Elisha’s Birth Story

October 10, 2016, at 2 AM will always be a moment and day I never forget. The story, however, actually starts when I was just reaching 31 weeks in August. It was the middle of the night and I awoke to a strange sensation. I turned the lamp on and pulled the covers back. Sure enough, a decent sized wet spot was on our sheets. Was that my water breaking? Did I just pee in the bed?

I woke my husband up and shared what was going on. We called the hospital to see if we should be concerned or do anything. We ended up going. The stain didn’t smell like pee so we leaned toward it being my water leaking. I was still very hesitant. I’m not one that wants to go to the hospital when there’s nothing clearly wrong and I can also be one to get anxious about health care costs. I was at war within myself, but I didn’t want to take any chances with our son either.

Consistent contractions and 3 cm dilated. The cervical check and electronic monitoring confirmed it in triage. What?! I wasn’t even feeling contractions. We ended up being admitted. I was shocked and could hardly believe what was happening.

The next 12-18 hours were a little bit of a blur besides getting a shot that was supposed to slow contractions, getting a shot to speed up lung development in my son in case we were to have him early, and an extra ultrasound to see how he was doing. My emotions were high and I was thinking too much about what this all was going to cost. My husband kept reassuring me that it was all totally fine and the best thing for our son, which I so needed and appreciated.

Thankfully, contractions slowed, he was fine, and I was sent home on what I like to call house arrest. It wasn’t bed rest, but I could only go up and down the stairs once a day and basically sit in a chair for the next six to seven weeks until I hit full term. I do remember going to Lowes and the grocery store and sitting in those electric wheelchair carts. I just had to smile and make the most of it.

I worked from home the most I could, but also went on short-term disability. The next seven weeks went by and thankfully no baby. My almost 38-week appointment finally came around. It was a Wednesday morning. My provider checked me and to my surprise I was 4½ cm dilated. She basically expressed she would be surprised if we didn’t have a baby by the next day. More shock. Besides some non-progressing, unpainful contractions here and there, and losing my mucus plug a week or so prior, I still hadn’t really had any labor.

My provider said she could stir my membranes to possibly help get labor going more and then if I wasn’t in the hospital by the next morning, I should come in to see her again. I had no idea what stirring my membranes would do, what it even was or if it was something I wanted. I did know I was excited to meet my little man. I agreed to it and we scheduled an appointment the next morning just in case.

I did have some more intense contractions after that but nothing crazy and still nothing progressing. I went about my day and by the end of it, everything was calm again. We went in the next morning and I was around 5, 5½ cm. My provider was shocked that she was seeing us in her office again and now said we wouldn’t make it to the end of the weekend. She didn’t do on call hours and didn’t work on Fridays or weekends. She stirred my membranes again and we left, not knowing what the following days would look like. My husband and I enjoyed a breakfast out together and then, again, by the end of the day, nothing came of any of it. I had had some more sporadic intense contractions for a little while but nothing progressing.

Saturday, we went with some of our family to an apple orchard. The whole day was fun and smooth. Not many contractions at all. That night, however, I remember having a more restless night and not sleeping very well. I decided to stay home from church. My husband had to go because he was volunteering.

While he was gone, I started feeling my first real labor and thought, this is it. Contractions were getting more intense and closer together. Still nothing unbearable, but I called and had him come home early to be with me. Slowly but surely things would pick up throughout the day to a point where we thought we should go in. More so because I knew I was already so dilated. We ordered Applebees carryout, ate our dinner and headed for the hospital around seven.

One of my really good friends, Amber, had agreed to be with me in the hospital through labor and birth. We were keeping her updated during the day and she met us at the hospital. Contractions were needing most of my attention at this point. I remember having to sit at the front desk, answer questions and fill out paperwork. I wasn’t thrilled about that. I finally got in to triage and was about 7-7½ cm. We were admitted and after all of this had taken place, I noticed my contractions subsiding again.

Ugh! But we were there, and I didn’t want to go home again. My water still hadn’t broken so they offered the suggestion of breaking it to get labor going again. I didn’t want to be in the hospital longer than I had to, was pretty tired, and knew I wouldn’t sleep well that night regardless. I wanted to get it over with and meet my son. I decided to have them break it. First, I needed to have an IV put in. That took more than one person because apparently when I’m in the hospital, pregnant and in labor or about to be, my veins are incredibly hard to find.

I’m not sure where all the time went, but they didn’t get to breaking my water until 11:30 PM. After that, labor hit. And it. hit. hard! I went from almost no labor to transition labor pain immediately and only had short breaks in between each contraction. All I could do was my best to stay as relaxed as possible and fight through each contraction as I laid in bed. My husband was trying the counter pressure on my lower back and ended up rubbing my skin raw. Amber was being very encouraging and helping me stay as relaxed as possible. It took everything to get through every contraction. In about two hours, I reached full dilation and was able to start pushing. I wasn’t very good at it even though it only took about 30 minutes. I kept pushing in the wrong place and ended up bursting the blood vessels in my face. I totally pooped, but it was fine. I didn’t care nor worry about it. It’s a normal thing.

My husband had to sit down a couple times and not watch anything. The nurses took over. I didn’t even know this until after the fact. I finally pushed my son out and got to hold him for the first time in my arms and on my chest. I have yet to be able to put words to the emotion I felt at that time. It was unlike any experience I had ever had in my entire life nor will ever have besides having any other kids. I don’t think there is much that can compare. The blur of exhaustion, emotions, pain, relief from pain, the fact this baby had been growing in me for 9 months and was now my very own to hold, love, cherish and nourish. The reward for the work was real and worth it all.

I ended up with a two degree tear out of four. I didn’t really know about still having to give birth to the placenta, but I knew I wasn’t fully relieved until it came out. Once it did, I remember finally feeling complete relief. I got stitched up (by the on call doctor since this was a Sunday night/early Monday morning before my caregiver came in around 6), got the body shakes for a little while and then finally settled down. He took to breastfeeding right away, which I was very thankful for.

It was finally all over and I could simply enjoy being with my son. This little 8 lb. 1 oz. and 19¾” long boy. This life God had given to me and created within me. A miracle. We were officially a family of three and could start our lives together as such.