Lyla Hart was born on Sunday, January 29 at 5:48 p.m. Sounds so simple, doesn’t it? Well, Lyla’s entrance into the world was a little more complicated than going to the hospital and having a baby. She decided to enter the world in grand style, with a dramatic build-up to her debut, to make her birth story something mommy would have extra fun writing about.
Day 1
Carter, my mom and I drove to the hospital in the early morning darkness on Friday, January 27 for my scheduled induction. I chattered about how nervous and excited I felt. It was a weird feeling having no idea how the day was going to play out. Would our baby be arriving today? What would labor feel like? Would everything go according to plan? Over the past few days, I had only been having occasional contractions, usually at night, that weren’t strong or long. Is that what labor would feel like? Or was I in for something much more intense?
We arrived at the hospital around 5:30 a.m. and were led by a nurse named Summer back to what would be our labor and delivery room for the weekend. Summer performed an initial check on me and had difficulty reaching my cervix. She didn’t think my dilation or effacement were as far along as our doctor had told us on Wednesday. The doctor had warned us that the nurses might disagree with his assessment, so we weren’t too surprised. We were just a little disappointed that I wasn’t at, oh say, 5 cm already.
We were greeted by Dr. P, who was nearing the end of his shift, at 6:30 a.m. After Nurse Summer put in my IV, announced that my blood was spurting out everywhere, and I almost passed out (but didn’t thanks to Carter fanning me off), Pitocin was started at 7:09 am at 2 mL/hr.
At around 7 a.m. a second nurse named Amanda came into the room to take over. She was a very sweet girl with a strong southern accent who had recently moved to Orlando from Georgia. Her kind demeanor and affinity for small talk put me at relative ease, but she seemed so young and I was eager to talk to Dr. H who was due to arrive at 8 a.m. At 9 a.m., Nurse Amanda increased my Pitocin to 4 mL/hr, and at 10:12 a.m., she increased it to 6 mL/hr. At this point, I was having mild contractions (2 on a pain scale of 1 to 10) approximately 5 minutes apart.
At 10:57 a.m. (Don’t you love the exact times? Carter was taking notes), I wanted to get up and move around. It was rather unpleasant walking to the bathroom with Pitocin, a baby monitor belt and a contraction monitor belt attached to me, but with Carter as my birthing coach, anything could be accomplished. I felt a bit disappointed as I made my way between the bed and the bathroom while attached to 3 of the medical interventions I had planned to avoid according to my birth plan. However, I understood that a baby monitor belt and a contraction monitor belt became necessary for safety reasons once Pitocin was introduced to the plan. As Dr. H would later explain to us, Pitocin is the most dangerous drug in obstetrics when not used properly. We made the decision for me to go on Pitocin out of what we believed was in the best interest of our baby, and so we realized we would have to be flexible and allow for drastic changes in our original birth plan. As long as the changes meant our baby would arrive here safely, that was all that mattered to us.
Getting up to go to the bathroom made my contractions stop, or at least made me stop feeling them. When I got back into bed, the contractions started again but were much less intense. Carter and I realized that my full bladder may have caused the contractions to feel stronger than they actually were. At this point, I was beginning to feel a little bit worried because it seemed like I should be feeling more intense contractions. What if the Pitocin wasn’t working?
After what seemed like forever, Dr. H came in to greet us at 11:30 am. I literally cheered as he walked into the room — it was so wonderful to see a familiar, comforting and knowledgeable face. After performing a cervical check, Dr. H estimated that I was 1-2 cm dilated and 50-60% effaced. He said that I was right where he expected me to be at this point and he estimated that I’d have the baby on Saturday afternoon. He recommended that I consider having a Foley balloon inserted overnight to help increase my dilation. The Foley balloon would be blown up to increase my dilation to about 4 cm.
At 11:30 a.m., my Pitocin was increased to 7 mL/hr, and at 2 p.m., IV fluids were started. I had been having some soreness at the site of the the IV, and the fluids relieved my discomfort.
At 2:45 pm, a second nurse asked how my contractions were feeling. I told her they still didn’t feel that strong, so she felt my stomach with her hand and said, “I’d call those contractions moderate.” Her assessment made Carter and I feel hopeful that I was progressing more quickly than we thought I was. I thought that maybe I was one of the lucky women for whom labor contractions wouldn’t be very painful.
