I will preface this by saying I'm writing it not just to share with
anyone interested but moreso so I can remember as many details as
possible for myself and share the story with Mills if she ever wants to
hear it :) So, it is super long, and I'm sure there are plenty of
seemingly irrelevant or boring portions.
We had been painting at the new house for a few days, and I was
spending a lot of time and energy in Mills' room painting purple
stripes; the kid'd better like 'em!
All the standing, bending and
crouching was really taking a toll on me, and my feet, ankles, and even
calves had begun to swell.
At the weekly potluck dinner on Wednesday the 11th, after spending
hours at the house, my feet and legs weren't just swollen; the swelling
hurt, too. All I wanted to do was put my feet up and relax! I couldn't
pass on that week's southern-themed meal though, so I pushed through!
The chicken and dumplings were so worth it.
The next day, I felt that I needed to be painting, but Greg was
pretty adamant that I should stay off my feet, and so was my mom who
said I must have been overdoing it recently. I decided I'd at least make
the oreo truffles I'd planned to take to a baby shower I was helping
with the next day. That way, on Friday, all I'd have to do is make an
entree. I also went ahead and put the carseat in the base, which was
already installed in the car. I threw in a baby blanket and a towel,
too- the towel to sit on just in case my water broke whenever we headed
to the hospital (although I never expected my water to break outside the
hospital). Well, anyway, Greg decided to stay off his feet that day,
too, and it was making me antsy that Mills would be here within two
weeks, and we had so much to do but were just sitting around the
apartment! That night, I could NOT take it anymore; I had to do
SOMETHING productive. Nesting was in full force as I vacuumed the
apartment, cleaned the bathroom as best as I could, did some laundry,
cleared off and dusted our bedside tables, and added a few things to my
hospital bag. Finally, after midnight, once I'd decided I'd done enough
and didn't feel like watching tv, I started getting ready for bed. It
was about 1230 that I lost my mucus plug. I was excited because it meant
I really was getting closer to meeting baby Mills, but I'd read it
wasn't a very good predictor of when labor would start, so I didn't
think too too much of it. I did tell Greg though, referring to a line
from the movie "Knocked Up" about reallyyyy not needing to know there
was a mucus plug ;) Greg immediately (but skeptically) asked if I'd be
going in to labor that night. I told him it could be hours or weeks (as
I'd read) and laughed, telling him I didn't think it was the night. So
off I went to bed, falling asleep around 130 or so.
At 330, I woke up suddenly. I was... leaking. I instantly sat
straight up and stated matter-of-factly, "My water broke." For me, there
was no mistaking it, especially considering that the small trickle
turned into a major gush as I sat up. Greg was hilarious. His reaction
was similar to when I told him I was pregnant, something like "What!?!
Are you kidding me??" I told him I was leaking sommmmething and urgently
said I needed a towel. I'm surprised we hadn't already put towels under
the sheets because Greg had been worried about getting his fancy
mattress soaked with baby water. I guess neither of us thought it would
happen anytime soon though because we weren't prepared. Because I'd read
the stats favor it being the other way around, I also didn't really
believe my water would break prior to having contractions. Anyway, Greg
leapt out of bed and scrambled to get a towel as I burst out laughing at
the flood I was creating and at my husband running back and forth
grabbing towel upon towel.
The moment was surreal. We knew what it meant: we were finally having
our baby. I called my mom and older sister right away because they were
seven to eight hours away and wanted to have a chance to beat baby
Mills to Nashville. Mom happened to be awake, having just flown in from
India two days before and still suffering from a screwy sleep pattern,
and she was on the road within an hour. My sister had to work two 12hr
shifts that weekend and wasn't going to be able to get out of them and
get her family ready to go in such a short amount of time. She stayed in
Virginia but was involved through phone calls, texts, and Skype, and
she kept the rest of my family up to date on what was happening.
Back to the action: Greg was ready to head to the hospital right
away, thinking that's what we were supposed to and should do, but I
wasn't having contractions yet. He told me he had justtt gotten into bed
when my water broke, so I told him to try to rest, and I took a shower
before calling the midwives at about 345am.
The midwife told me I should wait until I was contracting every five
minutes and then call back, so while waiting for contractions to
start/pick up, I bounced and rolled back and forth on my big yoga ball
in front of the tv, singing along to Katy Perry on the "Hits" music
channel. At one point, Greg came out and asked "What's going on out
here?" Just a laboring pregnant lady rockin out on the yoga ball...
