Macklin: Birth Story

Welcome to the world, my sweet VBAC baby Macklin! From 28 weeks, I knew you were a boy (but I kept the surprise to myself - I only told Daddy and Grandma). 

Although your due date was January 12 (your great grandpa Liboiron's birthday), you were born on a chilly Friday, January 8. Mama had gotten a doctor's note to finish work on the 8th instead of the 12th. I'd been really sick with a head cold over the Christmas holidays, and going back to work for a week hadn't helped me feel any better. So of course you took advantage of the opportunity, deciding that my last day of work would be the perfect day for you to make your entry into this world!

It had been a good Friday - students get let out at noon, and it was staff meeting Friday, which meant potluck! I stacked my plate as high as I could with delicious foods, and sat down to enjoy it while I listened to everything I'd be missing in Jamuary and February at Christ The King Academy. 

Then, a tightening. 

Five minutes later, another tightening. 

Five minutes later... Well, you get the picture. I pulled out my phone and opened my contraction timer app, turning the screen brightness all the way down so nobody could see what I was doing on my phone. Yup, the timer confirmed it - 30 to 40 second contractions, every 4 to 8 minutes apart. I wasn't too excited; I knew that this could be prodormal labour, or even just Braxton Hicks. I continued timing contractions for the duration of the staff meeting, then at 2:30, drove to Keeley's house to pick up Lexi. I talked to Keeley through a few more contractions, letting her know what was happening, and agreed to drop Lexi back off if I needed to. We stopped in at the library to return some movies and pick out some new ones; Lexi of course ran for the bin of stuffed animals, while I continued timing contractions. I sent Grandma Liboiron a text message, informing her that she was on call since I was having regular contractions. Grandma called me, expressing concern, and talked me into going to Medicine Hat to the hospital. I spoke to Daddy, and after I dropped Lexi back off at Keeley's house to wait for Granma to pick her up, we met at home so he could drop off his work truck. S we pulled out of the driveway to go to Medicine Hat, Grandma was pulling in(she had to pop in to grab Lexi's suitcase. Grandma gave us a gift voucher for Medicine Hat Lodge, in case we needed a place to stay overnight. And we were off!

The entire way to Medicine Hat, I kept comparing the contractions to the ones I felt on the drive to the city with Lexi. The big difference was that with Lexi, my water had broken - this time around, nothing. When we arrived at the hospital, I was given a non-stress test to confirm that you were healthy and safe, the. Our lovely nurse Jillian checked me, and to my dismay, announced that I was 2 centimetres dilated and not effaced at all. Not words a labouring mama wants to hear after an hour-long drive. Our doula, Loree, who had met us at the hospital, suggested that Daddy and I walk around a bit because we'd have more luck labouring that was than in the hospital. 

Since it was supper time, we drove to our favourite Medicine Hat eatery, Local, only to be told that there was a half hour wait. So instead, we ordered REALLY EXPENSIVE Thai takeout at the mall, and walked around for a little while. We swung by one of the jewelry stores at the middle of the mall, and the female employee looked at me and said, "Congratulations! How many weeks along are you?" To which I replied, "I'm having a contraction right now. " The salesperson jumped on the moment, asking Daddy if he'd bought me a "push present" yet. Seriously! (Still haven't gotten that "push present"... Well, I guess YOU were my gift! 

We returned to the hospital at 8pm, hopeful that the walking had encouraged some progress. Disappointment welled up in my eyes when our nurse informed me that I was a measly 3 centimeters. I really felt like I had progressed much further. Daddy and I decided to use the voucher Grandma had given us for the Medicine Hat Lodge and we were on our way. 

When we arrived at the Lodge, Daddy dropped me off at the front door so I could check in while he parked the vehicle. As I walked up to the front desk, I could feel a contraction coming on, so I grabbed the desk and braced myself - the contractions were definitely getting more painful. The lady at the desk looked at me and asked, "can I... help you?", wondering what was wrong with me. I managed to spurt put, "I'm just having a contraction... hold on!" Once I was able, I requested a room that faced away from the pool so that we could have some quiet (ha, that seems so funny in retrospect!) and we headed upstairs to the third floor. 

Once we arrived at our room, Daddy swiped the key card to be let in. Nothing. He tried again. And again. He tried the other key. Nothing. As another contraction began, I asked him to please just go back down to the desk and have our cards re-keyed. He did, and as I waited, I dropped to the ground to help brace through another increasingly painful contraction. Daddy came back, tried the keys again, to no avail. Thankfully, a concierge was coming down the hall and let us in with a master key. He sent Maintenance to fix our door, but honestly, at this point I didn't care - I was just happy to be in the room, pouring myself a nice, hot, relaxing bath. 

I was reading a book in the tub, and contractions were coming about every 3 to 4 minutes apart. At this point, I had to make guttural animal noises to get myself through the contractions. They were definitely amping up. After about four contractions, I couldn't handle it any more, so I got out of the tub and lay down in one of the queen-sized beds (Daddy was trying to get some sleep in the other bed). With every contraction, I had to get out of bed, get on my hands and knees, and moan through the pain. Every contraction was becoming more and more painful, to the point where I texted my doula Loree and begged her to come help me labour. She promised to be at the hotel in ten minutes, but within those ten minutes, I was screaming at Daddy to call Loree and tell her to meet us at the hospital because this kid was coming NOW! Fortunately, Loree was just outside the hotel, and she told us that as she was making her way up to our room, she could hear my screams. Perfect, because the pool had just closed, and everyone heading back to their rooms could hear my screams, too!