As the day progressed, my Pitocin was increased up to 10 mL/hr. My contractions increased in intensity but never got above 2-3 on on a pain scale of 1 to 10. We knew that January 27 would not be our baby’s birth day, and we felt disappointed and confused.
Dr. W took over the night shift at 5 p.m. and came in to meet with us sometime around 6:30 p.m. Dr. W is a soft-spoken Jamaican man who has the loveliest, calmest voice and perhaps the most gentle and loving demeanor of any doctor I’ve ever met. When we discussed the events of the day, he recommended that I take a break from the Pitocin, get up and move around, take a shower, eat a nice dinner, and spend time with my “lovely family.”
“I don’t like seeing you hooked up to machines like an animal,” he said. “This is a special time that you should be enjoying with your family.”
As for the next steps, Dr. W suggested that I get a medication called Cervidil. Cervidil is a medication that is comprised of Prostaglandins, the same hormones found naturally in semen. He likened the effects of Cervidil to the ripening of an orange. He explained that the Cervidil would help to ripen my cervix.
“I know Dr. H had recommended a foley balloon, and that is an option. Different doctors have different opinions. I don’t want to confuse you, but I would recommend Cervidil. The foley balloon isn’t very comfortable, and I wouldn’t use it on my wife. I believe in treating you like my family, but I am here for YOU. I will do whatever you’d like. The Cervidil works slowly, naturally. You wouldn’t pick an unripe orange from the tree to make juice,” he explained in his soothing voice. “The Cervidil will soften and ripen you. If you go with the Cervidil, I don’t want you to be disappointed if you’re still between 1 and 2 cm dilation tomorrow,” he explained. “That doesn’t mean the Cervidil didn’t work. It means it ripened the cervix and will help move things along.”
Then Dr. W gave us some time alone to think about our options. He also encouraged me to walk around and take a relaxing shower, and he told me that I could be disconnected from the monitors overnight to get a better night’s sleep. “She’s proven to us she’s doing well. She’s being a good girl,” he explained.
Carter and I decided we really liked the sound of Dr. W’s natural approach. So after I took a shower, hanging my arm out of the shower to prevent my IV from getting wet, a wonderful nurse named Sarah inserted the Cervidil at 9:45 p.m. We asked Dr. W if I could opt to stay connected to the monitors overnight just for my peace of mind, and of course, he was extremely supportive of anything that helped us to feel more relaxed.
Over the course of the night, I had difficulty getting comfortable on my back and finally felt more comfortable when I shifted to my side. My contractions increased in intensity towards the morning, and Carter and I felt hopeful and excited that we had made the right decision and that labor was progressing. Nurse Sarah checked on me throughout the night and was by my side in a flash if the baby’s monitor or my contraction monitor needed to be re-adjusted. I felt very well cared for, as the doctor and nurse were very considerate of Carter’s and my wishes.
Day 2
At 7 a.m. the next morning, I met the gentle nurse who would be taking care of me for the next 12 hours — Marcie. While she was out of the room delivering another baby, the Cervidil was removed by a second nurse at 10:15 a.m. Unfortunately, this nurse wasn’t as comforting as Marcie. She performed an exam on me to see how I had progressed overnight, and she was so rough that I was almost in tears. When she told me that I was still only 1-2 cm dilated, I started crying despite Dr. W’s explanation from the night before. With all the contractions I had been having overnight, I thought for sure that I would have been more dilated.
While we waited for Dr. H to arrive for the day shift, Carter and I did what we could to move things along. I ate some breakfast to keep my energy up. From 10:15 – 12:15, we walked around the halls of the hospital. I was still having moderately painful contractions that were 3 to 4 minutes apart, and so we had to stop periodically so that I could lean on Carter and breathe through the contractions.
At 1 p.m., Dr. H examined me and saw that I was 2 cm dilated. He must have understood our frustration, because he went ahead and stretched me . . . “You’re 3 cm now,” he said. I could have kissed him. He also told me that my cervix was 90% effaced at this point, which showed that the Cervidil had done what Dr. W predicted it would do. Things were looking up, and Carter and I felt hopeful again.
