All throughout my pregnancy, I had the strongest feeling that our second baby would be early to arrive. With an October 1st due date, I felt certain she would be a September baby. But as we’ve all heard, those second borns keep ya guessing! September came and went with no signs of labor. Similarly to Benjamin, I was not in any hurry to force an arrival through medical induction unless it showed to be necessary. I did try many natural induction methods including walks, labor stretches, eating dates and consuming a disgusting amount of pineapple doused in sriracha. Still, the early days of October crept by with no baby. Knowing that my doctor’s office would allow me to get to 42 weeks before scheduling an induction, I pushed for the last possible option to schedule it which was October 14th. I really did NOT want to be induced as I felt the forced contractions added a layer of pain to an already strenuous process during my first labor.
The days leading up to the 14th were emotional as we knew our lives were about to change. We soaked up every last moment of life as a family of 3, hugged Benjamin a little tighter, envisioned life with two babies, and prayed our baby girl would start the party on her own. My parents would be staying with Benji and the pups while we were in the hospital, and we had a very early morning induction time, so they arrived the afternoon of the 13th. We spent the afternoon finishing up tasks around the house, playing outside with Benji, and starting to feel the surreal reality that when we left the house the next morning, we’d be returning with a whole new tiny human to care for. As we sat down to dinner, I was truly in shock when I felt a contraction!
After creeping into our first baby’s room one final time for tearful kisses and snuggling our fur babies, we were on the road! Though anti-climactic, Sam still enjoys unlocking a “dad achievement” of driving his wife to the hospital while in labor. In true Pennsylvania fashion, it wouldn’t be complete without a stop to Sheetz on the way! We were at the hospital by 12:30 and brought into triage which felt a little pointless. I was officially 42 weeks pregnant.. they weren’t sending me home one way or another. I can vividly see the triage room and how closet-like it felt with three adults in there. Though I was breathing through contractions and trying to do everything to make the nurse’s job easier, she took one look at me and said “oh honey, you’re in pain”. She then told me that when I had called in and spoken to the midwife, my calm demeanor had the midwife thinking it was going to end up being a false alarm (aka wasting their time on a busy laboring night). That same midwife then came in and the busyness of the night was evident in her bristly bedside manner, made worse when she told me I was only 2cm dilated. I so wish I had refused a cervical check at this phase especially knowing they wouldn’t be sending me home because in both of my labors these have been painful, stressful, and very defeating moments. Tears of pain and frustration streamed down my face. I remember wishing I had labored peacefully in my daughter’s nursery longer so my time in the sterile, protocol driven environment would be less.
After I had finally accepted Friday’s induction, going into labor naturally threw me for a mental loop. I had never experienced contractions at home with Benjamin. I didn’t know how quickly my second labor would progress, how far dilated I was, when to push it in terms of leaving the house for the hospital. Entering the hospital environment shifted my labor from laughing through painful contractions with my husband on the drive to feeling like a burdensome task to be completed in a one size fits all approach. It honestly rocked the confidence I had been building throughout this pregnancy and the ways I planned to advocate for how I wanted to labor. Defeated, frustrated, and in pain, I asked for an epidural. I had hoped for an unmedicated birth, but the epidural was a positive turning point in my first labor. I hoped making the decision for myself to shift the events back into my control would bring me a sense of peace. I was told it was too early for an epidural, but that I could have a pain medication combo that would “take the edge off” for an hour or so, allowing me to get some rest. Boy did that not happen…
Shortly after receiving the medicine, a very fast and intense shift happened in my labor. Our two nurses, who were really great and were still doing my intake, were suddenly telling me that the midwife wanted me to get an epidural due to concerns over decelerations in the baby's heart rate. They were worried things would be leading to a c-section and wanted me to be able to have the epidural if it got to that point. This way, I would get the pain relief I asked for and I wouldn't need to be put under in the event of surgery. Hadn’t they just told me 30 minutes ago that I couldn’t have an epidural? Couldn’t we just have started with that like I had asked? Why so soon after receiving the medicine were we suddenly in jeopardy of emergency surgery? I remember being annoyed more than anything as I agreed to the epidural.
Within minutes, the anesthesiologist was in the room preparing me for the epidural. Sam and I both felt strongly that we recognized him from Benjamin’s birth, but we never confirmed that. At this point I was feeling such intense contractions and the kind man tried patiently to help me in between them, but it was no use. Twice he tried to place it, and twice my body couldn’t withstand the moments of stillness needed. Again and again, I apologized for not being able to be completely still. Again and again everyone assured me I had nothing to apologize for. Our main nurse tried to get through my spaciness as she got in front of me and looked me in the eyes telling me it was now or never. He could try one more time. He could do it. I could do this. I can still hear myself repeating quietly to myself like a mantra as I held Sam’s hands, “back straight, head still, don’t look up, I can do this”. Finally, on the third attempt he placed it. However, I knew within minutes that it was a failed placement. I felt no numbness at all. In fact, within the next ten minutes, I felt an entirely different sensation.
