that I was 15 minutes late for my appointment and put her behind schedule or if something did not look quite right on the screen. No small talk, no confirmations, no encouragement or "Everything is okay"s.

After what seemed like an hour, they called Steph and I back for my follow-up appointment. I was so thankful that the appointment was with my favorite midwife. The first thing she says when she walks in is, "Oh good, Steph! Glad you're here." (Steph works with her as a Labor & Delivery nurse.) I automatically wondered, "Why would she say that?"-- but after she spoke further I understood. The midwife went on to explain that my fluid was on the low side of normal and that baby's belly measurements were in the fifth percentile. She and Steph talked some "nurse talk" together and both agreed that a Nonstress Test (NST) would be the next move to make sure the baby was reactive. She also informed me that I would be induced either Wednesday (in two days when I reached 39 weeks) or TONIGHT depending on this NST.

At this point, baby was deciding when he wanted to come. The NST measures baby's movements, heart rate, and my contractions. After the MOST ACTIVE day - I even told my coworkers how wild baby was that day - he did NOT show off for this NST, like at all. After snacking, drinking ice water, and waiting 30 minutes, baby just was not showing much activity. He decided he wanted to come tonight.

I was told I had an hour to go home, get my stuff, and get back! Typically I am a very prepared and organized person, but my hospital bag was far from together. After rushing and running around for half an hour, we were on our way back with an embarrassingly full car. Oh the things you realize you DO NOT need after having your first child. Now I know I can leave the 4 extra blankets and the curling iron at home.

I checked in around 9 pm. Steph met us at the hospital and helped us get settled in. It was nice having her there because she was an "insider" and could match me with good nurses and get me whatever I needed, like my own personal assistant. The midwife checked my cervix and I was 1-2 centimeters dilated and 70% effaced-- a good starting point. After discussing many different techniques to get this thing moving, I went with a "Cook". A Cook is essentially a balloon that they insert into the cervix, fill with fluid, and leave in overnight or until it falls out on its own. I chose this simply because they told me it was the most "natural" option. Immediately after receiving the least festive and yuckiest balloon you can think of, the contractions began. They weren't consistent and knowing what I know now, they were very minimal. I got a nice bath, some very nice pain meds, and went to sleep.

I woke up with only one thought in mind: "I hope I can eat something before this all goes down." Thankfully, they fed me and gave me some time to wake up before beginning Pitocin around 10 am. After a night with the yucky balloon, I was around 4-5 centimeters dilated and completely effaced. Contractions had stopped and now it was Pitocin's job to start them back up again.

The first few hours on Pitocin were fun. We hung out with my mom and Steph who had joined us around noon and filled our room with food and flowers, watched some "That 70's Show" on Caleb's phone, texted family members to guess birth weight and time of birth and wrote them on the hospital room mirror. And each half hour a nurse would up my Pitocin dose and wait for things to progress.

Around 2 pm I was having contractions every few minutes lasting 30 seconds or so. My favorite midwife was now working and I prayed and prayed that Gabriel would make his appearance before 8pm so that she could be the one to deliver him. She came in and broke my water to get things moving. The actual breaking of the water wasn't too bad, especially after seeing the long, crotchet-hook-looking-thing she used to do it. It was the contractions to follow that were brutal. If I thought I had contractions before, I quickly learned that those were a mere paper-cut compared to what was happening now. Before leaving the room, the midwife says, "Now don't try to be brave or act tough. If your intention is to get an epidural, ask sooner than later. It will take the Anesthesiologist some time to get to you and get set up."

This is where things become a bit blurry. My mom and sister had left to go shopping-- oh, how I envied them. I remember bouncing on the ball trying to laugh along with Eric and Kelso, becoming more and more uncomfortable. I was no longer able to stay quiet through contractions. After about an hour of pushing it off, I asked for an epidural. In my mind, I was through the worst of it. Soon I would be numbed and happy.