At 2 p.m., my Pitocin was restarted at 2 mL/hr. Marcie, the sweet nurse we had met earlier that morning, continued to increase my dosage throughout the day — to 4 mL/hr at 2:32 p.m., 6 mL/hr at 2:59 p.m., and 8 mL/hr at 3:31 p.m. My contractions were increasing in intensity, but with Carter’s coaching, I breathed through them as we had practiced, and I felt confident that we were going to accomplish the epidural-free childbirth we had been planning. Carter made sure to keep me comfortable, putting a birthing ball under my legs to help relieve the pain I was feeling in my back.
At 4:27 p.m., Marcie began administering Vancomycin, an antibiotic for treating my Group B Strep (a normal bacteria found in 1 out of 4 to 5 pregnant women). This was a good sign because it meant that the doctors and nurses thought I may be giving birth within the next 12 hours.
Then something happened that drastically changed the mood in the room.
At 4:33 p.m., as I breathed through a contraction, I noticed that the contraction didn’t seem to end. I breathed and breathed and thought about how well I was doing. But the contraction just kept going.
“How long is this contraction going to last?” I asked Carter and my mom in a strained whisper, my eyes closed. Carter tried to be reassuring and said, “It looks like it’s going back down,” but I could tell that something was wrong. The room was too quiet. Just then, Marcie came rushing into the room and asked how long I had been feeling my contraction. When I told her, she cut the Pitocin in half to 4 mL/hr and said, “I’m going to give you some oxygen for the baby,” and she put a mask over my face. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I breathed the oxygen in through the mask and watched Carter and my mom staring at the monitor. They both looked very worried. I also thought I heard nurses outside our talking about how the baby’s heart rate had dropped. I didn’t want our room to be the “news room.” We had been waiting for this baby for so long, and I was terrified for her safety. Marcie then turned the Pitocin and the Vancomycin off completely.
I learned that our baby’s heart rate had dropped from a baseline range of the 140s to around 90 for a minute or 2. I had experienced uterine hyper-stimulation, and the baby did not react well to it.
At 5:25 pm, Marcie restarted the Vancomycin but kept the Pitocin off. I was feeling very frightened and tried to fight off my contractions. With each contraction, I was scared about how the baby would react. I continued to breathe through them, but as the 6:00 hour approached, I noticed that my chest was hurting right under my left breastbone. We told Marcie that my chest was hurting, and she thought that it might be the baby kicking my rib cage or that it might be gas.
However, as the pain worsened, my fear grew. At 6:00 p.m., the baby’s heart rate dropped again. Marcie gave me an oxygen mask again, and we all nervously watched the baby’s heart rate on the monitor. It now remained in the 170-180 range, higher than the 120-160 that the doctors and nurses like to see.
At the 7 p.m. shift change, a new nurse, Debi, walked into the room as if we weren’t even there. She was tall, manly and burly, and I instantly felt myself tense up. As she looked at the monitor, she told us what we already knew.
“The baby’s heart rate dropped twice, and that’s not good,” she said in a callous, this-is-just-another-baby tone. Carter tried to explain to her exactly what had happened over the course of the day, and she argued with him that what he was describing wasn’t accurate. She was looking at the baby’s heart rate records, but we had experienced it firsthand! Why wasn’t she listening to my husband? Carter and I had just been through a scary several hours, and what we needed now was a kind and caring nurse who would calm our fears, not make us feel worse.
By this time, I hadn’t gone to the bathroom in more hours than I could remember. I asked the nurse if I could get up to pee, knowing that Dr. W (whose shift had started at 5 p.m.) would approve. “No, you can’t get out of bed,” she said. “You have to stay hooked up to the monitors. I’ll go get a bedpan.”
I was so frustrated because I knew that if Dr. W saw the way she was treating me, he’d be furious. The nurse came back in and shoved a bedpan under me. I felt humiliated and de-humanized. As the bedpan filled up, I told the nurse that I thought it was going to overflow and I needed another one. “It just feels that way,” she said. “It’s not going to overflow.”
“I really feel like it’s going to. Could you please get another one in case?” I asked.
She got another one, and I filled that up, too. It started to overflow, and she cleaned it up with a towel and then cleaned me up, too. I was on the verge of tears.
