Letter: Three Weeks of Happy

Dearest Gillen,

I've been writing this letter to you in my mind since the moment I laid eyes on you but I'm afraid with a newborn and a toddler to take care of, a delayed letter from your Mama is only the first of many things that will come fashionably late, my precious second born. 

Three weeks later and I'm still riding the high of your birth. Everything about the day you were born was absolutely perfect. You picked the ideal time of the day to arrive. I had a good night's rest, woke, showered, ate breakfast and was able to get your brother settled allowing me peace of mind to focus on you and only you.

The afternoon light coming into the delivery room was just beautiful. With each contraction I focused on meeting you, getting to see your tiny hands and sharing you with your Daddy. You didn't disappoint, my love. You are more beautiful that I could have imagined. You have my hairline (complete with widow's peak) and almond eyes. You have your Daddy's long fingers and toes. Your whispy hair is auburn in the light and I'm anxious to see if it will stay that way.

Your cry is the loudest cry I've ever heard. You only use it when you're hungry. You're hungry a lot. You latched right from the start and have nursed perfectly ever since. My milk came in on the second day, much to your delight and it has filled you out quite nicely. I'm so happy to nurse you whenever you want day and night. I needed you to nurse well. I needed you to eat, and not be jaundice and to gain weight. And you did. You are so strong and solid. I honestly cannot believe you are my child, back to birth weight in 72 hours and already outgrown your newborn diapers. Part of it was you, but a lot of it was me.Your brother taught me how to dance this dance. How to love and nurse and care for someone new. You can thank him for that. I know I have.

You sleep. You sleep unswaddled and right from the start you've given me a four hour stretch of sleep all but twice. I'm tired but less tired than I thought I'd be with two. Because you're eating and sleeping. The naps you take on my chest are some of my favorite. I love smelling you underneath my chin, cuddling your snuggly body. 

Your Daddy and I are basking in your every stretch and grunt. We fight over who gets to hold you, nap with you, coo and smile at you. We're enjoying having a newborn. We know it will be gone all too quickly. We missed out on some of this with your brother because we were too busy being clumsy first-time parents. We wished it away amidst our struggles. Not this time, we're holding on tight to your smell and your milky sleep smiles. We notice how different you look each day and we celebrate each roll that emerges on your body. You are an absolutely beautiful boy. We can't wait to learn more about you and see your personality emerge, yet we want to stop time and soak in every minute of now with you. 

From the moment you were born I thought to myself "I am so HAPPY." You filled every corner of my heart with love and every day since I cannot stop thinking about how happy I am. Just happy. With you, because of you, because of everything surrounding your birth up until now. All happiness.

I knew it would be wonderful, I just didn't know how wonderful. I'm so glad you chose us, we love you so completely and effortlessly. Thank you for the happiness you brought with you, it was a welcomed surprise.

All my love,
Mama

Gillen's Birth Story

Sunday the 26^th I had some contractions in the afternoon. Nothing horrible, just some cramping but clearly a new level of uncomfortable aside from the general pains of late pregnancy. Our little family went to a street fair and the cramps timed out to one every eight minutes or so for a few hours and eventually faded. We took a nap, had enchiladas for dinner and headed to bed early. I continued to have mild cramping and back pain all night but changing positions seemed to help me get some sleep. Maybe this was something, maybe it wasn’t. 

I woke to Owen calling for me over the monitor at 9am the morning of August 27^th. I quickly glanced at the calendar and whispered a silent ‘thank you’ for making to 39 weeks. As I waddled to the bathroom, I noticed the back pain was a little more intense than the day before and I had clearly lost my mucus plug. We had a park play date scheduled and as I brushed my teeth I had a vivid flash of giving birth in a pile of mulch next to the curly slide. I decided to call my doula. We were on the phone for twenty minutes, discussing whether or not I should go to the park and plans to shower and feed Owen. By the end of the conversation she said, “No park. You need to call Jeremy to come home, get someone to take Owen, and head to the hospital.” I told her I didn’t want to assemble the troops for a false alarm and she said, “Since we’ve been talking you’ve had a contraction every two minutes. It’s better to be at the hospital at this point.” 

