Jonas: A Birth Story

One year ago today, I woke up around 5AM knowing it was The Day.  It felt like I had been dreaming about labor. Or maybe I had been feeling labor in my sleep and therefore it had permeated my dreams. 

David was getting ready for work, and since he leaves at 6AM, we had to make a decision quickly about what to do.  My first two labors were long and slow, so he could possibly go to work and get a full day in with no problems...or be stuck on a call and not be able to get home if he needed to.  What an adventure that would be. 

It didn't take long to know this was definitely the real thing and he should stay home.  Grandma came to get the big kids while I whipped up a double batch of waffles so breakfasts would be taken care of for the next few days. 

I swept, vacuumed, tidied, finished packing my bag.

We turned on Hulu to catch up on some Grimm.  I think we watched a White Collar, too, and eventually Gilmore Girls.  I paced around, practicing my hypno-birthing techniques, staying relaxed, calm, and happy.  It was like we were on a date except with contractions.

David perfected what he likes to call the Football Roll.  I tend to get back labor, so deep pressure in my lower back during a contraction is a great pain reliever.  He figured out that the end of a football is great as a pressure tool, and while I was concerned about this crazy notion at first, it really did work.  We like to tell people about it in case they, too, can benefit from the Football Roll. (You heard it here first.)

The morning passed without any real urgency to head to the hospital.  I hate being there before I need to be, yet giving birth on the side of the road doesn't really sound too pleasant, either.  Contractions were getting stronger but not closer together, and that was confusing.  They were anywhere from 7-15 minutes apart and had been all morning. I had several texting conversations going on throughout the morning, and I can remember typing to several mom friends, "I don't know when to go to the hospital!"  

It was nearing lunchtime when David was thinking we should go in.  I wasn't in horrible pain, though.  Contractions were strong but still at least 7-10 minutes apart.  They took my breath away at times, but I was perfectly fine in between.

It seems like we went back and forth for an hour or so on when we should leave.  It was getting close to 1 when I finally felt like it could be OK to go. I think David was relieved.

I don't remember the drive to the hospital.  I remember that once we got there, David dropped me off at the door while he went to park the car, and I slowly made my way down the long hallway to the front desk, having one or two good contractions along the way.  I felt like everyone in the waiting room was staring at me and I didn't really like that. I just tried to be super calm and act like I was out for a leisurely stroll, stopping to stare at the wall every other minute or so.  It was a good disguise, I'm sure. No one knew what was happening.

It took quite awhile for someone to come to the desk. Then when she finally came...oh man, she was the meanest nurse I've ever had the privilege of coming into contact with.  She snapped at me for forgetting my wallet in the car (I could get her fired for that, didn't I know?) and for not calling ahead to say we were coming (totally our bad, we just completely forgot to do that). We were pre-registered, though; seems like that should have been one point for us.  She made me cry, and I asked David if we could go back home.  When he said no I asked her through my tears if she could be a bit kinder.  Ha.

She dropped us off at triage where I mentioned I preferred to keep my own clothes as opposed to changing into a hospital gown, and she said something along the lines of, "your midwife is just going to have to deal with you."  David left to get my wallet and I cried some more.  I was so sad.   

This was exactly why I didn't want to go to the hospital.  It's so calm and relaxing at home, while at the hospital you can get yelled at by a mean nurse.

A few minutes later the midwife and another nurse came in; fortunately they were both really sweet.  And I was dilated to an 8, my favorite thing to hear.  For the record, they totally didn't care that I didn't want to change clothes. 

The nurse walked us back to our room.  I sat on the edge of the bed and tried to hold perfectly still while she worked to put the hep-lock in, but I had to groan through a few really strong contractions.  She suddenly asked me, "are you pushing?" and I said, "I think so."  She tried to get me to lay back but that hurt too much; hunched over on my side was the way to be. 

Things suddenly got very chaotic because the room was not ready for a baby.  We weren't even checked in to the hospital yet. But not much later, at 1:44PM, the baby was out.  I think we had been at the hospital for about half and hour or 40 minutes.  Take that, mean nurse.  There's a reason I wasn't thinking about wallets  Sheesh.