When Dr. W came into the room to meet with us around 8 p.m., he expressed his concern regarding the baby’s elevated heart rate. We talked about the events of the day and about our worries, and Dr. W was very empathetic. He explained that he wanted to see the baby’s heart rate come back down before deciding what we would do next. He said that if her heart rate did not come back down, that a caesarean section would be the safest route for us to take. As we talked, the mean nurse observed with her unsympathetic, beady eyes.
As Dr. W left the room, I pointed from the nurse to the door and gave Carter a look that said, “Go tell him about our terrible nurse.” Carter immediately understood what I was asking and followed Dr. W out of the room. When Carter explained to him how the nurse had treated us, he said that he understood, that her behavior was unacceptable, and that it was important that we feel comfortable with whomever was in the room with us.
A short while later, Dr. W came into our room and apologized for what we had gone through. He told us that he had talked to the charge nurse, who said that she would call in another nurse to take Debi’s place. “You are intelligent people,” Dr. W said. “You know what happened today better than Debi does, and she should have listened to you.” We were so appreciate to Dr. W for validating our concerns and for taking immediate action.
Later, we reconvened with Dr. W to discuss how we would be proceeding. Our baby’s heart rate had come back down and settled in around the 130-14o range. At this point, my contractions had nearly halted, no drugs were being administered, and Carter, my mom and I all felt frustrated.
“Your little girl was talking to us today,” Dr. W explained. “She didn’t like the Pitocin. Let’s slow things down. I suggest continuing with the Pitocin overnight at just 1 mL/hr. Nice and easy. It will be a test to see how she reacts. And I will be right outside, watching her all night to see how she is doing. If things go well, we can consider breaking your water bag in the morning to get things moving. If the baby continues to have more reactions, then it will be time for a c-section.” Dr. W’s plan with the Cervidil had worked beautifully the night before, so we trusted him again. We felt very comfortable with his slow, natural approach.
So, we settled in for another night of uncertainty, but we felt confident that we were in wonderful hands.
At 12:45 a.m. on Sunday, January 29, Debi restarted the Pitocin at 1 mL/hr. I was so afraid of her that I didn’t even want her to do that, but Carter assured me that even a monkey could administer Pitocin, so I warily let her do her thing. Meanwhile, we wondered when our replacement nurse would arrive.
At 1:51 a.m., I noticed that I was leaking a lot of thin liquid. Carter looked, and we thought that perhaps my water had broken. We summoned Debi, who said that it was probably just mucousy discharge and left the room. As the water continued to leak, I said to Carter, “I’m pretty sure that my water broke.” We called Debi in again, she examined me, and she said, “Oh, it does look like your water broke.” No kidding.
Carter’s and my mom’s faces lit up. This was good news! It meant labor was progressing!
But I had other thoughts. Yes, I was excited. But I was scared, too. I knew that my water breaking didn’t necessarily mean that I would continue to dilate. I also knew that there was now a time limit on when I had to deliver. Once the water bag breaks, obstetricians want you to deliver within 18 hours to prevent infection, especially when the mother is GBS positive like I am. Pediatricians prefer that mothers deliver within 12 hours after the water bag breaks. Also, did this mean that Debi would be the nurse delivering our baby? I didn’t trust her one bit.
Right after my water broke, I started shaking uncontrollably. I wasn’t cold; I was scared . . . excited, but scared. I couldn’t stop trembling, and it made it difficult to breathe through the contractions, which were now coming quickly and intensely. I didn’t realize that my water breaking could speed things up so effectively. As my whole body shook, I tried to calm myself — breathing deeply, relaxing my mind — nothing was working. So after about a half hour of uncontrollable trembling, I asked Carter to hold down my legs and my mom to hold down my arms. (It’s funny how you instinctively know what you need, even if it’s strange, when you’re in labor.) As soon as they did that, my trembling stopped. The pressure and the comfort of their touch was all my body needed. Any time one of them would let go, I’d start shaking uncontrollably again.
As the contractions got more and more intense, I found that the only way I felt some relief was by being on my back. I wasn’t allowed to get out of bed to move around, to use the birthing ball, or to try any of the other strategies that Carter and I had learned about in our childbirth classes. With this change of plans, I felt helpless. I was limited to breathing techniques and changing my positions in bed. On my back, I was able to focus on my breathing and the contractions didn’t feel quite so intense.
