I am writing to you a day before your first birthday. Memories of this time last year keep flooding back to me and I wanted to make sure to share them with you when you are old enough. I am sure as you know by the time you are reading this that your mom likes to go into detail, especially when it comes to telling a story or recalling a memory. Thanks for bearing with all the nitty gritty, somewhat gory but totally natural and miraculous, kiddo.
The week leading up to your birth was full of expectation. I had a sense you would be joining us soon. I had a friend take a photo of me, looking very pregnant, with my bass guitar. While you were being formed, you got to feel the deep vibrations almost every week while your daddy and I played music on the church worship team.
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| Rocking the bass three days before you were born. |
A day or two before you came, I bought and ate some pineapple in hopes that this might speed your arrival. My joints were aching, my feet were swollen, it was difficult to sleep, I peed a lot, but most of all, I was excited to meet you. I couldn't believe how large my tummy had gotten and marveled at the fact that there was a living being, spine, eyes, heart and all right beneath my skin. I could see you move and would rub or tap the areas where your foot, bottom, or knee would protrude. Sometimes you even tapped back, moving in response to my touch. It was so incredibly fascinating.
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| Last belly selfie before you arrived. |
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| We made it to 39 weeks, 3 days, and the size of a watermelon! This was painted on me by me. :) |
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| Yikes! Marshmallow feet! |
The hospital bag was packed about a week before your due date of June 14th, 2015, but I hoped you would come earlier. I even told you the the 11th sounded like a nice date. The night of June 9th your dad and I stayed up late together, most likely chatting and watching Netflix with a cat or two lounging on top of my tummy. As I got ready for bed I had a feeling that I should be prepared so I made sure to wear a pad. I'm sure I saw at least midnight on the clock as I rolled heavily from side to side.
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| Blue on my tummy. |
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| Murphy on my tummy. |
Once the whoosh slowed and I cleaned up a little I made sure there was no blood. While pregnant with you we had a few risk factors - the most scary being the possibility of vasa previa, where fetal blood vessels cross over the cervix (AKA your exit). When vasa previa is undetected and the membranes rupture, subsequently breaking the blood vessels, a baby can bleed out within minutes and have severe complications or die. We had a high risk ultrasound for this and it was ruled out but I was still on edge. Whew, no blood.
I sat there feeling blurry and bright at the same time. This was it. I was going to meet you soon. Better tell your dad!
I gently woke Mark by calling his name.
"Huh? What?"
"My water broke."
"Really? Tell that baby to stay inside. It's too early."
We made a call to the hospital and they told us to try our on-call doctor. I felt so bad waking her up but I got in contact with the doctor on call, let's call her Dr. S. She told me to call the hospital back and let them know I was coming in. Once the water breaks, they want you in the hospital to prevent infection, even if labor will last a long time.
Sometime during those calls around 4am, my contractions started as a soft, intermittent ache in my lower back. I leaned on the counter, swinging my hips a little as they started to get stronger. Your dad grabbed the hospital bags, loaded the car, and then we were on our way. My contractions continued in the car, all back labor, and were about 5 minutes apart.
Your dad dropped me off at the hospital door with our bags and went to park the car in the ramp. I stood there with a goofy, excited grin on my face. A man passed and asked if I needed a wheelchair but I was OK and happy to be upright. Your dad joined me and I waddled my way to the labor and delivery floor, stopping here and there as I waited for contractions to pass.
The check-in was not the most fun. The nurse at the end of her shift seemed tired and annoyed with me when I paused in answering her questions for a contraction. "It's just going to get worse" she quipped. They were also asking me if my water really did break or if I may have just peed myself. We heard a woman yell down the hall, "Does anyone even work here?! Someone? Anyone? I need help!" That nurse rushed out to help her. Your dad and I were a little frustrated then but understood when we heard the woman had her baby just an hour later!
The cherry on top was when Dr. S arrived to check my dilation and remarked that I was only open "a lady's pinky finger". She told me that we should start pitocin to hurry along labor because my water had already broken.
They moved us to the delivery room and a new nurse came in at the shift change. She seemed seasoned and steadfast, which brought me some comfort. I changed into a hospital gown and she hooked me up to an IV that started a drip of pitocin. Almost immediately the contractions intensified and I looked for a trash bin because I thought I would throw up. They turned down the amount because it seemed that my body was very sensitive to the drug.
From 6am-2pm things were pretty consistent. My contractions were still every five minutes but came in doubles (called coupling) as a result of you facing up instead of down, though we wouldn't find that out until later. Nurses buzzed in and out to check on me and to make sure things were progressing. In my birth plan, I wanted to sit in the tub but that wasn't recommended with an IV. I also wanted to try squatting but your heart rate decelerated a little when I got into that position so that was a "no go" there. I mostly sat on the bed or in the rocking chair listening to the Massive Attack Pandora station and doing my best impression of a Zen woman in labor.
Your dad was attentive, caring, and I am sure, a little bored. He paced back and forth in the large delivery room. I could sense his nervous energy and hear his footsteps. "Sweetie," he asked kindly, "is there anything I can do?"
"Um, stop pacing?"
Haha, your poor dad.
Around lunch time, your dad got very hungry but he felt bad about leaving me. I told him not to worry and to get some food but not to get anything that had a strong smell if he was going to come back to the room with it. During labor, I was not allowed to eat on the chance that I would need a c-section. Food plus surgery is not so good. Needless to say, I was hungry and when your dad walked in the room with a to-go container of chicken fingers my stomach grumbled. Being pregnant amplifies the sense of smell and for a while, that smell was overwhelming! He ate around the corner near the hallway door and tried to waft the smell away from me.
