When We Became Three

Do I think I will remember the crisp details from the day I birthed my first child until the end of my days? Of course I do. Am I aware of the way time begins to blur the crisp details of even our most important memories? Painfully so; but I suppose that’s the blessing and curse of aging. The beauty of written word is the way it allows you to step back into both the best and worst moments in history. For me, this is one of those “bests” for which I know one day down the road I’ll want to be able to bring those blurry details back into focus. 

    Now don’t get me wrong, just because it’s one of the bests doesn’t mean this birth story wasn't a period of time which held thoughts of worry, pain, and some fear of the unknown. You can create the most detailed birth plan, and yet once it’s time for a baby to make their way earthside, I feel more often than not, that plan going out the window is the first moment of genuine understanding of the unpredictability that parenthood promises to offer. For me, I was cognizant of that fact during my pregnancy, and made a loose plan for how I thought my ideal birthing experience would take place, but did my best to prepare to take all the moments of my son’s birth as they came. With so many unknowns and so much unpredictability on the horizon, there was only one thing I felt certain of throughout my pregnancy and that was the fact that baby Rigby would take his sweet old time deciding to make his debut. 

    Maybe it was my first instance of motherhood 6th sense, or maybe it was due to the fact that I knew that both my grandmother and mother went 16 days past their due dates with their first children. Either way, when my due date of December 18th came and went with no symptoms or signs of childbirth, I was the least bit surprised. The providers I worked with around that time let me know that they would let me get through 41 weeks, but that going into the 42nd week was just not an option. I was in no rush to force my babe out, but had always jokingly said he would be evicted by New Years Day when our insurance reset for the year. We’d set December 29th as my induction date, but when I went in for a check-up on Christmas Eve, the fluid levels surrounding my boy had decreased quite a bit since the check-up two days prior. After discussing it with my midwife who didn’t feel comfortable waiting until the 29th, I fully agreed it was best to move the induction up to December 26th. 

    While I had always pictured that moment of my water breaking overnight or somewhere embarrassingly public, I never envisioned being able to leisurely clean and prepare my house on the day I’d go to the hospital. My dad and step-mom came to watch the dogs while we were in the hospital and it was so surreal to be able to do our Christmas gift exchange, eat dinner, and just visit knowing that later that evening I’d start my labor. Saying my see-you-laters to my fur babies, Cessna and Piper, was almost enough to set me over the edge, but I felt I held my composure pretty well. The drive to the hospital was when the anxiety started to build a bit, and sensing that, Sam played some upbeat Taylor Swift songs to help lighten the mood. Once we arrived at the hospital, we were able to call Sam’s parents for them to pray over us before going in to get the show started. This allowed for some moments of calm and helped ensure the experience was one filled with love and a reminder that I’d be calling on my faith to see me through the difficult moments to come. 

    After getting checked in and settled into the room in the labor and delivery unit, I was officially induced at around 10pm on the 26th. Sam and I both decided to try to get some sleep before things got moving, and it was just a few hours later that I was feeling strong contractions. I was able to rest through them for the first few hours, but once they started, they never stopped coming hard and strong. By early morning, I felt that gush “they” describe when talking about labor beginning and let my nurse know that I felt my water had broken. I continued to work through a few hours of contractions and around 10am the midwife came to remove the device that had the medication that began my labor. Unfortunately, she was unable to locate it which required a further and incredibly painful sweep to ensure that it was no longer inserted (likely being passed at some point when I went to the bathroom and didn’t notice). I think this might have been the most painful part of my laboring experience. 

    During the morning exam, the midwife said I was between 2-3cm dilated and it was decided it was a good time to begin Pitocin to help get my contractions from a clustered pattern to something more rhythmic and conducive to progressing labor. Unfortunately, while the Pitocin sure did lead to frequent contractions, they continued to be clustered. This meant they continued to come in every 20-30 minutes to increase the dosage. I began to dread their arrival as I paced and labored around the room. As I was finding some relief with a hot shower at one point when a nurse came in and apologized for needing to interrupt it to increase the dosage again, and I just let the tears flow. 

    While no one can truly anticipate the pain of labor ahead of time, I knew it was going to be painful, hard work. However, I still to this day think the pain of those constant clustered contractions was made so much worse because the contractions were being forced by a medicine. Minute by minute, hour after hour, the medicine was trying to force my body into the rhythmic pattern. Had I gone into labor naturally and my body had been able to find its own rhythm, I think the pain would have been more manageable; not comfortable, just more doable. With that said, it was around 2pm that I knew I had to listen to my body and provide it relief with the help of an epidural. It definitely took me some time to work through the sense of failure for not succeeding with my plans for an unmedicated birth. I rationally knew it was not a failure, but they were feelings I needed to process before committing to that new plan. 

    Once deciding that an epidural was the way I wanted to go and getting the necessary IV fluids, it was about 2 hours later that I was able to get it placed. Again, that time allowed me to really make sure that’s what I wanted to do, so while I was over the pain, I was not fuming over how long it was taking. To be honest, the thought of epidurals and the possible complications they could cause has always been something that has freaked me out. Yet, knowing the other pain management options available, I felt the most confident about choosing an epidural. The anesthesiologist was very kind and he so calmly talked me through the process and explained I would need to have it done between contractions. He left it completely up to me to let him know when I felt ready for him to begin and he was encouraging with his words as he worked. Within an hour of the medicine being started, I never felt another contraction. Having the epidural brought with it a great sense of relief instead of the fear I’d always associated with it.