I timed my subtle contractions and once they averaged five minutes
apart (about 6am), I called back. The midwife wanted me to talk to her
through a contraction, which I could have done easily, but when I told
her the pain was only a 2 (which was an exagerration at that point, but I
wanted her to tell me it was time to go!), she said she didn't even
need to hear me and knew I wasn't contracting strongly enough. She asked
if I'd still been feeling baby move, and I really hadn't noticed any
movement since before I'd gone to bed. I was a little worried, so I lay
down and focused on Millie and tried to rest. As a lay on my back, my
stomach looked a lot smaller without all the fluid in there. I put my
hands on Mills and talked to her, and she finally made some small
movements- relief!
It didn't take long after talking to the midwife for contractions to
become stronger. I lay in bed facing Greg talking with him about the
contractions and what we should do, finally deciding that since we were
an hour away from the hospital, and the contractions were a bit stronger
(I'd say 3, maybe 4ish on the Nikki scale of pain), that we should
start getting ready to go. Greg, who of course hadn't fallen back to
sleep-- how could he at a time like this? :)-- got out of bed, showered,
and helped me put my things in the car. Close to 7am, as we finished
getting ready, our power went out, and there was no question that we
were definitely getting out of there and heading to Nashville!
I called again and talked with a diffeent midwife this time because
of shift change. When I told her we were on our way, she sounded
doubtful of my state of labor and advised us to go by the clinic first.
She wanted me to be checked and confirmed to be in active labor since
the hospital doesn't like to admit patients unless they have reached
that point. I also called Greg's mom, who dubiously asked, "Is this THE
call?" and was surprised and obviously excited when I said yes. She
headed up from Georgia that morning for baby Mills' birth.
I didn't notice the weather when we left Bell Buckle, but it was
early, so it wasn't hot. It must have been cloudy though because it
started pouring once we got on the interstate. Traffic wasn't bad though
considering it was 730am, so Greg's earlier recommendation that I make a
sign to hold out the window saying "lady in labor" wasn't necessary
after all. During the pregnancy, we had joked/worried about getting
stuck in rush hour traffic on our way to the hospital. We lucked out,
even though I wasn't in a lot of pain or going to give birth anytime
soon.
As we neared the clinic, I pessimistically commented that I was
probably only 1-2cm but really hoped I was at least 3-4 so they wouldn't
tell us to go walk at the park or something rather than head to the
hospital. When we got to the office, I was the only patient there, and
they told me they'd been expecting me. There was a hint of excitement
for us in their voices; this was getting more real! We went into an exam
room, and the midwife I'd seen at my last visit came in with a student.
She guided the student through the process of checking me, which was
the most painful part of labor at this point, and they confirmed my
water had broken (duh!) and let us know I was 4-5 cm. No question about
it-- not that I was wondering-- I was in labor! I was surprised to be so
far along already. I'd declined being checked at my appointment a few
days earlier, so I could have been dilated prior to my water breaking,
but there's no telling.
The midwife asked if I'd eaten breakfast (only a banana and a peach)
and suggested I get some protein in me on our way to the hospital since I
wouldn't be eating while laboring there. I sat in the car talking to my
mom and sister (still pretty effortlessly through contractions) while
Greg got us Subway for breakfast. They were surprised how dilated I was
on my own (and called me weird!) because they'd both had pitocin to help
them progress. Their reactions made me feel good, confident that my
labor would be free of medical interventions (I didn't even want an IV
much less an IV pumping me with drugs). It was 9am, and Mom was still
about five hours away, but I didn't doubt she'd make it in time.
The last and only time we'd been to the Vandy hospital was for the
hospital tour about six weeks earlier. I was glad it was all familiar
and we knew what to do and where to go. I remember going through the
motions of getting out of the car, getting my things, walking through
the garage and heading up the elevators to L&D, but none of it
seemed real. We were going in as two; would we really be coming out as
three??
The nurses at the front desk were peppy, talking to me about my
morning as we waited to head to our room. On the way back to the rooms, I
had to stop to sign some electronic forms, which seemed to take forever
and was a nuisance whenever a contraction struck!
I was so happy and relieved to find out we were getting one of the
two rooms with a hydrotherapy tub. The tubs were one of the reasons I'd
wanted to deliver at Vanderbilt in the first place. I'd requested a tub
room at the clinic that morning, and the midwife had passed the message
along, but I wasn't sure I'd get one since there were just the two.
Another perk of the tub rooms: they are bigger! When we got in our
room, I just wandered around checking it out until our sweet nurse,
Anna, came in. She asked me if I had a birth plan. I hadn't written one
but knew what I wanted, so I told her the gist of it: no meds, no IV if I
could avoid it, use of the tub, no eye ointment or shots for Mills that
day. Because I didn't want to be stuck in bed, I didn't wear a monitor
either, and Anna said she'd come in every half hour (or was it hour? Not
sure, but I'll stick with half) to check baby's heartrate. Oh, I also
chose to labor in my own clothes (wind/athletic pants and tank) rather
than a hospital gown.