What I do remember is everyone kind of moving around getting things ready when suddenly I looked up, I think I spoke to Sam, and said, “something isn’t right, I feel something”. I can only describe it as feeling a water balloon between my legs. My midwife soon confirmed that my amniotic sac was beginning to be delivered. This is the moment in labor I most wish I had been fully cognizant and aware of. I knew what this was. My baby girl was going to be born in her amniotic sac, en caul. I had seen the beauty of this rarity in delivery posts on Instagram. But I wasn’t mentally focused enough to speak up and tell them I wanted to try to deliver her this way. Sam and I had never once discussed the possibility of this so he didn’t know to advocate for it. So the midwife broke my waters, and within seconds I began to push.
Unlike my first delivery in which I was numbed from the epidural, I felt every sensation and pain with this delivery. I truly am grateful to have experienced these feelings, to know the extent of pain at which a mother’s body can be pushed to in order to bring a life into the world. My first delivery was a quiet one, but this one was far from it. I allowed my body to respond in the natural way as I pushed my baby into the world, no apologies given here. The room filled with people ready to be in motion after delivery, but the core nurses stood by and encouraged me as I pushed. I don’t know how many minutes it took to push her out, I just know it happened so so quickly. It felt like I delivered her within 2 minutes of my waters being broken.. I think it was only a few pushes, but there were no breaks in between, just the continuous need to push. I remember saying I couldn't do it, it was too much. They reminded me that I could do it, that I had to. One more urge to push and I said “okay, now”. One final push later and she was here. Our baby girl was born. I heard one tiny little cry from her as they placed her on my chest. We’d done it. I had done it. But after that one cry there was no sound.
It’s still difficult to process this part, even as I hold my perfectly healthy baby girl in my arms as I type. I know this birth story has a positive ending, and still my body seizes up as I remember the gut wrenching fear I felt in those first moments of my baby's life.
In the moments of taking in the beauty of this new life we had created, the room cleared out of all the extra hands that had been on deck. We spent our Golden Hour with her cozily on my chest as I appreciated each little noise she made and breath she took. We decompressed a little from the fast and emotional labor with our nurses who were so laid back, honest, and helpful with answering all of our questions. Before we knew it, we were headed out of labor and delivery to couplet care. Unlike our first time there, where it felt like there were people in our room every second of the day, things were much more relaxed in terms of pop-ins. We kept saying it must be that they knew we had done this already, that maybe they check in much more often with first time parents. Those second borns, right? We sure didn’t mind having as much alone time with our girl as we could manage, knowing that we’d have to share her once we went home.
Whereas we couldn’t have visitors at all for Benjamin's birth, this time we chose to allow just my mom to come meet our girl there in that sacred bubble of newness. She was meant to be at the births of both of my babies, so it was important to me that she be able to be part of our first hours with our second born. She was also the first one to hear Ruth’s name, as we had taken some time after her birth to try it on and make sure we felt it fit her. I remember Sam coming back from the cafe at one point, excited to share the little garden he'd come across that was dedicated to a Ruth. It was one more sign among many that told us this name was the one for our babe. Aside from the visit with my mom, our postpartum stay was thankfully uneventful. I was healing well and our Ruthie was proving to be healthy and strong (her neck control from day one has been freaky!).
While we were thankful for time with just the three of us, we were eager to get home to our son, fur babies, and our delightfully comfortable bed. We were so ready to get home and find our swing as a family of 11 (can’t leave out the pups and the chicks!) and did everything we could to expedite our check-out process. As we left the hospital, we couldn’t help but reflect on how different it felt to walk out the same doors we had left with our firstborn just shy of two years before. We were both much more confident in our ability to parent and to be trusted to drive home with our very own child.
Introducing our daughter to our son was such a sweet moment for us all. Benjamin has been a wonderful big brother from the start, although he was not so sure about sharing “Mama milk”. In those early days he was always quick to sign to us that Ruth was all done when he saw nursing. They don’t tell you how your first child will seem SO much bigger when you get home with such a tiny baby. I couldn’t stop looking back and forth between the two, in awe at how my sweet baby boy suddenly shifted to big brother. We spent the next few days enjoying watching our local family meet our newest addition and sharing countless pictures of her with those further away. The transition to life as four was honestly more natural than we ever could have expected it to be. Don’t get me wrong, two under two was incredibly exhausting, but as smooth a transition as it could be. We continue to be amazed by the joy our RuRu brings to our life and know she will bring us so many new memories and adventures!
Your children are the luckiest kids in the world to have such great parents. May all blessings fall upon all four of you.
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