Maxwell's Birth Story

It's been a whole year since I gave birth to Maxwell, our second baby boy.  He is a total delight.  These past 52 weeks have flown by!  Which is why I am just getting around to writing his birth story!

This pregnancy was a lot different than my first.  Each was difficult in it's own way - I do not enjoy pregnancy and pregnancy does not seem to enjoy me.  This time around I didn't swell as much, I didn't gain as much weight, and I don't think that I cried as much this time.  However, I did get sick more and I had more pain early on which resulted in me wearing a support belt.  At times I would have to call in for back-up (of the Grandma variety) to help wrangle Mason because I just couldn't move (literally).  I even had to call Thomas one time because I was bent over unloading laundry and I couldn't stand straight up because I got some sort of a pinch nerve or something.  I had to crawl over to the couch and call Thomas at work, crying from the pain and laughing at the ridiculousness of it, telling him that he needed to come home because I was stuck and I had Mason to take care of.  Mason was very helpful throughout the pregnancy.  I was on bed rest for a couple of days somewhere around the middle because the pain was just too intense and I had mobility issues.

I thought that Maxwell was going to come early: 1) because of the pain, 2) because I had a lot of Braxton Hicks contractions throughout the pregnancy (which I didn't feel at all with Mason) and 3) because I had part of my mucus plug (sorry for TMI) fall out very early.  Alas, it was not meant to be.  I had said throughout my pregnancy that I needed to hold him in towards the end because his due date was less than three weeks from Mason's birthday.  Well, baby boy must have been listening - because we ended up having to evict him!

37 weeks

Around 38 weeks, I had started walking to get things moving.  I walked every day just doing circles around our block.  My neighbors would see me daily, "Still pregnant?"  Umm, yeah.  "How long are you going to do that?"  Until it works was my reply.  Well, it didn't.  We had an appointment set to get induced at 40w5d.  In the meantime, we were doing everything that we could to induce labor naturally.  But my tummy must have been just too cuddly for Maxwell, because he waited until our induction date.

During my weekly check-ups, I opted out of having my cervix checked because it was discouraging when I found out that I had not progressed from one week to the next with Mason.  Also, I figured that if a baby was about to come out of me, I didn't need to have my cervix checked to know it.  It wasn't until my 39 week appointment that I had them check me (I was 39w5d) because if something wasn't happening, then we needed to make a plan.  And since I knew when we conceived, I was comfortable knowing that he would be fully cooked.  On top of that, he was measuring about the same as Mason, and that is large!  When they checked me, I was only about 1cm dilated (pfft, that's nothing!) and about 50% effaced.  So, I allowed them to sweep my membranes to see if we could get something going within the next couple of days.  Spoiler alert: it didn't work.

In a way, being induced was nice since we had Mason to think of.  Grandma Sue came to stay with him and we were able to explain when we would be gone, what we would be doing, and when we would be back.

39 weeks

We checked in to the hospital at 6:30am.  A few hours later, after being checked by my doctor and still only being about 1cm dilated, they inserted citotech in order to soften my cervix.  They told me that I was having contractions before administering the citotech, but I hadn't felt them.  But after the medication was administered, I definitely could feel them!  I was more comfortable with my contractions standing, with Thomas to support me.  He helped me steady my breathing through the pain and being able to embrace my husband was just so much nicer than fighting through the discomfort on a bed.  After a while, we decided to watch some television shows to distract me from the pain and to help pass the time.  It was during this time that my water broke with a horrible gush- I started half-screaming, half-laughing, "Oh my gosh!!!  It's like I'm peeing!  It's still coming out!"  Thomas called for the nurse to let them know that my bag broke with me hollering in the background.  It was 11:30 a.m. now and I was dilated to 3cm.