After the nurse left that first time, Greg told me he thought he knew
her from when he went to school in Chattanooga. When Anna came back, I
asked if she went to Greg's sister school, and she lit up and said she
thought she'd recognized him, too. They didn't know each other well but
had had some of the same friends and both went to prom with the same
large group. Pretty cool and unexpected!
Anna got water and ice for me and suggested different ways of
laboring, encouraging me to save the tub as long as I could rather than
get in right away because it was kind of the last resort of pain
management before getting an epidural or resorting to other drugs. I
took her advice and walked around the room, bounced on the yoga ball
(which Greg had brought up from the car and loudly-- think duck sounds--
attempted to inflate with the included pump. Comic relief!), and leaned
over the bed to labor.
The time went by quickly, and I was surprised each time Anna came in
to listen to Millsy's heart. When she did, I would get on the bed for a
minute, and each time she came, it became more and more uncomfortable to
lie down during contractions. It wasn't excruciating by any means (in
fact, here's a pic Greg took by sisterly request via fb message at 1120am:
), and although I'd been laboring calmly and quietly,
I decided I was ready for the tub around noon. It was at this point,
around 1145am, that my midwife, Melissa, offered to check my progress; I
was 6cm, 90% effaced, and Millie was at a -1 (needs to be a +2 to
deliver).
It took a bit of time to get the tub filled and ready for me, but it
felt wonderful! Unfortunately, I was too long to recline comfortably in
the built-in seat; I sat on the middle of the tub floor instead. I sat
pretty upright for a while and hadn't been in the tub for too long when
Greg's mom arrived. I was still talking at this point and was able to
tell her how I was doing, but I remember not really wanting to talk and
beginning to really want it to be quiet in the room. Thankfully, from
what I remember,everyone began using softer voices. Maybe that was also
when I started closing my eyes.
My mom got there a little after 1pm. I don't think I said a whole lot
to her though because contractions had picked up in intensity.
The nurse was still coming in and checking Mills' heartrate, but I
had begun tuning out everything and everyone. I still remember camera
clicks, whispers, and feeling others' presences, but my mind was clear
and focused on labor. Every once in a while I would open my eyes and see
Greg to my left, watching me with cups of ice and water at hand, my mom
to my right, and the midwife in front of me. You'd think it'd be weird
to open your eyes and have people watching you, but it was oddly
comforting.
While sitting in the middle of the tub, I leaned against the side and
rested my head on the edge.
Toward the end of my tub time, my
contractions became extremely strong. I wasn't able to rest my head any
more. My body tensed up and shook, I think I clenched my fists, and I
felt like I couldn't control my response to the pain. I let out
involuntary moans, which I remembered hearing my sister make before she
delivered my first nephew. I remember my mom telling me to relax, and
surprisingly enough, I unclenched my fists, relaxed my torso, and got
through it. I only remember having a couple of these contractions before
I said, "I'm pushing." I wasn't doing it deliberately, but Millie girl
was low enough and the contractions strong enough that my body knew what
to do next. My mom remarked how the last few contractions had been
"different," the midwife said it was time to get me to the bed, and Greg
agreed. I think he only said "yeah," but I could tell he was concerned
and anxious from his hurried tone. Later, he told me how hard it was to
watch/listen to those last few contractions in the tub.
While draining the tub, I had another contraction, and I had to
reposition myself and ride it out before trying to get out. They had
trouble getting the tub door open, and I remember smiling and saying,
"Greg did it" because he was the one who closed and locked it after I'd
gotten in. They finally got it open, and I was able to climb out. The
midwife commented on a bit of "bloody show," and my mom draped a gown
around me. Before getting into the bed, I had another contraction and
leaned over the bed until it subsided.
Once I was on the bed, midwife Melissa checked me and sure enough,
she declared, "10cm, 100%, +2." We were ready to go! My mom's voice was
so excited as she repeated that I was 10cm. Melissa and Anna guided me
on how the rest of the contractions and pushing would go. Greg stood at
my head, my mom held one leg, and I think Anna held the other.
I really dreaded having another contraction, but when one came, I
pulled back on my legs and gave it all I had, which didn't feel like
much. My mom was right though that contractions aren't so bad when
you're pushing; you're assisting your body in what it truly needs to do,
and you don't think about or feel the contraction pain. Still, after
one contraction ended, I lay back, still with eyes closed, and waited
dreadfully for the next one. Everyone waited with me, and it seemed like
forever at times. My mom told me later that my contractions were very
spread out at this stage, moreso than they should have been for being on
the brink of delivery. Even though it took longer overall (I was on the
bed for over an hour but pushing for much less) to get Mills delivered,
at least I got a good amount of rest between pushes!
