You probably think I'm insane for keeping this guy around. And in a way, you are correct. If I had it in me at that point in time, I would have left. But when I tell you I was spent, I was so spent I wasn't even confident that I'd have it in me to have this baby boy.
I would pray each night to let this baby come late. I just needed more time. It felt like an impossible task. The only things bringing me any type of sanity were my kids and my best friend. I hated being alone with him in the house at that point. It felt very forced. It felt very unstable. And that's not the kind of environment you need when you're about to give birth.
Every night I would talk to my baby boy and tell him that I was so excited to meet him but if he could just take his time a little that would be really helpful. Oh, the things we think we can control....labor and birth...definitely not on that list of things you have control over.
At 2:32 am on April 4th, I woke up to a soaked bed under me. I felt between my legs and was extremely wet. My PJ's were soaked. My heart started to race. I hobbled over to the bathroom, leaving a trail of waters behind me. Sitting on the toilet, more fluid poured out. This was happening. And I had never had this experience before with any of my kids. My water never broke before.
I slipped a giant postpartum pad into my underwear and shoved a towel in my PJ's too because ever step I took, more water would gush out. I messaged my doula and my best friend. I sent a message to my mom who was literally arriving that very day. I called the nurse line to see if they wanted me to come in for a quick check. Since I was labeled "High-Risk" and because I was a VBAC patient, they wanted me to come in and test my waters and keep me for observation to see if I was having any contractions. I briefly woke up my daughter to let her know I was going to the hospital and that I would be right back. She drifted off back to sleep. I kissed my son on his forehead and watched him peacefully sleep. I looked over at the couch where ______ was sleeping and felt sad. My baby kicked me almost as a reminder like, "Hey momma, c'mon!" and off I went.
I remember that early morning drive so vividly. It was cold. A bit drizzly. Dark. Quiet, even for the city. The song, "Bombs" by Sami Simon came on and played the whole way to the hospital. I felt oddly heavier than before as I waddled into the hospital.
It was 3:30 am and I was laying there on the hospital bed with the machine checking my contractions. My waters were clean, so no need to stay at the hospital. My contractions were very mild, and I told them I would come back when I felt it was time. They wanted me back no more than 24 hours past when my water broke. I agreed to be here by then.
I didn't want to go back home. I wished that I could just drive somewhere. Somewhere far and beautiful and quiet, somewhere by the water. Somewhere surrounded by trees. I won't lie, I was really sad that the father of my kids wasn't the one who would be there to help me feel safe. But I was doing everything I could to create my own feelings of safeness. Trying the best I could to have hope and courage for this journey with ______ by my side instead. I wanted to trust him. I wanted to feel loved by him. Like we mattered. Like we were family. And so I went home that morning and woke him up to let him know that today was likely the day we would get to meet our baby. Trying to foster some excitement and readiness.
I wanted to spent the day doing what I could to get labor going. Looking back on this day, I realize that the body truly knows when it's time; when it feels safe. My doula and best friend came by and spent the day with me. ______ was doing what he could to also prepare himself. We all talked and laughed and ate. My daughter was so happy and excited to meet her baby brother. My mom was on her way. My contractions never really picked up. And we spent all day and all night trying to get them going.
My doula and I decided we should all head to the hospital at 9 pm to try to get labor started since it had been about 19-20 hours with no real progress.
They checked us in, put me on the monitors, and gave me a peanut ball to rest on while they got a Pitocin drip in me. And there I sat and laid there for a few hours while my contractions picked up. I moved into the tub at some point and then over to the toilet as my contractions built up in intensity. It got to a point where I wasn't sure how much longer I could do it. See, since the time that my water broke up until this point, it had already been almost 32 hours. I was in such agony and I was starting to lose touch with my own body. I said that if I was not at a 7 dilation, to give me the damn epidural. She checked me and I was at a 6. Devastated and frustrated, I gave in because I needed to give my body and mind a rest. As well as everyone else.
Surprisingly enough, ______ was being a trooper. He had only left a couple of times to smoke. But he was back at my side in a flash. He held my hand, he said encouraging things. I felt safer than I thought I would. I appreciated him in these moments.
We rested. I could not longer feel the bottom half of my body, which was a relief. I still could feel the pressure of the contractions, which I enjoyed. And I progressed further in labor. I had fully dilated and we decided to do some practice pushes. I didn't feel ready to meet my son yet. I was so terrified. Life didn't feel right yet. More practice pushes. They could see his head!
A few more practice pushes and the doctor noticed that my baby was sunny-side up.
Not necessarily a bad thing, but for my unique anatomy, it was a better idea to try to rotate him so that he was facing the right way so as not to get stuck. Internal rotation is no joke. When I say I felt everything, even with the epidural, I felt everything. And they did it twice. Little boy was not budging. Not only was he not budging, it is my belief that when he felt something from the outside trying to physically rotate him, he got scared. With each contraction from that point on, his heart was decelerating dramatically. Like, holding our breath waiting to hear his heartbeat back on the monitor again. I was terrified. And losing touch with this world again.
The doctor suggested that we take this birth to the OR because they were worried that this baby boy was starting to lose strength. I ultimately agreed. I wanted to keep my baby safe at all costs. And our options at the moment were slim to none. It had been 36 hours of labor and I had nothing left in me except terror that I was going to lose my baby.
The doctors asked who I wanted in the OR with me, I chose ______ to come in, of course. They gave me another epidural or a spinal or something. All I know is that I was fading in and out. I was so scared that I was dying and that me and my baby were going to meet each other in heaven that day. I remember asking the anesthesiologist, "If I close my eyes, am I going to die?" I was crying. "No, of course not! If you need to close your eyes and rest, just do so." He assured me. But I refused. My fears plus the fact that for some reason, I felt things happening inside and to my body, like actual pain, there was no way I was getting any rest until this baby was safe in my arms. I kept wiggling my fingers to try to stay grounded. Praying to God and to my baby that we were going to be okay.
And with that, through 7 layers of my body, my son was born into the world. He had apparently went back up my body and turned around because they found him in a breech presentation. He cried a bit and sounded exactly like a mewing kitten. They whisked him away because his O2 was low. He was not in good health and so they asked me if they wanted ______ to stay with me or go with the baby. I told him to go with the baby. They briefly brought my baby boy wrapped up in his blanket so I could see and kiss his tiny face. I said to him, "I love you so much, Roux. Stay strong. We are almost there." And off they went. Tears streaming down my tired face while they put me back together, begging God to bring us together soon.
My Little Roux Bear.
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