It was 10am.

Our neighbor, Kristen, left work and came over to feed Owen breakfast while I showered and frantically realized he had no clean clothes. Kristen grabbed his dirty laundry basket and handed me a banana, “Eat this, he’ll be FINE. I know how to wash clothes.” I finished getting ready and ate a bowl of Cheerios and some soy yogurt. The intense cramping and back pain had me stopping to breath. At that point it became clear – I’m a Mama destined for back labor. 

Jeremy arrived home at 10:30 and we threw the rest of our stuff together. Once he saw my contractions were coming pretty frequently he kicked it into high gear and we jumped in the car. He drove like a felon  through mobs of Pitt students on the first day of classes as I squeezed his hand through each contraction. 

We handed over our keys to the hospital valet at 11am.

Jeremy ushered me through the door and into the elevator. “Close the door and push the button!” I thought over and over again as people kept piling in. I tried to hold in the pain of a huge contraction while an elevator full of people backed away from me. The doors opened and we rushed past the people wishing us luck and surely thanking God I didn’t give birth in the elevator. 

[We rushed out of the house so fast we left without a single camera. I realized it the moment we arrived at the hospital and felt enormously guilty - we had such beautiful pictures of Owen's birth, I needed to capture this little one as well. We called our photographer friend who had agreed to photograph the birth if timing worked in our favor - Jeremy texted her "Tam says, COME NOW"]

We checked in and met up with our doula. An older doctor met us in triage and asked what brought us in. I grimaced through a contraction and managed to mention I was in labor and after a quick exam his bushy eyebrows raised as he declared I was seven centimeters dilated and needed to be brought to labor and delivery. Jeremy informed the snarky nurse that I didn’t want pain medication and I’m sure she rolled her eyes doubtingly as she returned to the nurses’ station, “we’ve got a ‘natural’ in room ten.” 

So much of the next part is a blur. The back labor was intense and coming about every minute or so. My doula showed Jeremy how to put counter-pressure on my hips during contractions to ease the pain and move baby into the birth canal. I leaned over the bed as he helped me through each wave. Nurses were telling me to get into bed and running antibiotics through my IV. My doula whispered into my ear, “You’re fine to ignore them, you won’t be here long. This baby is coming very, very soon.” 

Jeremy and the doula took turns with the counter pressure and rubbing my back as we listened to our birthing playlist and laughed between contractions. They helped me sip Gatorade and put cold rags on my neck. My arms were exhausted from being on all fours through intense pain so I tried to lean on a birthing ball or have Jeremy hold me up. The contractions were closer together and longer each time, it felt like someone was taking a sledge hammer to my tailbone. With each surge Jeremy encouraged me endlessly, telling me how proud he was of me and what an amazing job I was doing. My doula reminded me, “each contraction is one step closer to baby.” Once the antibiotic bag was empty Jeremy asked the nurse to lock off my IV and despite her protests, he said, “this is what she wants.” I was so proud of him in that moment, because even though I knew he thought I was crazy pants for wanting an unmedicated birth, he supported me. 

Amid the madness I was checked, still seven centimeters and my water hadn’t broken. Shortly after, nine centimeters and the water bag was too tight around his head to be broken. My entire body shook with visceral pain and for a split second I told myself I was an idiot for birthing without drugs and then suddenly, “I HAVE to push!” People whirled about the room talking about possibly checking me again and I roared, “I’M PUSHING MY BABY OUT NOW!” and on all fours I pushed as hard as I could.

It was 2pm.

Moments later I was on my back, squeezing Jeremy’s hand and begging them to take down the GIGANTIC mirror that magically appeared over my head. I wanted a natural birth; I didn’t say I wanted to watch it. I shut my eyes as tight as I could, pushed again and then told myself, “You will meet your baby with this next push, it will hurt like hell, but you will meet your baby.”

