October 1st, 2017. It was eleven days until my due date. That week I had a couple different appointments, one being my 39 week check up and one being my appointment to remove my staples. If you are just tuning in and wondering why I needed staples removed at 39 weeks pregnant, catch up here with part one of this two part birth story.
Ever since leaving the hospital with a belly full of staples from my appendectomy and a healthy baby boy still growing inside, I was praying to at least make it until I got my staples removed before going into labor. So unlike most women at this time in pregnancy, I was excited when I was told I wasn’t even the slightest bit dilated at my 39 week check up.
My unexpected surgery put me on maternity leave 2 weeks earlier than expected. I was hoping to have at least a week to nest, go on a date and do all the things the pregnancy books tell you to do while you’re waiting on baby to arrive but the majority of my time was spent recovering. If you think back to how you felt at 39 weeks then imagine an incision longer than your husband’s foot across your abdomen; it was basically bed rest for me.
The day after my 39 week check up I was refreshing my hospital bag when my Braxton Hicks contractions started up. Inconsistent and tolerable at first but building up in strength and at more consistent intervals as the day went on. Was this it?
Derek got home from work about 5 that day. The contractions were coming every 5-7 minutes at that point. They were painful but manageable because unlike the pain I felt the day of my sister’s bridal shower, I knew it would pass. Derek and I walked the neighborhood together (if you could even call it a walk) stopping every time a contraction hit. I remember squeezing Derek’s hand for relief until that didn’t cut it anymore and I needed to clinch on to both of his shoulders or I felt as if I was going to collapse. An hour had passed and we barely made it around the block. The contractions were now within 5 minutes consistently. When we got home we decided it was time to call, excited that this could be it.
To our disappointment, the nurse recommended that we wait until the contractions were closer to 3 minutes apart. I don’t know if it was the let down from thinking it was time to being told it wasn’t but as soon as we got off the phone the contractions spaced out to 7 minutes, then 9 minutes and then commenced. Almost as if God heard my prayers that I felt I needed my staples out before I could deliver and He knew the timing just wasn’t right yet.
It was Wednesday, October 4th now. The day I was scheduled to have my staples removed. My appointment was at 10 in the morning. I asked my parents to take me since I still wasn’t able to drive. I also didn’t want Derek to have to take off potentially one of his last few days of work before Brock was born. The staples came out clean and effortless and I finally had the confidence that if I went into labor at any point now, I could do it.
After my appointment we decided to grab some lunch at Yard House and Derek met us there. As soon as I sat down at the booth, the contractions that disappeared out of no where were suddenly back and instantly consistent at 7 minutes apart. Knowing the disappointment we felt the night before I wanted to make sure it was time before we called again. We finished up lunch and I encouraged Derek to go back to work. I promised to call if they got within the 3-5 minute range. My parents and I decided to walk the mall as it was relatively close to the hospital, just in case anything happened. After a few laps, the contractions were keeping to the 7 minutes so we decided we would be okay to drive the 20 minutes home.
That night, my contractions really started to strengthen and the pain was becoming unbearable but they were still only 5 minutes apart. As we waited I remember craving a smoothie and we arrived 3 minutes before Nectar closed to get one. I stayed in the car while Derek ran in and that’s when I knew it was time. I was in tears from the pain of each contraction and started a running clock on my phone so I knew when to start embracing for it. When Derek got back to the car, he offered to call the nurse again but I demanded we go in. They say you will know and I certainly did.
When we got to the hospital, we knew exactly were to go from our VIP tour just a few weeks prior. The nurse hooked me up to the monitors, and could see that I was having consistent contractions at 5 minutes apart. She saw the pain on my face with each one even though I was trying to put on a tough front. When the doctor came in to check my dilation, I was only measuring 3 cm and my heart sank when I was told they wouldn’t be able to admit me until I was at 5 cm.
Just as the doctor was about to leave, a contraction hit. She took one look at my face and immediately offered Morphine to help with the pain (a 10 at this point). She hoped the Morphine would relax me enough to allow my body to dilate and she was spot on. After an hour she checked again and we were at 5cm. Thank you,Jesus! Just before 10 pm we were admitted and we were ironically placed in the same delivery room as before.
Once we were admitted we told our parents. Derek tried to get as much information as possible from the nurse to give our parents a realistic time to show up to the hospital. We called my mom first but when she didn’t answer we called my dad. Based on the information we got from the nurse we told them if they showed up at 6 am they would be able to get some rest but also be assured not to miss anything. Apparently my dad hung up the phone and told my mom, “Derek thinks it would be best to get some sleep here and show up at 7 am tomorrow.” Such a bold move on my dad’s part considering my mom would probably divorce him if she missed the birth of her first grandbaby. Derek’s parents were also told to arrive around 6 am. My father-in-law had been summoned to jury duty that week and told the Judge he would not be showing up. Also a bold move.
I knew from day one that I would want the epidural and after feeling the pain of those contractions leading up to that moment, I am so happy with my decision to get one. The hardest part of labor for me was the two days of contractions before I was admitted. Once the epidural was in I rejoiced and felt an immediate since of calm. I knew I could do it now.
