Harriet's birth story, part 4: a baby is born!

Alrighty. I think I have made the retelling of this story on my blog longer than the actual birth itself. Which is impressive. But I'll try to wrap it up, because we're getting close! (If you want to catch up, here is Part One, Part Two and Part Three)

When we left our heroine in part three, she was immobilized from the waist down and loving it. It was finally time to rest and let the contractions get her dilated to a 10. Everyone thought that would happen quickly, but we all know that was a dumb thing to think. That night she spent time looking up at her IV tree, a collection of five bags dripping into her body: pitocin, the epidural, the penicillin and two kinds of blood pressure meds because her numbers were so low. It was a funny sight to stare at because of her hopes to do this birth thing au-naturale!

She tried to sleep, but kept waking up when the blood pressure monitor would inflate on her arm, leaving her to wonder if her arm would be amputated. The thing blew up so tightly and often had to try multiple times in a row because it couldn't get a good read. So then she lay there wondering if someone was working on a less constricting way to monitor a persons blood pressure. Surely she didn't deserve to be woken up ever 20 minutes.

Each hour a team of nurses came to turn her body. Often this resulted in a round of throwing up. And at one groggy point, she remembers her sweet husband looking at her with tears in his eyes saying he hated seeing her like this and felt so helpless. That's still a sweet memory for her.

After 11 hours of this they checked her and said she looked close enough. She violently dry heaved a few more times and the baby crowned. The nurses were so pleased! They said many babies are pushed out when the mama throws up. They acted quickly, disbanding the bed, getting her legs into position, calling in the doctors and another nurse. They asked how long she pushed for her last baby and her husband commented, "not long at all..two pushes, maybe." Everyone was ready for this baby to fly out! 

**Um, I'm going to stop writing in 3rd person. I'm not even sure why I started out that way, but this is getting complicated...and since I'm here, writing this tale, I'm going to switch to 1st person. Sound good? Thanks.

But 45 minutes later, little progress had been made. The doctor was positioned at the base of the bed and kept yawning uncontrollably. I kept looking at the nurses and asking if I was pushing in the right place and they sort of half smiled. It was very discouraging. I was so exhausted and had nothing to give. And I felt so desperate. I was praying in my head and they were angry prayers, praying the scriptures. I remember saying, "You began this good work in me, now complete it! You said when I am weak, you are strong. Now be strong. You said I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. I cannot do this alone. You have to strengthen me." The kids had just brought home a book about angels from their library and the artist drew them as little fairy-like hot pink, teal and periwinkle people with wings. I remember thinking about those little angels and telling God, "you have to send an angel to tell this baby how to come out. It doesn't know what to do. This baby needs help. Please tell it how to come out." 

We passed an hour of pushing with hardly any progress. And then the nurses brought out the handle holds on the side of the bed, and a mirror so I could see where I was pushing. And something happened then. I focused on the mirror and pulled myself up with those handle holds and after a few rounds of contractions the baby finally came, in the proper position. Everyone was so surprised. Then they told me it was a girl. And I felt joy overflowing. My baby was here.

They put her on my chest for a few seconds only, suctioned her mouth a bit, and then took her to the other doctor who was called in to be sure the baby would be okay. They were concerned that she may have ingested meconium. Rory was with her and the doctor continued to work with me. I was so glad she was here. I was chatty with my doctor and pretty unaware of all that was happening on the other side of the room. I heard the nurse get on the phone and order a few things "stat." And I could see the seriousness grow on the faces of the nurses working with Hattie. I remember telling Rory, "Talk to her, daddy. Tell her who you are. Let her hear your voice." I was never fearful. Somehow I was protected from that. But Rory was. He was right there and heard the nurses and doctors talking. He could see her motionless body, completely still. I couldn't.