They handed the baby to me, and at first sight I thought he looked just like Christian except rounder, so I think I just knew that he was a boy.  David is the one who checked and made the official announcement.  Since we only had one boy name on our list, Jonas David was named right away. Baby Jonas snuggled right up to me and didn't cry, and even though that's the sound you want to hear, there is something infinitely sweet about your baby feeling secure enough with you that he has no need to fuss.

They needed him to pink up a bit, though, so while I snuggled him they gave him a few pats until he coughed and his color started coming in.  Then he got so comfortable that he peed all over me.  That was sweet.

I  just couldn't believe he was a boy.  I spent the rest of the day saying, "I can't believe he's a boy. I can't believe he's a boy.  Can you believe he's a boy?  I can't believe he's a boy." 

Then I held him all night long. 

baby brother getting weighed...

...and big brother hiding in the window.  he wouldn't talk to me

feeling a bit more brave

2 week appointment

One Year Ago Today (Part 2)

You want to know the definition of a perfect moment?

It's the moment a healthy baby is born.  When you are the first one to hold him and everyone in the room is happy.  When the baby isn't crying, but it's only because he's perfectly content in his mama's arms.

That, my friends, is a perfect moment.

~~~

Wednesday the 31st started with no labor in sight.  Once again, my natural instincts to keep anything medicinal away from the birthing room were compromised as we kind of 'had' to get things moving.

The hard thing about hospitals is they have to keep their standards so high in order to keep themselves from getting sued.  I am not typically supportive of inducing labor when a mother and baby are healthy, so to be in that position was a very tough place for me to be.

If there is anything I have learned through my pregnancy and birth with Daphne, though, it is that the most important thing is a healthy baby.  Sometimes little things happen that we really don't want, but in the end, the baby is all that matters.  The tiny details in how he got here?  Not so important.
 











So I was induced starting around 10AM, and after 10 hours of hard and fast labor (comparing to Daphne's 40 hours), we had a baby.

The birth was perfect.  I thought maybe it wouldn't hurt as badly the second time around, but unfortunately it did.  I was happy to be able to do it again without any pain medications, so the little bit of Pitocin to get things started was all I needed.

The baby came out and I took him right away.  I got to see that he was a boy and I was so glad that he was.   It made me nervous that he wasn't crying, but it didn't take long to see that it's just because he was so happy to be with me.  He had no reason to cry.

It was a couple of hours before I was ready to give him up to be washed and weighed.  I'm so thankful our hospital wasn't pushy about getting all the stats taken.  Those first hours with him were precious and unforgettable.   Perfect moments.
 











If Daphne was our faith baby, Christian is our redemption story.  We are thankful for the joy and healing he has brought to our family.













And out of them shall proceed thanksgiving...
~Jer. 30:19 
 

One Year Ago Today...

One year ago today was a Tuesday.  I drove David to Gresham for a doctor's appointment thanks to a car accident he had been in at work the week before.  Things with the pregnancy were...strange...so after his appointment we hopped on the freeway to go to L&D at Sunnyside.  Not to stay, just to check in an make sure everything was OK.

After checking in with the midwife she let me know that I would be staying at the hospital.  I wasn't even technically in labor yet and was completely unprepared to stay.  I didn't have my bags, I still had some things to finish up at home.  Staying at the hospital was not in the plan.

For a mama who likes to do the birth thing with as few medical interventions as possible, staying was such a disappointment.   It was not how it was supposed to happen.  It was supposed to be like labor with Daphne...stay home until the last possible second and then head to the hospital.

So I signed against medical advice and went home for a bit.  I felt like it was the right thing to do.  David knew it, too, and our doula (Carissa the Great) felt the same.  The midwife had had both her children at home, so she understood my need to leave for awhile. 

I'm so glad we did leave.  We came home, finished packing our bags, I did some last minute cleaning and preparations for Daphne.  It was a good time to collect myself and feel more relaxed and ready to go back to the hospital. 

And on our way back down to the hospital we took the time for a last outing as Three.  Izzy's is our last outing memory for Daphne, and now TCBY is Christian's. 

August 30, 2011

Unfortunately for Christian and I at this year's visit, there's nothing for us to eat at TCBY.  But Daph loved her chocolate cone, and he was fine cruising around.

