My little brother was home on leave from training with the USMC. His orders had him back 10/1 at 15:00. His flight was 10/1 at 05:30.
He had been at both my previous births and was actually the first person to see Daphne after she was born. It was extremely important to both
of us that he be there to greet Lydia upon her arrival.
Unfortunately, Lydia wasn’t quiiiiite so cooperative.
For 5 weeks I’d been in what some like to call “Prodromal Labor“. Basically… from about 6pm until 12 Midnight {each.night.of.the.week} I would have consistent, timeable contractions. A few times to the point that I thought perhaps “it was time”. But alas… no.
September 30th, 2013
8:30 Am – I had my weekly NST and OB Check. (A little background, due to our previous pregnancy loss, I was monitored very closely as this pregnancy came to a close and we were all just a little anxious to get baby out and safe. Our goal was a crying baby at birth.)
NST was lovely and showed no signs of worry. I saw my doctor and we talked about labor. I was 3.5 cm dilated and 80% effaced.
{Basically… I felt like the baby was hanging out of me.}
OB did a quick sweep of my membranes to try and convince my body into some stronger contractions. She knew my plans for labor and birth and knew I’d always say no to induction. She told me that she was on call all weekend if I changed my mind but she also said “I don’t think you’ll make it that far though.”
While that was encouraging… I was still pregnant and not really feeling any sure fire signs of active labor.
I left the appointment discouraged and afraid of the idea that I may have to be induced. I fought the worry off and did what any desperate pregnant lady would do…
{Grocery Shopping}
I’m fairly certain I lapped the store a few more times than necessary but I got everything I needed.
Went home and cleaned house with my big girl.
Cherishing every last bit of my one on one time with her.
We laid down for a nap and were woken up by a surprise visit from my brother.
{This entire time I didn’t have ONE. SINGLE. CONTRACTION.} To say I was frustrated with my body was a total understatement.
5:45pm – Eden and I were getting a little stir crazy in the house so I loaded her up in the stroller and we took a walk.
{a TWO mile walk} Seriously… what was I thinking?! I was alone with a 3 year old, 39+ weeks pregnant and I went for a two mile walk… {ALONE}
As I turned the last corner and was about a quarter of a mile from our apartment complex, {everything. changed}
I could hardly breath and I started contracting hard and long. I think partly because I needed water and partly because, well… there was a baby trying to come out of me.
We made it home, I got Eden some snacks and turned on Tangled {again}.
I sent my husband (who was at marching band rehearsal) a text message.
“Definitely in labor. No need to rush home. I’m laying down to rest.”
I laid on the couch in our living room breathing quietly through mildly intense contractions. Nothing was life altering but it definitely wasn’t fun.
Evan got home around 9:15 and we knew we still had a while so we put Eden to be and just hung out down stairs.
By 10:30 my contractions were about 5 minutes apart and lasting anywhere from 50-90 seconds. Still not hospital worthy.
By 11:30 my contractions were 2-3 minutes apart and lasting a solid minute and a half.
Evan called my OB. The conversation went something like this…
“Hi this is Evan Daggett.”
“Hi, is Jessi in labor?”
“Uhh… yeah.”
“Okay… I’m about to deliver a baby. Just bring her in. See you in a few minutes.”
**Click**
And off we went.
We arrived at the birth center at 12 midnight. Toddler in tow. Triage checked me in at 5cm. My room was ready for me when we arrived and I was SO thankful! Eden fell right to sleep on the window bed in my room and we got settled in. Sabina (my dear sweet friend) arrived and we were ready.
I got pretty excited that maybe {just. Maybe} I’d deliver in time for my brother to come and see us before his flight.
As soon as it hit me that we were there and we weren’t leaving I got really. REALLY. nervous.
My mind was spinning with all kinds of “what if’s” and “I can’t’s”.
To no surprise… my contractions almost completely stopped. My fear was working against my body’s efforts to labor and I just started hurting.
