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The Birth of Lilith Joycelyn
I was born four and a half months after Pearl Harbor and the entry of the U.S. into WWII.
My father had tried to enlist , but no branch of the service would take him because he had flat feet and was deaf in one ear. He thought that he could do a desk job or cook and so free up someone who could march and hear to fight; but all soldiers must be able to march at need and hear orders, so he couldn’t. Instead, he spent the war working as a welder between the hulls of battle ships,
thereby losing the hearing in his good ear.The Birth of Sophia Katharine
It all started that Friday morning. I had the OB appointment with the horrid doctor who, I think, stripped my membranes without asking. It was a painful examination, not least of which because her fingers were so short.
I was quite crampy from that appointment on throughout the day, and then progressively more crampy with back achiness added in for good measure. All along, they had been telling me that if I don’t feel it in my back, then it probably isn’t contractions. So, about 2:30 that afternoon, I started feeling twinges in my back in addition to the contractions that started to come more regularly. Now it’s funny to look back on these "contractions" compared to what came later. I wasn’t mentioning them to Aaron at this point because I could still walk around and talk and joke while having them. I decided to experiment around 10 pm and tried doing a little nipple stimulation. Yikes! Things picked up then. Apparently, the stimulation released the right amount of oxytocin and convinced my body to get things moving along. I wrote an asterisk next to the 10:10 pm time recording because it was a noticeably stronger contraction. I had the same strength contractions until 11:30 when Aaron convinced me to call the OB office to check in and see what they would recommend. At this point, it was either try to go to bed or go into labor. My sister and mother had very short labors and I was a bit worried that if I stayed home, I’d end up having her here. I ended up not needing to worry about that.
The Birth of Sadie Grace
I was having what shall henceforth be referred to as "contractions." We were rushing out the door to the hospital. We were all really anticipating a lot of "pain" in our planned natural labor. This shall henceforth be referred to as the "age of innocence" or "we had no idea the hot flaming hell into which we were haplessly marching." No, no, it wasn't that bad; I'm just being melodramatic because I enjoy it.
The Birth of Selah Solis
This
pregnancy was very unlike my first. I had so many aches and pains, and my groin
hurt throughout most of it! I had major swelling to the point that it would
hurt to walk; and I thought my feet were going to burst at any second!
Seriously! I did not, however, have anything close to high blood pressure,
so there was no worry about pre-eclampsia. My blood pressure always stayed at a
low 90/60. Towards the end of my pregnancy, I could no longer fit into ANY SHOES. This
becomes a problem when in the middle of November you're walking around in the snow
in either flip flops, or Crocks. This makes for very wet feet!At
35 weeks I was 75% effaced. The doctor put me on part time bed rest. I thought,
"Oh, this will be great! I'm gonna go early and all the misery will
stop!" Yeah, right, I'm not that lucky. For the next five weeks I continued
to make it to my weekly appointments. I was getting fatter and more depressed
by the day. At my 40 week appointment, the doctor stripped my membranes. This is very
uncomfortable. She actually stuck her hand in there and seperated the bag from
my cervix. Yowza!! Then we left the office and went walking around the mall
until my poor fat feet couldn't take it anymore. I was
having mild contractions, but nothing to get excited about.That
night I couldn't sleep. I was having some pretty good contractions, so I
decided to get up and walk around the house. It was about 4am, and I didn't want to wake
up my husband or my mother who was staying with us to help out when the baby
was born. So I walked around by myself until 6am. Then I decided that since
the contractions were coming about evey 3-5 minutes I'd wake up my mom. They
still weren't very strong, just very regular. My mom didn't like that they were
so regular and insisted that we go to the hospital. So, we woke up my husband and our other daughter. . . and drove to the hospital.We arrived at the hospital at 7am . . me, my husband, my daughter, my mother, my suitcase, my Boppy, and my husband's guitar. I walked up to the desk in the maternity ward and said very calmly, "My doctor said I should come in when my contractins were about five minutes apart, and they're about 3-5 minutes now. (I said this with a smile, and I actually took time to put on make-up and fix my hair before we went in!) The nurse replied, "Well, we'll check you and then decide if we're going to admit you or not. My, you brought a lot of stuff. . . hope you didn't jinx yourself!"