Less than three hours after arriving at the hospital, I pushed a third time and my beautiful 8lb 3oz boy was born followed closely by a gush of amniotic fluid. 

It was 2:10pm.

They placed him on my abdomen and I reached down to grab my son while nurses encouraged him to cry – and cry he did. He wailed in my arms and I felt Jeremy’s tears trickle onto my face as we marveled at the newest addition to our family. He was perfect in every way and even as my doctor stitched a second degree tear, I smiled. I felt more joy and pride than I have ever felt in my entire life. My body made this person and I bravely and confidently gave birth to him on my own terms. They say you don’t get a medal for birthing naturally, but you actually get more. I have never felt more powerful, confident or feminine than I did on that day. 

My firstborn made me a mother and my second child made me an even stronger one.

Happy birthday, my love.  Three hours, three pushes, then you.

An abbreviated version of our birth story was also published here on Kveller.com and has almost 200 shares on Facebook. I hope to inspire other women to learn as much as they can about birth and birth options and perhaps even have enough confidence in their body and themselves to birth naturally.

Owen's Birth Story Part II

Monday February 22nd I had my weekly OB appointment. I was greeted happily by the nurses congratulating me on still being pregnant and looking great despite the bed rest. I can’t imagine what other people looked like if they thought I was one of the better ones. I was 2cm dilated and 80% effaced. As I left the office our doctor told me I might have some slight bleeding from the exam but not to worry. I felt like we were going to have a baby, very very soon. A month or so prior I had a feeling one day that I would have a baby on February 25th – that seemed like a realistic target. That night we went to our favorite Mexican restaurant and I ate a burrito the size of my head. It was awesome. That night I wondered out loud what it would be like when I was actually in labor. My husband’s reply, “Tam, it’s not like your water just breaks out of nowhere. You’ll be having contractions – you’ll know.”


Tuesday morning at 8am Jeremy left for his outpatient clinic 45 minutes from our house. At 8:40am I got up for my usual pee and back to bed. I saw some light red blood, remembering what the doctor said, I ignored it. As I walked the three feet back to bed I felt a little dribble down my leg. Rumor has it that pregnant women pee their pants all the time, but I was not one of these women. So I called Jeremy to let him know that I thought my water just broke --out of nowhere! He told me I probably just peed my pants but he would come home anyway. I went and woke my mom and told her to come look (I know, gross right?) I wasn’t having any contractions, just some slight cramping in my back. I called the doctor. They told me they would work me in at the end of the day for a check. My mom and I packed my bags for the hospital.

Jeremy came home to a seemingly-not-in-labor wife and we had some lunch. I was finishing up some work when I jumped off the couch and over to the laminate floor just in time for a big gush of fluid. Jeremy looked at me with eyes wider than I’ve ever seen, “I guess your water did break.” Still no contractions from a woman who just spent ten weeks on medication to stop contractions, just mild cramps in my back every 5-7 minutes.

That little puddle scared our soon-to-be Daddy into high gear. He packed the remaining items for our bag and brought the car seat up from the basement for me to install. The only thing we had ready for the baby was a pack of diapers and some clothes. Our dresser and changer that we picked out two days prior were at the store waiting to be picked up and we had not set up the cosleeper yet. With Jeremy’s busy schedule he had put off reading any birthing books – so he spent the next few hours speed reading Husband coached Childbirth and Natural Childbirth Bradley Method while I sat on the couch laughing at the circa 1970 images of a naked lady and man sitting on the floor doing odd and sundry laboring positions. We also compiled a playlist of songs to listen to in the hospital while I labored. Better late than never, I suppose.

Jeremy, my mom and I headed to the doctor’s office around 4pm. My underpants felt like wet goulashes in a downpour and after one peek at me the doctor proclaimed, “Grossly ruptured – we’ll give you until morning to start up labor.” After explaining that my water broke at 8:45am, he decided that I had to be in active labor by 9pm or else I would need to be induced. I was given 24 hours from my water breaking to have the baby before I would need a c-section to avoid infection. It was 5:30pm and he told us to head over to labor and delivery. I was still only 2cm dilated and 80% effaced.

