Birth Story #3

Friday started off like any other day of my pregnancy. It was sort of miserable. For weeks, I had felt like death warmed over, a combination of flu-like symptoms and pregnancy ailments plaguing me. I stepped on the scale and saw that I had lost six pounds if that tells you anything about what the last few days had been like for me. They were rough. Still, it was becoming my new normal and I thought nothing of it. I hoped I would have the baby soon, but I had no idea how soon that could be!

Abel had an appointment that day to get re-fitted for his hearing aids. It was the last thing I wanted to do because I was feeling so under the weather, but I knew I should do it because delivery day was drawing near and so is Abel's surgery date so I wanted to get it done before hand. I carted my big boy, my middle child, and my unborn off into the pouring rain of East TN. We managed to make it into the appointment without any huge tantrums and I was starting to feel as if I had all this a little more under control than I thought. That feeling changed quickly shortly after we got home and I noticed I was having contractions. I had been contracting for weeks, sometimes pretty regularly, so I didn't think much of these pains until they had me laid up on the couch texting my husband that he was soooo in charge of the kids when he got home because I needed to take yet another bath and relax. He got home shortly after, poured me a big glass of water, and ran the bath for me. Ahh! Finally. I could relax. HA!

The bath felt wonderful and certainly eased the pain of my contractions. Still, I laid there thinking- these feel a bit different. I called Captain J from the warmth of the tub and asked him to come see me when he could sneak away from our wild indians. He came in and I said, "Do your parents have any plans today? Do you think we should call them?" He said he'd give them a call. I decided it wouldn't hurt to get checked out (again)- better to be safe than sorry. I stood up to get out of the tub and the contractions got worse. I had been timing and they went from 6-8 minutes apart to 2-3 very quickly. Nearly in tears as I tried to throw some items into a half-packed hospital bag, J suggested we call someone in the area that could get here a lot quicker. I'm so glad he did. My great aunt arrived a few minutes later to watch the kids and we were off. The hospital is about twenty minutes away, but that doesn't take into account rush hour traffic and heavy rain!

The ride to the hospital got more and more frantic. I realized I was most definitely in active labor about half way there. I started making comments to J that he needed to drive better, faster- JUST GET ME THERE OR WE'RE GOING TO HAVE THIS BABY ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD! Perhaps I'm a dramatic person sometimes. I know my husband thinks I can be a little emotional about things, but pregnancy pains are not one of them. I keep a level head. Multiple nurses have told me that and I know it to be true. At one point, the rain was coming so hard that I almost told J to pull over on the Interstate and dial 911 because I was sure he was going to have to deliver the baby in the rain on the side of the road. Luckily, the rain eased up and the traffic pressed on and we were soon pulling off our exit. Five o'clock on a Friday in Chattanooga, TN is not somewhere you wanna be when you're in labor, let me tell ya. The traffic was thick. We sat through three THREE green lights just trying to get off the exit and I was starting to lose it. In an effort to make J understand that he needed to turn on the flashers and drive like a maniac, I told him the truth- "I feel lots of pressure. I'm going to be pushing soon. DO NOT TELL ME NOT TO PUSH. I KNOW." Finally, my alarm was registering with my Type A Army Officer husband. He started meandering through the cars like a champ and pretty soon we were screaming into the parking lot in our jeep. He pulled up to the door and ran in looking for a wheelchair for me, but no one was around. Meanwhile, I'm letting myself out of the car and hobbling into the doors...barely. J finds the chair, sits me in it and we make our way up the elevator to labor and delivery. My moans alert the nurse to skip introductions or paperwork and just open the door to let us into the first room. All social or procedural expectations out the window, I drop my pants without instruction. The nurse says, "First time?" I said, "No, third." And she jumped into action. When she checked me she started yelling to the staff that there was nothing there (meaning I was fully effaced and dilated) and to call the doctor. I told her the doctor wouldn't make it and it turns out I was right. My body was involuntarily pushing. They wheeled me into the delivery room where I warned the girls that my water exploded last time so beware. With all the excitement, the room was filling up fast. Ten or so nurses chuckled at my comment until they were shocked into a momentary silence as my water broke all over a bystander. "I'm sorry! I warned you!" I said as she assured me it was okay, but she could see the head. To her credit, she didn't tell me not to push, as if that's an option anyway.

My beautiful third born arrived after about three pushes. We hadn't been at the hospital five minutes. My Chacos were still strapped to my feet! 

When I think about that intense hour of my life, it feels a little terrifying but mostly just miraculous. God has given me the most precious gift. All I want to do is hold him all day and stare at his perfection. These little boys are everything to me.