WARNING: This is a LONG post. I promise to refrain from the gory details and make this post reader-friendly, but if you have ever had a baby or listened to a friend's story, you know that some details aren't pretty. You've been warned...
The story begins on Sunday, November 18th as we were watching the Broncos game...
Wait, let me back up a little bit...I had a doctor's appointment on Friday, November 16th, which I didn't think I would make it to. My due date was November 17th and I spent most of my pregnancy thinking I would go early. At my appointment, my doctor said that I was 1 centimeter dilated and 50% effaced. We made an induction date for a week later and I was definitely sure that I would not make it that far either.
November 17th came and went...No news, not even an inkling that the process was starting. We had family in town and I felt like everyone was staring at me, waiting for something to happen. I was also waiting for something to happen and was hypersensitive of every feeling in my body. I started to get REALLY frustrated (and probably a little crabby from the viewpoint of my family). I was filled with a mixture of being ready for the pregnancy to be over, being ready to meet our son, and being scared about how the labor would go.
...Ok, back to the Broncos game...
As we were watching, I started to have contractions and they were about 10-20 minutes apart. We were excited that things were starting and ran around the house getting the last of our stuff together and preparing ourselves to meet our son. We were relatively in good spirits as the contractions began to get closer and closer together. Eventually we headed to the hospital that evening and thought, "This is it!"
Not so quickly (4 hours later), we realized it wasn't it and we were sent home. I was not progressing enough to stay and be admitted (only 1.5 cm dilated and 75% effaced). We returned home a little disappointed, but tried to get some sleep. That wasn't in the cards for me as my contractions continued every 10 minutes through the night and into the next day.
Wait, let me back up a little bit...I had a doctor's appointment on Friday, November 16th, which I didn't think I would make it to. My due date was November 17th and I spent most of my pregnancy thinking I would go early. At my appointment, my doctor said that I was 1 centimeter dilated and 50% effaced. We made an induction date for a week later and I was definitely sure that I would not make it that far either.
November 17th came and went...No news, not even an inkling that the process was starting. We had family in town and I felt like everyone was staring at me, waiting for something to happen. I was also waiting for something to happen and was hypersensitive of every feeling in my body. I started to get REALLY frustrated (and probably a little crabby from the viewpoint of my family). I was filled with a mixture of being ready for the pregnancy to be over, being ready to meet our son, and being scared about how the labor would go.
...Ok, back to the Broncos game...
As we were watching, I started to have contractions and they were about 10-20 minutes apart. We were excited that things were starting and ran around the house getting the last of our stuff together and preparing ourselves to meet our son. We were relatively in good spirits as the contractions began to get closer and closer together. Eventually we headed to the hospital that evening and thought, "This is it!"
Not so quickly (4 hours later), we realized it wasn't it and we were sent home. I was not progressing enough to stay and be admitted (only 1.5 cm dilated and 75% effaced). We returned home a little disappointed, but tried to get some sleep. That wasn't in the cards for me as my contractions continued every 10 minutes through the night and into the next day.
Side note: Contractions are not fun. That may seem like a no-brainer, but I was in a lot of pain, even early on when they kept sending me home. I was getting a complex that I had a low pain tolerance and I was a wuss. I mean, I know tons of women that go their entire labor without any drugs and feel every bit of their contractions and I was only at the beginning. I eventually realized that everyone's pain levels are different. If it hurts, it hurts!
We returned to the hospital later the next day as my contractions were more intense and closer together. This time, we hung out in the triage lounge, walked the halls, and crossed our fingers that they would let us stay. After another four hours of being monitored and walking around to "get things moving", we got the bad news that we were being sent home again. I was still not progressing enough (only 2 cm dilated and 90% effaced). I was beyond devastated as the pain was getting unbearable.
It was another sleepless night with the contractions coming every 5-7 minutes. They had given me an Ambien so that I could try to get some sleep (they assured me that if it was "time", I would still be able to feel it and wake up). I took the Ambien and a hot bath in an effort to relax. I got a few hours of sleep and then was woken up with more contractions, the most intense they had been, coming every 5 minutes. We made the executive decision to make a third trip the hospital, crossing our fingers that this time would be "it". I was beyond ready for some relief (i.e. drugs) and to have a timeline of when we would get to meet our son.
I was monitored for another four hours and on the verge of being sent home again. I was about to LOSE it. I had an induction date two days away, but I needed some relief NOW. When the nurse came to talk to us, I looked at her with what was probably the most pathetic look and asked her to let us stay...well, not really in those exact words. I asked her if there was any way that we could move my induction date up because I hadn't slept in three days and I was in a lot of pain. Either my pathetic look, the pleading in my eyes/voice, or our pure luck got us into a birthing suite...FINALLY!