The x-ray team arrived and then the lab team to take blood samples. At one point I counted 11 people moving about in our room. It was about 7:15 and the whole staff changes at 7. So nurses were saying goodbye, while others were introducing themselves. My delivery doctor stayed around, but the new doctor was now on the clock and she came in fully caffeinated and took over. I remember thinking she was really loud for how exhausted we all were. She took everything in and then turned to me to tell me, "it is likely Harriet will need to go to another hospital to receive the best care." She explained the helicopter team that would come to transport her and I silently wept. I had finally had my baby. I had worked so hard. And I didn't want to be left behind at the hospital when my baby and my husband went to another city.

In the end, this doctor was amazing and exactly what we all needed in that moment. She came in with sound mind and heroically made some hard decisions early in the morning. She was sharp and later I was grateful. In the moment I didn't like her because I didn't like what she was telling me.

Everyone was talking of the fluid in Harriet's lungs, and the probable pneumonia that was visible on the x-ray. Rory went out into the hall to call our mom's and our pastor, telling them that we had a baby girl and to pray. And to get others to pray, too. And I asked him to call my friend Ali, asking her to come and stay with me while he drove to Minneapolis to be with Harriet.

The new doctor was getting Harriet ready for the helicopter ride when she said, "let's bring her to her mom." I'm still not totally sure, but I think she was just being kind letting me hold my daughter for a moment before we were separated.

But something miraculous happened when they put her in my arms. Harriet's breathing started growing stronger. And stronger. I talked to her and told her I was here mama. That I had carried her for ten months and I was ready to take good care of her. I told her I loved her and would always love her. The doctor said, "let's see if she'll nurse." And in moments we had a strong latch and Harriet was not only breathing on her own, but sucking. She nursed on both sides. In those ten minutes we think we had over 40 people praying for our little baby girl, and in those minutes, life came back into our daughter. You can see it in the picture below.

The NICU helicopter transfer team arrived, ready to whisk her away.

The NICU team was a wonder to me. They were so fast and direct and impressive. They ran a series of tests and in the end announced, "her lungs are clear. her breathing is strong. we think it's best for her to stay with her mom" And they packed up their things and flew away, leaving Harriet in my arms. No one could account for her miraculous recovery. Everyone was waiting for her to falter after she had been fed, but she never did. She didn't cough anything up. She never cried. And yet her lungs were clear of all fluid. It was inexplicable.

And I had my baby in my arms.

Finally things calmed down. The nurse took her foot prints. Ali took lots of pictures and then my sister and Rory's folks arrived, and we moved to the recovery room where my parents and our kids met us. It was a time of joyful introductions.

And then everyone left and Rory and I were alone with our little Harriet Joy for the very first time. It was quiet in the room, we had our baby in our arms and then we looked at each other and cried. A big, big cry. All the fear we felt when they told us she couldn't breath on her own, the exhaustion of a three day labor, the questioning if we were hearing God's voice at all, the disappointment of not having a home birth, the frustration that the baby would not get into position...it all made sense. We needed to be at the hospital. We needed God to write this story. We cried with gratitude, with relief, with thanksgiving and with love overflowing for the little life that had been trying her best the whole time.

We recounted all that happened after she was born, remembering the details, asking each other what the other heard and saw. We cried and held our daughter close. Knowing we were holding a miracle.

Harriet's birth story, part 3: baby spinning

Alrighty! Part One got us to the point where my water broke. Part Two got us to the point where we headed to the hospital. Part Three is all about the six most athletic hours of my life. I'm smiling in the picture above because I have no idea what is ahead. And because I had just ordered a bowl of oatmeal off the hospital menu, and I loved ordering off that fancy menu.

We got to the hospital and I felt so welcome there. I didn't know if I would...we were a home birth that was now showing up without any doctor that had me on their charts. But the administrator who ran the birthing wing was incredibly warm and kind to me. And the nurse we had actually had birthed two of her four babies at home, so there was no stigma with her either. In fact, she was really knowledgeable in all sorts of baby spinning techniques, as we tried to get this baby to get into position to come into the world. I had read a bit about these maneuvers so I sort of knew what was coming.

