Emmeline's Birth Story

Monday the 21st of January (my last day of pregnancy) started out as a pretty normal day. (I was scheduled to be induced the next morning. I was told to call at 5:30 a.m. and that unless there was a huge influx of laboring women, I would be told to come in around 7:00 a.m.)

I got up, put on my compressions socks, and did a combination of cleaning and relaxing, waiting until my parents came into town later that day to be there for the big day.

Eric had to go to his last day of work at 4 pm. He mentioned how much he didn't want to go to work, and just wanted to be with me and hang with me and my parents later. I told him he could just call in and stay home, I mean I was going to have a baby the next day. But he decided to go to work anyways.

My parents got there around 5:00 p.m. We ran a few errands, getting some last minute stuff for the baby and then went to dinner at Jaliscos.

Funnily enough, I've heard that eating spicy food can put you into labor. Old Wive's Tale? Probably. But since I don't handle spicy foods--at all, I didn't eat anything that could have been a culprit.

However, ironically I DID start having contractions immediately after dinner at about 7:30 p.m. Since contractions had never stuck around for me before, I didn't bother counting. We went back to our apartment and started watching The Amazing Spiderman.

The contractions continued, and I started secretly timing my contractions--I didn't want to say anything to my parents unless they seemed like the real deal.

When all of a sudden, I saw something moving in the corner and screamed and jumped when I realized it was a MOUSE! (Eric likes to say that the mouse put me into labor.)

Of all things to happen at that moment...

Of course my mom freaks out too, and both of us pulled our feet onto the couch, paused the movie and cowered there while my dad set out to find the nasty thing.

Luckily we had some mouse traps that my dad was able to use. I finally announced that I was having contractions. It was getting hard to disguise the pain and the fact that I was having a hard time conversing every few minutes. My mom and I continued to time my contractions, while my dad was busy catching the mouse.

He cornered the mouse in the baby's nursery (shudder) and was able to trick it into running into a trap. It took him about 45 minutes, and in the meantime my contractions got closer and more intense.

At about that time I texted Eric and told him I was having regular contractions and that he should probably come home soon.

About 15 minutes later, they really started to hurt, so I called him and told him to come home immediately.

I was dying by the time Eric got there, it was all I could do to stay on the couch, huddled up in a ball.

Everyone finished getting all of our stuff together and we took off for the hospital. The 30 minute ride was pretty awful. Eric called his dad to let him know that we were going to the hospital. While Eric was on the phone, I realized that he was only going 65 mph! Are you freaking kidding me, I needed to get there asap! So I said in not the nicest tone, "Do you think you could go faster than 65 mph?!?" Of course then he sped up to about 75 :)

We got to the hospital at about 10:30 p.m. Since it was after hours we had to go to the emergency entrance.

I was so relieved when they finally brought around the humongous wheel chair, but with the construction going on and the two elevator rides I swear it took like 10 minutes to get the labor and delivery unit.

DISCLAIMER: This is where people who don't want to hear TMI, should probably stop reading :)

Once there a less than cordial nurse told me to take everything off and get into the gown. Everything? I think not, I don't go anywhere without my bra, not even to the delivery room, besides after doing lots of research, there is no real reason why I shouldn't be allowed to wear one unless my delivery got complicated, and most hospitals couldn't care less if you did. I know this is weird, but keeping my bra was a big deal to me. The nurse came back in and when she discovered I still had my bra on, she scolded me and said, "I told you to take everything off."

To which, for probably one of the only times in my life, I stood up for myself when confronted with a mean stranger. (I talk big, but I cower during confrontation, unless it's family...) I explained that I had read that there was no reason why I shouldn't be allowed to.

She said that because of the metal in the bra that I wouldn't be allowed to, in case of a c-section, and that the anesthesiologists (wow, I spelled that right on the first try--I'm impressed with myself) don't like to work around it. So to appease her, I took it off for the time being (though I deliberately turned around to do it--making a point that my modesty is important to me).

She checked me out and found that I was 4.5 centimeters dilated, and they decided to admit me. (I mean even if I wasn't quite that far along, were they really going to make me go home... I was scheduled to be induced 7 hours later anyways.) I was happy that at least all those painful contractions had accomplished something. She then proceeded to ask me like one-hundred-billion questions. And she didn't seem to care that I could hardly talk during my contractions.

I really did not appreciate this nurse's attitude. I wish I had remembered her name, because I would have contacted her supervisor. I understand that she sees hundreds of delivering moms, and that it was just a routine for her. But having a baby was not routine for me, and I think nurses should be sensitive to that.

