Ada's birth story
Because I have celiac disease the OBGYN in North Carolina classified me as high-risk with my pregnancy and didn't want me to go past my due date because of some possible complications. So my induction was set for October 13, 2017 at 11 a.m. at UNC Medical Center. I hoped that we wouldn't have to wait that long, but after 5 and a half days hanging out with my mom [she came to NC Saturday night and stayed with us until about 9 days after Ada was born], we prepped to go into the hospital the morning of the 13th.
My mom and I drove ourselves over to the hospital and left the car with the valet, then I was checked in and got started on vitals and everything else before they started giving me Pitocin. M came about an hour later after a class and job fair, and we all hung out watching a movie, listening to music, chatting, snacking and seeing how baby and I were doing as the Pitocin entered my system [starting at about 1 p.m.]. The nurse at the time was Raj and she was awesome! From Nepal and so understanding and chatty, she did what she could to take care of us from the beginning. The contractions started getting more intense a few hours in, and I started doing different breathing exercises and bouncing on the yoga ball with M's help until I decided I should get an epidural.
The epidural was a little bit of a traumatic experience, with the anesthesiologist not really seeming to know exactly what to do, leading to several painful pricks in the back, some tears shed and my mother and M being quite distraught about the situation. Finally, it was finished after at least 15 scary minutes of trying to hold still and not sob, it was done. Of course, within minutes I knew it hadn't really taken well on my right side, and over the next few hours, there were several instances of another doctor coming in to periodically try to fix it. I had about an hour in the later evening where I was so drugged I could almost feel nothing, except for complete euphoria.
I had been at 3 centimeters when I came into the hospital and had had my membranes swept a week before, and was fairly effaced. After a few hours of Pitocin, I was at 6 centimeters and moving along quite well. Soon after the epidural being fixed a few doctors came in and introduced themselves as those in the unit for the night shift started, and our nurses were switched out so that we had Robin. The doctors wanted to break my water around 9 or 10 p.m. but we had to wait for a certain amount of time after the epidural, so we waited and pretty soon after doing so I was at a 10!! We were ready!! They propped the bed at an angle so that gravity could help move the baby down some, and I was there about 30 minutes or so before they started to prep me for pushing.
I was told before it began that it can take 10-15 minutes to get used to the idea of how to push and that it can take up to 4 hours to push the baby out. I was NOT stoked about the possibilities but we started and Robin and M were my rocks through it all. She taught us the way I would need to breathe through contractions as I held my own knees up and pushed [three chunks of 10-second intervals]. I was put into different positions every 30 minutes or so, but I did my best on my left side. I pushed and pushed and pushed and I was sweating and dripping and had to have my hair slicked back, and I threw up a few times, and I cried and I got my epidural fixed a little bit, but two hours in I was feeling most everything in my right side. I could feel pain traveling down my backside every time I pushed, and they started to say they could see baby's head.
This was it!! I couldn't believe that our own child was going to be in the world, with us, breathing the same air filling that warm, golden hospital room full of life and electricity and energy, while so much of the surrounding world was dark and asleep and unaware that new life was coming into the world from me!!
But unfortunately, I didn't have a lot of time to focus on this and was in enough pain that my main focus was that I was the only person who could get my baby out and into the world. I was the one who needed to focus and push and push and push and push...even though it felt like I had been pushing for years and baby would just stay where she was forever.
I was starting to really get tired but I kept pushing as hard as I physically could because I didn't have time to dwell on the heaviness of this incredible thing I was a part of; at one point they told me I could reach down and feel her head if I wanted, and I did—it was so much squishier and soft than I imagined! It was wet and warm and I could feel that little bit of hair she was born with, and it was absolutely overwhelming and I had every bit of my breath leave my lungs for a minute, I was touching my firstborn for the first time, her skin, her hair, her head. I knew that I could do it after that, I knew I had it in me to help her into the world.
The doctor made it in about 10 pushing sessions before baby came, and by the end, I had a complete cheerleading squad of pediatric nurses and doctors and L&D nurses and help. My mom had been walking around the outskirts of the room, with a mask over her face because of her asthma cough, and I had seen tears coming down her face a few times when I would get glimpses of her in the middle of the crazy. M was there by my side the entire time, supporting me, and watching the baby slowly come.
