My Beautiful Alice's Birth Story
Today is September 9th. Not an especially unique day. Nothing to set it apart from the rest. Except it is special and unique to me. Today is my daughter's 6-month birthday. Even that doesn't sound too special until you realize how very close she was to not being with us.Life and busyness has kept me from writing up her birth story, but since I have some time here in Canada on our extended summer vaca, I'm going to collect what I remember. This is a loooong recounting of her story, but it's really more for my benefit than yours. If you brave this reading, thank you, but if you don't, I won't hold it against you!
I had another good pregnancy. I hadn't gained as much weight as I did with Jack, so I felt good. I had done Pilates until week 30 and walked after that. Sonograms, tests, heartbeat: everything looked good. Ever since I had first found out I was pregnant again, I looked forward to the labor/delivery part. I know that sounds weird, but my epidural worked so great with Jack and the process was pretty seamless (except for the 21-hour labor and 3 hours of pushing). But recovery was good, and in God's humor, we forget how we feel when we're 9-months pregnant and roll over every 30-minutes in bed and pee every 5-minutes and cry at every single Huggies commercial and then feel all of our insides constricting over and over and over until a screaming, bloody ball of beauty comes out when we are the most exhausted and in pain and hormonal that we've ever been in out lives. So, we decide it would be a great idea to do it again! But I really didn't mind the labor/delivery part, and my absolute favorite thing was how strong I felt as a woman for pushing for 21-hours and then having my beautiful child placed on my chest two seconds after he was born. Best. Feeling Ever. So, I looked forward to that feeling again!
On September 8th, I went to the Dr's and asked her to do whatever she could to get this baby out! Although I was still a week out, I was MISERABLE! I had actually set the induction date for the previous Friday but cancelled it when I didn't have complete peace about it for some reason. So, my sweet Dr stripped my membrane which is about as close to labor pains as I've ever felt (since I have great epidurals), but I was convinced it was going to do it's job! So, I went home and walked the block praying my water would break with every step. Disappointed, I returned home feeling a LOT of pressure down south and noticed that I was bleeding considerably. Some bleeding after getting your membrane stripped is normal, but this was a LOT! So, I called the Dr at my husband's insisting and was totally shocked when the Dr told me to go to L&D! What?! This could actually be happening?! My Mom instantly came over to pick up Jack, and Matt & I headed to the hospital. We were set up in triage where they monitored my sporadic contractions and determined that I was not in labor. Ugh!! So, after three hours of hoping I was going to have this baby within the next 24-hours, I was sent home. I still believed I would go into labor in the middle of the night, but they said it's worth it to go home and be able to get some rest and eat even if I did just turn around and come back.
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| It was "tourist" day at school! |
We loaded up our pre-packed bags and headed to the hospital where they agreed my water had indeed broken and I was in labor and dilated to a 4. Perfect! But as with Jack, my contractions hadn't started yet, so they put me on Pitocin. My wonderful, glorious doula, Pauline, suggested I sit on an exercise ball because Alice wasn't as far down as they'd like. So, after two seconds of that, the nurse, Ginger, came in and asked for me to get off because she feared the umbilical cord would wrap around Alice's neck. So, instead, I painted my nails in bed and Mom, Dad, Pauline, Matt & I talked about visiting Ireland next summer when my kids would be old enough to stay home. After a couple hours, the contractions had intensified enough for me to get the epidural. (I always like to feel them at least a little bit.) My 8-month pregnant anesthesiologist was great and the epidural worked beautifully although I was super concerned that I was prematurely inducing her labor since she had been standing right in front of my diffuser spewing out Clary Sage! After eight hours of labor, there wasn't a whole lot happening, and I was only dilated to a 7-8. That was fine. I was used to long labors, but when Ginger monitored Alice's heart rate, she had a funny look on her face and asked Pauline to call for another nurse to come in. I didn't think much of it even as they asked me to move to all fours. This was comical, obviously, because my nether regions were up in the faces of the nurses and because I couldn't control my bottom half and had to have help constantly. I still kept calm when Ginger's voice had a tilt of anxiousness when she asked Pauline why the other nurse hadn't come in yet and to go get one immediately. I still didn't think much of it when they put me on oxygen. I kept myself calm and breathed like they told me. I mean, my brain was trying to freak out, but I just knew everything was fine and this was a little off routine but it would work out and my labor would continue as planned. But then, something switched after about 4-5 minutes of being on oxygen and hearing more and more voices in the room. I started crying and breathing faster and asking if it was time to start worrying. Of course, they said no. My Mom was right there rubbing my back and praying while Matt was at my head doing the same, and I heard someone mention a C-section and my Mom say, "I rebuke that in the name of Jesus!" Ha! Thank you, Mother. I figured they were just being uber precautionary. I mean, a C-section was mentioned in Jack's delivery as well after 18 hours of labor but that was as far as it got.