Nurses kept coming in to see if I wanted an epidural, to which I always responded with a resounding "YES," but the anesthesiologist didn't come.  I swear that it took three times telling them that yes, I wanted the epidural before it was finally scheduled.  Two hours after my water broke, I finally had the epidural placed and I started to feel a lot more relaxed.  Problem was, since my water had already broken and the cushion of the fluid in my uterus had escaped, I was experiencing cord compression.  With every contraction, the cord was getting pinched between the walls of my uterus and Maxwell, which made his heart rate drop dramatically.  To help prevent this, I kept having to re-position myself.  But when I would move, so would the baby and the cord, and we would eventually have the same problem with each passing contraction.  To help alleviate this issue, an intrauterine monitor was placed and they attempted to put fluid back into me.  This did not work.

Not only did this not help with the variable deceleration in Maxwell's heart rate, but my constant re-positioning meant that my epidural was not being distributed appropriately.  One side of my body felt nothing, and the other side felt EVERYTHING!!  It was absolutely miserable.  I was in so much pain that I was shaking and having difficulty breathing.  They put me on oxygen and tried to get the anesthesiologist back in to see me and top me off with more medication.  Unfortunately, he was stuck in a surgery and couldn't get to me.  I waited almost two hours to get the relief that I desperately needed.  And it could not have come any later, because shortly thereafter, I was 10cm.

Pushing became a different kind of difficult.  Not because of the pain - but quite the opposite.  My second dose of medication for my epidural was so effective, that I felt nothing.  My lower half was completely and intensely numb.  My head felt a lot of pressure from my attempt to push and in between contractions (that I couldn't feel), I was getting ice chips and getting an oxygen mask put back on.  After a short period, I had to remove the mask and called for a bucket- I was going to be sick!!!  So here I was, pushing and vomiting the pathetic excuse of a lunch that I was given earlier (flavorless jello and hot water with a flavor packet).  It was terrible, but apparently not uncommon!  I couldn't feel if my body was responding to my brain telling it to push and I felt queasy from just having thrown up.  My head was pushing hard, but I didn't know if anything else was happening... but I guess something was!  After about 65 minutes of pushing, Maxwell James Bravo was born at 7:45 p.m. weighing 8 pounds, 12 ounces and 21 inches long.

Mason's Birth Story

Alright- it’s been eight weeks since I’ve given birth to my son and I think it’s about time to write down what actually happened when I went into labor before I forget some of the details!  Luckily for us though, I packed a pad of paper and a pen so that Thomas could take notes throughout the process so that I could remember my progression or anything major that happened along the way.

First I want to say, that the end of my pregnancy was tough.  My weight had ballooned and the swelling I was experiencing was out of control and very painful!  The majority of my weight gain (if not all of it) in the last five weeks was water weight… it was crazy.  I had been putting on weight faster than anybody wanted (especially me) and was told that I may produce a bigger baby and was warned that this could lead to shoulder dystocia or the complete inability to have a vaginal delivery.  As much as this worried me (I mean, who wants to deliver a giant baby?) I couldn’t really curb my weight gain at the end.  In the last month alone I put on about 25 pounds.  When I first got pregnant I weighed in at 156.  It was higher than I wanted… plus Thomas and I had gone on vacation… and who doesn’t put on weight when they vacation?  Anyway, by my 39 week check-up I weighed in at 212 pounds!!!  My personal goal was to keep it under 200… but that was abandoned as soon as my legs and feet started to look like the fat space people in Wall-E.

