To give you some frame of reference I’m writing this paragraph on August 4th. Not to spoil the surprise but low and behold, there is a baby in my house. As you might suspect, there isn’t much time for writing but I promised I would finish the story, and when I find a minute, usually very late at night, I sit at my computer and write. This is the story of the birth of my son. On Friday May 17th, we had what would be our last OBGYN appointment. The baby was fine. Heartbeat was healthy and strong, which put my mind and nerves at ease, but DR was huge, overdue, and tired. She was 2 centimeters dilated, about 60% effaced and a good candidate for an induction. The doctor explained what our options were moving forward. We could wait until Tuesday the 21st which would mark one full week post due date to do a sonogram to make sure the baby still had enough amniotic fluid. If he did, we could continue to wait it out, if not we could induce her that day. Our other option was to move forward with an induction as early as Monday morning if she didn’t go into labor on her own over the weekend. With that, DR nearly snapped her neck to turn and look at me as if this was my decision. I said, “As long as the baby is ok I’m completely fine with whatever your choice is, this is your body and I want you to be comfortable with what happens.” DR was so sweet, she looked at me with exhausted eyes and said, “no offense but I’m tired.” I said, “none taken, lets have a baby Monday.” The plan was set, Monday May 20th, which happened to be 13 years to the day of when Hubby and I met, we were going to have a baby.
Saturday and Sunday were the longest days of my life, I never looked forward to a Monday before and wanted my weekend to end so quickly. Monday morning finally came and at 6:30am I called the hospital to see if they had availability to induce DR. It was very strange to be making an appointment to have a baby, but my whole life had been strange up to this point. After a bit of confusion about DR’s expected arrival time, we were told to come in at 7:30am to begin the induction process. MR had to take the kids to school so Hubby and I went over to pick DR up and MR would join us after he dropped off the kids. What a surreal moment as she got in the backseat, “are you ready to go push out our baby?” We were filled with relief that the day was finally here, and we were going to meet our baby that we had dreamt of for more than five years.
We arrived at the hospital and checked in. We were in room 4, which was a very large room, with a flat screen TV, bathroom with Jacuzzi tub, a recliner and a number of chairs and of course the delivery bed. DR signed lots of papers and we explained our special situation to the nurses on staff. The nurse assigned to us was named Teresa. She was very sweet and understanding of our unique circumstance and immediately started calling me mommy and DR Auntie. They made me feel comfortable and respected which was a relief. I so much wanted to be a participant in this experience and not just an observer. We were told the midwife from our clinic and not one of the doctors was on call today which made me very happy. The midwife had always seemed more open to my request to actively participate in the delivery and actually pull the baby out. MR finally arrived and thus began the long wait. DR was hooked up to fluids and Pitocin and we waited for the really big contractions. DR was definitely feeling some intense cramps but nothing she couldn’t handle or talk through. Although she had always joked about wanting the epidural administered in the parking lot she actually put off getting it, expecting it to slow things down and keep her from getting out of bed. At this point, she wanted to be able to move around, go to the bathroom, and walk the halls. I held her arm and we paced the hallways together, dragging her IV along with us. Laughing and smiling at each other, in disbelief that we were actually here doing this. The nurses were amazed as they watched us. They said they never saw someone have so much fun going through labor. They assumed I was her Doula. I explained I was the baby’s mother and DR was my gestational carrier. DR would joke and say “I have three of my own at home, I don’t want this one.” Sometimes she’d shock people and say “oh yeah I am pregnant but this one isn’t mine.” We had so much fun with it. The hours were ticking by and DR was progressing unexpectedly slowly. She kept looking at the monitor waiting for a really big contraction but there were only small peaks. When Teresa came in again DR asked her if she should have more Pitocin because she didn’t seem to be getting the big contractions she was expecting. “oh no, you need an epidural and then we turn it up, we don’t make you suffer on purpose, once you get your epidural we can break your water and things will move much quicker than.” DR agreed to have the epidural at that point and at 2:30 MR, hubby, and I left the room while the anesthesiologist came in to administer the enormous needle into DR’s back. After about 30 minutes we came back and DR was in bed numb from the neck down. She kept saying she had to practice breathing and swallowing to make sure she could since she couldn’t feel anything. They had given her the epidural needle so high up on her spine she was numb from her neck down to her ankles. Shortly after, the midwife and Teresa came in to break DRs water. They moved the bed and equipment so I could stand in between them and see everything that was going on. This was an amazing perspective to have on the birth of my son.
