Wesley’s Birth Story
Baby boy is 4 weeks old! Here is his birth story. I didn’t have a lot of time to write it out, so I hope it’s mostly understandable!
I woke up a few times on Sunday night with some intense cramps but I was able to talk myself down and bury the excitement in order to get some rest. Just in case. But there was no way I was going to jinx it again. Even though I was 41 weeks pregnant, I knew there was a good chance I could be pregnant for another entire week like I was with Frances. And remembering that I was dilated 3cm for over a week with Mabel, I wasn’t going to get hopeful and anxious like I was at the end of that pregnancy. “Labor will organize itself” was my favorite phrase the entire week. No two birth experiences are the same and each baby has their own agenda. I knew that If I could be patient and let myself go into labor naturally, it would be a quick process. On Monday morning I woke up early with Mabel and as I was making coffee I had to stop for a tight surge come and go. As I picked Mabel up to put her in her high chair for breakfast I felt another good tightening, about 10-12 minutes after the first. I had been praying for an intention to focus on for this birth and that morning I reflected on it again - for the unification of families all over the world.
My mom, Frances, Mabel, and I piled ourselves into the van to go to my 9am appointment and I didn’t feel any more ground-breaking cramps throughout. Frances came with me to check on baby on the ultrasound and she whispered “Hi baby! Hi baby!” as the tech checked baby’s heart rate and amniotic fluid levels. Then I spent about 45 minutes in the recliner as the nurse conducted the non-stress test with monitors on baby and I even got to take a little nap. Afterward, I finally got to see one of the midwives (Lauren) who offered to strip my membranes in hopes that it would get things going. We agreed it would be a good idea. As she checked my dilation (now at 4-5cm) her eyes widened. “Are you having a contraction right now?” I just shrugged and said, “Maybe?” There was no way I’d let her jinx this birth! I was very convinced that the more hopeful I was to go into labor, the further away it’d get. “Yeah I just felt you dilate to a 6!” Lauren let me know that baby’s head was very low. So she made the call to not strip my membranes and she assured me that I would most likely have a baby by the end of the week and I didn’t even need to make another appointment. She said to go home, eat a good meal, rest, and come back when the contractions started to organize themselves into a pattern. Her advice was to not wait for them to get too close together since I was already so dilated. On my way out I walked passed the front desk and I stopped for a second to silently doubt the midwife and maybe make that appointment after all. Because, again, if I thought for even a second that labor might truly be developing I did NOT want my high hopes to curse it.
It was about 11am and after the long appointment the girls were restless and hungry so we took them to get some lunch at Whataburger (we were desperate, ok?). I ate my chicken melt, even though it was soggy and exactly the opposite of what I wanted. I figured this meal might have similar effects as castor oil and may kickstart labor (I was sort of right about this part). Then we walked the aisles of Hobby Lobby to find some more puzzles (since I’d probably be pregnant for another 3 months, I’d need to keep busy) and a few other items. I was sort of zoned out the entire time as I felt some very strong surges. My poor mom chased Fran and Mabel up and down the aisles as I waddled along, pushing the cart with a blank stare. We made it home without any more contractions and put the girls down for a nap. Meanwhile I made many excuses to get outside and go for short walks to/from the recycling center in the apartment complex, the mailroom, and the front office. At about 3 o’clock the girls woke up and we all watched Toy Story together. I’ll never forget looking at each person and feeling some sort of silly gratitude for getting to labor at home, on the couch, while laughing at Fran’s favorite movie. Bryson made me a smoothie since I hadn’t had anything wholesome to eat. Each time I got outside to walk or even stood up to get something I would get a long, powerful surge. They were starting to last about a minute and a half, although they weren’t in any sort of rhythm yet. I kept Bryson updated and told him I still wasn’t sure if I wanted to do this without an epidural. I made it clear that I was going to have to lean on him a lot more for encouragement this time. I was very apathetic this time about doing it unmedicated. But both he and my mom gave me a pep talk and restored my confidence. Shawn and I FaceTimed for a bit and we talked about how her European trip was going so far and I gave her an update on the appointment I had that morning, pausing every once in awhile to ride out intense contraction. At about 5pm we all went on a little walk and my mom encouraged us to go to the hospital, just in case. She noticed that I’d stop walking every time I had a surge. But I still wasn’t getting them in a consistent pattern! I’d have bursts of 3 or 4 and they were only about 2 minutes apart and lasted almost 2 minutes each. And then I would have about a 10 minute break before another contraction. My mom gave us one more strong suggestion to head to the hospital and I agreed it would probably be a good idea. We took one last picture as a family of four, said a prayer and Bryson and I packed up the car and left.