Daddy helped pack everything up as I furiously looked for an elastic with which to tie my hair back. Besides the horrible contractions, all I could think about was getting my hair out of my face. And it wasn't happening - not an elastic band was in sight. All of the sudden, I felt an urge to push - I screamed that we needed an ambulance or I was going to give birth in the hotel. Loree checked me, assured me that I would make it to the hospital if I just kept breathing. I believe her words were, "if I had a frying pan, I'd knock you over the head with it right now. You need to CALM DOWN. You can do this." To which I replied, "no I can't. No I can't. I can't do this. I don't want to have this baby!" And in that moment, I would have given anything for an epidural, ANYTHING to take away the pain. It was the worst thing I'd ever experienced in my life. I was frightened like I've never been frightened in my entire life. I most definitely was not enjoying what I arrogantly had believed would be a thrilling, beautiful experience. It was downright SCARY!!

Daddy ran to the parking lot to get to the vehicle, while Loree helped me make my way to the entrance. I had a particularly painful contraction in the elevator, which would have been a sight to see if the pool had still been open - I dropped to my knees and clutched on to the hand railing, moaning through the contraction - all the while visible to anybody who would have been in the pool as this particular elevator had a glass wall, making its contents visible to whomever was having a swim at that moment. 

We made it out to the vehicle, which was parked right out front of the hotel, but Saddy was nowhere in sight. I got SO mad, thinking, "of all times to get the nerve poops, NOW is NOT the time!" It turns out that we'd taken so long getting down to the vehicle that Daddy had run back upstairs to find us, but had missed us because we were having labour adventures on the elevator. He finally came back to the SUV, and we zoomed off for the hospital, with Loree crammed into the little middle seat between the two car seats in the back, coaching me through my breathing. I explicitly expressed my displeasure with how I was feeling, begging Loree to help me get an epidural when we got to the hospital. Deep down, I knew that I was ready to push, but I was so, SO scared that I didn't want to. Loree assured me that we'd see what the doctor could offer me upon arrival, but she knew it, too - I was way beyond pain intervention. 

Daddy pulled into Emergency, and we exited the vehicle. I was in the "active labour daze", where all I could do to survive the anguish was to focus inward. I hung my head down (still angry about my hair being all over the place - what I wouldn't have given for a hair elastic!) Loree plopped me into a wheelchair and stated, "I can smell amniotic fluid." My water broke, and I sat in a pool of fluid as she pushed me up to Labour & Delivery. 

We arrived on the third floor, and most of what happened next is a complete blur because I was in so much pain. I vaguely remember getting undressed and putting on a hospital gown. I know that the nurse checked me and told me I was fully dilated and effaced and ready to go. I vaguely remember a team of nurses along with a doctor and her resident assembling to begin the process. But mostly, I remember the sweet, sweet nitrous oxide. All of the sudden, every contraction brought on purpose and meaning. The nitrous oxide helped me focus - for every contraction, I knew I could get three good breaths of gas, and three good pushes. 

In between contractions, I was a total zombie. I'd gotten into a strange position, making it difficult for the nurses and doctors to see what was happening. My arms were dangling over the top edge of the bed, and I was propping myself up on my knees. My favourite nurse, Jillian, had to hold the fetal monitor under my belly to get a continual reading of baby's heart rate - which, for the duration off the process, was strong as anything. 

With a team of nurses, doctors, my doula, and Daddy coaching me, I pushed for 35 minutes. It was agony, but empowering agony. Only I could do the work. I had to go to a place in my mind that I can only call meditative; my mind went blank and strength took over. And then...

Your head! Your head was out! The resident instructed me to keep pushing, to which I replied: "ARE YOU EFFING SERIOUS? Doesn't the rest of the body just... like... slide out?" Needless to say, I was disappointed, but such extreme disappointment gave me the will to push like crazy. 

And you were born!

They suctioned you off a little bit, then handed you to me, all goopy and fresh. I was in awe at how different you looked from your big sister. I couldn't imagine having a baby that didn't look like Lexi, but here you were - fair-skinned, blond-haired, skinny-legged. A "big" boy at 8 pounds, 3 ounces - but you seemed so tiny to me! Something I'd heard many times before was how deliciously amazing newborns smell, fresh out of the womb. I never believed it, but I braced myself anyway and took a big whiff - and I kid you not, it was floral. You smelled like a freaking bouquet. 

They allowed Daddy to cut the umbilical cord, and we snuggled for quite a while before they took you away to weigh you and do all the other newborn stuff that hospitals do. 

After so much pain, the relief was immediate. Holding you on my chest, marvelling at this new life in front of me - it didn't make the pain go away but it helped fade its memory pretty quickly. I felt proud of what I'd accomplished: bringing you into this world! 

I've heard people with more than one child say, "I used to wonder how I could love my other children as much as my first - but I found quickly that my heart grew when the others were born so I had enough love for both/all of them." And it's true. I was scared that I wouldn't feel for you what I felt for your sister when she was born. But my sweet boy, I love you so, so much, and there is definitely room in my heart for the two of you. Nobody can describe a parent's love for her children; your birth brought me so much pain, but that pain was surpassed by the love born in my heart. 

You're pretty neat, little guy. I love you so much!