After 7 minutes of being on my hands and knees (I did not know that time frame until a few days later), they turned me over and I was shocked to see my Dr at my feet and the room full with about 7 nurses. (Apparently, the Dr had been on the other side of town and they had called her so many times, in concern, she had to practically run lights to get there!) The Dr calmly stated that Alice's heart rate had been in the 40s for the last 7 minutes and they didn't know why. But, they did know they couldn't afford for that to happen again, so she started talking about the dreaded "C" word. And this time, it wasn't just precautionary. It was a real possibility. I asked Matt to come and talk to me about it, and in the midst of our 20-second conversation, Alice's heart rate dropped again and I said, "Let's do it." Everything switched into overdrive at that moment. The operating room was being prepped (apparently, it had been for a while) and a beautiful nurse was helping me take off my jewelry. When we had a hard time getting one of my earrings out, I remember wondering if I was killing my daughter because I couldn't get my blasted earring out! Our sweet nurse put her hand on my knee as we said a quick prayer together and she was so beautiful and looked me in the eyes and said something encouraging and I was on my way. While we weren't running down the hallway, we were walking briskly and I heard a nurse say, "Keep up, Daddy." Before we hit the OR doors, Dad asked if we could pray again, and they said no! So, my anxiety had definitely been building this whole time because the second biggest fear of mine during delivery was happening, but at least I was going to hold my sweet girl soon and this would all be over. Right before we went into the OR, I heard a nurse ask Dr if she wanted NICU on hand. She said yes as a precaution, and right there, my first biggest fear had come true. Not only was I having major surgery to get my baby out, but she was going into NICU too. I was absolutely terrified going into the OR. Matt had to stay in the hall with Pauline and dress up while they prepped me inside. I felt sooo alone and scared and cold. The epidural had made me shiver for the past several hours, and it had gotten worse when they gave me an extra dose for surgery. The lights were so bright overhead and the metal bed was so cold, and the only thing that kept me from freaking out completely was that I was an adult.That sounds ridiculous, but it's true! I just kept thinking I'm an adult and I can't freak out and cry and beg for my Mom. I have to keep it together. And then the most beautiful set of brown eyes were in my view. It was Larissa Losolla. My Alice's nurse practitioner and wife to Lorenzo Losolla whom I went to high school with and my Jr prom with. So, needless to say, I knew Larissa and was so comforted by her being there. She explained where they would take Alice when she was born and other things that I don't remember, but I will never forget how nice it was to see a familiar "face" in that OR room.
So, after Matt had his own panic attack in the hallway, collapsed to the ground and had 30-seconds to cry and freak out, Pauline told him to pull it together for me and he got to come in. The two male anesthesiologists were so kind and had the most caring eyes (all I could see above their masks) and kept giving me heated blankets and a heater blowing at my face. When he did the poke test on my stomach asking me to tell him if I could feel it, I thought, "He's going so fast! What if I don't tell him right and I feel them cutting me!" But I told him the right side felt a little bit, so they adjusted the anesthesia and within about 20-seconds, the Dr had said they were going to start cutting and then they pulled her out! And there's a collective holding of breath until you hear that cry...and there was nothing...and then there was something. But not a cry, more of a bleet. Like a baby goat. The Dr stuck Alice's head over the sheet announcing she was here, but then a team of NICU nurses took her. I looked to the left and saw at least 5 of them working on her and hearing Alice "grunt" but not really cry. They handed her to Matt and we took the obligatory photo which I hated because I was not happy and did not want to smile and just wanted to hold Alice. But Matt had to hand her back right away, and I asked him to just put his hands on my face because I was feeling very anxious. He told the Dr that who offered me a valium which I took happily! Because when you try to wiggle your toes and realize you can't, then your brain starts doing weird things and you start freaking out and you try to stop thinking about wiggling your toes but all you want to do in that one single moment is wiggle your toes! So, yeah, a valium was necessary.