It took the Anesthesiologist 15 minutes to arrive and another 15 minutes to set up. I was crying through contractions at this point. They were coming every 2 minutes and lasting a little less than a minute each. That was one minute of relief, one minute of torture. When the doctor finally told me to get on the table and sit for the "shot" (which is a very light way of putting it), I knew I was in the home stretch. I sat as still as I could through contractions and prayed this would be quick. Unfortunately, my spine did not want to be cooperative. The doctor kept asking if I have scoliosis and informing me of my very crooked spine, all while I tried to steady my body and not puke through the contractions. They were coming every minute and lasting about 45 seconds, which gave me 15ish seconds to recover before the next one. When the doctor asked for the 3rd new "kit" after two failed attempts, I just about called it off. I was getting the urge to push and just wanted to be able to move through the pain. My neck, back, and thighs were stiff and sore from trying to curve my spine through such intense agony. My prayers were the only thing that got me through that hour of torture. After three attempts, it finally took. Note to self, ask for an epidural BEFORE I start transitioning. The utmost respect for the wonder-women who do this whole thing au naturel.

When I was finally gloriously numb, around 5 pm, my midwife checked my cervix and I was 10cm dilated! No wonder the pain was what it was. She told me we to l would let baby descend for an hour and then I would start to push! I laid on my side with a huge peanut-looking ball between my knees while lots of strange fart-sounding noises escaped me. The first time it happened, I looked over at Caleb astonished that he would fart like that with a room full of people. Turns out baby's head getting lower was causing these hilarious sounds; we all cracked up! It was the first good laugh I had all day.

Though everyone tried to keep things light, I couldn't stop crying from the trauma that I had just experienced mixed with the fear of pushing, along with the overwhelming realization that I was about to meet my baby. I kept checking the time, waiting for the minutes to pass and anxiously anticipating 6pm. My mom and sister had returned and helped pass the time by showing me all the baby clothes and stuffed animals they had just bought on their shopping excursion. It was just the thing I needed to take my mind off of everything for a little while.

Around 5:45, the midwife became concerned about Gabriel's oxygen levels and informed me it was time! I had absolutely no idea what I was doing but with each push, I had a team of people encouraging me that good things were happening down there. I was offered the mirror but quickly declined as I already required oxygen between each push for fear I may pass out. I don't handle yucky bloody situations well and I guess I looked too pale to ignore. After 25 minutes of pushing, at 6:10 pm, Gabriel arrived! I thought for sure I would cry and Caleb wouldn't, which I had had backwards. I just could not stop studying his every detail, completely in awe of the little being I had just excreted out of me. It was much more magical than it sounds, believe me.

I spent the best hour of my life skin-to-skin with my babe, staring and feeding and admiring him. My mom and sister went to get me Chick-fil-a fries with all the sauces and a large lemonade, the only thing I really wanted. When they returned, Steph suited up to measure and weigh Gabriel while Caleb cut the cord. It was such a special time seeing both of my favorite people involved in Gabriel's first important moments. Aunt Stephanie informed us that little Gabriel was 6 pounds and 18.5 inches long.

We had a surge of guests come and visit that night, all of my and Caleb's immediate family. Our Couplet Care room was full almost consistently over the next two days which made my exhausted, emotional mommy heart so relieved. The help that I received in the days and weeks after Gabriel's birth is something I will never forget-- it brings me to tears thinking about all the love that was and is still being shown to us.

The one thing that I need to emphasize strongly is the utter thankfulness my heart feels to this day about the timing of Gabriel's birth. When Caleb and I first talked about having a child, our "plan" was to aim for an April baby. When I found out that my due date was early March, I was honestly disappointed. This would mess with my maturity leave at school, not quite taking me to the summer like I had hoped. I also had many dreams that Gabriel would arrive early, and the thought of a February birthday (like my own) was sad to me. Give me warm weather to have outdoor birthday parties please!

God humbled me and taught me that He is in control and my plans are not always what is best. With things changing so drastically in our world just weeks after Gabriel was born, I see clearly that God's plan was and is so very good. My mom and sister being in the delivery room for the birth of my first child; my dad, Mother-in-law, Father-in-law, grandma, siblings all being able to visit us in the hospital -- these things were the desires of my heart before Gabriel was even conceived. God knew this and miraculously enabled us to get pregnant much quicker than anticipated, giving Gabriel the most perfect birthday of February 25th.

My heart goes out to all the mommy's whose birth plans have and continue to be altered. I know how special my time at the hospital was and how important my birth plan was to me. I thank God that He supersedes the control I like to think I have. Two months later and He is continuing to teach me to trust Him and His plan. Spinal scares with Gabriel took joy and fostered fear in my heart for over a month after his birth. After many tears and many prayers, we recently found out that everything looks normal and no more testing needs to be done. God is good, ALL the time, and I we are beyond blessed by Him and by our new little love.