Due date…plus 7 days…

At exactly 4am, I woke up with a start as my water broke in a small rush. No doubt about it…it was baby time! I simply said my husband’s name, “Matt,” as I got up out of bed to run to the bathroom with my hands between my legs (as if that would help with the leaking fluid!). In precisely half a second, Matt went from soundly sleeping in the horizontal to wide awake and vertical.  I heard a flurry of activity in the other room while I sat in the bathroom having a contraction.  It was just strong enough that it felt like the real thing, but weak enough to forget how much work labor would be!

Barely a couple of minutes later, he appeared in the doorway of the bathroom fully dressed and holding a packed hospital bag in each hand. “Honey, what can I put in the car?  The sheets are in the washing machine, and I’m ready to go.” Not that you couldn’t figure it out from that much of the story…but he was very anxious for Zoe’s arrival!

As he loaded up the hospital bag, diaper bag and the few things we had lined up, I had a couple contractions that were 5 minutes apart, and 10 minutes after that.  At this point, the past 12 hours came flooding to mind…the literal urge to pee every 2 seconds, and the increased pressure in general.  Oh, how everything seems to make sense in hindsight!

We had to drop Ian off at a friend’s house before heading to the hospital. My friend Anna met me outside with her then 10 day old little boy…”This is what you’re working for!” she said smiling. It was actually just what I needed. His precious little face came to mind several times during labor…the reminder that all that pain would result in a beautiful little baby!

Finally on the way to the hospital, I managed a few smiles at Matt’s excited jokes and humor. I still felt in control and like the contractions were very manageable. We swung by Chick-fil-A for him to get breakfast, but they were closed!

When we arrived at the hospital, Matt ran inside to get me a wheelchair and a security guard promptly appeared with one at the curb. Up until that point, I felt excited and that things were moving in a surreal sort of slow motion. It was like a happy bubble of excitement! Then I sat in the wheelchair and he went 110 miles per hour through a crazy maze of hallways to labor and delivery. If I wasn’t in labor when I sat down, I definitely was by the time I got to the triage room!

I had sewn a purple polka dotted nightshirt to wear during labor. The nurse told me that I couldn’t wear it. I started to argue that I wasn’t going to wear a hospital gown, but I got another contraction and it was intense. In that moment, I realized it really didn’t matter what I was wearing, and said a prayer that all the details that actually mattered would fall into place. I surrendered to what really mattered.

By the time Matt met me in the triage room, I was changed and hooked up to the monitors. The contractions were picking up a little bit, and I was trying to retreat in my mind to a relaxed place where pain came and went timelessly, and I could avoid all the feelings that the wires, bright lights and hospital smell evoked. Matt interrupted my trance by pressing something into my cheek. Then, he actually suggested a picture. (I’m a photographer, my husband would NEVER do this usually!).

He had placed a UGA sticker on my cheek!

The nurse was a UGA grad, too. She thought it was soooo cute that I was going to go through labor with a G sticker on my face. “What a trooper!” she patted my back. I was so angry she called me a trooper! I was in labor, and not in the mood for this mess! Get me to my room! What are we doing in here?!

I asked, “Am I going to get admitted?”

The nurse pulled at the growing stack of printouts indicating the peaks of my contractions . She studied them with a furrowed brow and disappeared.

I retreated in my mind again. It was hard for me to focus on what I wanted. The triage room felt claustrophobic. It was too bright. The bed was too hard. I just wanted to know where I could labor. I needed to use the bathroom.

The nurse eventually returned after several more contractions. The swab they had taken of my amniotic fluid was indeed amniotic fluid. (No kidding?). I was to be admitted, finally!

Moving to the labor room was a blur of more frenzied activity. The nurse spoke in too-short sentences, giving me directions where to sit and to be careful. I asked if I could walk around for a minute. “No, your water is broken, so we really need you to sit in the bed. You can’t walk around if your water is broken.”

“I need to use the restroom,” I turned that direction and she hastily grabbed a bedpan. “I’m not using that,” I informed her and closed the door behind me. I heard her explaining to Matt that they didn’t want a baby born in the toilet, so if he could please try to get me to use the bedpan. I smiled as I listened to him explain to her that it was my second baby and he had complete faith I would know when the baby was coming out. He even joked, “She almost had our son on the toilet, but we made it just fine!”

Another big contraction came, and I wanted to be alone with it. A silly thing to think, but I thought…this hurts! I don’t remember labor hurting this much!

The contractions were so painful while I was sitting. I remembered being more comfortable in that position before, and I was confused at how much pain I felt in my tailbone and at the top of my belly. I really wanted the nurse to go away. She was waiting for me…I started to lose control and Matt came to my side and put his hand on my back. Instant relaxation again.