August 30, 2012

After our ice cream break, we headed back to the hospital to basically sit around.  The midwife on duty for the evening was fine to just let us sleep and hang out and see if things would start progressing on their own during the night.  It sort of felt like a little vacation, except not.

I tried some "mind over matter" activities, trying to convince my body to go into labor so that we could have a baby the next morning.  Unfortunately it didn't work. 

We watched Gilmore Girls season 4 (with Daphne it was season 2...I feel like much of my life revolves around those girls), Carissa ran across the street to the Town Center to get us some yummy food, and we tried to sleep.

But we did NOT go into labor...

Birth Story: The Grand Finale

So where did I leave off?

Midnight on the 23rd, 37 hours of labor, still no baby...OK.

I guess it's around that time I finally started pushing. And I think that is actually when the neonatologist and his posse came in and then left once realizing that pushing did not necessarily mean a baby was about to be born.

Maybe I should back up a bit and explain why we needed to be at a hospital with a level 3 NICU before I share the rest of the story. At our 18 week ultrasound there were quite a few problems that were discovered with our baby. The most notable were that her long bones were all measuring too short, indicating a skeletal dysplasia. One of the main reasons this can be life threatening is if the baby's ribs are also measuring too short. If this is the case, the baby's lungs cannot be supported after birth because of the too-small rib cage. Daphne's ribs were fine at the 18 week scan, but as the weeks went by (we had scans every 3 weeks until she was born) her ribs did not appear to be growing correctly. Our doctor told us there was about a 50/50 chance our baby would live after birth.

Before the birth we met with the neonatologist (Dr Rabin) to discuss what might happen after the baby was born. If she cried, this would be a good thing because it meant she was breathing and they could check her out in our room. If not, that was a bad thing and they would take her directly to the NICU to see what life saving measures should be taken, if any. Dr Rabin said we would probably have an OR to labor in so that we could be close to the NICU, but they ended up having a regular L&D room right next door so we got to use that instead. Way better.

I'm not sure exactly how many people were in our L&D room when the big moment finally arrived. David and I and Carissa, of course. My fabulous nurse who stayed several hours past her shift so she could see us through to the end. The doctor who delivered Daphne (our doctor was on vacation), a doctor in training who actually did the delivering. Dr Rabin and several neonatal nurses, maybe a few other nurses? And Amy, our Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep photographer. Yeah, it was serious party time.

After three long and actually quite excruciating hours of pushing, we finally had a baby! 2:48A.M., 6 lbs 11 oz, December 24, 40 hours of labor (that's a long time). I've mentioned before how David was supposed to announce the baby's gender, but he was confused and sounded unsure of himself when saying "it's a girl." I would put an exclamation point there, but there really was no exclamation. It was more like, "it's a.....girl?"

I was so tired I couldn't keep my eyes open, so I didn't see her. She didn't cry, even after the staff spent a bit time in our room trying to get her to. I think her first APGAR was a 4. David said suddenly one nurse scooped her up like a football and ran to the NICU. He got to follow and watch as they did a bunch of crazy stuff which ended in putting her on a ventilator.














The new daddy meeting his baby girl. I bought him the shirt he was wearing, which he saved to wear for Daphne's birth; it said "Fight to the Finish."

We had two names chosen for a girl, Daphne being one of them, but we had actually planned to name her the other girl name. Then David came back to our room after meeting her and said that she looked just like a Daphne to him. I think I'm a little jealous that I didn't get to have that moment of seeing her and saying, "yep, she's a Daphne." Maybe that's OK, because when I finally did get to see her I think I was more noticing her misshapen head and nose. Sorry, Daph.













A good view of Daphne's weird looking head and nose.

It was quite awhile before I was ready to go visit Daphne (no need to share here all the details of the horror I went through after Daphne's birth). I actually was an invalid at this point so gladly accepted the offered wheelchair.

I don't know if I'm the only person in the world who did not look at her baby and say, "she's so beautiful! I love her!" I mean, I did love her, but it's true that she wasn't that beautiful. She was pretty squished and her chin was small. I'm just sayin'.














Carissa and I meeting little Daphne

