Bevin's birth story

Originally, we decided upon Bevin's birthday. It was supposed to be Jan. 24.

But, as always, with our baby girl, she had other plans.

9 p.m.
Labor started in the late evening hours of Saturday Jan. 19, one day after SuperDada's 36th birthday.
I had been putting Cole to bed for over 2 hours, an event that left me exhausted and slightly impatient. The last half hour consisted of me reading one final book and holding him as he drifted off to sleep. As this was happening, I started to notice that the contractions I'd been feeling all day were getting more intense. And more regular. I began to time the contractions while holding a sleeping Cole. Finally, after a half hour of this, I determined that they were about 6-7 minutes apart and they were steady. I slowly lifted all 30 pounds of Cole and placed him down gently over the cribs rails and onto his mattress. Little did I know that would be the last time I would ever do that. I crept out of his room and walked down the hall to tell SuperDada about the contractions.

10 p.m.
I decided to make myself a meal, since we had had a really late lunch and didn't make a dinner for us (only for Cole). I made breakfast for dinner - cereal and a bialy (my favorite snack of this pregnancy). I caught up on Bloglovin' and ignored the contractions. Then I went into bed and started noticing them again. SuperDada fell asleep, and I began timing them using a contraction timer on my iPhone. This time, I noticed they were 4-5 minutes apart. I also couldn't sleep through them. I woke SuperDada and he recommended I call our doula. Upon calling her, she wanted to know if I had called the doctor.

So I called the doctor on call. For the first few moments of our conversation I could tell he didn't remember who I was. He was asking if I was GBS positive or negative, and he was asking if this was my first or second child. It was obvious he didn't know remember my story. So finally I filled him in. "She's breech," I said simply. He drew in a sharp breath as he realized who I was.

I reminded him that I have an irritable uterus and was worried that this could just be false labor. Even though he initially said I should go to the birth center, he also suggested three things: drink lots of water, take a shower, and try to sleep. I drank 2 to 3 pints of water and took a shower. During my shower, which was eight minutes, I had four very intense contractions. I got out of the shower and as Keith peered in to see how I was, I told him that we needed to head to the birth center. I asked him to call the doctor.

And it was during my shower that Keith had called Grandma and told her to pack her bag. After the shower he called her back and confirmed that we needed her to come as soon as possible. As usual, Keith was on top of everything. He called our neighbor and asked her to come by and stay in the house with Cole until Grandma arrived. She was glad to be of help. (Back before we knew Bevin was breech for the long haul, we had asked her if we could count on her to stay with Cole in the middle of the night). She came by shortly thereafter with a book in hand and an extremely excited look on her face.

Since it was so cold outside I wasn't sure how to dress. I knew my contractions were going to be intense in the car ride, so I wanted to be comfortable, but I also wanted to be warm since it was below freezing outside. I put my long black Gap body skirt on with wool socks and Merrill clogs. I wore a long sleeve baggy maternity shirt and my Burton sweatshirt. I probably looked a little like a gypsy as I placed my winter hat on my head and wrapped my wool scarf around my neck, grabbed my bag and Bevin's bag, which SuperDada packed immediately into the CRV he had warming up in the driveway.

11:30 p.m.
Off we went. I called the doctor again from the driveway, since he had called us back and I had missed the call. We told him how long it would take us because Keith tends to speed, and he told us not to rush. I'm sure Keith did anyway, as I made my way through some very intense contractions throughout the car ride. I also called the doula and told her we were on our way. But instead of telling me she'd meet us there, she told me to call her when I got there. I tried to make it clear that this was it, but it just didn't seem like she got that.

Thirty minutes later, at the birth center, we got "checked" in by the nurse on duty. She was kind of nice, kind of awkward, kind of snotty. A very weird mixture of a person, but that was her. She hooked me up to the most annoying monitor - the contraction monitor and the monitor that listens to the baby's heartbeat. Now what happened during this time and the time that the doctor arrived is kind of a blur. I do remember this: being in tons of pain every few minutes, getting hooked up to an IV, going to the bathroom, feeling the sharp intense pain of the contractions.