The 30 minute car ride was almost unbearable. During each surge every single bump the car made felt like it’d break my hips. I started to tell Bryson about how fearful I was of going without pain killers. I had decided that calmly voicing my exact fears with detail would ultimately give them less power over me. And I think it helped. “I’m afraid of pushing without an epidural, Bryson. I am scared it’s going to break me.” And then he’d validate my fears, tell me he was confident I could do it, and that he was going to be there with me for every single contraction. We prayed for confidence and hope in God’s plan for this delivery and offered my suffering up for others. I kept the words of St Faustina at the front of my mind. “I fixed my gaze upon His sacred wounds and felt happy to suffer with Him. I suffered, and yet I did not suffer, because I felt happy to know the depths of His love, and the hour passed like a minute.” It helped to think about how, in this moment, I was in pain but that it would soon bring me to the joy of meeting our little. On the drive, I texted all my friends/family telling them I would need their prayers and that I was experiencing a lot of mental stress. This was at around 6:00pm.
Bryson parked the car in front of triage and walked me inside. He left me to sign in on my own as he went to park the car. Enduring a surge without him next to me was difficult but I was able to stay calm. The administrator had to ask me to sign my name again though because the first signature was illegible since I had strong surge as I attempted to do the paperwork. I don’t think she realized my contractions were as intense as they were because I sort of just got silent and looked down every time I had one. I waved to the nurses and they gave me a hospital gown to change into. It took me longer than normal to change with each surge getting stronger and closer together. They asked if I had plans to deliver the baby naturally and I sort of shrugged. I still had that strong sense of apathy toward delivering unmedicated. I did not have a lot of gumption or reasoning to go without an epidural and I knew that in order to resist the temptation for a pain killer I would need a lot more than apathy. But deep down I have always desired a natural deliver since I knew it was best for both baby and myself.
I had to sit on the bed in triage as the nurse confirmed all my information and got me and baby on the monitor. Sitting was so miserable and all I wanted to do was stand up during each surge. The sassy nurse from Labor and Delivery came downstairs to get me and her short responses and directions were seriously annoying me. I wanted to tell her to chill out a bit. Her abrasiveness was really not vibing well with the dreamy, peaceful birth I craved. She wanted to put a blanket across my lap for the wheelchair ride upstairs and I told her I didn’t want it. Couldn’t she see the giant beads of sweat on my forehead? She scoffed and awkwardly stuttered out some weird reason that I should keep the blanket on in case someone saw me. What the hell was she talking about? I rolled my eyes and quickly said I didn’t care if anyone saw me. I was starting to have minimal breaks between contractions and that time was precious. I didn’t want to be wasting my breath explaining myself to her. She made conversation with us on the ride upstairs and when she Bryson told her we had two girls at home and that this sex of this baby would be a surprise she spat out my least favorite phrase ever, “Oh, so you’re hoping for a boy then!” God, I almost asked for a replacement nurse right then and there. I just blurted out, “Nope! We are happy no matter the sex!”
When she wheeled me into the delivery room I got up from the wheelchair and had another intense surge. Up until this point I was able to keep my cool during most contractions. I imagined myself under the waves at Carlsbad State Beach. I would close my eyes, breathe deeply, and feel the surge begin and swell. At it’s peak I was able to vividly feel the darkness of the height of the wave over my head and I knew that the intensity of the contraction was about to start waning. I could trust this pattern because I know it well. Just as it gets unbearable, it weakens again and I can take a breath. Between each surge I was able to rest and give thanks for making it through. I asked Bryson to stand in front of me so I could press myself against him during the contractions. Meanwhile, the nurse was busy connecting the monitor cords and helping me out of my underwear and into the mesh shorts the hospital provides in case my water broke soon. She left the room and then it became nearly impossible for me to stay calm through the surges. As they would reach their peak I started to panic and cry out for the epidural. And then they would wane and I would whisper to myself that I was capable and that I could do this. Bryson reminded me to take it just one contraction at a time. I focused on families that are separated and thanked God that I had a strong supporter. I was grateful to directly be part of my children’s creation story.