The instant we got into our room, I got an epidural. This was my plan all along and it was instant joy and relief. Andy and I were both able to get some rest with a Harry Potter movie marathon mixed in between. We were taken care of by an amazing nurse and my progress was slow once I was induced. I was a happy camper!
Once I was 4 cm dilated, the doctor broke my water. They thought I would continue to progress slowly (about 1 cm an hour) until our little guy would make his appearance. We continued with our Harry Potter marathon and relaxed. About an hour later, the doctor came in and I was already 8 cm dilated. It was moving a lot faster than they had originally thought...and this is the point when it started to get a little scary. Ok, a LOT scary.
It was another sleepless night with the contractions coming every 5-7 minutes. They had given me an Ambien so that I could try to get some sleep (they assured me that if it was "time", I would still be able to feel it and wake up). I took the Ambien and a hot bath in an effort to relax. I got a few hours of sleep and then was woken up with more contractions, the most intense they had been, coming every 5 minutes. We made the executive decision to make a third trip the hospital, crossing our fingers that this time would be "it". I was beyond ready for some relief (i.e. drugs) and to have a timeline of when we would get to meet our son.
I was monitored for another four hours and on the verge of being sent home again. I was about to LOSE it. I had an induction date two days away, but I needed some relief NOW. When the nurse came to talk to us, I looked at her with what was probably the most pathetic look and asked her to let us stay...well, not really in those exact words. I asked her if there was any way that we could move my induction date up because I hadn't slept in three days and I was in a lot of pain. Either my pathetic look, the pleading in my eyes/voice, or our pure luck got us into a birthing suite...FINALLY!
The instant we got into our room, I got an epidural. This was my plan all along and it was instant joy and relief. Andy and I were both able to get some rest with a Harry Potter movie marathon mixed in between. We were taken care of by an amazing nurse and my progress was slow once I was induced. I was a happy camper!
Once I was 4 cm dilated, the doctor broke my water. They thought I would continue to progress slowly (about 1 cm an hour) until our little guy would make his appearance. We continued with our Harry Potter marathon and relaxed. About an hour later, the doctor came in and I was already 8 cm dilated. It was moving a lot faster than they had originally thought...and this is the point when it started to get a little scary. Ok, a LOT scary.
The doctors were concerned. Every time I had a contraction, Calvin's heart rate dropped. They weren't sure if he had the cord wrapped around his neck or if it was something else, but they knew that something was going on and they needed to get him out. They warned us that they would possibly need to do an emergency C-section. This terrified me. I didn't have much of a birth plan, but I wanted to avoid a C-section if I could. I had a mini break down (maybe not that little), but luckily I had a nurse who knew how important it was for me to be focused and calm. She firmly, but compassionately told me that I needed to breath and focus on getting my baby out safely. I did just that...I closed my eyes, took some deep breaths and visualized a vaginal birth with a healthy baby. That may sound a little corny, but it helped me enormously. I also talked to Calvin in that moment and told him that we could do this and we were in it together.
Whether it was my breathing that helped or somehow Calvin heard my pleas, after 15 minutes of my doctor and nurses staring at the monitors while sitting on my bed, his heart rate regulated. They told us that they would monitor him and once I dilated to 10 cm, it would be show time. I was beyond relieved.
Not too much later I reached the magic number (10 cm) and it was time. After I was checked, there was all of a sudden a bunch of hustle and bustle in our room. The doctor and nurse began prepping and everything started moving really quickly. Our room filled with medical professionals. It was becoming real.
The bottom was moved from my bed and Andy was instructed on how to help. I was instructed on how to push. Everything seemed really serious because they were worried about Calvin's heart rate. At this point, I realized that I had seen too many movies and TV shows where someone had a baby. Despite my conversations with myself about this process, I had these images stuck in my head. Our experience was NOTHING like those images. I kept waiting for the choir of angels singing in the background, but it never came.
Side note: Andy was extremely nervous about fainting in the process of labor. He didn't want to see everything, if you know what I mean. Unfortunately, that is pretty much impossible. There is no sheet or cover that hides what is happening. He was in the midst of it all...and he was AMAZING. He definitely surprised himself, but I knew all along that he was going to rise to the occasion and be the support both Calvin and I needed.