I was put in a room, and I started
reading my book. The nurse came in and checked me. I was dialated to 6cm!! She
said "Well, I guess I'll let you get back to your book like nothing's
wrong!"
An hour later at8am...and the contractions
still weren't strong, the doctor came in and checked me. I was now dialated to
8cm! She thought I should walk around the halls for a while. I walked, and
talked to other women who couldn't believe I was dialated to 8 and smiling. I walked until my swollen feet
started to hurt. Two hours later, at10am, I was still only dialated
to 8cm. I sat straight up in bed...because I heard that this position is great
and gravity will help bring baby out. By11:30am
I was still dialated to 8cm! The doctor told me that maybe I needed to change
positions. I decided to lie down on my left side. BAM! Just like that I
was ready to push! My contractions were still only about four minutes apart. I
would push, then wait four minutes, then push, then wait. I only had to do this four
times and my beautiful baby girl was out! She weighed 7 pounds 14 ounces and
was 19 inches long. She was born on her due date, December 8, 2005 at 12:02pm (Only 2% of babies are actually born on their due dates).
My husband was sick, (that's why
he's wearing the mask...) and ended up passing a kidney stone an hour later!
The Flipflopmamma is 28 years old with two beautiful daughter's ages 10
years and 8 months. She's a stay-at-home mom with too much time on her hands. She is
married to a pastor and loving it. Her blog is about her family, her faith, her everyday life and the joys that
come with it. She's a mommy blogger, a Christian blogger, a journal blogger...she doesn't fit into any one category, and she's learning how great that is. She's a little flip, a little flop, and a whole lot of mamma!The Birth of Garrett Thomas
August 2, 2006 by Black Belt Mama · Comments Off on The Birth of Garrett Thomas
Filed under: Gimme the DrugsEveryone told me that I would know when I went into labor. Even though this was my second pregnancy, I wasn’t sure if my body was truly in labor, or just teasing me. With my daughter, my water broke naturally (in medical terms, grossly ruptured) and it still took Pitocin for me to have contractions, so how could I be sure that my body would know what to do?
My son was due to arrive on July 20th. I went to the doctor and she told me that I was dilated two centimeters, but it didn’t look like the baby was ready to come out. I complained of pains in my rib cage. I whined about the carpal tunnel that the pregnancy had induced. I told her that I could tell this baby was much bigger than my first. I begged her to take him out, now. She told me that I was healthy and having a perfect pregnancy and that the baby would come out when he was ready. I would have to schedule an appointment for the following week to see how things were going. Fortunately, I had chosen a practice that did not believe in forcing labor, no matter how much I begged. I did not want Pitocin again and my doctor knew that, but my need to have things planned, was taking over. I wanted to make sure that someone was at my house to watch my daughter, that my mom was in town so she could meet this new being when he arrived, that I wasn’t in line at the grocery store when my water broke. I left the doctor’s office and hoped that labor would start before the following week.
On July 21st I decided that I wanted my mom. She lives six hours away and I knew that I needed some help. I was tired and it was hot. My two year old wanted to be outside playing and I just wanted to relax. My mom agreed to come the next day and stay for a week. I worried that I wouldn’t go into labor until the following week and she would only be able to see her new grandchild for a day or two. But in the end, I just needed my mommy.
My body must have known that I needed to get my mom to our house to make the plans I had go smoothly. On the 23rd I started having contractions. They started around 7pm and only happened when I was up and moving. I dusted. I folded laundry. I wore a path in the carpet from the living room to the bedrooms. When I put my daughter to bed, I told her that I might not be there in the morning, and gave her kisses. Around 9:30 I started keeping track of the contractions. As long as I was moving, they were ten minutes apart. I took a break and sat down to type some hopeful emails, and went thirty minutes with nothing. I decided the dishwasher needed to be unloaded and they started again. By 11pm the contractions were coming every ten minutes without fail, but still weren’t anything strong. I told my husband I was going to call the doctor, just in case. At midnight I told him I thought we should go in because I had a few contractions that were strong and across my back and seeing as my mom was here to watch our daughter, it wouldn’t hurt to be checked.