Obviously you know the end of the story, that Daphne is alive and perfectly healthy. She was on the ventilator but kept trying to breathe on her own over the machine. Finally on Christmas morning the new doctor on duty came in our room and said they were going to take Daphne off, "just to see what would happen." She asked if we wanted to come watch. Come watch to see what might happen? I don't think so. But Daphne was fine, and we got to hold her later that morning. They did several x-rays and her ribs were perfectly normal. Before we got to take Daphne home from the hospital Dr Rabin said she was a little miracle baby.














David holding Daphne for the first time. It was really hard to hold her because of all the stuff she was hooked up to. Her belly button IV was the hardest to work around, I thought.














This photo shows the first time I thought Daphne was cute. She didn't seem as squished, plus she was wearing clothes! I think this was the 26th. When we came into the NICU that morning her nurse had put a onesie on her. She looked like a real baby.

We had an errand to run at St. Vincent's yesterday, and while there I saw a huge banner that said something about St. V's being the only Nation Top 100 Hospital in Oregon. I totally believe it after being there. I was amazed that every staff person we came in contact with had actually read my birth plan and followed it as closely as they could. (Apparently I have a hidden talent as a birth plan writer, in case any of you need my skills at some point.) Since I wanted a natural birth they gave me a nurse who had been specially trained to aid in unmedicated births. I had heard that because of the high epidural rate at St. V's, there were L&D nurses who had never even seen an unmedicated birth. I was so thankful that they took the time to find a nurse who would best suit my needs. The staff even let David and I stay an extra night in the hospital so that we could be near Daphne longer. The greasy doctor was the only person who kind of made me nervous, but I guess it was good my labor was so rediculously long that I outlasted his shift. (Good teamwork, Daphne.)

Believe me when I say that we know how blessed we are that we got to keep Daphne here with us. She is a constant reminder of the many other families we know and love who had to let their babies go. Daphne is our physical reminder to never take for granted the gift of having a child.



















Happy 1st birthday, little one. May you be blessed with many more.

Birth Story Part 2

Continuing on with the saga of Daphne's birth...

I was awake all night long on the 22nd wondering what was up with these crazy pains I was having. Throughout the course of the night they got closer together and stronger in intensity. But they weren't covering my whole stomach, darn it! And the internet told me they would if they were real. (I believe everything the internet tells me.)

I was also going on a tip from my midwife, who told me to go to the hospital when I couldn't walk, talk or laugh during contractions. Leave it to me to get confused over such simple instructions, because I took this to mean go to the hospital when I was unable to walk, talk or laugh while having contractions. I think now she meant not being able to walk, talk or laugh during one contraction. Do you see the difference? I would have one contraction that would nearly knock me off my feet (meaning I could not walk, talk or laugh during it) but then the contraction would be over and I could go on doing my thing, feeling perfectly fine. Therefore I saw no rush to go to the hospital.

By the time David got up on the morning of the 23rd (so nice of me to let him sleep, yes?) I was having the mysterious pains every 5-7 minutes. He suggested I call our doula, Carissa, but I really didn't want to bother her the day before Christmas Eve for no reason. I called her anyways because David really wanted me to; she told me to call her back in an hour or so with an update. By the time that hour was up my mysterious pains were every 3 minutes apart. I said, "but Carissa, they aren't covering my whole stomach!" She said, "you're in labor, dear." Oh.

Thanks to the snow, it felt like it took days for her to get to our house. I'm not sure in real life time how long it took, but it was enough time for me to get some vacuuming done. Always a good thing to do when you're taking a break every 3 minutes for labor pains that you cannot walk, talk or laugh through. I also remember my friend Candace calling me asking how I was, and when I said I was having contractions every 3 minutes she said something to the tune of "get to the hospital!!"

Once Carissa got to our house we pretty much just jumped in our Explorer and took off. We were set to give birth at St. Vincent's because of their level 3 NICU, but that hospital is pretty much the farthest away hospital from our house, and you remember the snow. Fortunately the freeways were pretty clear and I actually found the drive quite relaxing.