The nurse then said that my midwife wanted me to be at a 5 before they called her in and that I should walk around for about a half an hour. 

Walk around without a bra and only some thin hospital gowns on, I think not! As soon as that sorry excuse for a nurse left, I put my bra back on. HA!

At that point walking was painful. I could only hobble around in-between contractions, and had to sit or practically collapse in Eric's arms during contractions. But I persevered for about 15 minutes, before I decided that I had had enough, and that I was going to eventually get to a 5 whether I walked or not. I could tell that I was progressing hard and fast, and I didn't think it was going to slow down (thank you Evening Primrose and Raspberry leaf tea!).

11:30 p.m.

We went back to the room, and when they checked me out again, they went ahead and called the midwife and we got things going. By this time I really wanted/needed my epidural, but apparently I had to get my IV in and get some fluid in before I could get my epidural! Goodness they could have just gotten all of this started when I first came in, because I would have been at a 5 by the time I would have been ready for the epidural anyways.

Getting the IV in was one of the worst parts, I hate IVs, they are just so creepy and I hate, hate the feeling of the fluid seeping into me.

12:30 a.m.

I was eager for the epidural but also terrified. The anesthesiologist showed up and I was worried that he might tell me I needed to take off my bra. But to my delight he didn't even bat an eye, just threaded the tube through my bra :) "Ha, take that, nurse"--the exact words that went through my head at that moment. But, thankfully some other wonderful nurse had taken over at this point. That one nurse had just rubbed wrong in every way possible, and I think it would have made the whole experience that much more difficult if she had stuck around.

I squeezed my eyes shut, tensed my body, and clung onto Eric's hands, and waited for the needle...and it really wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Phew!

It started to take effect fairly quickly, and I was relieved. Eric went to go get my parents, who had been waiting in the hall this whole time. Now that I had my epidural, I could visit comfortably, which we did for awhile.

All ready to go. Oh my, I was so swollen!

It was interesting to watch the rise and fall of my contractions on the monitor. But every once in awhile baby girl's heart rate would drop, and the nurse and midwife Courtney would rush in to adjust me to get it to go back to normal (which is no small feat when you can't move half your body). At one point, I had to have the oxygen--which just made me a hot, sweaty mess.

Intermittently, Eric would feed me ice chips--the only thing I could eat/drink, but boy was I thirsty!

Approx. 2:30 a.m.

But then I started to get pretty tired, and I wanted to sleep, but I couldn't seem to quite get there. So it was time to break out Anne of Green Gables (my go-to, cure-all for every painful, sleepless, troubling time in my life). I was appalled that some of the nurses had to ask what it was. Really, it's a wonder to me how women get through life without Anne of Green Gables in their life.

Approx 3:00 a.m.

But I only got to watch about 30 minutes of it before the contractions started to get pretty painful again, and I had Eric pause it because the noise was too much. I had to concentrate to get through the contractions again, and I was watching the contraction monitor like a hawk, waiting for the the descent of each one. I had already been "self-administering" extra epidural juice quite liberally, and it just wasn't taking the edge off, so I asked for more drugs :)

The anesthesiologist came back and said that he couldn't really do more epidural-wise, but he gave me some different drugs to try to take the edge off. Which it did, but it was still somewhat painful.

Approx 3:30 a.m. (parents left to go wait it out in the waiting room)

Courtney checked and I was dilated to a 9.5! Wow, yay, things were progressing fast! We weren't quite ready to push, but Courtney went ahead and broke my water. At which point we discovered that baby girl had decided she couldn't wait, and had gone poo in utero, leaving my water a pukey green color. At least that is what Eric told me, I couldn't see it and was glad of it! Ick!

At this point Courtney told us that because baby girl had gone #2, two things could happen:

A) Baby girl comes out crying and all is good, and things happen normally.

or

B) Baby girl doesn't come out crying--which means she may have ingested some of her own poo (yeah, that's right, her own poo! Gross!), in which case they will not "spank" her and try to make her cry, instead they will hand her over to some NICU nurses who will be standing by to pump her stomach. SCARY! I acted all cool about it, but I was pretty worried.

4:00 a.m.

Push time=longest and worst hour and a half of my life!

Yep, you heard that right, I pushed for 1 hour and 30 minutes! Before I started pushing Courtney told me that the average push time for first time moms is 2 hours. I call bull! Every other mom I talked to pushed in the ball park of 15-20 minutes! Some, only pushed 2 or 3 times total! Total! I don't even know how many times I pushed! Dozens at least. And epidural or no epidural, pushing was painful! I'm sure the epidural helped some, I'm just not exactly sure how, 'cuz I. Was. In. So. Much. Pain.

