Lucy Anne's Birth Story

So, if you followed my blog in the past, you remember me mentioning something about being pregnant when Aaron was seven months old. Well, baby turned out to be a girl and, that girl, Lucy Anne, arrived just three short weeks ago. This is her (long) birth story.

If you followed me even farther back than that, you might remember my birth story for Aaron. And you might remember his labor and delivery was nothing like I planned or expected it to be (40 hours of back labor, ending in a medicated (epidural) delivery). And my recovery? Horribly long and painful (tearing, two bladder infections, and a kidney stone).

Well, needless to say, I became quite anxious about a repeat of that, regardless of everyone's assurances that subsequent labors were usually easier. Somehow, I didn't think that would be true for me.

However, we had a new plan for this time around. As much as I still desired an un-medicated labor, I knew that if I had another back labor we couldn't handle it like we did last time. With Aaron, we had a doula, as well as my best friend, in the room with us and they were hands-on (literally) the entire time because back labor is just that painful. This time around, it was to be just Brandon and I and we could not do that strenuous labor by ourselves. So, if it felt like the same type of contractions again, we would just submit to the epidural a lot sooner, to save my body some of the beating that it took with Aaron. If, however, they felt different, we would attempt an unmedicated labor again and pray she came quicker.

With a due date of February 1st and a very uncomfortable pregnancy, I was eager for her to come a little early and to get the labor and recovery out of the way. Enter Monday, January 28th, at about 7:15pm. We had just put Aaron to bed and I had a strange feeling that this was it because, every night, I routinely kiss Aaron goodnight and tell him I will see him in the morning but this night, I forgot to say I would be seeing him the next morning. 45 minutes later and I started having mild contractions that were coming every ten minutes apart. I started to think that maybe they were the real deal but, after a shower, they vanished around 10pm, so Brandon and I went to bed.

At about 12:15am, I was awakened by another contraction which was followed by another seven minutes later. After laying down through many more following the same pattern, I woke Brandon up and told him that I would be in the living room, as I could no longer handle laying down through them. He tried to go back to sleep but joined me shortly after. In those early morning hours, we noted the contractions getting closer together and Brandon questioned leaving for the hospital when they were 4-5 minutes apart. However, desperately not wanting to re-live my last experience, I refused. I knew my contractions were not strong enough and that, if we went to the hospital, I would be told I was just a little ways along. So, instead, I continued to busy myself and get things in order, just in case.

Around 4:15am, as we saw they weren't letting up, we decided to call our friends, who would be watching Aaron, to come up, just so we wouldn't be stuck waiting when it became too late. She arrived around 5am and joined us in the waiting. I was getting discouraged because, although they were coming 4-5 minutes apart, they had not increased in strength and I felt bad for having our friend leave her family way before she needed to. However, we spent the next two hours or so chatting and watching the sun come up. When 7am arrived, I was a thankful that I had the chance to see Aaron one last time and spend a few minutes with him.

After his breakfast, we decided to go on a walk to get my contractions really working for me, so we packed Aaron up in his tricycle and took a walk around the block. Immediately my contractions got increasingly stronger and jumped to 2-3 minutes apart. I started to get excited but when we got back home, they slowed again and I felt like Lucy was a long time coming.

Our friend decided to go to bible study that morning, with Aaron in tow. So, with tears streaming down my face and arms wrapped tightly around him, I said my goodbyes to my little boy, knowing I was leaving him for the last time before bringing his sister home. As he got into the car, he suddenly looked so grown up and as they pulled away, I put my head on Brandon's chest and sobbed. As excited as I was to meet my little girl, I was grieved to loose my time alone with Aaron.

saying goodbye

With mixed emotions swirling through my head, Brandon and I set out on another, MUCH longer walk, determined to get the show on the road. It immediately jump-started my contractions again and they were much more severe, with me having to stop with each one. We probably walked a good mile and a half, just talking, stopping every 2-3 minutes, trying to enjoy these last quiet moments alone.

last moments alone

At this point, Brandon was thoroughly convinced we needed to head to the hospital and, when they didn't let up upon our arrival home, I agreed to at least get dressed and head in that direction but I knew I was not ready to be admitted.

We left home and headed out to grab a breakfast burrito. As I scarfed down half of Brandon's burrito in minutes, I became discouraged again. See, you're supposed to loose your appetite as your labor progresses and I clearly had not. Still, contractions were strong and close together, making Brandon nervous, so I assented to driving to the hospital but not yet agreeing to go in.