When I finally emerged from the bathroom, the needle was waiting for me. At this point, I was honestly dreading getting an IV more than any of the contractions I’d had. She asked me to tell her when the contraction began waning so she could put it in. I waited through several contractions hoping she would get tired of waiting and go away!

Finally all of the wires and whatever else was all attached, and the nurse presented me with paperwork to fill out…a consent for an epidural. I told her I didn’t want one and she was incredulous. She insisted I fill the paperwork out, because I would want one soon. I pushed the clipboard away. She turned to the door and said she’d be back to check on me later and buzz if I needed anything.

The door closed, and I created my labor space. Lights off, relaxing music on…pillows just so. Oh, and remove monitors…now.

I was now so tired from all of the activity, I tried to get comfortable on the bed, and rested between contractions. Then what seemed like an endless cycle of struggles with the monitors began. One monitor was strapped high at the top of my belly to monitor the strength of the contractions. The other was lower across my hips to monitor Zoe’s heartbeats. I would hold the monitors off my belly during a contraction because it felt unbearable to have it press into my belly on top of a contraction. I removed them and pushed them to the side of the bed. A nurse kept appearing when the monitor was off for “too long,” and I finally resigned myself to the discomfort of them. I decided it was more tolerable to have the monitors on than to see the nurse again. The nurse at least agreed that I only needed to wear the absolutely excruciating blood pressure cuff only once every half hour or so. Every time it went off, the pain cut into my arm and made me want to crawl out of my own skin. Small victory.

My eyes closed and I would feel the contractions build ever stronger. In my mind, I wrapped around the pain and tried to feel it more. I wanted to feel exactly where it was and what it was doing. I only wanted to feel the contraction, and I loosened my grip on the sides of the hospital bed so that I couldn’t feel the tight clenching anymore. I prayed time and time again, “God, please deliver me from this contraction.” It was more faith in knowing that He could at this stage. The contractions were manageable…I was going to have a baby!

I couldn’t really get out of the bed, so I alternated between sitting straight up or leaning forwards over the bed. Matt was beginning to get tired, and I felt his focus shifting from me.

“Honey, you can go lay down. I’ll need you soon. Are you really tired?” His eyes said it all. He went to the other side of the room and laid down. “I’ll need you later. Rest now, I’m ok.”

There I was, alone with my contractions, finally! It was just God, me, and baby Zoe. In my head, I sung her songs. I sang, “____.” When the contractions were growing their strongest, I focused most on relaxing my hands and not clenching my fists…or relaxing my jaw. Here I entered sort of a trance. There was no room, no hospital, nothing…everything was grey and fuzzy until a contraction. Then a contraction would bring small bits of color. For a few moments, I might have the black of rest and sleep in the space between them. I just sat on the bed, and shifted in various sitting positions, in varying levels of awareness of everything around me.

The instructions from the nurse were that because my water had broken, I was to stay in the bed, and not even use the restroom.  It was very clear that freely moving about the room, even to stand next to the bed was not acceptable, and perhaps even dangerous?

I continued praying and saying Bible verses. I focused on knowing that God alone was enough for me…I didn’t need anything else. I sat motionless and let the contractions come one after the other. Even in the haze, I felt happy and accomplished. Every contraction was manageable. Baby Zoe would be here soon. “No weapon formed against us shall prosper…all {contractions} that rise against me will fall…” I knew that God was there with me, and wouldn’t let me fall from the pain.

Suddenly, the contractions became more intense. One moment I was repeating and chanting in my head, fuzzy and foggy in awareness, the next moment everything was bright and intense. I felt less capable of knowing the bounds of the pain. In my mind, I tried to feel the contractions strength and ended up jolting out of my trance. It HURT. Suddenly I was aware of Matt sleeping on the other side of the room. Why was he sleeping?!

“MATT!” I yelled at him. He insists that he only heard me one time say, “Matt, I need you now.” Perhaps I was yelling in my head?

Suddenly everything in the room was in sharper focus between contractions. I saw him rub the sleep from his eyes and reach for my hand. I had no idea what I wanted him to do anymore but make the contractions stop. They were too much. I found myself inadvertently making high pitched noises that were on the verge of screaming.

The nurse ended up in the room to check on me. I didn’t need her to check, I knew I was 7cm and entering transition. She looked pleased when she checked, “Wow, you’re doing great. Would you like to know how far you are?” I pulled away from her, “Seven,” I said with finality. “Um. Did someone check you already? You’re right,” she looked completely incredulous and left the room, reassuring me it wouldn’t be much longer until the baby arrived and to call if I needed anything. And, if I needed drugs they could call it in for me and it would be about 30 minutes.

The contractions felt restricted. They would build and build and I would only feel searing pain that was tight, strong, and sharp. Again, I prayed and asked for strength to get through just one contraction at a time.