As we left the house, I began to cry. I was excited to be bringing this new life into the world, but at the same time, I was so sad for my daughter. She had been the center of our world for two years, and that was about to change for her. She was going from having mommy and daddy’s full attention, to having to share more than she would be able to understand. I knew I would nurse my son, and that the decision to nurse would greatly limit the time my daughter would have to cuddle on my lap. I needed to mourn the loss of time I would be able to spend with my daughter and prepare for a new relationship as the mom of two.
The hospital is twenty minutes away and half way there I was sure we made the right decision. I filled in paper work and went through the admitting process with a few minor contractions. They took me to a room and checked, I was 4 centimeters and the baby was zero station. I told them I was going to want an epidural. I had been through this before and even though I can deal with quite a bit of pain, I loved being calm and clear headed as I controlled the birth of my daughter and wanted the same sensation with my son. I would have to wait another two hours before the anesthesiologist would come to see me due to other women and emergencies. During that time, I paced around the room, resting my head on the bed during contractions or sitting on the bed cross-legged rocking back and forth.
When they got me to the delivery room around 3:30am, I measured 5 centimeters. At 3:45 I got an epidural and finally was able to smile. The epidural made my blood pressure drop way below the comfort range for the doctors, but after me assuring them that for me it was normal, and no, I did not have a metallic taste in my mouth, and I was no more light-headed than usual, they left it in. At 4:30 I woke up from a short rest when my water broke, grossly ruptured, again. I asked my husband to call for the nurse. She helped me get some clean sheets and then left so I could relax. At 6:10, I called for her again to tell her I was feeling a great deal of pressure. She started to get the room ready. My doctor came in at 6:30 to introduce himself and then he left. (There are six doctors at the practice. I had seen five during my nine months of pregnancy. He was the only one I didn’t see.) The nurse called him back ten minutes later because I told her I needed to push. She had checked my progress only to see the baby coming out on his own. I had them decrease the epidural, a must for being able to push. The doctor returned and asked me to push with the next contraction. Three rounds of pushing later he told me to stop. I stopped, but the baby didn’t. He just kept coming down. A small episiotomy was done to keep me from tearing and the baby was out and screaming.
The doctor helped me lift Garrett onto my chest. It was 6:52am on July 24th. Garrett Thomas arrived on his own four days past his due date. The lights in the room were dimmed and the nurses and doctor did what they needed to in silence. They let me hold and nurse Garrett before they took him to be weighed. I stared at him, this creature who just a few moments before had been inside me. He looked so big compared to my first, but still so small. My husband’s face beamed with pride as he gently caressed Garrett’s head. Garrett had a perfectly round head covered with dark brown hair and a look of absolute contentment to be nestled up against me.
After he finished his first meal, the nurse took him to be weighed and cleaned. He was 8 lbs. 9 oz., almost two pounds heavier than his sister had been. The nurses and doctor told me what an easy patient I was and that I was a great pusher. The doctor said I should do this one or two more times and I told him that it is always a possibility. They took Garrett for his first bath and me to my post-partum room. As soon as Garrett was returned to me, I let my husband go home to rest and tell our daughter that her brother had arrived. I stayed awake, holding my son in my arms. It didn’t matter that I had been awake for most of the last 24 hours; I needed to study every part of my new baby.
My husband, daughter, and mom came in later that day. As I sat in the hospital bed, with my two children in my lap, I could not feel more blessed. My daughter suddenly looked so big. I could not believe that just twelve hours ago, when I had kissed her goodnight, she had been a baby. Now, she was a big sister. As I gazed at my little boy swaddled tightly in his baby blanket, I looked forward to learning about his unique personality and all that he would bring to our family.
Stacey is a stay-at-home mother to her two children: Corinne who is
three years old and Garrett who is 1 year old. She lives in New
England. You can read the birth story of her daughter here.A blog is born