They checked me and I was dilated to a three. They hooked up the pitocin and before we started the baby spinning I took the traditional walk down the hospital hallways.

I'd caption that picture above, "get back into life! With depends!" Because I was still wearing them... And then I'd caption the picture below, "I'm a good sport!" This smile was before the pitocin really kicked in. Also, it's strange to remember that between contractions life is bearable. The pain is not constant. Which is nice of it. I seem to forget this fact (that there is relief between contractions) from baby to baby.

But then the contractions come. And they do hurt. Oh land, they hurt so bad. My favorite birthing position was in the glider rocker, singing quietly little falsetto melodies to the music we were listening to. We were playing the new Sara Groves album (Floodplain) and the new Andrew Peterson album (The Burning Edge of Dawn). Both of which are incredible. And since they were brand new to us, I was listening to the words with great concentration. My little falsetto melodies went along with the songs and somehow the singing and the rocking lessened the pain for me.

Along with the contractions hurting like craaaazy was the penicillin IV that I had in case of strep. I hadn't been tested for strep and because we didn't know if I was positive they administered the penicillin as a precaution. And man that IV killed going into my arm. It burned on the way in and my arm felt like it might explode.

My nurse had me doing all sorts of things with my legs and belly. At one point she had me squatting as low as I could with Rory standing behind me holding my belly up from behind as securely as he could. Folks, I don't do squats on a good day, let alone through a series of three contractions, multiple times in a row. In the picture above, one leg is swung off the bed. We did other exercises with the medicine ball and after six hours of pure athleticism they checked me again and I was dilated to a four. After all that, I had earned one centimeter. I was discouraged and exhausted and called mercy. Which translated to: epidural. 

At 7:30 the lady with the epidural showed up. She told me I should be able to still feel my toes with the epidural. But a few minutes later I couldn't feel a thing from my belly button down and I could not have been happier. They kept one leg up on a medicine ball (under the sheets) still hoping the baby would get into position. They turned me every hour, changing the leg on the medicine ball. The epidural made me throw up (it has with all three kids) a total of twelve times and after a while it was obvious this baby was still not coming anytime soon. We decided to sleep for a while. Thankfully we didn't know it would still be eleven more hours before our baby would be born.

Harriet's birth story, part 2: hopeful for a home birth

Part one of this birth story got us to the gun shot: my water finally broke! Being so late I assumed that if my water did break, this labor would go quickly. But it didn't.

All night long I had a back contraction about every hour or so. It was sort of lame. I knew things were starting up, but it wasn't all that intense. We were planning for a home birth (another story for another day!) so Rory inflated the birthing tub. But things were so slow we didn't fill it with water. In fact, we woke up in the morning and things felt so relaxed that we decided to take the kids to preschool. Upon seeing the tub in living room Ivar happily danced around, pleased that there was a swimming pool in our house. And Elsie crawled behind the couch and cried and cried. She knew her world was about to change in a mighty way...

It was letter D week at preschool so I told the kids they could bring in one of mama's "duh, duh, diapers" and they respectfully declined. They went to school and one of our midwives came over and checked me and told us what we should be looking for as our next step.

Rory got the kids Happy Meals after he got them from school and then my mom came and picked the kids up to take back to their house which left Rory and I in our house alone. And it was really nice. And quiet. We had already walked our road in the morning, and then decided to take another walk to the apple trees. But once there we decided to walk into the harvested soybean field and in the end we walked about a mile to the end of the field and found a big rock by a pond and then a mile back to our house. It was so lovely and peaceful. We were so excited for all that was to come. This walk felt like a little baby moon for us...it was sweet to have such a long and peaceful day to prepare for all that was ahead.

When we got home we remembered the acorn squash we had left in the oven. And we were glad we didn't burn our home down just before our home birth.