The whole process took 33 minutes. 33 minutes of Andy holding my foot/leg, of the doctors telling me what a good job I was doing pushing (and me feeling like nothing was happening), of me wearing an oxygen mask in between contractions, of me feeling like it was never going to end (an epidural does NOT mask the pressure/pain of pushing a baby out of your body), of both of us worried and excited to meet our ittle boy, of the doctor telling me she needed to use forceps.
The medical team whisked him away after Andy cut the cord and there was no cry to be heard. It felt like an eternity was passing as we were waiting for that infamous cry. It felt like there were 50 people in the room when in reality it was probably only 10, which still felt like a lot if everything was ok. We finally heard little Calvin cry as he was brought over to the warmer and cleaned up. I will never forget the look that passed between Andy and I...relief, shock, happiness, and exhaustion all wrapped into one.
Later we found out that babies are given a rating when they are born and then again five minutes later called an Apgar Score. The score is between 1 and 10 with 10 being the best and it is a way to assess a baby's health. The score measures five criteria including appearance, pulse, grimace, activity, and respiration. Calvin's score when he was born was a 1, which meant that he wasn't breathing and his skin did not turn pink right away. Luckily five minutes later, his score was an 8. Talk about scary! We are so thankful that the doctors waited to tell us this as the news was a lot easier to handle with him safely in our arms.
We thoroughly enjoyed our experience at St. Joe's. Not only were the doctors and nurses fabulous, but they also believe in a family getting skin on skin time right after the birth and they don't rush to do the things they need to do (bathe, weigh, measure, etc). This was essential to our bonding with our new little guy and the three of us getting to know each other. From there we headed to our recovery room, but not before Andy called all of our family and was able to give them the good news.
Introducing:
Calvin Bennett Groettum
born on November 21, 2012 at 5:13pm
weighing in at 6 pounds, 15 ounces, and measuring 20 inches long
Calvin's birth experience wasn't what we both expected. We had certain expectations from the reading that we did and images from movies and TV shows. We never got the "angels singing in the background" or "magic" feelings. I kept waiting for it to happen, but it never did. Should we feel bad about this? We did at first...until we realized not everyone feels that "magic". It isn't that we don't love our son or that we weren't so happy that he came into this world. We definitely were elated, but I am convinced that some of the missing feelings may have come from the traumatic birth experience. We had spent so much of the process worried that it was hard to wade through those feelings to find the joy. I kept thinking that something was going to happen to take away our happiness. I found myself feeling more anxious than anything else.
Now that Calvin is two months old, we have figured out more than a few things about parenthood. One of them is that not everyone's experience is the same. What is great about it is that it is always your experience and no one else's. That is what makes it special. There are no rules. You get to make them up as you go.
I have been avoiding this post and I couldn't figure out why until the other day. I realized that I wasn't being honest in everything I had written and I was trying to fake the "angels singing" and the "magic". That isn't me, nor is it what I want my blog to be about. I have been honest for the last year that I have been writing on here and that shouldn't stop now, especially now.
Being a parent and mother is a whole new ball game. Looking forward, there will be many more posts about this subject. The (not so) little thing that I have learned so far in this role is that we own our experience(s). Calvin's birth didn't go the way we expected, but it still happened and he is here and we are so thankful for that. We will always have that experience forever and ever. It is OURS!
Calvin Bennett Groettum
born on November 21, 2012 at 5:13pm
weighing in at 6 pounds, 15 ounces, and measuring 20 inches long
Side note: I read SO many pregnancy books before Calvin was born. I did my research and thought I knew all that there was to know about giving birth (naive, I know). Boy, was I wrong. Sure, I knew the terms and what they meant, but I had no idea what the actual experience would be like. Everything that I thought wouldn't happen to me did and it was all so overwhelming. Looking back, I still would have read all of those books because it made me feel knowledgeable and some what ready. Even though I thought I was open minded about what would happen and I was trying to go with the flow, in the end I was a little let down by the whole birthing experience.
Now that Calvin is two months old, we have figured out more than a few things about parenthood. One of them is that not everyone's experience is the same. What is great about it is that it is always your experience and no one else's. That is what makes it special. There are no rules. You get to make them up as you go.
I have been avoiding this post and I couldn't figure out why until the other day. I realized that I wasn't being honest in everything I had written and I was trying to fake the "angels singing" and the "magic". That isn't me, nor is it what I want my blog to be about. I have been honest for the last year that I have been writing on here and that shouldn't stop now, especially now.
Being a parent and mother is a whole new ball game. Looking forward, there will be many more posts about this subject. The (not so) little thing that I have learned so far in this role is that we own our experience(s). Calvin's birth didn't go the way we expected, but it still happened and he is here and we are so thankful for that. We will always have that experience forever and ever. It is OURS!
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