Then, they wheeled off Alice and wheeled me off, and I went back to my room filled with my brothers and parents and Josh Allen, my surrogate brother, but no baby. It was such a weird feeling to go through such a major ordeal and have nothing to show for it. It's as if it was all done for nothing. I was still shivering like crazy, but they finally transferred me to my recovery room. While Matt & I tried to sleep that night, my heart rate monitor kept going off because my heart rate would drop into the 40s every time I was about to fall asleep. It was suuuuper annoying. The nurse adjusted it twice and finally called the anesthesiologist. I was fine but apparently just had a low resting heart rate. So, at 4am, since we weren't sleeping anymore, we decided to go see Alice. Matt had already seen her the night before, but I hadn't been able to move yet. I remember that being the most pain ever. Trying to sit up 8 hours post-surgery was absolutely grueling. I had two nurses helping me. I would move an inch and sit and cry then move an inch and sit and cry. When I finally made it into the wheelchair, with my pee bag and all, I threw up the whole way to the NICU. Matt had to scrub in once admitted after filling out his info to be admitted, and then we walked all the way down the hallway to her room. We did that every single time we visited. Every three hours, he'd wheel me down, sign in, scrub, and walk to her room. I couldn't even stand up when I first visited her. I could only rub her leg and cry seeing my daughter all IV'd up with tubes and monitors everywhere. It was a horrible and helpless feeling, and I didn't want to stay long. I couldn't even hold her yet. The nurse explained what was going on, but I didn't hear her. Apparently, since they had to take Alice so quickly, she had air pockets in her lungs that weren't able to pop yet like they do in slower deliveries. So, she was "grunting" because she wasn't able to breathe correctly. That, along with the low heart rate, made them admit her into NICU and hook her up to a C-PAP machine to breathe for her via her mouth. I'm glad I didn't see that machine on her in person because it looked horrible and invasive and huge on her little face in pictures.
I went back to the room and skipped the 8am visit in order to rest. I already had Mom guilt for that. Matt went down though. At noon, I went down again and finally got to hold her and attempt to feed her. She screamed the whole time
and I kept setting off her monitors, but she was already off the C-PAP machine and just one oxygen through her nose. I finally felt like a Mom to this sweet little girl. I did my chest-to-chest time which I had desperately missed after her birth and finally started to heal from that point on. Seriously, it's like my endorphins kicked in and I was able to recuperate after I held my daughter. And thus started our routine for the next 5 days. Feeding every 3 hours, back to the room to pump my colostrum which was all of 2oz at a time, rest for 1-1.5 hours before starting it all over again. Visitors and family streamed in constantly. And prayers were felt every single day. I never thought I would heal completely. I hated how the meds made me feel and switched them until I found one that didn't knock me out completely our make me crazy. And Alice continued to heal too. Her heart rate would drop intermittently, but they could never figure out why. Even after the correlation of her low heart rate and mine, they still didn't think it was genetic. They didn't want to release her until she had been 24 hours without a heart rate drop. As emotional and exhausting and taxing as those 5 days were, I felt such peace. I knew Alice would recover and I would recover and this would all be behind us. And those NICU nurses and doctors were our angels during that week. They were the most compassionate, involved and caring team I had ever encountered. We made lifelong friends in there and were amazed every day at their level of dedication and knowledge. We kept saying we wish we were wealthy so we could donate $10,000 to them and get our names on Alice's NICU room. They were phenomenal.
On day 5, yet another prayer was answered and Alice and I were released on the same day so we wouldn't have to commute back and forth or ever leave the hospital without her. She had regained the weight she had lost post-birth, her heart showed no murmurs or defects, and she was breathing perfectly. While my recovery was much longer yet, Alice never regressed. We had sooooo much help from my parents keeping Jack those first two weeks to Matt's mom coming in to friends and family stopping in and bringing food. And, of course, Matt was a God-sent and my help in everything during that time. So, this is the very long story of how Alice almost didn't make it but has since become Mama's best little friend. While I had an instant connection with Jack when he was born, my connection with my daughter is so different. I really do feel like I have an instant best friend with me always. I so look forward to the adventures we'll have together and the bond we'll have just like my Mom and I. Thank you Lord, for my beautiful gift. Happy 6 Months, Alice Everly!
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