I could feel her start to come out and once her head was out it only took once more for her to come into the world, with M catching her on the way out. She was blue and quiet but full of life, more alive than anyone or anything I had ever seen before. They held her up and will never forget that first look at her perfect body and big eyes and what I thought was a round head (it was quite coned at the back at first, but I didn't realize at the time, haha). They let us touch and hold her for a second, but took her to check since she wasn't screaming or breathing much right away. The birth had been fairly traumatic for her, I believe now, and it's no wonder. I pushed for nearly 3 hours, and she was "sunny-side up," meaning she was faced upwards, not down, like babies are supposed to come, to make it easier to move through and out of the birth canal. So her face had been pushed against my tailbone the entire time, meaning it looked perfect and unblemished, while the back of her head remained a deep purple bruised for a few weeks. It was hard to take her hat off sometimes to see it because it looked so painful on her brand-new, baby soft skin.
They quickly gave her back to us and she laid on my chest for what felt like a million of the best years of my life, and she just stared at us. It was incredible how focused and alert she was; she even lifted her head to look up and stare right into my eyes, and then into M's. We just watched her and held her, and she was still a part of me, and it was incredible and powerful. She was so serene. (We learned within 24 hours that she was a lot louder and could be a lot less serene, but the moment was something I could never forget).
I was so tired and they took a while to sew me up, but I didn't care, because she was with us. We tried having her nurse and she was a champ and latched and got some colostrum and got sleepy. M wrapped her up, they put a hat on her head, and they handed her to me as they wheeled us to our recovery room. She lay in a little clear bassinet while I lay in a bed, unable to stand by myself yet since the epidural had worked well enough on my left side to numb that leg entirely. Matt lay on the little couch and we all fell asleep, but not before I lifted myself to look down at her and take my first picture (of millions and millions) of my precious and perfect and astounding new child. Then I rested. For the last time in a while :)
It took me so long to get this done because I loved remembering it (in hindsight at least, with the pushing part) and taking time, but meant to have it done by her first birthday. I forgot until I looked on here that it was almost complete! So here it is for me to forever remember --not that I could forget.
My mom and I drove ourselves over to the hospital and left the car with the valet, then I was checked in and got started on vitals and everything else before they started giving me Pitocin. M came about an hour later after a class and job fair, and we all hung out watching a movie, listening to music, chatting, snacking and seeing how baby and I were doing as the Pitocin entered my system [starting at about 1 p.m.]. The nurse at the time was Raj and she was awesome! From Nepal and so understanding and chatty, she did what she could to take care of us from the beginning. The contractions started getting more intense a few hours in, and I started doing different breathing exercises and bouncing on the yoga ball with M's help until I decided I should get an epidural.
The epidural was a little bit of a traumatic experience, with the anesthesiologist not really seeming to know exactly what to do, leading to several painful pricks in the back, some tears shed and my mother and M being quite distraught about the situation. Finally, it was finished after at least 15 scary minutes of trying to hold still and not sob, it was done. Of course, within minutes I knew it hadn't really taken well on my right side, and over the next few hours, there were several instances of another doctor coming in to periodically try to fix it. I had about an hour in the later evening where I was so drugged I could almost feel nothing, except for complete euphoria.
I had been at 3 centimeters when I came into the hospital and had had my membranes swept a week before, and was fairly effaced. After a few hours of Pitocin, I was at 6 centimeters and moving along quite well. Soon after the epidural being fixed a few doctors came in and introduced themselves as those in the unit for the night shift started, and our nurses were switched out so that we had Robin. The doctors wanted to break my water around 9 or 10 p.m. but we had to wait for a certain amount of time after the epidural, so we waited and pretty soon after doing so I was at a 10!! We were ready!! They propped the bed at an angle so that gravity could help move the baby down some, and I was there about 30 minutes or so before they started to prep me for pushing.