(my 37 week photo- before the bulk of my swelling occurred) 

Anyway, moving on.  Starting at my 37 week check-up, I started getting my cervix checked for any progression.  I was excited when at 37 weeks, I was -3 station, 50% effaced and 1cm dilated.  Now, I knew that I could walk around like that for weeks.  But at the same time it made me happy that the ball had started rolling.  I tried to walk and move around to keep things progressing… as much as my swelling and discomfort would allow but was completely discouraged when at my 38 week check-up, I had made no progress.  The ball had apparently stopped rolling.  I was already so uncomfortable at this point that I was crying uncontrollably in the doctor’s office to the point where my OB gave me a hug.  I was so crushed!  I wanted my giant baby to come out already!  I felt guilty that my main motivation to go into labor was not to meet our little miracle… but to put an end to the swollen feet, my inability to wear regular shoes or even maternity clothes, the fact that I couldn’t stop from sweating despite being in air conditioning all day, and the fact that I had gotten so big that I didn’t recognize myself anymore when I looked in the mirror.  Even my lips were swollen!  I spent every evening trying to cover my body as I got ready for bed so that Thomas couldn’t see how gross I felt that I had gotten and I then proceeded to cry myself to sleep.  Even getting into bed was like running a marathon.  I couldn’t get in bed without getting winded, couldn’t move without grunting to shift my weight, and couldn’t get comfortable if my life depended on it.

It was after my 38 week check-up that I decided that if I was given the option I did not want to be checked for progression anymore.  Thankfully my OB understood how I was feeling and although she checked me she didn’t let me know if any changes had occurred… she just let me know that things were all good.  My swelling was always mentioned but my doctor said that my blood pressure was okay so there wasn’t any need to worry about pre-eclampsia: my blood pressure was elevated (but not high) and I had shown no excess protein in my urine.  I got orders to get my feet elevated (nearly impossible when you are smuggling several watermelons in your gut), to sit in my still cold pool, and to wrap my legs.  And although I spent nearly every day in my pool, the pain and the swelling didn’t go away.

It was at 39 weeks and 5 days that I had had it with everything.  I was in too much pain and too emotionally weak to handle much of anything.  I could barely walk because I was in so much pain- pain from the swelling, pain from the weight, pain from moving.  Everything hurt.  I was tired of being pregnant, I was tired of talking about being pregnant, I was tired of friends and family asking me if I was still pregnant.  I wanted to crawl into a hole and wait it out alone.  When Thomas got home we talked about him going on family medical leave until I went into labor because I couldn’t get around on my own anymore without crying in pain.  I had also decided that I would be spending the remainder of my pregnant nights sleeping on the couch because my body just couldn’t make the journey all the way to the top of our mattress. 

That night, after Thomas had fallen asleep I was starting to feel more pain than I had been in the rest of the day.  I figured that maybe my body had just had it or that even walking around the house had been too much for me.  The pain was low and only on my left side but it felt like someone was giving an Indian burn to my muscles.  Maybe this was Braxton Hicks?  I hadn’t experienced them throughout the pregnancy and these didn’t seem to fit the description of what regular contractions should feel like, so I went online to confirm that they were, in fact, Braxton Hicks.  Instead, what I read was that this could possibly be labor pains.  I woke up Thomas at around 10 p.m. just to say, “I’m not really sure… but I might be having contractions.”  I got a pad of paper and the stopwatch on my phone ready to time them.  They were erratic and inconsistent.  Sometimes I would cramp up for 90 seconds, sometimes I would feel short, sharp pains, sometimes I felt nothing unless the baby moved.  I started to feel bad that I had woken Thomas up for nothing, but the pain started to intensify around 11:30 and regulated at around 12-15 minutes apart.  It was at this point that we decided that this was the real deal and I started to freak out!  I didn’t think that I could handle more pain and the breathing methods that we learned seemed like a pile of hooey at this point.  THIS HURT!  I started saying, “I can’t do this… what was I thinking,“ knowing even then that I would feel horribly guilty for these thoughts and expressing them to Thomas later.

Thomas tried his best to calm me, to let me know that I was strong and we could do this together.  As he got our bags and house situated for our absence, I took a shower to calm myself and to help ease some pain.