Nothing was working. Changing positions didn’t work, I was not comfortable anywhere. I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. I felt overwhelmed and like I was drowning in sharp pain. I began to think I couldn’t do it any more, but a still small voice inside said that I was doing the very thing I couldn’t do…that I STILL wasn’t alone. I tried to latch on to that and grab my faith again. Nothing had actually changed. He was still there with me. The song in my head changed to, “You never let go, you never let go…when waters rose and hope had flown oh my soul…ever faithful ever true, you are known, you never let go.” I sang it over and over and over again with every contraction.

Then, I suddenly remembered reading a birth story in Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth. The woman had explained how massaging her thighs helped during the peaks of the contractions…and rolling the thighs back and forth brought tremendous relief. It sounded appealing for whatever reason. I told Matt what to do, and it was amazing relief.

During the height of the contraction, I would pull his hand on to my thighs and he would roll my legs back and forth. As the contractions strengthened, I wanted him to lean more of his body weight into my right leg. It felt so much better to feel the muscles in my legs relaxing. He could not push hard enough at times. The contractions grew stronger, but they felt more productive again. Instead of a sharp and piercing pain, I felt her actually moving down. At the same time I felt like my hips were being pulled apart horrendously, there was movement down and out. I focused on feeling the contraction at the very top of my uterus and pushing her down and out…low moans and groans escaped. I urgently needed Matt to keep massaging my leg.

“You never let go, you never let go,” it seemed there was no break at all between contractions. It felt like one long, continuous pulling apart of everything. Then, a convulsive reflex and urge to push snuck up from nowhere. I grunted in surprise and told Matt to call the nurse. “It’s time. NOW.”

I felt like she would come any second, and the nurse walked calmly into the room. I laughed in my head, she asked first how far I was. “It’s time, she’s coming OUT!” I said with more force than I intended.

At some time during this interaction, I heard the beeps of Zoe’s heart rate drop slower and slower. The nurse nudged my belly and said, “Come on, baby,” She told me to roll onto my side, as that often helped restore the heart rate. It was torturous rolling on my side. Matt and the nurse had to almost force me onto my side because it hurt so much to turn.  It hurt worse than anything to that point, and Zoe’s heart rate continued to drop. The nurse nudged my belly again, “Come on baby girl,” and called for the doctor. The beeps continued slowing down. Another jolt to my conscious seeing Matt’s face set deep with worry and feeling his hand on mine grow cold. “Fifty,” she said, counting and looking at her watch. I prayed and relaxed, there was nothing else I could do. I was shaking uncontrollably and hurting from being on my side. I pushed the nurse and shifted, and the beeping started to come more quickly. I shifted again more towards my back and I could see the nurse’s face relax.

The urge to push hit me again full strength. “It’s back up to 140 now,” she said…and a prayer of thanks. “Thank you, God,” Matt mouthed.

The midwife appeared and sat at my feet and smiled. He was the first familiar face I had seen so far, and I was relieved to see him. He was completely relaxed and rested his hands gently on his lap. After an exam I barely noticed, he calmly said, “Her head is right there. She’s all ready. Looks like a little red hair. When you’re ready, you can push with a contraction,” it was totally normal and casual.   Matt had a little side conversation about where the red hair in our family came from with the nurses.  Time stood still for a moment, and there were no contractions at all. I didn’t really feel anything. Everything was fine. A little red head. Where was I? Having a baby! Zoe was coming! I had another urge to push, and I pushed down and grunted while Matt and a nurse held my legs.

I felt the burning sensation of her crowning with the next push. The feeling was no deterrent to how good it felt to push. I felt re-energized and pushed as hard as I could. I unclenched my jaw when I pushed so I could feel the pushes in my lower body, and not the tightening in my neck.

I didn’t feel it, but Matt said the midwife unhooked a loop of the umbilical cord from around her neck and head as she emerged. I felt her head come out and felt utter relief. The wait for the next contraction to push was agonizing. Another push and she was out and on my chest. Everyone was smiling.

A nurse toweled her off and put her on my chest. I cried and tears streamed down my cheeks, “My baby girl! Oh my baby girl! I love you, Zoe!” She let out a half cry on my chest and then quietly adjusted to entering the world and squinted at me with beautiful blue eyes.

I held her but for a moment and handed the warm bundle to my amazing husband. Tears in his eyes, he announced, “My beautiful little girl. I love you so much, Zoe. You are not allowed to date until you are married.” He grabbed the little bulldog that greeted brother’s entrance into the world and kissed me on the forehead. “I love you, Julie, mother of my two little red heads.”

Six and a half hours after my water broke, we gazed into the most beautiful pair of blue eyes staring back at us. This 7 pound, 11 ounce bundle, only 20 inches long, with the slightest fuzz of bright red hair was our beautiful daughter, Zoe Isabelle. Our little life consecrated to God.

More of Julie G’s Birth Journey coming soon!