Lyla Grace

Our sweet, little Lyla was born Tuesday, December 17 at 1:14 am.
We are so in love.

I had been prepping for an unmedicated birth for several months. I had a difficult labor with Parker after being induced and having an epidural, and had heard several amazing stories from friends about their unmedicated labors that I really wanted to try it. I read everything I could get my hands on, talked to as many friends as I could, practiced the breathing and relaxation visualizations almost daily, had several discussions with Steve as he was to play a huge role, and instead of attending the more expensive 5-week hypnobirthing class series, we attended one Daddy Doula class where we learned different things Steve and I could do to help me through it. As I was contemplating going unmedicated, on multiple occasions I felt strongly that this would be an amazing experience for both Steve and me, as well as for Lyla and me. I felt ready, excited, anxious, and calm. 

After my {arbitrary} due date came and went on Tuesday the 10th, I gradually started feeling more cramping, back aches, slowly started losing my mucous plug, had intermittent nausea/GI upsets, and random bouts of irregular contractions. Saturday I felt pretty horrible, and all I could eat was egg drop soup. By the evening I felt a little better, so Steve dragged me along to see Wolverine with him. Sunday I felt pretty good and we had a Christmas dinner party with the Andersons.

 

Around 5 am Monday I was awoken by what I thought were contractions, but I wasn't sure because I'd never really experienced going into labor on my own. I lay awake timing them with an app on my phone and they were about a minute long every 8-10 minutes. Steve woke up about 6:30 and I told him what was going on, then he got ready and left for work/school (without asking me if I thought he should stay, I guess he figured he knew I wasn't actually in labor yet??) After I got up and walked around, ate, showered, the contractions slowed down, stopped, started again irregularly, and did that all morning. Early afternoon they started to pick up again. Steve texted and asked me to make a phone call for the radio in our car, which required moving  off the couch twice, then talking on the phone while having contractions. I texted him back to let him know just how I felt about that...

I made sure to have Elmo on repeat and plenty of treats around for Parker so I didn't have to get up much. That didn't stop him from dumping out an entire box of cheerios (the kind with the freeze-dried berries, which left a lovely pink powder everywhere), but other than that, he was pretty easy to manage.

I had my non-stress test at 3:15, so I put Parker down for his nap, and not sure if I would see him again before his baby sister got here, I gave him one last tight hug and told him how much I loved him...while tearing up and breathing through a contraction.

I drove to the hospital (turns out breathing through contractions while simultaneously driving is actually quite doable) and told the non-stress test people I thought I was in early labor, so instead they sent me down to L&D to get checked. I check in, and they said my contractions were 7-8 minutes apart, I was dilated to a 3 and 70% effaced. Steve met me at the hospital at this point, and they said I could either stay, go home to labor then come back later, or I could go upstairs and my doctor could strip my membranes. I hadn't eaten much all day, so I definitely wanted to do that before I was stuck there unable to eat. I was far enough along that stripping my membranes wouldn't be as painful as it was with Parker when I wasn't dilated or really effaced, so we waddled upstairs to get my membranes stripped. On the way home, Steve and I each (driving separately) called and texted some people to let them know what was going down. We gathered some last-minute things, ate a bite or two, and took off again for the hospital. The contractions were getting closer together and slowly increasing in pain. I had to stop what I was doing, lean over something and breathe through them. I really wanted a baked potato, so we stopped by Wendy's (super classy), ate in the car in the parking lot (also super classy), and finally told Steve I was done laboring in the car and wanted to get to the hospital so I could get more comfortable. 

About 7 pm, we check in, get changed, hooked up to the monitors, and checked to find out I was a 3.5 and 80% effaced, contractions 6-7 minutes apart. My nurse (who I wasn't a huge fan of) asked me if I wanted to stay or not, and I just looked at her and said, "Ummmm no, I'm not going home. I'm having this baby tonight." We decide to get up and walk around in the halls to get things going, and sure enough, the contractions speed up, and are again, getting more painful. We try a couple different positions we learned for breathing through the contractions, and my favorite standing was the 'slow-dancing', where I drape my arms over Steve's neck and put my weight on him while breathing through them. After about 45 minutes in the hallway and things picking up, realizing I was only at a 3 and still had a while to go, I broke down and started to cry a little. We're not talking ugly crying here, thankfully, just little tears. Steve just hugged me as I got it together, then we headed back to the room. My nurse came back to check me again, and I was at a 4 and fully effaced. I'll take it. Laying down on my side was my favorite for contractions (the exercise ball and counterpressure made them worse!), so I settled in, put my earbuds and one of my relaxation tracks on, and focused (while Steve went to sleep on the couch...I figured I'd need him to have his energy later, and I found that it was easier for me to get into the zone alone). After a while (not sure how long), a nurse came in to start my antibiotics (I'm Group B Strep +) and interrupted a pretty deep zone I was in, I might have even been halfway asleep when she came in. She hooks me up again for the 'mandatory' 20 minutes per hour fetal monitoring (I questioned how necessary that was, and my lame nurse just stated it was the policy...I could have refused it if I really wanted, but I didn't feel like arguing) and starts the antibiotics, and I try to get back into my zone. 

