My Birth (& Pregnancy) Story

Perhaps it’s weird that I am a beginner blogger and telling my birth story as if I have a massive following that is deeply invested in my life. On the flip side, maybe someone just needs a good read or likes to hear other people’s journeys as they embark on their own. Either way, you landed on this page so here it goes:

PREGNANCY

In January of 2023, I got pregnant.

In February of 2023, I found out. However, even the journey to that positive test was a bit of a hilly one.

I have always had a regular cycle. There would be maybe one a year that was just totally off where it was estimated to be but, otherwise, it was like clockwork within a day either way of when I expected it. So, when I was late for my period I waited 3 days and took a test. Negative. Kind of bummed. According to my calculations, we should have gotten pregnant the month before and didn’t. Of course, it wasn’t like we were actively trying, we had just decided to stop avoiding (NFP). I’m pretty sure that every woman today wonders about their fertility, whether they want kids or not. So to not have gotten pregnant in December was anxiety-inducing! However, a week later, I still was waiting on Aunt Flo. I took another test. Negative. I called my doctor and scheduled a blood draw because either the tests were wrong or something was seriously wrong since I was so late. Sure enough, the blood work came back confirming what my heart already knew – I was pregnant.

Trimester 1:

Nauseous but not throwing up. Sleeping a lot. Honestly, that’s all I really remember for symptoms. I was very surprised by how long you wait to get actually seen. My online patient portal gave me the blood work results, I called them to figure out what to do next (what the heck do you do now that you’re pregnant??? No one tells you that). They told me to call OB and get set up. I was so excited and then had to wait 12 weeks to even go in. With no baby bump and just feeling like I had a stomach bug for 3 months, I didn’t really feel pregnant. At least I got to find out my due date and, suddenly, October became the best month of the year. The next thing I found out? Nothing beats hearing your baby’s heartbeat for the first time.

Trimester 2:

Hello energy and thank you for coming back. I think it literally returned on the first day of the trimester. I guess it is a blessing that my body is so regimented. My bump came slowly but surely and eventually I was “cute pregnant” which was a blessing as summer started to roll in. I seriously feel for women who are at the peak of pregnancy during the peak of summer…It was weird not drinking for the 4th of July (‘MERICA, BEST HOLIDAY!) but small peanuts compared to what was to come. I had an anterior placenta so I couldn’t really feel baby a while lot yet.

Trimester 3:

Baby was moving a lot at this point (we didn’t find out gender – sometimes I would refer to it as “he” and sometimes “she” – I just really hated calling it “it.” There were more than a few times I accidentally said “they” which was quickly met with “there’s more than one?!?!”). A couple of memorable things started to happen in this trimester besides those kicks.

First…

I SAW baby move…honestly, kind of freaked me out. It made me think of a tiny person curled up in my belly and, for some reason, despite knowing exactly how pregnancy worked, I was surprised.

Second…

FATIGUE! Oh my gosh, you can’t even imagine (or maybe you can). It is ironic how you can simultaneously be so tired as well as have insomnia. Either way, tossing and turning in bed was a full workout at this point so at least there was that since there was no way I had energy to go to the gym!

Third…

I fell off a pool dock…thankfully my husband’s cousin-in-law is an OB and advised me on what to do. Such a blessing to have her find the heartbeat when we couldn’t (with our doppler) and make sure things were ok when I didn’t feel movement despite all the “tricks” for a while.

Fourth…

My husband is very accident-prone. I can promise you’ve likely never met someone with a hospital rap sheet as long as his for a mere 29 years. About 5-6 weeks before my due date he tears his ACL (not for the first time, nor the second) playing pick-up soccer. Up until this point, despite his accident-proneness, I would have said with absolute certainty that I was going to be the reason we were in the hospital next. Wrong. So wrong.

Being that this was his 3rd time with this particular injury on this leg, they recommended taking part of his hamstring to repair it. This added piece of the puzzle gave a bit of uncertainty to whether or not it could be done in one surgery or if it would need to be two. The recovery time is 6 weeks (to be weight bearing, not full recovery – that can take a year or more) and we were exactly one month out from baby.

So, we decided best to do it now so he could be mostly recovered by the time this happened (since about 80% of women go over their due date with baby #1).

Fifth…

Found out baby’s belly had slowed down growing in relation to the rest of the body. As you can imagine, this was overwhelming to hear as a first-time parent. I didn’t even know what to ask at that point and, try as she might, my OB explained it but couldn’t see the spaghetti thoughts in my head to help make me understand.

Part of me had mixed feelings because those scans are pretty much educated guesses. I have heard more women than not say that their babies were estimated to be HUGE and came out average or that they were told the same thing (restricted growth) and baby was average. Or even told that baby was totally average in size and ended up being very small or big. Basically, I was skeptical but have zero medical training/background so didn’t know what to think. They told me to come back next week to see where things were at and we would assess options from there.

As a planner, I was nervous about not knowing the exact day or time when baby would come but also excited about the miracle of it all and allowing God to do this thing. So, when I went back a week later and they told me I was starting to dilate (normal for the last couple weeks of pregnancy) and recommended that we induce a week from that day, I was disappointed but so excited to meet my baby – FINALLY. Essentially, the way it was explained was that, if I hadn’t started to dilate yet, they would have waited another week but, since the process had started, it was kind of like accelerating something that already had some motion vs trying to start it from nothing. Again, I was excited but also grieving the birth plan I had in my head. The planner part of me goes hand-in-hand with the controlling side of me and, despite this technically being something we were controlling MORE, it suddenly felt like I was at the will of the doctors. But, I was worried about losing my baby since he/she had given me so many scares throughout this whole process that I went with it.

