Oliver's Birth Story, part I

By my third pregnancy, I figured I pretty much knew what to expect: start out with some light morning sickness in the first trimester, add to that a typical weight gain of 25-30 pounds, throw in a huge basketball-belly, and finish it off with a tired third trimester, pretty constant back-pain and a pinched nerve in the front. And I was right--all of that happened.

But it wasn't all that happened. Turns out I didn't know exactly what to expect. I definitely didn't expect the long year filled with wishing and waiting and praying for patience before getting pregnant. I also didn't know how it would feel to be consumed with certain, dread-filled conviction that I would be diagnosed with gestational diabetes. And perhaps most of all, after two easy pregnancies, relatively uncomplicated births, and healthy babies, I certainly wasn't prepared for the feelings of fear: fear of another large baby (or larger baby), fear of a c-section, fear of complications at birth, fear of having to push out another baby...fear of having to do something that I knew would be so hard.

As the months passed, I did my best to eat a diet filled with protein, complex carbs, and less sugar. I said goodbye (for the most part) to my beloved breakfast bowl of cereal and welcomed a new morning staple: fried egg, piece of toast, small glass of milk, and turkey bacon or sausage. With my other two pregnancies, I failed the initial 28-week glucose test and had to take the 3-hour test, complete with fasting and multiple blood draws. This time, I passed the initial test with flying colors. Which meant I definitely did not have gestational diabetes. I couldn't believe it! Perhaps I had some hens to thank?

The fact that my blood sugar levels were so much better this time, definitely helped to ease some of my worries. But I still was anxious about this birth. So much so, that I wasn't sure if I wanted to deliver at the birth center again. I voiced my concerns to some of the midwives at several of my prenatal check-ups. They were supportive and understanding of my concerns, encouraging me to make the choice that I felt best, while also expressing their confidence in me and the likelihood of a positive outcome in the birth center. They encouraged me to consider the process of a hospital birth and to compare it to that of the birth center. That really made an impact on me. I had kind of forgotten the nuts and bolts of a hospital delivery--filling out paperwork, check-in to triage, various protocols that can be frustrating during labor, as well as having nurses you've never met before. While none of these things were deal-breakers during my labor with Charlotte, I remembered how comforting it was to just walk into the birth center when I was in labor with Elliot. I was familiar with the center. I knew everyone who was there helping me. The atmosphere was calm and supportive and I could really just focus on laboring from the minute I arrived. It was a good for me to remember, because those weren't necessarily the memories that had stuck with me from Elliot's birth.

Over the next few months, I grew more at peace with the prospect of the upcoming birth and tried to focus more on the fact that I had already given birth twice and surely I could do it again! Instead of worrying about all the things that could potentially go wrong, I chose to focus on the positive and the high likelihood of things going right. I finally felt at peace with the decision to have this baby at the birth center.

Soon, I was headed into the final stretch. This time around, I was pretty uncomfortable. A lot of prayers were prayed that this little one wouldn't wait too long to makes its grand debut. But in my heart, I knew the chance of having a baby before my due date was probably slim to none, considering that Charlotte was born two weeks "late" and Elliot was a week "late." But that still didn't stop the praying and hoping!

Easter Sunday came--I was just a few days over 39 weeks. It was General Conference weekend and we had a wonderful morning listening to conference and finding Easter baskets in between sessions. It was so relaxing to be at home together, not worrying about meetings or appointments for Mitch, and was about as perfect of an Easter as I could have hoped for. I felt really happy.

That afternoon we went over to my parents' home for dinner and had a great evening. My appetite was impressive and I ate way more than I probably should have...but loved every minute of it. The kids delighted in playing with cousins and the adults visited and enjoyed each others' company. It was the perfect end to an already wonderful day.

That night I woke up an hour after having fallen asleep with some intense contractions. But I was still half-asleep so I didn't really know what was going on. Finally after writhing in bed for a couple of minutes I kind of came to and realized I needed to get up out of bed if I wanted any kind of comfort. I spent the next hour or so moving through contractions that were coming every 5 minutes, then 4 minutes, and sometimes even 3 minutes apart. They were fairly uncomfortable, but my memories of labor with Elliot felt similar, so I figured it was time to wake up Mitch. He got up and after a bit we decided to call the birth center. One of the midwives, Laura, was actually already at the birth center with a woman who had just given birth, so she said I might as well come on in, especially since my labor with Elliot went fairly fast and I was positive for Group B Strep again (meaning ideally I need to have antibiotics in my system for at least four hours before baby is born to be considered adequately treated).

We called my mom to come over, grabbed our things (I hadn't completely packed so I was finishing up that), and after my mom showed up we headed over to the birth center. I was really excited to be in labor--and before my due date at that! But then, of course, my contractions started slowing down during the ride over. And then the second-guessing began.

We arrived at the birth center. Laura checked me and I was completely disappointed to find out I was only at 3cm. Which was practically the same place I had been at my appointment a few days earlier. I started to feel really foolish, but at the same time, I was still having these contractions and it still seemed like this was really labor. We decided to hang out for 20 minutes or so and see what happened before we made a decision whether to check in or not.

My contractions kept on coming. They weren't horribly painful, but they did take some concentration to work through. So we decided to check in and get started on the antibiotics. "You never know how these things will go." Laura reminded us. "The woman that just had her baby came in at 3cm and had the baby 3 hours later!" Well, I didn't think that would be the case...but I was excited to finally meet this baby so much sooner than I had expected.

Apparently I was pretty excited about antibiotics, as well!

After the antibiotics had run their course, I decided to get in the shower. The shower really took the edge of the contractions and I was pretty quiet in there. I spent a lot of time thinking about how God doesn't ask us do anything without providing a way (1 Nepi 3:7).  I kept thinking, "He knew I just couldn't take being pregnant any longer! So here I am actually in labor...what a miracle! I can't believe I'm going to meet this little baby today!"

Well, little did I know that I could and would be able to handle being pregnant for a little bit longer. 10 more days to be precise. My contractions never did get any stronger that night. I only progressed to 4cm and in fact, my cervix seemed to be even less effaced than before. After several more hours of trying different positions to amp up the contractions I was absolutely exhausted. Laura suggested I lie down and see what happened. I climbed gratefully into the bed and the next thing I knew I was dead asleep. I woke up when Laura came back to check on me and my contractions had all but disappeared.

Laura went over our options (stay and try various methods to induce labor or head on home and wait it out). In the end, we decided to go home. I was so disappointed, I couldn't help but cry. "What's wrong?" Laura asked. "I'm...just...hormonal!" I cried and rushed over to grab a tissue to mop up the tears.

So we packed up our things and headed back home, before the kids even woke up. I felt so sheepish--you'd think after two babies I would know real labor when I felt it! Laura had reassured us that false labor becomes more common the more babies you have. That made me feel a little better, but I still felt hugely disappointed. When we got home, my mom headed off to work (after her night was so interrupted!), Mitch tucked me in bed, and I slept soundly for several hours and then woke up to eat lunch and headed out to my dentist appointment. The hygienist thought it was crazy that I was coming in so largely pregnant. But I had figured that the chance of having this baby before my due date were was very very low. Too bad I hadn't remembered that sentiment the night before--I could have saved myself a lot of lost sleep!