I couldn't really get back to the level of relaxation I had been in, so the contractions aren't as easy as they were before. Manageable as long as I breathe through them, but I really just wanted to get in the tub. Hot showers had always relaxed me before during Braxton Hicks and any other time, so the tub was calling my name. My nurse sets it up for me, I climb in, turn on my playlist that I had made of songs (chill songs, all tied to happy memories of Steve or Parker: get that oxytocin flowing!) and try to relax. They (and I) was nervous the bath would slow things down, but it didn't. The contractions stayed several minutes apart, but I did feel they became more manageable. My nurse comes in and hooks me up again for monitoring, which was stupid. A little while later, my doctor comes in and lets me know she's here for a C-section so if I decide I wanted her to break my water, she was around. Ugh, OK. After about an hour, I started to feel lots of aching and pressure in my sacrum. I wasn't sure if it was back labor, if she was turning because of my reclined position, or if it was just because I was laying back on my sacrum, but I felt like it was double the pain: in my lower abdomen that I had been feeling all night and now in my sacrum. I start seriously thinking about that epidural, and wondering why I was doing this? I could easily just get that epidural and take away all of this! I breathe and focus through a couple more contractions, then decide I'm done with the bath. I call out for Steve and wake him up so he could come help me get out. As I'm getting out, the contractions are getting more and more intense, my legs start shaking, then it moves to my whole body shaking so vigorously, Steve said it looked like I was convulsing. He's on the floor trying to dry off my legs and get me dressed while I'm leaning over the sink, trying to get through contractions and tell him I want the epidural.

Just as we're waddling out of the bathroom and I'm forming my argument for an epidural (unnecessarily, because even though I made Steve promise to not let me get an epidural, he had taken the stance that he would support me in whatever decision I made) , my blessed doctor and {non-blessed} nurse come in and ask if I want my water broken. I instead tell her I was contemplating an epidural, and she sits down to talk.  I wanted her to check me before I decided, so she checked and I was at a 6 and super soft. She tells me things would go hard and fast, and that I would only have to push twice. I just wanted it all over, so I told her to do it. She breaks my water at 12:43 am, and she warned me to not fight the contractions, but to really relax my pelvic floor muscles to really let the head push my cervix open. We get up to try different positions again, while I had the most intense contractions I'd experienced yet. I really focused on my breathing and relaxing my muscles, and I could literally feel my cervix stretching and being pushed open wider with some seriously intense pressure. After each contraction I began wimpering because of how painful it was getting, and after three contractions, Steve helps me back in bed. I have one more contraction, at the end of which my body takes over, forces a grunting/moaning noise from my mouth, and involuntarily begins to curl up and push the baby out. I moan, "The baby is coming! I feel like I gotta push!" while I'm trying to hold on to the bed and control myself, which is totally not happening. I yell, "What in the world is going on?!", the nurse runs over and checks me, and announces "Yep, you're at a 10, the baby is coming!". She runs to grab my doctor, then yells for another nurse. My doctor checks me, and asks Steve if he wants to see the baby, because she is right there, ready to come. (If you do the math, that's 1 cm per contraction)

My body again, starts pushing the baby out and I'm trying to keep up with my breathing, and try to remember my 'birth breathing' while relaxing my body and breathing the baby down. There was a good mixture of controlled pushes, frantic "get her out! get her out!"s, various animalistic noises I'd never heard nor imagined before, and controlled 'breathing the baby down'. I remember squeezing and pulling on Steve's hand oh so tightly during each push. After about ten minutes, I finally felt her head emerge, then the next push or two, the rest of her body came and our little Lyla was born at 1:14 am.

7 pounds 8 ounces, 20.25 inches long.

She let out a little wimper, which then transformed into a full-on newborn cry. All I could do was let my head fall back onto my pillow and sob. They quickly wrapped her up and laid her on my chest, while I just held her and cried tears of sweet relief, happiness, and love. We did it together: she was there for me and I was there for her. I felt an instant connection and bond with her and loved her so.

She was perfect.