Not to be graphic but there was a lot of blood and fluid once DR’s water was broken and now we just needed to wait for the contractions to get intense enough to progress DR to 10 centimeters. This did not take long at all and before we knew it we went from relaxed, waiting, and watching TV, to DR screaming that she felt like she needed to push. We all rushed into position as if we had rehearsed it before. I ran to the back of the room to throw off my blouse and put on a smock open in the front so that once the baby came out I could put him directly on my chest. Hubby was behind DR on her right side reaching down to hold the back of her knee with one hand and supporting her head with the other, MR was on her left side doing the same thing. These two men were bending this poor thing into a pretzel but she claimed it relieved the intense pressure. I was right on the front line, directly in between her legs at ground zero, the midwife was on my left, the nurse was on my right. As DR yelled out she had to push, all five of us started cheering her on and counting 10 seconds per push, then 2 pushes and a rest. I could see about a 3 inch diameter hairy protrusion trying to break through into the world. “That’s your baby’s head”, the midwife said to me. I was in awe, in shock, I couldn’t believe where I was and what I was doing in this moment. I didn’t have much time to revel in the excitement because DR was yelling out again, “I gotta push, I gotta push”! Again, we all took simultaneous deep breaths and cheered her on to push push push, one, two, three, four, as we counted to ten for each push. Then we would rest and DR would adjust her position. Hubby was trying so hard to give DR her dignity and as he coached and held her leg he turned his head and looked at the wall. MR noticed hubby looking away and finally said to him, “Hey brother, you gotta see this.” With that permission, Hubby allowed himself to look as he saw his baby’s head trying to break through. I could see the amazement in his eyes, as he would glance up at me as if to say, “Can you believe we are doing this right now”? We went on with this routine of pushing and resting and cheering and coaching for about an hour. DR was exhausted. I didn’t want to tell her, but the baby wasn’t budging. He was no further down than he was when we started. He was stuck under her pubic bone. I could see the panic in DR’s eyes, as the midwife and the nurse were whispering to each other that the baby was bigger than they expected and that he seemed to be stuck. I knew what DR was thinking, and I looked at her with my most sincere eyes and without speaking, I promised her there would not be a c-section. DR had pushed out her own three children and did not want to have to have a c-section now. But I knew it was impossible because this baby was so far down, the top of his head was peeking out. There is no way they are going to do a c-section now. The midwife slowed things down and suggested the anesthesiologist come back to give DR a bolus shot of the epidural so she could relax. Perhaps if she rested and lay on her side, the baby would rotate and get out of this stuck position he had gotten himself into.
After the anesthesiologist left, DR turned onto her side, unable to feel the contractions she was able to rest. I sat by her side, face to face, looking at this woman with complete wonder. I could not believe she was doing this for me. I put a picture of her kids in front of her face for her to focus on and get some rest. DR slept for about 45 minutes. I kept staring at the baby’s heart monitor and it seemed to be consistent and normal. Then all of a sudden there was a big drop in the number on the heart rate monitor. My own heart sank and just as I was getting out of the chair to run out to the nurses desk, the midwife and nurse Teresa came running back into the room, DR’s eyes snapped wide open and she yelled out, “It’s time, I have to push, I have to push.” The midwife very diplomatically said, “he’s telling us he is ready”. We all got back into position, I ripped the old smock off and put on a new one running into my catchers position. Hubby again was in the back to the right, and MR in the back to the left, each of them grabbing a leg and pulling DR into her pretzel position. I could see so much more of his head now. He had unstuck himself and was inching out with every push. At one point, the midwife asked us to stop telling her to push, she wanted DR to relax for a moment. She was trying to put pressure on DR with her hand so that the baby would slip out and DR would not tear. Of course Hubby was so into coaching and cheering and counting he didn’t hear this request and kept yelling out, “OK, one more push, ready, go, one, two, three.” “Um, babe, we’re not doing that anymore, take it easy now,” I whispered to him. In the middle of all this we were now laughing again. The midwife pushed against DR and asked her to give a small little half push and with that my son’s head was completely out. I could not believe my eyes. There was his little swollen face, eyes completely shut. The nurse suctioned his mouth as the midwife guided me into position. “OK now”, she said, “I’m going to ask her to give me another hard push and when his shoulders come out I want you to hook your fingers under his armpits and guide him out. Get close because we don’t know how short the umbilical cord is so you have to get down here.” DR pushed another really hard push and out popped his hand which was up by his face, and his shoulders, but then he stopped. I had always seen in movies how babies would just kind of fall out after their heads were out but that’s not at all what happened. His umbilical cord was wrapped around his shoulder and arm like the strap of a pocketbook. The midwife pulled the cord out of the way, I hooked my two forefingers under his armpits and pressed my hands together and tried to pull him out but he was not budging. “OK Auntie, give us one more big push.” DR gave it one more push, and I continued to pull, the midwife’s hands were cupped underneath in the safety position, just in case this slippery little guy dropped. In one fell swoop I pulled him up into my arms and onto my chest as I dipped down closer to DR. The nurse yelled out the time. There he was, my little cone-headed, gray, swollen-eyed baby. His cry was weak but as the nurse sucked out his nose and mouth and rubbed him up, his scream became louder. The midwife quickly clamped the umbilical cord and gave the scissors to Hubby for him to cut it. On this Monday, May 20th 2013 at 6:33pm I gently guided my son, Ryder Thomas, into the world, into my arms, and into my heart forever.