At 8 am, after what seemed like the best sleep I had gotten in weeks, the doctor checked my dilation and I was at 8 cm. We allowed our parents to come back and visit during this time, knowing that Derek and I wanted to share the moment our son was born just the two of us. (Side note: Luckily for my dad’s sake, nothing had happened yet and we still seemed to have plenty of time.) I couldn’t sleep anymore at this point. I tried to keep my mind from worrying by snacking on ice chips.
I wasn’t moving along as fast as the doctor was hoping so I was administered one dose of Pitocin to help speed things up. After an hour with the Pitocin, I could feel the contractions closer together than before so I knew it was working. The doctor came in to break my water and to her surprise it had broke on its own. Just before noon the nurse checked my dilation one last time. 10 cm. It was time. I was excited. Nervous. Anxious. All the emotions.
Although we were at a 10 the nurse felt that his head was still too far away to push so she recommended we use birthing balls to allow him to more easily drop into a more suitable position. I remember this part taking about an hour and the more I waited the more nervous I became. Could I really do this?
“Okay Lindsay, we are going to start pushing!” I started to bite my finger nails, a nervous tick I didn’t even know I had. Delivering was the part I worried about my entire pregnancy and doubt started to creep in as soon as I heard those words. How are you going to do this? I thought. Derek says we pushed for about an hour, but it didn’t seem that long to me. What did seem long was the 10 seconds of pushing for each contraction that hit. Like maybe that Lamaze class I kept putting off really would have been helpful?! Oops!
“Alright mom, I can feel the top of his head, you are crowning. Im going to call for the midwife.” Hearing the nurse refer to me as mom sent a rush of emotions over me and my doubt was replaced with hope. Maybe I can do this. The two minutes waiting with his head crowned was the most uncomfortable part of delivery for me. The team of doctors and nurses were now in the room and I could feel the next contraction was about to hit before it even showed up on the monitor. “I’m ready to meet my son,” I thought. Two pushes with the midwife and at 1:20 pm on October 5th, Brock Curtis was born. The second I heard his soft cry, I instantly cried myself. I was so relieved. So excited. I lifted my head as far up as I could to see him and was just so giddy to get to hold him. We did it.
My husband and I laughed when we over heard one of the nurses say that he had a cute little tushy. Derek and I joked the entire pregnancy that he would most likely have a ba-donk (we both have larger bottom halves.) From the second I first held him, I felt an instant bond with Brock. We had gotten through a lot already together and he had only just taken his first breath. I was amazed and in awe of my son.
We took a few moments to bond with him but we were also so excited to introduce him to his grandparents who we knew were anxiously waiting down the hall to meet him. We allowed them to come in and hold him shortly after he was born. It was the sweetest seeing them tear up as this was both of their’s first grandbaby.
I didn’t have any complications during delivery but I did have a slight tear. I was so shocked by the amount of swelling delivery caused, so much so that when I got up to pee for the first time, I actually fainted in the bathroom. I will never forget the smell of the Ammonia they used to wake me up. The ice diapers they mentioned in the pregnancy books finally made a lot of sense.
I recovered quickly from my fainting episode and the three of us were transferred to the postpartum hall, another part of the hospital we had already become very familiar with. I was overwhelmed again in the best way, seeing all of our family who were also there to meet Brock. Derek finally got to ring the bell celebrating Brock’s birth with the doctors and nurses. A sound we heard many times during our stay a few weeks earlier.
The main thing I remember post birth was the feeling of not wanting to do anything but hold him. I caught myself many times just staring at him in awe and disbelief; do I really get to be his mom?! I also remember Derek encouraging me to get some rest and waking to him basically lunging with Brock in the Simba hold, trying his best to soothe him. Let’s face it, we had no idea what we were doing. We did learn quickly though, only try soothing methods you are able to sustain for a long time.
Derek left the soothing and feeding to me after that and volunteered to take care of the diaper changes. He also was in charge of getting all my medications from the pharmacy, setting up pictures and filling out the birth certificate. When filling out the birth certificate Derek assured me Brock’s weight was 7 lbs 8 oz even tho I swore I heard he nurse say 7 lbs 5 oz during delivery. Since I was the one on the epidural, I took his word. After he had submitted it, I noticed Brock’s stats were written on the card taped to his bassinet and I knew it, 7 lbs 5 oz. I am sure we are not the first ones to do this considering how tired you are after giving birth but then again maybe we are. Derek just wanted to beaf him up a little bit on paper I think.
We decided to stay an extra night in the hospital (new parents usually have the choice if there are no complications) because like I mentioned earlier I was slightly concerned with my swelling and Derek and I were a little overwhelmed by everything there was to learn. We had put all our thought and preparation into the birth but not into the moments and days after. Need less to say, we wanted the extra night of nurse help and guidance.
While we were in the hospital my sister and brother-in-law shared the Macklemore song Growing Up with us and we have since dedicated it to Brock. We played it on repeat on our way home as I sat in the back seat next to our baby boy, tears were running down my face the entire way. I think Derek may have shed a few tears too, but he’d probably tell you it was just dusty in the car. Every emotion was running high and I couldn’t help but to just feel blessed in that sweet moment. We got through the appendectomy. We got through labor and delivery. Now we were heading home as a party of three, ready to start this new season of life together.
Thank you so much for sticking with me through Brock’s two part birth story. I appreciate your continued love and support.