Upon our arrival, we proceeded to walk around the outside of the hospital for a good hour, stopping for every contraction and making construction workers outside very nervous, as I paced under their heavy equipment looming overhead. After a while, I started to tire of walking but still stubbornly refused to go inside. I was absolutely frightened that, if I admitted myself, we'd find I was only 3cm dilated and I'd be forced to submit to their clock at that point so, holding on to desperation, I asked Brandon if we could go lay down in the back of our van. Although unconventional, Brandon sweetly agreed, knowing how desperate I was, and created a makeshift "nest" between the front and second row for me. As I proceeded to labor for the next hour on the floor of our van, Brandon played calming music in the front seat and tried to get some rest himself, not knowing what we would be in store for.

laboring in the car

When the contractions got too painful to lay down anymore, and too strong to even think of returning home, I finally agreed (although tearfully and unsure) to go in to the hospital and just be on the road to her birth.

We walked up to the admitting desk and I told the nurse I thought I'd be having a baby today. Although she looked at me like I was probably wrong, her disposition changed slightly as I bowed my head to breathe through three strong contractions in the five minutes I was standing before her.

It was here that I started to have the slightest glimmer of hope; in talking to the admitting nurse we discovered that the midwife that delivered Aaron (who we LOVED) was on rounds AND our favorite nurse was also there. My hope was sealed and overflowing as they walked us to the room I would be laboring in, only to discover it was the same.exact.room that I gave birth to Aaron in. These had to be "signs" and so my spirits lifted and I happily got ready as the nurse can in to set everything up.

It took almost an hour for the nurses to set up the equipment, monitor my contractions, and input all my "data." Meanwhile, I was forced to labor on my back until they had the IV drip in which, due to my small veins, took three tries, a blown out vein, and a faint husband before it was in.

Finally, my midwife came in to check me, and I was oh.so.not.ready for that, still panicking inside that I wasn't far enough along. As she came in, she said she had been reviewing my file and saw that she had to convince me to take an epidural with my first and asked if she would have to do that again. I smiled and said no because I was hoping I had made more progress this time around and wouldn't have as long and exhausting a labor. Well, she checked me, smiled, and said I was a 7, fully effaced, and a station +1!!! She was positive that Lucy would be here soon and got the nurses moving to get all the delivery gear in position. I was oh.so.thankful and that gave me the renewed energy and extra spirit I needed to push hard to the finish.

Although the nurses and my midwife told me that Lucy would be here in about twenty minutes if they broke my water, I was still slightly nervous about labor stalling and I didn't want to deal with more painful contractions in the meantime so I declined having my water broken right then. Instead, I got up and walked around my room, even having my parents come in for a twenty minute visit. While the contractions were hard and painful, they were nothing like my labor with Aaron so I knew I could keep going. By the time my parents left my room, it was about 3pm, and I could no longer even think to talk and I was getting tired. I laid back down and the nurse re-iterated their belief that it would be just a short twenty minutes if they broke my water. Not wanting to prolong it anymore, natural labor or not, I asked to bring in the midwife and have her break my water. When she arrived about 15 minutes later and went to break my water, she discovered I was at a 10 and ready to go! As she broke my water, I had an immense desire to push, and before I could even think about it, I was being instructed to push hard and fast, as the contractions were coming back to back, with no room to rest. I did start to panic at this point because I couldn't remember the "how" of pushing and was afraid she was gonna get stuck but within ten pushes, about twenty minutes, (just like they had promised) Miss Lucy made her appearance...oh so healthy and looking like her big brother's twin.

Throughout my pregnancy I was praying the duration of my labor would at least be cut in HALF of what I went through with Aaron. As I looked back, I realized it was almost exactly that! And, thankfully, this labor was pretty much exactly what I had envisioned all along, laboring for the majority of the time at home and arriving at the hospital with only hours before her arrival (not to mention a hospital stay only lasting 23 hours total, opposed to our 3.5 day stay with Aaron).

And my recovery? LIGHT years better! It has been such a blessing to quickly recover and start serving my family again and actually enjoying the time Brandon has off from work.

As I look back on the experience and my fears leading up to it, I realized I was incorrectly viewing God as One who ONLY teaches through trials. That is so false. I forgot, in the midst of my fears, that my Father loves to bless His children, often with no trial in sight. He loves to give good gifts to those who love Him and my labor with Lucy was just that.