We knew it was going to be a long night and my mom and Jeremy needed to eat. I, however, was not allowed to eat or drink anything. We went out to one of my favorite pizza places and I sat there – water broken – while they had a giant pizza. It was all I could do when the waitress asked if I needed a plate to say, “No thanks, I’m in labor.” I didn’t want to freak anyone out, so I leaked while they ate.

On our short drive to the hospital we couldn’t believe it was actually the day we would meet our son. I was excited and thankful that he was full term and ready to be born.

Me: “I can’t believe we’re going to be parents in the next few hours...”

Jeremy: “I know, I’m so glad I wore this Duke t-shirt.”

Owen's Birth Story Part I

I cannot believe it has taken me over a half a year to write down Owen’s birth story. It is a good thing I play it over and over again in my head at least once a day. That moment and every moment since then has forever changed me, humbled me and allowed me to feel the most visceral love I have ever known.

Jeremy and I have always been planners – we call it living an intentional life. Some of it is because the path to medicine has very little room for flexibility but most of it is simply catering to our type A personalities. Last April, Jeremy bought me a digital SLR camera for my 29th birthday – he convinced our families to chip in for some accessories and a photography class that we would take together. Little did they know, we were planning to learn to use this camera to take pictures of a child we were trying to conceive. Little did we know, all the planning in the world couldn't have prepared us for the year ahead.

I wanted to have a strong, healthy body to welcome a growing person. I ate right, taught spinning and practiced Pilates. I eliminated caffeine from my diet years ago due to a sensitivity and I was going strong with prenatal vitamins for almost a year. My goal was to continue with this regimen throughout my pregnancy. This was easy because as it turns out -  pregnancy was wonderful to me. Other than some headaches in the first trimester I was symptom free. I traveled, I worked, and I can honestly say I took time to be enamored with my changing body and enjoy being pregnant. I taught cycling up until my 25th week at which point it became difficult for me to teach an hour long class without having to get off the bike mid-spin to pee.

Two weeks later my cervix softened and I went into preterm labor with a baby weighing barely a pound and little to no lung tissue. In one moment my hope for a strong body turned into hopes for a full term baby. I set my sights on the calendar as each week passed at a snails pace. Things started to improve and I held steady at just a finger-tip dilatated for days and then weeks. But my body was weak. Only being allowed up to go to the bathroom and take a five minute shower destroyed my muscle tone quicker than I could have imagined. After only a few weeks of bed rest I needed Jeremy’s assistance getting off of the couch and in and out of the shower. I felt helpless in every way and needed my husband's constant reminding that I was doing the most important work of all.

I was given privileges to go to childbirth classes at the hospital and they accommodated me with a wheelchair and a full recliner. We were also given a private breastfeeding crash course by the head of lactation for the hospital. We listened to the natural birthing techniques and came up with a birthplan. Our plan was for an unmedicated birth with a request for skin-to-skin care immediately following delivery, assuming the baby was healthy. I was open to the possibility of an epidural if I absolutely had to, but not to any other narcotics or sedatives pushed through an IV. I wanted to breastfeed immediately after birth and keep my baby with me in our room at all times.

At 36 weeks I was allowed to do some walking and go on a few outings. This happened to fall on Valentine’s weekend, which allowed for Jeremy and I to go out to dinner. Valentine’s day was a goal we set in those early weeks of December when an entire trimester flat on my back seemed like the impossible. Jeremy was in his last graded rotation of medical school and it was completely unforgiving with time off. We were hoping to keep our little one in until the week of February 20th. We chose to stay on tocolysis (medication keeping my contractions at bay) until 37 weeks with the understanding that if full labor presented itself - at that point there would be no more intervention. I took my last dose of Procardia on Saturday night, February 20th – 57 hours later my water broke.