And, to ruin the end of the story, I got a beautiful, healthy baby out of it so I wouldn’t change a thing

BIRTH

The night before my induction was set I was literally on my hands and knees scrubbing the floors. Because nesting is a very real thing and I just KNEW my baby would notice dirt on my floors! Got a solid 6ish hours of sleep (not like pregnancy insomnia and nerves would have let me get any more anyway) and woke up at 5am to head to the hospital. Don’t worry, I ate before going. Yet, by the time I got there, I was hungry again. When the doctor showed up, she told me I could have some peanut butter toast because it would be a while until baby was here but that THIS would be the last time I could eat (I was complaining to her when she told my husband where the snacks were but that I couldn’t have anything). This peanut butter toast will be relevant here in a moment.

So, I’m doing all the intake and they are trying to get the IV in. Pretty sure I got poked about half a dozen times before they put it in my hand which was uncomfortable but at least they got it. I distinctly remember saying “Hey, if that’s the most painful part of today, I’m ok with it.” The nurse laughed but then gave me a look and said “I have a feeling about you…” (not in a bad way but as in I would have the baby before her shift was over. Typically with a first child labor lasts 12-24 hours on average. Her shift had about 10 hours left at this point).

When the doctor showed up, she broke my water. Again, I feel like I knew about pregnancy but it never dawned on me that my water would need to be manually broken. I don’t know why but it just didn’t. Labor started slow and my husband and I walked a handful of laps through the loop of a hallway. First, we went counterclockwise and I told him next time we should go the other way. Little did I know there would not in fact be a next time.

Contractions start to pick up and I’m sitting on a yoga ball with my head resting on the bed. The fetal heart rate monitor isn’t situated correctly so the nurse had to keep repositioning me to get it to catch. Eventually, she recommended we try the bluetooth one because she thought it would be best if I tried out the jet tub to help me relax. At this point, I believe I was dilated to a 2.5? 3? Either way, I get in the tub as it’s filling. When the tub is about halfway full, I tell the nurse I feel like I have to go to the bathroom. She gives me a look again and says “You need to get out.” At this point, I am beyond irritated that I can’t just stay in a position I feel kind of comfortable in. First, I just wanted to walk. Then, I just wanted my head on the bed. Now, I just wanted to sit in the tub that I waited a good amount of time to get filled. I told her as much too. She told me I could stay in a bit longer but, if that feeling persisted, I would need to get out (per hospital policy, water births were not allowed). Sure enough, after the next contraction, I was out. That was a really nice 15-minute bath…buuut it was probably for the best as I was now dilated to a 7.

During my baby shower a couple of weeks earlier, I asked all the ladies to write down prayer intentions for me. Catholics believe in redemptive suffering and I had heard of offering up the pains of childbirth for the intentions of your friends and family. Not only does it help take your mind off things but it makes you feel like your suffering means something (not that my child wasn’t reason enough to endure this but I am much more willing to take on someone else’s issues without complaining than my own).

A little comic relief (looking back) on this came in the form of my husband (don’t worry, I have is approval to tell this part of the story). As I was in between contractions, he answered a phone call. We had both agreed prior to this that we wouldn’t even think about updating other people as the only thing that mattered was being present for this moment (like I really had a choice). He said it was his doctor’s office calling and answered. I knew they were probably just confirming an appointment he had later in the week so I didn’t understand why he didn’t just send it to voicemail but, by then, another contraction was starting so I couldn’t really speak. They WERE calling to confirm but also to see if he could come in 30 minutes later. Whoop-de-doo, I’m kind of having your baby here, buddy. Whatever, he was still holding my hand. However, then he started doing something on his phone. I thought he was texting our moms to give them an update. I distinctly remember shouting “PUT YOUR F***ING PHONE DOWN!!” Come to find out later that he was updating his appointment in the calendar. Honestly, I can’t really blame him as I had been on him pretty much since we got married to make sure the calendar was up to date so we didn’t double-book or miss anything. While the moment wasn’t ideal, I can respect that he was trying to do what I had previously asked. Not in the moment, but looking back.

At this point, I start to feel so nauseous that I am almost certain I will vomit. Come to find out later that this is one of the reasons why you are NOT supposed to eat so close to delivery. They told me throwing up was normal, I just couldn’t bear down because I wasn’t ready to push yet. Now, I don’t know about you, but when I throw up, my last concern is if I am tensing up my body. They asked me, not for the first time, if I wanted an epidural. Long story short, because of this and the danger it was posing, I decided to get one. And, yes, I cried. This was also not part of my birth plan and I really wanted the experience of doing this naturally. You hear so many (horror) stories of the “urge to push” and the “ring of fire” and, while I wasn’t EXCITED per say for these things, I feel every woman wonders about what this actually feels like at some point. Again, this was my first baby so I had nothing to compare to.

They called the anesthesiologist and by the time they were hanging up the phone with him, he was in the room, no joke! Thank the Lord he was so quick because, no sooner was the epidural in was I checked again and the lead nurse told one of the other ones “Uh, call the doctor NOW!” as I was about ready to push. Thankfully, the epidural kicked in for at least a couple of contractions – if I had broken down and gotten an epidural just to have it not even kicked in by the time I gave birth, that would have been even worse! The doctor was there almost immediately and we started the pushing process.

It took only 17 minutes of pushing (another small blessing through this process) and our daughter was born. After breaking my water it was only 4.5 hours until she was in my arms.

Let me tell you, the first day of her life was the day mine truly began.