I was told before it began that it can take 10-15 minutes to get used to the idea of how to push and that it can take up to 4 hours to push the baby out. I was NOT stoked about the possibilities but we started and Robin and M were my rocks through it all. She taught us the way I would need to breathe through contractions as I held my own knees up and pushed [three chunks of 10-second intervals]. I was put into different positions every 30 minutes or so, but I did my best on my left side. I pushed and pushed and pushed and I was sweating and dripping and had to have my hair slicked back, and I threw up a few times, and I cried and I got my epidural fixed a little bit, but two hours in I was feeling most everything in my right side. I could feel pain traveling down my backside every time I pushed, and they started to say they could see baby's head.
This was it!! I couldn't believe that our own child was going to be in the world, with us, breathing the same air filling that warm, golden hospital room full of life and electricity and energy, while so much of the surrounding world was dark and asleep and unaware that new life was coming into the world from me!!
But unfortunately, I didn't have a lot of time to focus on this and was in enough pain that my main focus was that I was the only person who could get my baby out and into the world. I was the one who needed to focus and push and push and push and push...even though it felt like I had been pushing for years and baby would just stay where she was forever.
I was starting to really get tired but I kept pushing as hard as I physically could because I didn't have time to dwell on the heaviness of this incredible thing I was a part of; at one point they told me I could reach down and feel her head if I wanted, and I did—it was so much squishier and soft than I imagined! It was wet and warm and I could feel that little bit of hair she was born with, and it was absolutely overwhelming and I had every bit of my breath leave my lungs for a minute, I was touching my firstborn for the first time, her skin, her hair, her head. I knew that I could do it after that, I knew I had it in me to help her into the world.
The doctor made it in about 10 pushing sessions before baby came, and by the end, I had a complete cheerleading squad of pediatric nurses and doctors and L&D nurses and help. My mom had been walking around the outskirts of the room, with a mask over her face because of her asthma cough, and I had seen tears coming down her face a few times when I would get glimpses of her in the middle of the crazy. M was there by my side the entire time, supporting me, and watching the baby slowly come.
I could feel her start to come out and once her head was out it only took once more for her to come into the world, with M catching her on the way out. She was blue and quiet but full of life, more alive than anyone or anything I had ever seen before. They held her up and will never forget that first look at her perfect body and big eyes and what I thought was a round head (it was quite coned at the back at first, but I didn't realize at the time, haha). They let us touch and hold her for a second, but took her to check since she wasn't screaming or breathing much right away. The birth had been fairly traumatic for her, I believe now, and it's no wonder. I pushed for nearly 3 hours, and she was "sunny-side up," meaning she was faced upwards, not down, like babies are supposed to come, to make it easier to move through and out of the birth canal. So her face had been pushed against my tailbone the entire time, meaning it looked perfect and unblemished, while the back of her head remained a deep purple bruised for a few weeks. It was hard to take her hat off sometimes to see it because it looked so painful on her brand-new, baby soft skin.
They quickly gave her back to us and she laid on my chest for what felt like a million of the best years of my life, and she just stared at us. It was incredible how focused and alert she was; she even lifted her head to look up and stare right into my eyes, and then into M's. We just watched her and held her, and she was still a part of me, and it was incredible and powerful. She was so serene. (We learned within 24 hours that she was a lot louder and could be a lot less serene, but the moment was something I could never forget).
I was so tired and they took a while to sew me up, but I didn't care, because she was with us. We tried having her nurse and she was a champ and latched and got some colostrum and got sleepy. M wrapped her up, they put a hat on her head, and they handed her to me as they wheeled us to our recovery room. She lay in a little clear bassinet while I lay in a bed, unable to stand by myself yet since the epidural had worked well enough on my left side to numb that leg entirely. Matt lay on the little couch and we all fell asleep, but not before I lifted myself to look down at her and take my first picture (of millions and millions) of my precious and perfect and astounding new child. Then I rested. For the last time in a while :)
It took me so long to get this done because I loved remembering it (in hindsight at least, with the pushing part) and taking time, but meant to have it done by her first birthday. I forgot until I looked on here that it was almost complete! So here it is for me to forever remember --not that I could forget.
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