Organically Growing

Monday morning, the contractions continued – getting stronger and maintaining a pretty regular pattern of being 1 minute long every 2-4 minutes. I took a shower and tried to eat a bowl of cereal. We called Lucky Dog Seattle and arranged to have the dogs picked up for boarding. I just remember thinking: I can’t believe this is happening … our baby is going to be here soon!

At 11am we decided it was time to go to the hospital. While changing in the bathroom, it became apparent that the mucus plug was coming out. This is quite possibly the most digusting thing I have experienced to date. I can’t stop talking about how gross it was, although I’m sure Marc would have like to hear about it less. The nurse checks me and I’m 4 cm dilated: we can stay at the hospital!

Checked in and ready to have this baby!

I changed into my Binsi skirt and top, Marc hooked up the iPod and we settled in for more contractions. Emma (the doula) came to the hospital shortly thereafter. The next several hours are a blur. I know I was sitting on the ball for awhile. I know I was in the jacuzzi (oh that felt so good) for quite a long time and I had to stop in the hall on the way back to our room for a contraction. At some point, one of our nurses determined that baby was riding face up, so we maneuvered into a variety of different positions to try and get him to move. He was being kind of stubborn.

At 5pm, a check revealed that I was already 7cm dilated. They moved in the baby warmer and brought in a big red bio bag and put it on the rocking chair. It seemed as though our baby would be here in a matter of hours!

Then, nothing happened. I was stuck at 7cm and the horrible stabbing pain of back labor set in. Emma says I was in “transition” for 5 hours. There was intense pressure on my backside and all I wanted to do was push – but no one would let me. Audrey, the student midwife attending to me, suggested we break my water to get things moving. It didn’t do much, but I did get to 8cm.

I headed back to the jacuzzi and was there for what seems like just 10 minutes. The hot water made me want to push more than ever, so the nurses pulled me back out. Instead, I sat in the shower in our room, trying to get through the rapid contractions without pushing. Marc sat with me in silence for a long time. Then Emma came with. I remember thinking how much water I wasting and that I really should turn it off. Eventually, Kristen (our really awesome nurse for the overnight shift) made me get out because she couldn’t get a heart rate on the baby.

We moved to the bed, where I hugged at Audrey and tried to get through more contractions. I asked her to just “cut him out and get it over with.” She suggested a less extreme measure and offered an epidural to help me relax and (hopefully) dialate the rest of the way. I turned to Marc and said, “I want the epidural. Heirloom tomatoes.” Everyone laughed. Audrey said, “What’s that?” Marc:  “It’s our code word that she really wants the drugs.”

And so Kevin, the anesthetist was called. It seemed like forever before he got the epidural in. I must have gone through 12 more contractions, but I had the relief of the medicine before me, so I was able to just zone out. At 11pm on Monday night, I was resting in bed and joking with Emma and Marc about one thing or another.

Cathleen, the midwife, came in to tell me they were going to insert an internal contraction monitor around the baby, so they could get a more accurate reading of what, if anything, my contractions were doing. They also started a pitocin drip – something we had been wanting to avoid. The idea was that the epidural would relax me to dialate fully and the pictocin would help to make more productive contractions. At 3am, Kristen announced we were 10cm and suggested we start pushing. Because I could hardly feel a thing, Marc would watch the monitor to see when a contraction was coming and tell me to push. Kristen touched where she wanted me to concentrate my efforts. After pushing three times, Cathleen came in to check me.

Turns out there was a bit of my cervix that was swollen and wouldn’t move aside. Instead it was stuck on his head, and he was still trying to get out face first. Little bugger.

At 4am, we decided a c-section was the safest route to go. I feel like we did everything we could to deliver this baby naturally, then to get him out vaginally, but it just wasn’t going to work. At by this point, I really just wanted to get him here and I wasn’t going to let a c-section make me feel bad.

Heading down to surgery

At our baby shower, my friend Angie told me, about her c-section, that she just wished she hadn’t wasted so much time beating herself up about it. That message really stuck with me, and now I know why. It was preparing me!

So, at 5am we rolled down to surgery. I laid sprawled out on the table, teeth chattering so hard, I bit my lip. A few minutes later, Ryder Waldon Angelo, was pulled out. Marc claimed he had a dark curly mop and went to help weigh him in.

Emma stayed and talked with me while Cathleen and Dr. Kurachi tugged and pulled at my insides to put everything back together. There was apparently a “knick” in the one of the arteries that had Dr. Kurachi dialing up another doc for tips on a special stitch she does … I guess she got it to work. I dozed off for a few minutes, but after about an hour, we were ready to wheel back upstairs with our baby boy.

And just like that, Marc and I became parents.

Several years ago, I went on an all-women’s cycling retreat in Napa with a group called Women’s Quest. I thought I was going to spend the week drinking wine and cruising through the countryside … which we did, but we also faced incredible physical and mental challenges – cycling some of the toughest terrain I have ever encountered (even since!). I met a lot of wonderful women on the trip, many of whom I stay in touch with today, and learned a lot about how much I can accomplish.

One of the motivation techniques we learned to use at the camp is simply saying “yes.” Many of us had the word taped to our bike handlebars, so when the hill was too steep and all we could do was drop our heads and crank on – that’s what we saw. A simple, but powerful reminder that yes … you can do it!

With this in mind, I asked my 6-year old neice Maddy to make a sign for me to post in the labor room. A reminder that I have the strength to do this, and the love of my family supporting me, even though they are far away. Here’s what she made: