After conference I asked Joseph if we could have a special date night, so we picked up a s'mores cake and went to Alfy's for margherita pizza. As soon as I finished eating dinner I experienced an intense contraction accompanied by a distinct "pop" in my lower abdomen. Clearly, the daughter in my womb enjoyed the pizza as well.
Joseph asked if I was okay. I told him that I was fine, because I didn't feel any liquid so my water must not have broken. Immediately, I felt the trickle. We immediately checked the time (a couple minutes before 9) and headed home. I texted my mom and my sister, Kelsey, so they could get ready to head to the hospital, and called triage. All midwives were busy attending to other births, so I was told to call back.
Even though I knew that I should immediately go to the hospital after my water broke, I wanted to go home! I didn't want to sit at the hospital. I wanted to do laundry, brush my teeth, grab my hospital bag and relax. By the time I got home the contractions were more painful, so Joseph did laundry. I made it to everything else on my list though! We even started watching Mary Poppins. I called triage two more times, and finally I was told to head out immediately. Joseph drove me, and Kelsey and Mom followed shortly.
On the way to the hospital, I stopped at my bishop's house for a priesthood blessing. The Lord promised me that I would be strengthened and know what I needed to do to deliver my child. By this point contractions were 3-5 minutes apart, and I was having a hard time focusing on anything else.
Even though I knew that I should immediately go to the hospital after my water broke, I wanted to go home! I didn't want to sit at the hospital. I wanted to do laundry, brush my teeth, grab my hospital bag and relax. By the time I got home the contractions were more painful, so Joseph did laundry. I made it to everything else on my list though! We even started watching Mary Poppins. I called triage two more times, and finally I was told to head out immediately. Joseph drove me, and Kelsey and Mom followed shortly.
On the way to the hospital, I stopped at my bishop's house for a priesthood blessing. The Lord promised me that I would be strengthened and know what I needed to do to deliver my child. By this point contractions were 3-5 minutes apart, and I was having a hard time focusing on anything else.
We arrived at Providence Hospital around midnight. After checking in, a nurse took a sample of amniotic fluid for testing. Joseph and I waited in a little curtain-drawn room for about an hour. Contractions were still consistent. Before the nurse came back I had to go to the bathroom to vomit. I had trouble making the short distance back to the room. Finally the nurse came back to confirm that yes, I was in active labor! The nurse inserted an IV. Three times she stuck the tube into my wrist, but only the final try was she able to make it into a viable vein. Then we were able to join my mother and sister in a full room to continue laboring.
When I considered my birth plan, I had planned to stay moving. I wanted to move around the room, try laboring in different positions and above all avoid laboring lying down on a bed. I told myself and my husband that I wanted no medications. I'd hoped to rely on breathing, prayer and my husband holding my hand and rubbing my back. I hadn't realized three key things: I would be attached to some hospital machine, the pain would be so intense and I absolutely would not want my husband touching me.
After yelling at my sweet Joseph, I ended up getting medication and an epidural.
The anesthesiologist began my epidural in between contractions. I sat slouched in the hospital bed, trying to maintain exact posture in order for the needle to be placed safely and effectively. In the middle of the injection, I had another particularly bad contraction.
Shortly after, I fell asleep and drifted in and out of consciousness for the next few hours. Occasionally I'd wake up, talk to my family briefly and go back to sleep.
Around 7:30 Sunday morning I started feeling pressure in my pelvic floor. At first I thought my catheter had somehow shifted, and asked a nurse to check. She said everything was fine. I kept feeling pressure, and decided maybe I needed to poop. By this point I was not only wired up to machinery, but completely unable to use my legs, so I asked for a nurse. When she arrived, the nurse told me that the sensation of needing to poop typically means it's time to push. Then I waited for a midwife.
A few minutes feels much longer when you're resisting the need to deliver your child. That being said, a few minutes later the midwife, Sarah, came. With confidence, a friendly attitude and a heavy Australian accent she taught me how to push. As I pushed, Sarah asked a nurse to bring over a mirror so I could see baby emerge. At 8:33 on August 11th Amelia arrived. She was a deep blue. As Sarah helped me catch her and bring her to my chest, her color evened out.
Joseph cut the cord that had connected us for nine long months.
I cried. None of last night's misery mattered any more, because I finally had Amelia in my arms. I didn't care that the birth hadn't gone according to my plans; despite the changes, Joseph and I finally had our daughter.
The next several weeks were a struggle. For weeks, I couldn't walk without pain and heaviness. I was anxious every time I had to use the restroom. My arms were bruised where the IV had been inserted so many times. Even though I expected breastfeeding to come naturally, it took actual work for me and Millie to learn how to work together. But Joseph, Amelia and I worked things out. My family was there to help with everything. Joseph's family came to meet Amelia when she was only four weeks old.
Six months later, we're still learning, but our struggles are completely different. During pregnancy, I was sick and exhausted. Postpartum, I was in pain, learning to take care of Millie's basic needs, and exhausted. Now, I'm trying to sleep train her, keep her from injuring herself with her newfound mobility, and am (still!) exhausted.
Amelia is a light in our lives. She's a joy to everyone she meets. Birth was the hardest experience of my life, but every minute led to holding Amelia in our arms. It led to kisses, snuggles, new baby laughs and smiles. I wouldn't change a thing.
When I considered my birth plan, I had planned to stay moving. I wanted to move around the room, try laboring in different positions and above all avoid laboring lying down on a bed. I told myself and my husband that I wanted no medications. I'd hoped to rely on breathing, prayer and my husband holding my hand and rubbing my back. I hadn't realized three key things: I would be attached to some hospital machine, the pain would be so intense and I absolutely would not want my husband touching me.
After yelling at my sweet Joseph, I ended up getting medication and an epidural.
The anesthesiologist began my epidural in between contractions. I sat slouched in the hospital bed, trying to maintain exact posture in order for the needle to be placed safely and effectively. In the middle of the injection, I had another particularly bad contraction.
Shortly after, I fell asleep and drifted in and out of consciousness for the next few hours. Occasionally I'd wake up, talk to my family briefly and go back to sleep.
Around 7:30 Sunday morning I started feeling pressure in my pelvic floor. At first I thought my catheter had somehow shifted, and asked a nurse to check. She said everything was fine. I kept feeling pressure, and decided maybe I needed to poop. By this point I was not only wired up to machinery, but completely unable to use my legs, so I asked for a nurse. When she arrived, the nurse told me that the sensation of needing to poop typically means it's time to push. Then I waited for a midwife.
A few minutes feels much longer when you're resisting the need to deliver your child. That being said, a few minutes later the midwife, Sarah, came. With confidence, a friendly attitude and a heavy Australian accent she taught me how to push. As I pushed, Sarah asked a nurse to bring over a mirror so I could see baby emerge. At 8:33 on August 11th Amelia arrived. She was a deep blue. As Sarah helped me catch her and bring her to my chest, her color evened out.
Joseph cut the cord that had connected us for nine long months.
I cried. None of last night's misery mattered any more, because I finally had Amelia in my arms. I didn't care that the birth hadn't gone according to my plans; despite the changes, Joseph and I finally had our daughter.
The next several weeks were a struggle. For weeks, I couldn't walk without pain and heaviness. I was anxious every time I had to use the restroom. My arms were bruised where the IV had been inserted so many times. Even though I expected breastfeeding to come naturally, it took actual work for me and Millie to learn how to work together. But Joseph, Amelia and I worked things out. My family was there to help with everything. Joseph's family came to meet Amelia when she was only four weeks old.
Six months later, we're still learning, but our struggles are completely different. During pregnancy, I was sick and exhausted. Postpartum, I was in pain, learning to take care of Millie's basic needs, and exhausted. Now, I'm trying to sleep train her, keep her from injuring herself with her newfound mobility, and am (still!) exhausted.
Amelia is a light in our lives. She's a joy to everyone she meets. Birth was the hardest experience of my life, but every minute led to holding Amelia in our arms. It led to kisses, snuggles, new baby laughs and smiles. I wouldn't change a thing.
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