    With the relief from the pain of contractions, my body immediately shut down and I was able to sleep for a short time. Shortly after waking up, an exam showed I was 5-6cm dilated. Soon after that, my boy’s heart rate began to drop without quickly rising again. My nurse was able to help me shift onto my hands and knees where she was quickly able to get a healthy read on the heart rate. Unfortunately, when the rate dropped again shortly after, it was a more severe drop and all I remember was hearing “hands and knees” and seeing more nurses enter the room. Seemingly in the blink of an eye, I found myself on my hands and knees. I will never forget or take for granted the strength my body had to do this unassisted when I could not feel the lower half of my body. The nurses gave me oxygen as they worked to get a better read on the baby's heart rate and they made sure Sam was by my side. The nurses and midwife were encouraging and kind with their words as they worked. After what seemed like an eternity, I remember them asking “are you ready to turn back over?” to which I replied, “you tell me”. I knew in that moment that I could have and would have stayed in that position for the rest of my labor if my baby needed that. 

    Something Sam and I both will never forget was the charge nurse and midwife sitting down on the edge of the bed to ensure we took the time to process through what had happened. They reminded us that while this was a normal happening for them, they understood it was scary for us. The midwife shared that when numbers drop, they don’t know which way things could go, so any provider in the area who sees the monitors will respond so they can have all hands on deck if needed. They really helped to calm me and to help answer our questions, assure me that my body convulsing in shakes was due to the adrenaline of normal labor paired with what had just happened, and assure me they felt very comfortable with my continuing labor without the help of a c-section. The midwife, Elle, was sure to encourage me to work through what had happened so that I could set it free to continue on with my labor. I felt so supported by them in that moment when I needed the motherly encouragement I wasn’t able to receive due to Covid restrictions only allowing one support person in the hospital. Luckily, I was able to call my mom after to talk it through as well. 

    Once we had the baby’s heart rate tracking as healthy and had gotten through that scary episode, Elle did an exam and let me know I was at 9cm. She assured me this was more than likely the reason for the drop in heart rate as the baby dropped down and momentarily compressed his cord. I felt a lot more at ease knowing that there was a healthy reason for the rate to have dropped. They stopped the Pitocin for a bit to allow my body’s natural contractions to take over, and then began it again once the baby's heart rate had been strong and steady for a while. At that point, all I wanted was to have a healthy baby safely in my arms. Luckily for me, since I was at 9cm, I was soon able to start pushing which would help get him into my arms! 

    The problem I soon found was that while it took away the painful feeling of the contractions, the epidural also took away the sensation of feeling the need to push. With the help of the nurse telling me when contractions were showing on the monitor and being able to recognize the pressure that I felt at those points, I was able to work with the nurses to know when to push. Since I didn’t feel any pain from the contractions, I was able to focus all of my energy on each push. The team was so kind, brought out a mirror so I could see what was happening, and was great about suggesting for me to try pushing from different positions so I could find what felt best for me. Before long, we were able to see the baby’s head as he got into the position to drop down.
    
    Once again, there were a lot of people in the room, but most of them stoody quietly to the side to be there just if needed. I appreciated that they were there but that I was just able to work with my delivery team. Unfortunately, my team began to worry since meconium had come out which could have been swallowed by the baby in the womb. At this point they could also tell that the baby was getting stressed and his heart rate was spiking high. They assured me I had made quick progress in a short amount of time, but gently let me know I needed to get him out as quickly as possible or they’d need to step in to intervene. It got to a point where they were going to let me have one more set of pushing before they stepped in for a vacuum delivery. Luckily, in that last set of pushing, I was able to gather everything I had to deliver my boy. Finally, Benjamin Peter Rigby was here and in my arms! 

    Our boy was healthy and perfect in every way. The NICU doctor who had been present in the room evaluated him just to ensure he was okay, and quickly signed off on his perfect health. He also was the first person to have told us that baby’s heads look scary right after delivery (Benji looked like an alien) and assured us his head would look normal before long. We were able to enjoy a period of time in the delivery room, where Benjamin and I began our breastfeeding relationship with a really strong latch from my boy. Sam and I just kept looking at him and each other, in awe that he was finally here and that he was ours. To be honest, we’re still doing that now and probably won’t stop anytime soon. 

    We spent the next two days getting to know Benjamin, figuring out the learning curve of breastfeeding, and sharing the joyous news with family and friends. I once mourned the fact that we’d have no one with us in the hospital, but once we were in couplet care I savored that time we had as just the three of us (and a million medical providers). Going from two to three was quite the adventure for our little family and our boy sure made his presence known during his birth. I cannot wait to see where our Benji boy leads us as he learns about this world and grows into his own person. I thank the Lord for the care we received, the partner that Sam is to me, and for safely delivering my baby to me.