Not long after I got into a groove on my back, Debi walked into the room and told me to get on my side. “I’m actually feeling like I can deal with the contractions better on my back, thanks,” I said with authority. This lady was overstepping her boundaries. “You need to get on your side because we can’t see the baby move as well on her back,” she pushed. So that was that. All my options for pain relief were now gone. I had to get on my side and relax the best that I could with breathing alone.
Day 3
As soon as I repositioned myself to my side at around 5:15 a.m., the contractions became extremely intense again. “I’m going to throw up,” I said. Carter asked for a bucket, but my mom couldn’t find one in time, and of course Debi was nowhere in sight, so I threw up all over the floor. Debi came in to clean it up. I was pretty zoned out at this point, but I had enough composure to whisper, “That’s what she gets for making me get on my side.” Carter laughed at my ability to joke while I was in so much pain.
Throughout the night, when the baby’s monitor would shift and we couldn’t see or hear her heartrate, we’d wait and wait and wait, and Debi would never come in. Carter would have to go and get her and ask her to readjust the monitor. What was her purpose, anyway? She wasn’t even keeping an eye on our little girl. Meanwhile, we had asked her to let Dr. W know that my water broke in case this changed any plans. She said she would, but we’re pretty certain she never did, because we know Dr. W would have come into my room to ease my mind had he be informed of the latest development.
After I vomited at 5:15, my contractions started coming one on top of another with no time to rest. Even between contractions, my uterus stayed contracted. I said, “The heck with Debi” and got on all fours and rocked my hips to try and make the pain go away. This helped a little. But before I knew it, I felt delirious. I was looking at Carter and my mom with eyes that begged for relief. I was crying in pain. I hadn’t slept in at least 24 hours and hadn’t eaten in about 18 hours. I was exhausted and had reached my pain threshold. I couldn’t talk or interact with Carter, my mom or the nurse. Because I didn’t have the opportunity to use any of the coping strategies that Carter and I had practiced, I knew I didn’t have the energy to push, unless the pushing was imminent.
“Carter, I want to get an epidural,” I said.
Carter was the perfect coach and didn’t want me to make any decisions I’d regret, so he asked, “How long have you been thinking about this?”
“A long time,” I said. It was true. I had probably started thinking about it about 2 hours prior to mentioning it. With the intensity of my Pitocin-augmented contractions and all the complications I had experienced so far, I just wanted to regain some energy. After having worked so hard for so long, I didn’t want our baby to have to be delivered via c-section.
It barely registered when Dr. W came in to check on me sometime around 6 a.m. He examined me and told me that I was dilated 5 cm. I knew that there were probably still many hours ahead of me. I had already been in labor since Friday morning, nothing had gone as planned, I wasn’t able to use my pain management strategies, the baby’s heart rate had dropped twice, and I had experienced pains in my chest. I was so scared about what would happen if I tried to continue with a “natural” childbirth, if you could even still call it that at this point.
“Dr. W?” I called out. “If I were to get an epidural, would that slow down my progress? Would now be a good time to get one?”
Dr. W knew I had planned on having a medication-free childbirth, and he had respected my wishes by not offering me an epidural. But he was gentle and kind when I now mentioned the possibility. “An epidural, yes. Perfect time for an epidural,” he said in the most soothing voice I’ve ever heard in my life. “It won’t slow your progress. My wife got an epidural at around 5 cm, she got a nice sleep for several hours, and then she woke up ready to push. Get an epidural. Get some rest. Then it will be time to push.”
“Thank you, Dr. W,” I said, with relief in my voice. “I want to go ahead and do that.”
At this point, Nurse Debi said that I needed to get a half bag of IV fluids before I could get an epidural. Of course, this presented yet another complication. The IV fluids were dripping very slowly because my IV was positional, meaning that depending on how I held my hand, it would either flow or not flow. I tried to keep my hand in a position that allowed the fluids to flow, but the IV continued to shift. Meanwhile, I was still writhing around and crying in pain. When the bag was finally half empty around 7 a.m., the nurse’s shift change was taking place, and Debi took her sweet ol’ time in ordering the epidural for me. Carter and my mom were getting antsy and anxious seeing me in such discomfort. “Where is she? What is she doing?” I heard them asking.