Finally, the nurse checked me to see if I was very dilated. I was convinced I was, but I was 1 cm.  The day before though? I had seen my Ob and was just a little effaced, so clearly, I was in labor. Just a very slow and painful one.

I called the doula to fill her in. When I told her how dilated I was and that the doctor was on his way, she told me to call her back when he got there.

The doctor came in shortly after and the nurse filled him in. He leaned back against the counter and asked us excitedly, "So are you ready to have a baby tonight?"

It was at this moment that I was overwhelmed with emotions. I remember nervously looking at Keith, who looked at me. There were so many things I had planned. Luckily, I had my birth "plan" with me and he agreed to delay cord clamping, which was important to me. It was one of the reasons I scheduled it with the other doctor, since he usually performs "natural" cesarean births. (The doula wouldn't be allowed in to the OR during the delivery, but they might let her in when Keith went with the baby to the nursery to get weighed.)

But the feeling that I keep coming back to when I think back to that particular moment - when the doctor asked if we were ready - is one of pure joy. I was going to meet my baby girl. In just a matter of an hour and a half, she would be born. I would finally be able to see her, feel her, hold her. Love her.

1 a.m.
So I called the doula again to let her know. As I mentioned already on my blog, I wanted her to be there for the birth, regardless of the type of delivery because I wanted that extra support. And she had agreed to be there on the day of the scheduled delivery, even if she wouldn't be allowed in the operating room. But when it came down to it? She flaked out. Instead of saying, "I'll be there as soon as I can," she asked instead: "Do you want me to come?" That is essentially the equivalent of saying "I really don't want to come, but if you really want me to I will." Keith was so pissed that she was equivocating on something she had already agreed to do. Deep down, I knew the reason  - she didn't want to come out in the middle of the night for just a surgical delivery. And me being the type of person who doesn't like to put others out, I told her that "I guess not" and she said she'd stop by the next morning. It made me feel a little lousy that she didn't want to be there(especially since she had tried to talk me into doing the vaginal breech birth), but I let it go. I had bigger things to think about.

So for the next hour, Keith helped me through the contractions - helping me change positions, rubbing my back and talking to me. His actions made me realize this: I never needed the doula in the first place. My husband was an awesome coach. And as well he should be. He's done it before.

2 a.m.
By the time I started walking to the operating room the contractions were coming every two minutes. The part I remember most was my anxiety. I was so nervous, I was literally shaking. Not nervous to meet my daughter, but nervous to receive anesthesia and nervous to be cut open. This was the part I was dreading the most. It was where my fear lived - in the leading up of the surgery. It was this anxiety that made me realize how glad I was that Bevin had decided to come earlier. I'm sure I would've spent the next four days as a nervous wreck of a person.

They gave me the spinal during a contraction and Keith took pictures of me from the doorway. He came in and talked to the anesthesiologist, who told him he'd let him know just when he could take pictures of her birth. The anesthesiologist had warned me back in the labor room that I would probably vomit in the beginning. That was clearly something I did not want to happen, so the moment I felt any nausea after he administered the spinal, I told him and he must have given me some anti-nausea medication and I immediately felt better. Fortunately, because I was able to catch it right away, I never threw up before or after my daughter's birth.

2:33 a.m.
Before I knew it, they were telling Keith to lean over the curtain and take pictures. Before I knew it I heard Bevin's first cries. Before I knew it I was crying as they brought her over to the warmer (which I  could see clearly thanks to my birth plan). Before I knew it they handed her over to Keith and he held her beautiful face up to my face. Her eyes were open. She was so alert. I welcomed her to the world. She stayed next to me for another minute or two. Then Keith went with the delivery nurse into the nursery to weigh and measure her.

"Six pounds, five ounces" someone announced a few minutes later. Laughter as the doctor joked that he was right and everyone teased him because he had been the one to touch her and wriggle her out. Of course, he would be right. Before I knew it, I was being brought into the recovery room.

3:21 a.m.
I held my baby girl in my arms for the first time.  Keith showed his skills again by helping Bevin latch on, and I thought to myself - how does he remember these things? All of my fears, all of my worries slipped away as I bonded with my second baby, my first daughter.