Nurse Teresa asked me to bring the baby over to the heating lamp so she and the baby nurse, another nurse who popped out of nowhere, could warm him up and perform the APGAR test. I was worried about his color but as he warmed up I could see his skin get pinker and his cry get louder. The nurse said he looked very good and was very healthy. A few steps away DR was still on the bed delivering the placenta and afterbirth but you would think she was sitting at a Tiki bar having a drink. She was all smiles, the color was back in her face as well, and she was in no pain at all. I stared at her. I watched her looking across the room at her husband MR who was already on his cell phone calling her parents to tell them the news. I watched her mouth the words to him, “it’s over.” I felt this wave of relief for them, and in that moment, I truly appreciated the risk and the sacrifice they were making. Now it was over. They could return to their normal lives a stronger more loving couple. My heart was pounding out of my chest. There she was, my superhero. I ran over to her as the nurses tended to the baby, and hugged her crying. We both wept into each other. She congratulated me and I just looked at her in amazement. “You are superhuman; I cannot believe you just did that.” Being that close to a live birth, especially the birth of your own child, from that perspective, is truly witnessing God’s grace. What is shown on TV and in movies gives the real thing no justice. After only a few moments the nurses sat me down and handed me my son so I could lay his naked body against the skin on my chest, our hearts finally united. Hubby and MR hugged like I’ve never seen two men hug each other. They may be cousins by blood but they are brothers today. DR and I have something between us now that can never be broken, or torn, or removed, or even threatened. The bond the four of us share is unbreakable. The gift we gave each other is unmatched.
Since the birth of our son I’ve had many people congratulate me and ask me how I like motherhood. There are no words to describe it. I look at my son every day in amazement. It was my seven year old niece who posed a very unique question to me. She didn’t ask how I like motherhood; she asked me what it felt like to finally be a mother. That is a very different type of question. I stood back, impressed with the insight of this little girl to conjure up such a unique and thought provoking question and I answered it with one word. Freedom. It feels like freedom. My infertility had me locked up in chains, unable to truly live, unable to feel happiness at times, unable to find humor in things, unable to express joy. It was like a prison sentence in many ways. No matter how much I tried to live my life anyway in spite of my infertility, it followed me everywhere as if chained to my ankle. It came of course with a lesson like all things in life do. I learned to follow the path God put before me, one step at a time, and to have faith. I cannot see the staircase God but by faith I will take another step and another, until you have brought me through. In 2008 if I knew the path that lay before me strewn with heartache and defeat, 8 failed infertility treatments, surgery, disappointment, crippling fear, only to have an anonymous egg donor and a gestational carrier help me have a child, I would have never taken that first step. Sometimes it’s better not knowing the way as you go along. Have faith. Trust in God that you will be brought to the place you wish to be. Be open to the possibilities. Do not shut yourself off to all the options that are before you. The craziest of ideas can sometimes become an awesome and beautiful reality. I followed the path, I brought my fear with me, but I stayed the course. What does it feel like to finally be a mother? Freedom. Therefore my sweet Ryder Thomas, to quote one of my favorite songs, “I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind, that I put down in words, how wonderful life is, while you’re in the world.”
thejourneytoparenthood 