Shortly after lunchtime, I asked for a little pain relief because I was so exhausted and the double contractions were taking a lot out of me. Part of my birth plan was to try to go without any pain meds so I felt guilty but the nurse immediately squashed that guilt and told me I was doing very well. They administered a shot that would take the edge off the pain and would only be in my system for two hours. While it didn't do a lot for the pain, it did make me sleepy and I was able to snooze for a few minutes between each contraction.
Sometime earlier that morning, Dr. S had finished her shift and Dr. M took over. He visited me a few times, left for lunch, and then came back. He watched as I worked my way through a contraction. I rocked quickly back and forth in the rocking chair, eyes closed, imagining my cervix opening like a flower, and breathing out in long breaths through pursed lips. He said I was a natural and that made me feel good and strong (even if he does say it to all the laboring ladies).
2pm. Dr. M checked how things were progressing. You were still sunny side up but I was more dilated so the doc said to push a little with each contraction if I felt the urge. This is where things started happening quickly. A few times, when I pushed, your heart decelerated a little so they began to set things up for a "just in case" c-section if you wouldn't rotate. I didn't want this at all so I did my best to remember what helped turn a baby from some of the birthing books I had read.
I went to my knees with my arms resting on the upright part of the hospital bed. This is when a student (teaching hospital) came in and tried to take my blood. Since my arms were up, there was not much blood to veins near the crease of my elbow. The student tried a couple times before my husband interjected and had them bring one of my arms down. I was a little distracted with the quickening contractions so I just did whatever they asked.
After they got the blood, I turned on my left side to rest a bit and then flipped back to sitting when it was time to check your positioning again. You had turned! Once you were facing down, my body knew what do do and you started crowning quickly. This burned a little but mostly, it felt like you were stuck. Dr. M had me put my feet up in the stirrups, handed me a mirror, and had me look at the top of your head. Wow.
Your dad stood at the top of the bed near my side and helped me count when I pushed. I was having trouble finding the right way to push because I had been letting my breath out the whole labor and now had to hold my breath. Dr. M placed his hand where I should focus the pressure of my pushes. By then my whole concept of modesty had gone out the window so I voiced my thoughts openly, "It feels like my butthole is going to explode!" Yeah, I said that. This is the beauty of birth, kid.
As your head was closer to coming out, Dr. M offered the mirror again saying that your head was petite and I shouldn't tear. I said no thank you this time. I just wanted to get through this part! The contractions came closer and closer together and I quietly did my best to push the right way, my face red and cheeks puffed out as I held my breath. Then I screamed.
Apparently, you had your fist by your face, just as we had seen in many ultrasound pictures, and as your head emerged, so did your fist. Ouch! One more push and the rest of your body was out. Dr. M picked you up by one arm and one leg, you gave a cry, and then he flopped you on my tummy.
You were born on Wednesday, June 10th, 2015, at 3:53pm, 7lbs 7oz, 19.5" after 12 hours of labor and 30 minutes of pushing.
And there you were - a little blueish-purple but pinking up quickly, covered in patches of white vernix, forehead wrinkled and eyelids puffy from squeezing through, and deep, navy blue eyes that connected with mine instantly. I smiled at you, said hello and that it was nice to meet you, gently touched your cheeks, and stroked your matted hair. I noticed the diamond shaped, chocolate colored birthmark under your right ear and giggled as I saw that you still had a little peach fuzz hair on your bottom and lower back. Your nose was an adorable squished button and your lips were small and doll-like. I studied your tiny hands and fingernails with amazement. I already loved you before I got to see your face but holding you in my arms just amplified that love.
The second you were out, I was flooded with relief and joy. My body relaxed and I took comfort in the sight of you: alive, healthy, and beautiful on my chest. I placed you near my breast to see if you would latch and you did! I was grateful for the distraction of you because what was going on below was not as pleasant. The placenta had to come out with some exterior squishing of my tummy and all the parts you had split while coming out, both up and down, had to be sewn back together after some numbing shots.
After Dr. M stitched me back together, he examined the placenta to make sure it was all there (a mom can get pretty sick if any is left behind). "Um," he paused, "Was there anything different about your placenta during your pregnancy?" We told them about the vasa previa that had been ruled out but with his questioning, I knew he had found something. "It's there, isn't it?" And indeed it was. Had the membrane ruptured just a half inch from where you exited, we would have had a very different day and outcome.
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| Clear vasa previa |
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| Photo by Naomi Walsh |
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| Photo by Naomi Walsh |
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| Your daddy loves you so much! |
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| Pineapple boxers and hospital guest accommodations |
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| Such a tiny peanut; all safe and sound |
I think I will have to write you a whole other letter about your first year with us! You have filled our hearts with a joy that we didn't know existed before you were in our life. After years of struggling to have a baby at all, you are an answer to prayers and a blessing to be with every day. I have really enjoyed remembering when you were born. We love you so much. Happy birthday, little squish, heart of my heart, Ellie, lil' E, little lady, Eliana!
Love,
Your Mama
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| One day old. |
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| One year old. |
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| Sweet and curious. |
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| Great sense of humor! |
A miracle baby in pretty much every sense of the word. Happiest of birthdays to your sweet, beautiful pumpkin and congratulations on one year of parenthood to you and Mark! <3
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