At one point I started to cry and told, pleaded with Eric, "I just want to be done, I just want it to be over with."

5:15 a.m.

At one point a contraction came (at least those weren't very painful), and I just didn't push. Courtney asked me if I didn't feel the contraction, and then when she saw the sheepish look on my face she said, "Or did you just not want to push?"

I confessed that I didn't want to push.

To try and reassure me and get me to keep pushing Eric said, "She'll be here in 15 minutes."

And she was.

Emmeline Grace decided to grace us with her presence at 5:29 am (Eric was quite impressed with the accuracy of his prediction.) We thought it was quite ironic that was she was born at the time the hospital suggested we call to get our induction time.

My first thought was relief, relief that I was done pushing, relief that that pressure was gone. Sadly, I didn't even think about Emmeline for probably half a minute, I was just too relieved. And in my relief I didn't even realize that they had already whisked Emmeline over to the NICU nurses, it all happened so quickly. So quickly, in fact that Eric didn't get to cut the umbilical cord. Emmeline wasn't crying when she came out, so Courtney quickly cut the chord and handed her over per option B.

The NICU nurses had her in an incubator. And I could see Emmeline's backside, but I didn't know what was going on. I remember asking, "What's going on, is she ok?"

And when no one responded, I told Eric to go over there and watch her. But, it was suddenly a little too much for Eric, and he needed to sit down for a minute and catch his breath.

Eric said when he looked over at Emmeline, he saw a nurse shove a very long tub down Emmeline's throat, and he couldn't keep watching.

Finally Emmeline was crying, and a nurse was patting her quite hard on her back.

Her first APGAR test was a 4, but her second test was a 9. So, despite the quick little scare, she was perfectly fine.

After Courtney saw the state of the placenta, which apparently was really calcified and very old, told us that she was surprised at how well Emmeline was doing considering how bad the placenta looked--we felt very blessed. Courtney then asked if I wanted to see the placenta. Really? Gross, no way! Lol.

Finally doing great and weighed in at 8lbs 1 oz.

Emmeline didn't fuss too much once she was doing okay, which surprised me. I assumed that a baby would just cry at least until they were bundled up and held.

She weighed 8 lbs 1 oz. Which everyone kept saying was SUCH a big baby. That somewhat miffed me. I didn't think she was overly large, I thought she was perfect. Besides, I think it is so unjust that 7 lbs and 15 oz is a normal weight, but 8 lbs is a large baby.

She was 19.5 inches tall. She already has height on me. I was 18 inches when I was born.

And then finally, I got to hold my baby girl. It felt like it had been so long! When in reality it had probably been only about 10 minutes or so.

The mean nurse came back into the room with the NICU nurses towards the end and was actually the one to hand me Emmeline. The nurse reached over and started undoing my gown (excuse me!). But I got the last laugh, because when she pulled back the corner of my gown she said, "Oh, I see you got that bra back on." To which I sweetly replied, "Yep." and took my baby from her.

She came out pretty hungry and was mad that I couldn't feed her right away. I tore pretty badly and needed stitches, but Courtney didn't feel too confident doing it herself, so she called the physician on call, and we had to wait for him to come and then it took him about 20-30 minutes. I held her the whole time, but since I was still lying down I couldn't feed her. At first she was fine cuddling, but she grew increasingly frustrated with her unsuccessful rooting.

 And how bad is this? I honestly can't remember which came first. Did they bathe her before or after they first gave her to me? No idea.

I debated a lot about whether or not to post this picture, but I've decided that swollen-ness and partial immodesty aside, I love this picture

I love how content she looks getting her first bath.

Those cheeks!

The nurses kept saying how pink she was. Most newborns have some yellow tinge to their skin, and a fair amount have jaundice. I guess I haven't seen that many newborns to understand the rarity of pink skin. But she certainly had/has beautifully pink and flawless skin. I know this is silly and shallow, but I was so worried that she wouldn't be cute. (I don't believe all babies are cute, some are downright weird looking.) I was so happy when she came out so cute and with gorgeous strawberry blond hair.

They got her all dolled up, and she looked so beautiful!

I wanted a picture of me holding her, but was conflicted with how fat, nasty, and swollen I was feeling that I wouldn't look at the camera, lol. 

Daddy and daughter

With her Grandma Daun

With her Grandpa Daun

Emmeline in her going home outfit--well the one we ended up using. Don't laugh, but I brought three to the hospital.

Though it was definitely an adjustment, Eric and I simply love our little Emmeline and can't imagine life without her!