Finally, about an hour after I requested it, Carter and my mom announced that the nurse anesthetist entered the room . . . music to my ears. I was sweating and crying, my hair was plastered to my head, and I tried my best to comprehend and answer the anesthetist’s questions. I signed a consent form with a shaky hand.
I also heard 2 new nurses’ voices. It didn’t register with me that the shift change had taken place, and I didn’t know what they were saying . . . all I knew was that their voices were sweet like angels and I immediately felt comforted. “Whoever that is, you sound really nice,” I said. Comfort washed over me.
At 7:30 a.m., my epidural was administered by the nurse anesthetist, Aaron, while a nurse named Gisel steadied me. Only one person was allowed in the room (and had to stay on the couch) during the epidural, so my mom left and Carter watched me from the couch. Aaron explained everything that he was doing . . . “Now you’ll feel a little bug bite” . . . “Now I’m giving you a test dose . . . let me know if you feel x, y or z” . . . “Now I’m giving you the epidural and you’ll feel relief soon.” Aaron and Gisel were both so sweet and gentle, and I wasn’t afraid at all.
I didn’t feel weak or ashamed of my decision to get an epidural. I felt proud of myself for getting as far as I did, especially with as many complications as I had experienced. I had basically been forced to stay on my side for the better part of 2 days, without using any of the coping techniques I had practiced other than my breathing techniques, and while being administered Pitocin that caused our baby’s heart rate to drop. I felt proud of myself for allowing myself to deviate from my plan, to do what I felt was best for me and especially for our baby. And not long after the epidural was administered, I felt complete relief. I felt aware again. I could see and hear and understand everything that was going on around me.
“Women must love you,” I joked with Aaron, who humbly replied, “You know, I get all the credit, but the nurses do more than I do.” And with that, I graciously thanked Gisel, too.
Not long after receiving the epidural, Gisel pointed out that I was having a big contraction and asked if I could feel it. “Not at all!” I exclaimed in disbelief. I couldn’t believe that just a few minutes before, I would have been crying out in pain with the strength of such a contraction. Now, I lay peacefully in bed with a huge, goofy smile on my face.
I also met my second nurse, Kristy, who was so knowledgeable that she seemed like she could be a doctor. She explained everything to Carter, my mom and me. As our baby’s heart rate fluctuated, she explained what was considered normal and safe and what to watch out for. She kept an eye on my contractions, which were now becoming more spaced apart, and assured us that they were still coming steadily and that I was making progress. She was reassuring, nurturing and caring, and I felt so blessed to have such a person in our presence during the most important day of our lives.
One of the best parts about getting the epidural was the opportunity to sleep. I hadn’t slept more than an hour or two in almost three days, and after the epidural, I fell into a peaceful sleep for about two hours. I woke up around 10 a.m.
Throughout the rest of the day, Kristy, Gisel and Dr. Hwould periodically check my progress and let me know when I had dilated another centimeter. Carter and I still felt nervous that I might need a c-section, knowing that I needed to deliver within 18 hours of my water breaking, but Dr. H told us that he felt confident I’d be able to deliver vaginally. At one point, Dr. H took advantage of the fact that I’d had an epidural to stretch me an extra centimeter. God bless him.
Sometime in the afternoon, after who knows how many hours, Kristy offered me a popsicle, which sounded as good as a Thanksgiving feast to me at this time. It gave me a burst of energy. At around 2 p.m., Kristy told me I was 9 cm dilated and that they’d check on me again around 3 p.m. “It’ll probably be time to push then,” she said with excitement. By this time, I felt like Kristy was an old friend who was sharing the excitement with us.
The Birth
Around 3 p.m., I was 9.5 cm dilated, and around 3:30 p.m., Dr. H sent a fax to Kristy that said “To Kristy: Push!” Dr. H had kept in touch with the nurses all afternoon, and we all had a good laugh at his memo. Kristy said that was the first time Dr. H had done something like that — maybe he knew that after our strenuous weekend, we were ready for a laugh.
With that, the coaching and the pushing began. I wasn’t scared at all — I was so excited that we had come this far. I was thrilled that I was actually going to be able to deliver vaginally when all weekend long it had seemed like we were destined to have a c-section. I felt strong and energized and ready to push. “Time to impress everyone!” I thought to myself. Now was my chance to actually DO something, and I was more than ready. Now was the time my workouts and athleticism would pay off.