As I tried to relax we watched YouTube videos of Jimmy Fallon’s LipSync Battles.
{Haven’t seen them? Seriously… you’re missing out!}
Around 2Am I was checked again and had made no progress. Baby’s head was still kind of floating so we decided to break my water in hopes she’d drop down and get things moving. I was up and walking, showering, bouncing… nothing.
I was having a consistent terrible pain in my right hip. There weren’t strong enough hands in the world to hip squeeze enough to help. It just plain hurt!
I realized at this point that my brother wouldn’t get to see us and a little part of me just kind of gave up, mentally. But my body was still working toward the goal.
Around 5:30 I was 7cm and fully thinned. But baby’s head still wasn’t low enough. In fact… she was twisted a little bit and that horrible pain in my hip was her HEAD! She wasn’t dropping because her big noggin was stuck in my hip.
I was frustrated and it hurt. I couldn’t squat because of her position. I couldn’t walk because of her position. All I could do was lean against a wall or lay in bed and have my birth team squeezing the heck out of my hip.
I told my husband I didn’t care anymore… I wanted drugs. I. COULDN’T DO IT.
He said no. {thank you babe!}
We labored more and around 7am {I think?} I told him again.
I didn’t care anymore.
Everything was dumb.
I wanted to leave.
I wanted to be done.
I wanted drugs.
He said… okay. {thank you babe!}
He didn’t want to say okay… but he knew I maaaaaayyy have re-enacted the “bad” scene from Temple of Doom.
{you know which one I’m talking about…}
Of course in order to get an epidural there has to be blood drawn, IV placed, blah, blah, blah… I didn’t care. I. Was. Done.
While we waited for all the “technicalities” to commence one of my amazing nurses came in from shift change and told me that she was so excited to be there.
{I was just shy of saying “well that makes ONE of us!”} but I didn’t.
She came to my ear and whispered “I want you to gently bear down with each contraction. We need to get that head out of your hip”
I, not so quietly, told her “it hurts. no.”
To that she said again, gently, “Just bear down. Little pushes. Nothing major. At least until anesthesia gets here.”
“Fine”
With that I began pushing little bits with each contraction.
By now it was about 9:30am.
As a contraction hit me I pushed a little bit and felt a big shift. It literally felt like my hip dislocated. I was afraid to move.
I turned over as much as I could and told everyone “Something just happened. I can’t move.”
My nurse smiled and said… we’re going to have a baby. She then called to another nurse and said “Tell anesthesia not to come!”
There I was 9cm dilated with a baby in proper position.
{FINALLY!}
A few more little pushes and we were ready for the big leagues.
{It’s amazing what happens when you truly believe you CAN do something. Everything changes.}
My doctor arrived and got geared up and the fun began. {Ha!}
About 45 minutes of pushing. A few {okay, several} swear words.
At one point while Lydia was crowning I actually yelled “Stop touching me!” but in fact… that was just her head.
Then… at 10:36am on October 1, 2013… she cried. That’s all I wanted to hear at that moment. She cried. She was alive. She was real.
{She Cried!}
I think there was nothing more that I needed right then to tell me {I. Did. It.} I almost didn’t do it. But I did it.
Even in my weakness, God gave me the strength to do it. And I Did It.
She was 7 pounds 6 ounces, 19.5 inches long with a 14.5 inch melon. {yeah… no wonder it was stuck!}
She nursed almost immediately. She had done a lot of hard work! She was hungry!
My body had a hard time letting go of the placenta so the afterbirth process was pretty rough. But I had an amazing team taking great care of me and I am SO incredibly thankful for them. We were all healthy and SO incredibly happy.
This birth helped me to regain my confidence in my body’s ability to birth. There was a healthy, living baby and we were all okay.
If I could say ONE thing to any birthing mama… it’s this…
“You. Can. Do. This. Your body was made for this. YOU were made for this. You can do this.”