As far as a birthing plan goes, I had never really planned anything out.  Nothing was set in stone anyway.  I felt sort of go-with-the-flow about it all.  I knew that my body and my baby weren’t going to follow the plan had I laid one out so I figured it would be best for us if we just sort of have a general plan but wouldn’t become disenchanted with the experience should we have to deviate from it. I knew that I wanted to walk around to help labor progress, I wasn’t for or against an epidural… I would just see how I tolerated the pain and cross that bridge when we came to it, I did not want an episiotomy, and I wanted my water to break on its own.  I also wanted them to give the baby to me immediately upon his arrival and to allow Thomas to cut the cord.

By 3 a.m. we were being triaged at the hospital and got confirmation that I was in labor.  I had progressed to 3 cm, -2 station, and was 80% effaced.  By 4:30 a.m. we were officially admitted.  My contractions were every two to four minutes at this point and would remain this way for the remainder of my labor.  Unfortunately, when they took my blood pressure it was too high to permit me to walk around the hospital.  That was a big blow.  Paired with my swelling (which was at an all-time high) they were afraid that I was at risk for pre-eclampsia.  

 (my ENORMOUS feet in the hospital)

 My blood pressure was high enough that I was put on fluids thru an I.V. which also eliminated my desire to use the jet tubs in the birthing suites.  Once I got two bags of fluids in I was given an epidural to help lower my blood pressure.  This was also something that I had originally intended to hold off on until I was further along in labor.  Because of my blood pressure, my swelling, and the pre-eclampsia risk they wanted to play it safe.  Playing it safe also meant that I was constantly hooked up to a blood pressure cuff which took my blood pressure every twenty minutes or so and alerted the nurses if it was too high (it always was). 

I have to admit, once I got the epidural I was like a whole different person.  I had been in such pain for so long in the last leg of my pregnancy that this truly felt like a miracle.  After it kicked in I was able to sleep for the first time in what seemed like forever.  I hadn’t gotten any good sleep for months!  I only woke up occasionally when the nurse would come in to see how we were doing or if I rolled over the cord from the blood pressure cuff and it set off an alarm.

 

(me sleeping...)

I was progressing nicely.  By 7 a.m. I was 4 cm, 11 a.m. I was 7 cm.  It was at this point that with my increasing blood pressure that we started on Pitocin on the lowest dose to help progress quicker.  As of this point my water was still intact.  The nurses kept mentioning that they might want to break it for me which I was against.  Luckily for us, my doctor was on the same page as I was and wanted the bag to break on its own.  I just have to say here that I love my doctor.  I didn’t have to voice any opposition to the nursing staff because my doctor did it for me.  She very much understood (and seemed to practice) my go with the flow attitude and let the pieces fall into place on their own.  The Pitocin and epidural may have been more necessary for my pain and blood pressure but had I chosen against it I know that my doctor would have been another advocate for me to guarantee that this was an experience that me and my body was in control of.

By 3 p.m. I think I had caught up on the sleep that had eluded me the past several months and had stopped the Pitocin.  I could feel my water bulging and the nursing staff repeatedly referred to it as a “bag of steel.”  Every so often I would have to roll from one side to the other just to get comfortable and I remember feeling as if I needed to move very gently because I felt so fragile.  I didn’t want to squeeze my legs together or bear down.  It was just a very strange sensation.  I was 9 cm and -1 station when my bag finally broke with a very audible gush at 3:20 p.m. as I lay on my left side.  It felt like a relief and came as a surprise!  I wasn’t moving or doing anything to make it rupture, it was just time for it to happen!  To have been dilated all the way to 9 cm with my bag literally bulging out of me was a very awkward feeling!  

 (my contractions earlier on)

At 6:30 p.m. it was decided that I could start practicing pushing.  We decided to lower my epidural enough so that I could feel my contractions again.  I guess we sort of used it as a vacation from the contractions but lowered it when it was really time to get serious.  I wasn’t in a lot of pain, but I could feel the cramping again and the build-up to each contraction so that I knew when I should help my body along by pushing.  I held my legs back as Thomas assisted by pushing back my left leg.  This was all just to sort of get in the motions- to figure out what worked, what didn’t, and what made me most comfortable.