Kristy had Carter hold one of my legs and my mom hold the other. Then, she taught me how to push. She had me take a deep breath and push out while holding my breath, like I was going to the bathroom. She told me to hold the push as long as I could before taking a second breath and doing it again, and then a third breath and doing it one more time. She also told me to push my bottom down toward the table and to hold the tension of each push even when I was taking another breath. With each direction that she gave me, I felt my pushes become more effective. I pushed with all my might, and it wasn’t long before the nurses, Carter and my mom could see the hairy top of our baby’s head. I was shocked when they told me that her hair was brown. Carter and I always assumed our baby girl’s hair would be blonde. I asked the nurses if they could bring out the mirror, and I was able to see, too. It was so motivating to see that little bit of brown hair. I wanted to push and push so that I could see the rest of her, too. How else would our precious baby surprise us?
Dr. H came in to check on me after about 20 minutes of pushing and told us that he suspected our baby might be face up. He said I was doing an excellent job pushing and to keep on going and see how I progressed. He then left the room, and Kristy and Gisele continued to coach me.
Kristy constantly cheered me on and told me how great I was doing. With each push, we saw more and more of our baby’s head and brown hair. We were so close, but our little girl wasn’t quite crowning. With one push, a little bit of our baby’s meconium was released. This is a concern because it can signal that the baby is in distress. Also, if a baby is born and inhales the meconium, it can be very dangerous. After an hour-and-a-half of Kristy and Gisel’s coaching, my pushing, and Carter and my mom cheering me on, Kristy called in Dr. Hill to see if he had any tips that might help our baby to enter the world. She also let him know about the meconium that had been released.
Dr. H took over the coaching for a few minutes.
“Wow, you’re a great pusher,” he said. “The difficulty is that the baby is face up. You could be pushing for another two hours and her head is not going to get under your pelvis. It’s always so difficult to see a mom who has had a perfect pregnancy and then all these complications arise during labor and delivery. I know you really wanted a natural childbirth, and I’m sorry that all of these complications keep coming up for you. Almost every little complication that COULD come up for you, HAS come up for you. Here are our options: we can use forceps, we can use a vacuum extractor, or we can do a c-section. I prefer the vacuum extractor to the forceps, as this is a very modern version of the extractor. I’m actually on the safety committee for its use and helped in its development. The vacuum extractor goes on her head and I help pull her out while you push. She may be a little cone-headed for a few days and may have some bruising on her head that will heal up quickly. The only caveat is that the vacuum extractor can only pop off her head three times before we’ll have to do an emergency c-section. In that case, I’d do the c-section and have her out within a minute. The other option is to go right to a c-section. With the vacuum extractor, this will be a difficult delivery, but I’m up for it if you are.”
With one look at Carter, I looked Dr. H in the eye and replied, “Let’s do it.” We had worked too hard and come too far to have a c-section now. I couldn’t use the mirror anymore in order for Dr. H and the nurses to have easy visibility and access to the baby, but that was ok. I had to concentrate.
And with that, Dr. H’s coaching and my pushing began. At some point during my pushing, he saw something (I can’t remember what now) that indicated our baby was going to come out gray and floppy. He told us, “Ok, guys, your baby is going to come out gray and floppy, and she won’t be crying, but don’t be alarmed. It’s ok, and she’s going to be just fine. It just changes plans a little bit. She’s going to have to go right over to the warmer and have some fluid suctioned out of her lungs.” Dr. H was calm and collected as he told us this, and Carter and I trusted him and knew everything was going to be ok.
I pushed hard and the vacuum extractor popped off our baby’s head. That’s one, I thought to myself. Only two more and it’s a c-section. “That’s one,” Dr. H said, “but it was my fault. You’re doing great.” After the first pop-off, I began pushing as hard as I possibly could every time that Dr. H coached me to push. With each cheer to “push!”, I pushed for as long as my muscles and my lungs would allow me to. My face was bright red and I could feel my veins popping out. Carter later told me that he instructed me to push and I successfully did so SEVEN times with A SINGLE CONTRACTION. I didn’t feel tired or worn out. I just felt adrenaline; I knew I had to get our baby out now.