We got to the hospital in one piece around 1P.M., got checked in, and then it was time to see if I really was in labor. And what do you know, I was dilated to an 8!! Yahoo! I really wanted to labor as much as I could at home, so it was a real bonus that I got to while being in denial about actually being in labor. It was also important for me to have an unmedicated birth, so I was happy to be so far along already. I had been worried that once I got to the hospital the staff would bug me about getting an epidural or whatever. I think I heard that St. V's has like a 95% epidural rate, so I knew being un-epiduraled (I made that word up) was very unusual for that hospital. Anyways, after being checked the staff told me that it would be 1/2 hour to 3 hours, and we would have our baby!

Well...it's not a good thing to get a person's hopes up by telling her that her baby will be coming soon. Not good at all. Please note that Daphne's birthday is not December 23. Please also note that at this time, 1P.M. on the 23rd, I had already been in labor for approximately 25 hours.

The rest of the afternoon passed in kind of a blur. I do remember the greasy doctor on call when we checked in, who after meeting us started talking about C-sections. That was really confusing to me because we had been there for about 5 minutes and the baby was not in any distress. I was so glad that his shift ended sometime that afternoon. I also remember every time I would try to walk somewhere I would be offered a wheelchair, and I was like "I'm not an invalid!" Sheesh. One perk of not having an epidural was having the freedom to walk the halls and spend a few hours in the jacuzzi tub without being hooked up to any medical devices. I appreciated that.

I also remember sitting in my room staring at the clock as the hours passed, getting nervous that my poor baby was going to be born on Christmas Eve. I would say at 9P.M.: "we only have 3 hours for the baby to not be born on a holiday!" and at 10P.M.: "we only have 2 hours for the baby to not be born on a holiday!" My nurse told me to stop looking at the clock or she was going to cover it with a sheet.

I remember the neonatologist and his staff coming in because they thought the baby was going to be born soon, and then I remember them LEAVING because she actually wasn't. Talk about a real downer.

Let's see, by midnight the 23rd, we were at 37 hours of labor. Will this baby ever be born? Stay tuned...

Birth Story Part 1 (because my labor was so long the story needs to be told in chapters)

Last year on this exact same day I woke up feeling a little yucky. Throughout the morning I felt these little pains in my stomach, but assumed they were just pre-labor pains (aka Braxton Hicks). They didn't hurt and I barely noticed them. David and I wanted to go on a "last date" before baby Kemple made his/her appearance (that's right people, we like to do things the way God intended and wait for the baby to be born to find out the gender. Ha!). I really wanted Italian food, but if you recall, last year at this time we were blanketed in 1 1/2 feet of snow. And since Oregonians can barely handle driving in the rain, let alone the snow, our entire city was pretty much shut down.



















David, the super snow shoveler. Before this storm, I had never been around snow where you actually needed to shovel it. Snow shovel? What's that?

David had the driveway shoveled in case we needed to make a quick exit from our house, because the baby's due date was 12/24. I was hoping for a 12/28 or 29 birthday so I really wasn't too concerned about it. Around noon on the 22nd we headed out to find a restaurant that might be open. Thanks to all the snow, driving was very slow, so I had time to sit and watch the clock. I realized these small and not painful pains were coming every 7 minutes. Interesting.

The only open restaurant we could find was Izzy's. I'm not a big fan of Izzy's and it wasn't exactly where I envisioned our last dinner as two people. But what can you do? So while having these crazy every 7 minute pains, we went to Izzy's.














Driving home from Izzy's and looking down our street; this is the last picture I took before Daphne was born.

David has been waiting all year for December 22nd to role back around so that we could go to Izzy's again. He thinks this needs to be a yearly tradition.













Daphne and David enjoying Izzy's pizza and a whole lot more. Do they still sing that song? I haven't heard it in awhile.

We got home where I continued having these pains all afternoon and into the evening. David went to bed because I was sure it wasn't real labor, as I had read somewhere that a real contraction will be felt over your entire stomach, while my pains were just on the lower half and around to my back a little. Plus they didn't really hurt that badly, and in between pains I felt totally fine.

OK, we'll save the next installment of this thrilling story for tomorrow. I'm sure that will keep you on the edge of your seat. You're wondering if we had a boy or a girl, huh?