It was strange though: I pushed three times (10 count per push) with
each contraction but didn't feel like I was really pushing until the
very end of the last push, after the last 10 count was done. Rather than
stopping after that last "8,9,10", which you'd think a laboring woman
would be eager to do, I kept pushing, and it felt good. It was as if my
body wasn't ready to push until then. So, I think a lot of the pushing
is almost useless; only when you feel your body push on its own will
your additional effort have a big effect.
The midwife, nurse, and Mom would comment on the progress and how I
was moving her down, but for a while, it didn't feel like it. As Mills
got lower and they could see her hair, Mom asked if I wanted the mirror
to see. I still wasn't talking and kind of shrugged and she brought it
over just in case. My eyes stayed closed though, and she eventually
asked if she could roll it away, and I nodded quickly. I had no desire
to open my eyes or see what was happening.
All this time, Greg was at my left shoulder, counting the
contractions and holding my leg back for me as needed. I did hold onto
and try to pull my legs back while pushing but didn't have a lot of
energy to hold them on my own.
The burning. I knew she was getting close, and this was when I didn't
want to push anymore, not because I was tired, but because of the pain.
I remember being told to push, and I just lay there, eyes squeezed
tight, shaking my head no, but reassuring words reminded me she was
close, and I needed to push for her. I was also reminded to take deep
breaths between contractions so my baby girl would get enough oxygen.
These deep breaths were, of course, calming for me too.
With the burning came Mills' head. Did I want to touch it? Nope! I
was relieved though when they said her head was out. I didn't have much
work left to do before I got to hold that sweet little peanut. Shoulders
were next, and I think it was just a push, and out she came! I think
someone said for me to grab my baby, but I was ahead of the game, and
she was on my belly in no time. Greg smiles and laughs when he recalls
my instinctual grabbing of Mills. He does a good re-enactment, too :)
We were elated that she was finally here, but as she wailed on my
stomach, I had trouble focusing on anything but the pain of the nurse
and midwife "massaging" my uterus. Placenta delivery was no big deal,
but the rubbing was torture as they tried to get my uterus to contract
and stop the bleeding. I remember apologizing to Mills, feeling so bad
that I couldn't stop her crying right then.
Greg cut the cord! I do remember seeing that happen despite the
distraction of pain and slight worry that I was bleeding too much. I had
a slight tear that the midwife stitched up after numbing me, but man
did I feel that first needle prick!
I'm not sure of the order of rest of the events while in the delivery room, but here's what happened anyway:
I held Mills for a long time and nursed her for an hour before (I
think this was before) giving her up to be weighed and measured (9lbs!
But 19.5in?? We got second and third opinions on that one later that
night: 23-23.5in sounded more accurate).
I was accompanied to the rest room, really feeling the need to pee.
While in there, I fainted from seeing the blood, and I woke up on the
floor. Luckily, Anna had been with me the whole time, and I had given
her warning, telling her I didn't feel well. I remember her looking at
me and asking, "You don't??" with a concerned tone. No one in the
delivery room knew what was going on when another nurse rushed into the
room and went straight to where we were in the bathroom. Someone
reassured them that I was okay after I "woke up", was able to give my
name, and began talking about a dream I had during my two-second
blackout. They worried I had passed out due to loss of blood, but Mom
and I told them my history of fainting due to squeamishness. Anyway, I
still hadn't peed, and urinating later became one of "my goals" in my
postpartum recovery room. I also had to be escorted to and from the
restroom the first few times to be sure I wasn't going to pass out
again.
My mom was able to give Millie her first bath, and Greg snapped a few
photos.
Once she was clean, her daddy got to hold her. He had said
repeatedly during the pregnancy that he would hold her once she was
bathed and even suggested she be caught in a bucket of water as she was
born! That's Greg for ya :) He sat in a rocking chair with her, and I cried at the sight of him with our precious little girl- so sweet!
Nothing else too exciting happened during our hospital stay. Mills
stayed in my room with us the first night and the majority of the
second, but I did let the nursery take her for a few hours so I could
rest the second night. We headed home Sunday the 15th. The drive seemed
to last forever, but we made it back and were welcomed by Millsy's
loving Nanna and Grandma, a very excited and curious dog, and a
mischievous little kitten.
We had helpful visitors for the first week or two, and then Greg and I
began our new life alone with our little love. It's been a crazy,
exhausting, humorous, messy, love-filled adventure ever since.