Rory went to Cub to get some groceries and later that night we got into a fight. Looking back I'd say we both had reasonable arguments. And that we were getting a bit stressed out that things weren't moving along. I think our fears were coming out sideways...at each other. In the end, we watched more interviews with the Back to Eden gardening guy that we like so much. I slept fairly well again. Just waking every hour or so with a back contraction, but nothing unbearable. And I was ready for unbearable.

We woke on Tuesday morning a bit more annoyed that things hadn't progressed overnight. We had passed the 24 hour mark with my broken water and there were no signs we were moving forward. I called our midwives again and the other midwife came to check the position of the baby. She told us that the baby was malpositioned, face up, fist under its chin, elbow extended out and still way up in the birth canal. The midwife explained that the baby was not on my cervix, which is what really causes to contractions to get going. Contractions were what would help get the baby into position. But without the baby being in position the contractions wouldn't start. We were in a holding pattern.

Given the amount of time my water had been broken it seemed best to go and get contractions started with pitocin at the hospital. And truly I was relieved. We had hoped to have this baby at home, but I had always said if we ended up at the hospital then that was exactly where we needed to be. And so we packed a suitcase and got in the car.

But it was so confusing. We really felt like we had been called to home birth. It's hard to explain but through so many confirmations I felt nothing but peace and excitement to have the baby at home. We had thought we were doing the right thing. And now we were left doubting if we had heard right or not. This is a tricky place in faith...when you step out and are left unsure.

What we didn't know was that we were right in the middle of a bigger plan, and that getting us to the hospital was going to be very important in the end. But sometimes when you're in the middle of your story, it's hard to understand why things are happening the way they are happening...

Harriet's birth story, part 1

Hattie is four weeks old today! Amazing! Life has been so full since she came. The first weekend we welcomed the kids home with us. The second weekend we celebrated Maddie's wedding. The third weekend I was down with mastitis and the forth weekend we trick-or-treated and celebrated Ivar's 5th birthday. These weeks have flown by. But here we are and I am committed to writing out her birth story...the story of the hours leading up to her arrival. This post today will be the abridged version. For some of you, this will be sufficient. But for my own memory keeping and for the few of you who love the details, I'm going to tell all the details over the next couple of days. 

There is so much suspense wrapped up in labor and delivery because you simply do not have any idea how it is all going to unfold. You just can't know. And after this last labor, I would say that it is God's good grace that you don't know how it's going to unfold.

Every phase of Harriet's labor felt a little too long and a little too eventful so that at each new stage Rory and I would think, "alright. surely now we've turned a corner. things should go smoother." But they never really did.

A quick overview by the numbers: When she finally made her earthly debut, Harriet was 10 days past her due date. It had been 54 hours since my water had broken, 37 of which were at home where I burned through a 24 pack of Depends. We ended up at the hospital where I enjoyed 17 hours of pitocin-induced contractions: 6 of those hours were the most athletic hours of my life, balancing on exercise balls, doing squats and lunges, all in an effort to get the baby to move into position. 11 of those hours were with a blessed epidural that unfortunately made me throw up 12 times. I pushed for over 1 hour and finally my 9 pound, 4 ounce baby with a head circumference of 15 inches was born.

And I was 1 exhausted mama. (This is also where a whole other story begins, but today I'm just writing about her labor and delivery.)

So you see, if a woman knew what her story was going to be before the whole shebang began, she might just cry. But you don't know it while living it, and that's definitely best.

On Sunday night of that week I stayed up late. We were seven days overdue and the birth felt imminent, even though it had felt imminent for over a week. I had posted this funny picture of me above on facebook and was getting lots of fun feedback which was good entertainment. I decided to read through Psalm 91 again, the Psalm that had come to mean so much to me and bring me so much comfort all throughout this pregnancy. And as I finished I closed my Bible, stood up from our reading chair and felt my water break.

I was so thrilled! Finally! I ran to the bathroom and then ran to Rory to tell him the happy news. This party was finally starting!