By 7 p.m. it was 100% go time!  We had established that Thomas would help by pushing back my left leg and the nurse would push back my right.  Now, when I started pushing, the baby’s heart rate decreased with each contraction.  As the uterus contracts to push the baby out a lower heart rate is normal.  However, there was a loss of variability with his heart rate which can be an early sign of distress coupled with the timing of the contractions.  The deceleration of his heart rate was not a definite sign but Thomas could tell that the nurses were concerned.  As for me, I was completely unaware of what else was happening in the room- I was concentrating!

When my doctor came in a short time later she was filled in with the situation by the nurses and Thomas said he could tell that they were probably going to have a “we may need to explore the possibility of a caesarian” conversation with me based on what they told her.  I had only been pushing for about 10 minutes (and only every other contraction) when she came in.  Lucky for me, when she checked me I was much further along than she had anticipated which meant that no other medical intervention was necessary.  Yay!

I started to push for every contraction which was one right on top of the other.  I was already exhausted and wondered how I would be able to continue doing this for hours.  There was only Thomas, my doctor, and one nurse in the room with us.  I appreciated that I didn’t have a huge audience.  I wanted this to be something for just Thomas and me.  Both Thomas and the nurse were counting thru each contraction… but honestly I wasn’t paying much attention.  I tried to at first but it was difficult to keep with their timing because I became so tired with each push.  I remember telling them to “count faster!” but I just did what I could and stopped when I couldn’t do it anymore.  We developed a rhythm of when I stopped pushing Thomas would hand me my cup of ice chips.  I was hot and extremely thirsty!  I hadn’t eaten in almost 24 hours but I wasn’t even hungry, only thirsty!  When I would stop to rest I would shove as big of a spoonful of ice in my mouth as I could to hold me over until the next time.  On top of my dehydration I didn’t feel like I was making any progress, despite the cheerleading of my doctor.  Every contraction she said, “You’re doing so great!  He’s right there!”  I started to think she was lying to me!  Aside from my contractions I felt nothing.  I didn’t feel him coming down the birth canal or anything to suggest progress was being made.

I didn’t believe that I was pushing hard enough and started to think I was going to be in this room forever when I finally felt something to signify that maybe my doctor wasn’t lying to me!  I felt his head… down there.  Good Lord, something was coming out of me!!  But, I couldn’t make it through pushing his head out all the way without taking a rest when it was only partially out.  Before, I thought that my bulging bag was an awkward feeling.  I didn’t think that anymore!  Having a head partially emerging from you is an awkward feeling!  This was no time to rest… so I pushed more.  While I was pushing all of the feeling went away.  My mom had told me that once the head is out, the most uncomfortable part is passing the shoulders and then the rest of the baby sort of “slides out.”  So I was anticipating another awkward moment when there’s just a baby head hanging out of me.  I was thinking about this while I was still trying to get his head the rest of the way out but before I could even get to the uncomfortable in-between-the-head- and-shoulders part, my doctor was putting my baby boy on me.  I had pushed the rest of him out all at once!  I had a son!

It was a very surreal feeling having a baby placed on your chest.  I can’t really explain what I was doing but the nurse told me, “Breathe!”  I think I had started to hyperventilate- I had a baby!  Thomas and I were parents!  I looked to Thomas for a kiss but he couldn’t take his eyes off of our little boy.  We waited with baited breath to hear those first screams of life- but they didn’t come.  Our son was healthy… but silent!  He just looked around, taking in his new surroundings as we rubbed him down to get him warm (and maybe even agitate him enough to get some sort of squeal).  But we got nothing.  He didn’t cry- he was just mellow. 

Mason Morris Bravo was born at 8:09 p.m. after a little more than an hour of pushing.  He weighed in at 8 pounces, 5 ounces and was 20.5” long.  We love him.