“Oh yeah! This is the one and she’s here! Push!” I heard Carter and my mom cheering me on in excitement. For a brief moment, I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to push her out. But I was so determined that I pushed my fear aside and pushed with all of my body’s strength. “Here she is!” I heard everyone shout in united joy. In the same instant that I saw her full lips, button nose, closed eyes and full head of beautiful brown hair, the tears came pouring down my face in fountains and I cried harder than I ever have in my life. “We’ve waited for you for so long!” I sobbed to our baby. Carter was crying in unison beside me. In the brief moment that I saw our little girl, I thought about how much she looked like a perfect blend of her daddy and me. I heard my mom assure us, “It IS a girl,” with laughter, and I heard my brother Kyle crying on the cell phone near my head (he, Lew, and their families were listening in on cell phones). No sooner was our baby out than Dr. H handed her to the respiratory therapist, who immediately focused on getting the fluid out of our little girl’s lungs.
Carter and my mom rushed over to the table to watch over our little girl while Dr. H stitched me up where I had been torn. “This looks really good,” he said,” “This isn’t bad at all.” Then, he looked over to the respiratory therapist’s table and said, “I want to get the baby back to her mom as soon as possible. Her mom has a very specific birth plan.” I was so touched that even in this high-stress moment, Dr. H was thinking about what was best for our family.
I looked over at the table at our little girl’s gray hands and feet and struggled to see her. My heart pounded as I anxiously waited to hear her cry. “Is she ok?” I asked Carter over and over again. He kept assuring me in quiet whispers “Yes, she’s fine,” as tears rolled down his cheeks. He was smiling with more joy than I’ve ever seen on a man’s face, but I could see the worry in his face, too. Then, after what seemed like forever, I heard our baby’s muffled cry, and I cried along with her. I saw the color start to return to her little body, and I saw Carter and my mom taking pictures. “Lyla is just fine,” Carter cried to me. And now I really knew she was.
I asked Carter to bring the camera to me in between pictures so that I could see Lyla’s face. I couldn’t get over how absolutely beautiful and perfect she was. Her face wasn’t bruised at all and her head only had a slight cone shape to it despite the difficult delivery. And I was instantly in love with every little thing about her.
Finally, Lyla was placed on my chest and the love that surged from within me was more powerful than anything I’ve ever felt in my life. I laughed. I cried. I kissed her sweet head. I felt her breathing against my naked chest. And I just wanted to lay there and hold her and love her forever. With Carter right by my side and my own mommy watching on, it was an absolutely perfect, beautiful moment.
Lyla was 7 lbs 2.8 ounces and 20.5 inches at her birth. We laughed at the fact that her hairline is EXACTLY the same as Carter’s hairline; I didn’t realize that hairlines could be inherited!
A few days after Lyla was born, I had an amazing realization. She was born on January 29, 2012. We arrived in Florida on January 29, 2011. Exactly a year after we moved here, our daughter was born. We couldn’t have planned that if we tried.
It’s incredible what takes shape while making other plans. We tried and tried to get pregnant, and finally did get pregnant while taking a break. We tried to have as natural a childbirth as possible, and our childbirth was pretty much as far from natural as you can get. I wanted to deliver our daughter with Dr. C or Dr. H, and ended up with the team of Dr. W and Dr. H. I can’t imagine a more perfect team for us — Dr. W’s natural approaches (e.g., administering Cervidil, keeping the Pitocin at a low level) did more to progress my labor than any of the initially planned tactics. Dr. H allowed me to give birth vaginally, even though he knew it would a difficult delivery. Nurse Kristy later told me that Dr. H is probably the only doctor in the practice who would have allowed me to deliver vaginally; she said that any other doctor most likely would have gone straight to a c-section. I can’t imagine a more perfect team of nurses than Kristy and Gisele. After a weekend of being cared for by 10 (!!!!!) nurses, Kristy and Gisele were like angels — I was so comfortable with them that I felt like they were family members, and I am honored that they were the ones to coach me through to the delivery of our little girl. Oh yes, and it turns out that Kristy lives right around the corner from me with her husband and two little boys. You can’t plan these things!
And let’s not forget, I gave birth to our daughter exactly one year after moving to Florida.
From the day we conceived to the day Lyla arrived, this whole journey has been nothing short of a miracle.
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, and My In-Laws, Thanksgiving 2011:
