the line above begins the famous
Queen Mab speech in Act 1 of R&J... I always did like the character of Mercutio. it's easy to get lost (and bored?) in the dreamy lover-lyness of the title characters, and Mercutio adds good flavor and bite. anyhoo, M.A.B. also happens to be the initials of our twelve-day-old daughter, who's birth story I thought I should jot down here before I completely forget parts of it. some of you have already heard it, but here's how we got this little girl out of the womb and into our arms:
to ward off any complications due to the low amniotic fluid issue (the main concern, I think, being that the bigger she got and the closer our due date came the greater the chance my fluid might diminish further, compress the umbilical cord, and compromise her oxygen supply), I was admitted to Methodist last Monday night to be administered a drug to make sure things down below were properly prepared for inducing labor on Tuesday morning. as it turned out, when they hooked me up to the monitor I was contracting so much already that the drug was unnecessary, which made me feel good - knowing my body was already working like that made the timing seem a lot more natural to me.
overnight, I labored a little - it wasn't awful and I got some sleep, but the intensity began to gradually increase and I started working to breathe and stretch through the contractions (mostly by tilting my pelvis around and arching my back). around 6a, Dr. H checked me out (OWWW), broke my water, and the nurse administered the pitocin to speed things up - and did it ever. by 8a the contractions were really, really sharp - it felt like the soft little buffer of ebb and flow, which gave you time to prepare and sink in, was completely removed and the pain just started, built to 'OWW!', and died down like a strong wind - and I was inwardly freaking out a little while trying to keep my breathing and stretching going. Marty (our nurse who took over that morning) started asking me about pain relievers. I hadn't formulated a birth plan, because I wanted to stay as flexible and expectation-free as possible, but secretly I'd hoped I could just go in and do it all naturally. I think a lot of women would admit to that hope, and would like to be able to say their bodies and spirits endured the pain and performed the way we're designed to without drugs and stuff. so when Marty laid out our options, I was hesitant to make a choice until she said that if it made a difference or gave me any help or comfort, pitocin is a really mean drug when it comes to it's effects on the body, with it in my system I wasn't having a natural labor/birth anyway, and that she'd known very few women able to endure it's effects without some sort of relief. it took me about a minute to ask for the epidural after that. which, honestly, hurt less than getting the IV in my arm the night before.
I ended up laboring all day, and began to feel pressure around 4pm. our families hung out and, thanks to the epidural, though the monitors showed I was having crazy contractions I was able to rest, talk, and enjoy everyone. I honestly was so thankful for the epidural - the biggest concern I had was that my legs felt so heavy from the drug and the fluid I started retaining that I worried I wouldn't be able to work my body to properly push.
when I started feeling pressure and Marty said it was just about go-time, I started getting emotional and a little weepy. M's mom and my mom prayed over us before everyone left the room, and I started pushing. it became clear after awhile that I didn't seem to be making much progress, which was so disheartening. I know people go through way worse, but the day seemed so long - I think most of us expected things to go faster, and as dumb as it sounds I felt like I wasn't 'performing' well enough. ridiculous, I know, but that's evidence of the deep-seated people-pleasing and self-judgement that I struggle with. as I pushed and rested, I kept praying for God to just call her forth out of my body, or help me push better. with Marty on one side helping support a leg and husband on the other, I actively pushed with contractions for about an hour and a half, which seemed to take every ounce of my focus and energy, and then my temperature spiked. Marty immediately made me stop pushing and said that with a rise in temperature comes the risk of infection for both me and the baby. she laid out was was likely going to happen: Dr. H was going to come and assess, and likely order a c-section. because of the temperature issue, the baby was probably going to have to go to Level 2 NICU for tests and care - M could go see her, but I'd have to wait 8 hours. I felt so disappointed, tired, and sad... but what can you do? I just nodded and looked at M and said something like 'okay, I'm okay with it, whatever's best for her is what we want'.
then Dr. H. came into the room and became our favorite person.
he checked me out and said that yes, the c-section was an option, but also said that he believed we had a good shot delivering her with forceps and that it was ultimately our call, to which we said that we trusted his judgement and would really like to try the vaginal birth with forceps. Marty seemed a little dubious and even the other nurse seemed to be looking at him sideways and asking if he still needed NICU people called. Dr. H seemed nonplussed and was all, 'not yet, I don't think that's necessary yet', and started getting his birthing gear on. in all of the months of seeing this doctor, I never saw him more jazzed and attentive as he was then, and based on his actions in that hour alone I'd recommend him to anyone. it was obvious that the man loves bringing babies into this world, and we learned later that many younger doctors either don't know how to use forceps or won't because of the risk of lawsuits, and tend to call c-sections when in doubt simply because of the straightforwardness of the procedure. faced with surgery and an extended hospital stay for myself, Level 2 infant care for the baby, and spending her first precious hours isolated from her, I praised God for Dr. H., for his skill and confidence. it gave me a shot of hope and strength, and when he asked me to push I tried so hard to help whatever he was doing. he was so encouraging and on the first push he was able to help her move further down and out, and with about five more pushes Maggie was born. it was one of the more surreal experiences of my life, those first minutes... I could see her limbs splayed out and her fingers all extended and reaching up to heaven, and when she was placed on my chest all I could do was touch her wet skin, laugh, and cry. just thinking about it makes the tears roll down my face again. as the doctor finished his work in my nether region (I remember watching him with his needle from my vantage point and marvelling at not feeling a blessed thing), M took pictures and held her, I clumsily tried my hand at breastfeeding her, and we generally reveled in this new little person, officially trying out the name that'd been our secret for months.
there's more I want to write about, particularly about the aftermath of giving birth, but looking at this sweet, sleeping baby's face in my lap right now makes me think this is enough for today. we're so thankful to God for her life and presence here, and thankful for everything that worked together to deliver her to us.
-m.y.