Shortly after getting to the delivery room our doula arrived and I hardly even noticed her entrance. But she swooped in knowing exactly what I needed before I even had to ask. She had her hands on my lower back pressing and relieving a lot of the pain I was feeling. When I said I was overheated, a fan somehow materialized and she had cool air and an ice pack on the back of my neck. I had to pee and I asked them to buzz the nurse to come in and disconnect me from the monitor. But I knew I only had about a minute between contractions now so instead of waiting for the nurse I yanked the cables from the monitor and escorted myself. There is nothing more empowering than not feeling the need ask for permission. I basically ran to the bathroom, peed, had a contraction on the toilet, and then sprinted back to labor next to the bed. I remember my midwife, Jenna, coming in to check on me and as I was standing there, enduring a contraction and pressing against Bryson she encouraged me. “Great job, Katey. You’re doing it.” She asked how I was feeling and, again, I was very blatant about my fear of pushing naturally. With my first two births I had made it up to this point without pain medication but had never pushed without it. I was dreading that “ring of fire” that I had heard so much about. She reminded me that I could do it and that I was made for this.
For awhile (maybe 20-30 minutes?) it was just me, Bryson, and the doula laboring together. They would encourage me and every time I started to panic, they’d comfort me. My doula reminded me that no contraction could be stronger than me, because it was me. Bryson helped me visualize Jesus’ crucifixion. This was such a game changer for me. If someone could endure that sort of suffering for the sake of another person, I must be able to endure this pain that was so ancient and natural. At some point the intensity was so strong I looked at Bryson directly and told him there was no possible way I could do this and that I was giving up. The next contraction was immense and as my doula pushed on my hips she told me she could feel baby moving through my pelvis and then with a strong woosh! my water broke! I looked at Bryson with so much excitement! We were so happy that my water had broken because (a) that meant we were getting close to meeting our baby and (b) my body was working as it should! I had always had my water broken for me by drugs or a freakin crochet needle and this time all I wanted was for my baby to decide when it was time to be born. And look at us now! It was happening! My dreams were manifesting themselves!
Bryson had moved to sit on the edge of the bed and I was standing in front of him with my hands on his knees, pushing against him and his hands were on my shoulders pushing against me. I told the nurse and doula I was ready to push. I could feel it. The midwife came in and without question or doubt, she calmly put a mat underneath me as I stood by the bed. She told me to “listen to my body” and “trust my instincts”. I could cry just thinking about this moment. Everyone started to cheer me on as I pushed with each contraction. Suddenly something primal took over and I was almost howling. I felt an overwhelming power had come over me and the fear was nonexistent. There was absolutely no sense of despair. I only felt pure, raw energy. This was all me! Within 4-5 contractions, the midwife told me she could see the top of baby’s head and I got to reach down and feel. “You’re so close to meeting your baby!” After only a couple more pushes, baby was out. The midwife caught him and I looked down and there he was right between my feet! She brought him up to me and I held that warm little guy so tight. It was 8:00pm. Bryson and I made eye contact and immediately started laughing! I did it! I even shouted it, “I did it!!!” Everyone was laughing and saying how proud they were. I was so scared of dropping him because at this point my legs were wobbly from the adrenaline rush and he was covered in that amazing vernix that a mother never forgets. He was so calm and warm and his silence was almost concerning. But once I got to lie down on the bed and pat his back he gave us some sweet little coos. Never any screams, like we were used to. He was wide awake and his presence was calm and cool.
I will never be able to describe this feeling of overcoming something I was so afraid of. Looking back, it was silly to ever be fearful of this. I had done it twice before! But I really have to thank Bryson for constantly centering me back on Jesus and telling Satan to back the heck up. I was in such a vulnerable and fragile mental state this time. I was 100% counting on Bryson to be a strong partner and give me the durability I needed. During that car ride to the hospital I had absolutely no confidence in myself. I have never felt so much fear in my life and I truly think that Satan was preying on my weakness. But the thing I was most afraid of (pushing) was actually the best part! Unless you’ve had a child, it’s hard to understand how it could possibly be the best. But there is a unique sense of power in being able to control something in labor. Pushing was exactly that! I have never felt so close to my body and its capabilities. I have never felt so close to Bryson. I was the most feeble I’ve ever been - physically and mentally. But somehow I overcame that by being honest with myself, my husband, and the midwife. Naming that fear and making it transparent helped diminish it, ultimately. The hormonal high of natural labor was something I did not expect. There is a strong feedback loop of naturally experiencing intense pain, and the body releasing extra oxytocin to be able to endure it and bond strongly with the baby and those in the room. I felt such a rush of energy as I held this baby for the first time and then looked up and saw the love of my life there, literally supporting me and the person we created together. I love my family. And ultimately, I am so grateful to have the example of radical selfless love on the cross to carry me through even my deepest fears.
Wesley Jude. Born at 8:00pm on July 15th. 8lbs 12 oz, 21 inches.
I was literally having a contraction as this photo was taken.