Mason's Birth Story

I thought I was prepared.
I read all the books.
I did as much research as I possibly could.
I watched documentaries.
Live births.
Read blogs.

Still, nothing could prepare me for labor.

It has been seven weeks exactly since Mason was born, and I have yet to write down my horrific experience; however I will try.

I knew instantly when we checked into the hospital, this labor was not going to be anything that I had expected.
Right away I was hooked to an IV, had monitors strapped to me and began to worry.
I did not feel relaxed, or comfortable.
I was overwhelmed, stressed, and anxious.

I did not want any medical intervention what-so-ever during this pregnancy, but as 41 weeks approached and my blood pressure began to climb the Dr. suggested I be induced.  I want to make it clear that my Dr. never pushed me to have an induction, but she did say that Mason's size was cause for concern and that I should at least consider an induction.

Michael and I prayed and prayed and prayed.  We prayed I would go into labor naturally.  My due date came and went, 41 weeks came and went, and still no Mason.  We had felt that we should induce on Wednesday at midnight if he has not come by then, and that is exactly what we did.

My contractions were long and intense.  I handled the pain much better than I ever thought I would.  My mom said she had pegged me for a screamer, but I quietly moaned with each contraction.  It felt so much better for me to stand and spiral my hips.  It also felt wonderful to sit in a chair (odd, I know).  The nurse came in and checked my dilation after 15 hours.  This was a horrible exam.  The nurse was not gentle and it actually hurt more than my contractions.  When I arrived at the hospital I was 1 and a half cm dilated, after 15 hours, I was only 2.  Mason's head was still at the -4 station.  At this point my Dr. came in and broke my water in hopes of progressing my labor.

After 15 hours I was exhausted.  I don't think it helped that I went to the hospital at midnight.  I was already tired and unable to rest before we left.  As much as I did not want an epidural, I caved, not due to pain, but due to exhaustion and feeling so discouraged that I was not progressing.

I hated the epidural.  I could not feel a damn thing.  I was so numb, and I hated not having any control of my body.  I was so numb I could not even turn on my side without help.  It was so awful.  I kept thinking about how we should have gone with a midwife and done a home birth.  I was so disappointed with how everything was going and felt I had no control over my body.  I felt so helpless

I continued to labor for six more with no progress.  I was so discouraged.  I did not know what to do.  My Dr. came in and explained my options.  Mason's head was still at a -4, I was still only at 2 cm.  Mason's heartbeat was strong and neither of us were in danger, but there seemed to be little hope that he would come down on his own.  She never pushed me to have a C-section, but encouraged me to consider it.

Michael and I were in a unique situation.  We had no insurance.  We were on a cash payment program, and everything had to go exactly as planned, or our contract would be voided and we would be charged the full amount (i.e. if my birth turned into an emergency C-section, or if Mason had to be in the NICU for any reason, we'd be screwed).  This heavily weighed into my decision to have the C-section then.

So there I was, arms strapped to a table (like Jesus, says Michael), under the bright lights, ready to be cut open.  With in seconds my baby was out.  He let out a loud cry, but then abruptly stopped.  All I saw were his huge baby feet and then he was gone.  Mason was 10lbs 7oz.  He was huge.  His head was stuck in my pelvis so his head was a bit cone-like.

Mason had fluid in his lungs and was "rushed" to the NICU.  I did not get to hold him, or kiss him, or even touch him.  It still brings tears to my eyes.  I had just given birth, but could not see my baby.  Little did I know that I would not be able to see him until the next morning, yet still not be able to hold him.  It was heart-wrenching.

Mason had been ripped out of me.  I did not get to have him placed on my chest.  I did not get to latch him right away.  I could not cuddle with my little boy.  I was only told to rest.  REST?  I JUST HAD A BABY!!! HOW CAN I REST?  What hurt the most is that I had become a statistic.  Just like I had read about.

I do still go back and fourth though.  My blood pressure was high, which was cause for concern.  I wanted more than anything for a chance to labor, and I got that.  Mason was so big too.  I am not certain that it would not have ended any other way, but the possibility that it could have drives me crazy.  What if I had chosen a different birth?  What if I had not been induced and waited until my body was ready? Even if I had, what if he was bigger than 10.7?  Would it have even been possible to birth him vaginally?

I hate that my boy came into the world in such distress.
I hate that he had to stay in the NICU for 7 days afterwards.
I hate that I left the hospital without him.

I am thankful for the staff, however.  They cared for me and Mason so well.  They were patient and kind to Michael since he was nothing short of a hot mess.  I am so thankful I was able to learn to breast feed regardless of the circumstances.  My hospital encouraged breast feeding and helped me latch Mason properly.

Michael and I are still recovering from everything.  We still get sad sometimes over what happened.  This experience nearly ruined my dreams of having a big family, leaving me feeling like I NEVER want to do this again.  I am in a much better place now.  I know that I do want more children, eventually, but I would like to consider other methods of birth next time.  I still have so many unanswered questions.  It seems like my greatest fear came true.

The only good that came from this birth was my Mason.
I love him.
I am thankful he is home.
I could not ask for more.

I am now praying for healing.
I pray that next time with be different.

Some things I've Learned.

This past year has been such a time of growth and change for me.  There is nothing in the world like being a newly wed, to then preparing for a surprise baby!  This process has been so refining for me.  I have learned so much about myself and my wonderful husband.  We have walked through this together and I could not be more thankful.

Here are some of the things I have learned.  First was letting go.  I mean this in many different senses.  First, was letting go of my fear and allowing myself to trust the Lord and to trust Michael as my spouse.  I was so terrified that I'd lose him either to death, or divorce or something along those lines.  Once I was finally able to trust that the Lord wanted good things for my life, I was able to let go of that paralyzing fear.  I love Michael so much and cannot imagine my life without him, but if he were gone, I trust that God would bring me through that.

Secondly, I let go of some friendships.  This was terribly hard, and still continues to hurt at times.  Sometimes I still don't fully understand, but I trust that the Lord has a plan in it all.  Michael has been such a huge support and I love how he gets so worked up for me because he does not want to see me hurting or sad.  He is such a knight in shining armor!

I also let go of a dream.  Working for Club Christ has been a dream of mine.  I loved being with the students and it challenged me more than anyone could ever know.  Plus, I never imagined myself to be the stay-at-home-mom type.  I pictured myself out on the battlefields fighting for Jesus.  However, in giving up that dream, I have discovered another dream: being a Mom.  I always knew this was something God created me to do, but did not fully understand how much it would change me, or how in love with this little baby I could ever be.  He isn't even here yet, and I am changed for the better! I am so thrilled to see what life may bring once he is in our arms.

Here are a few other things I have learned in my marriage and friendships:  Some of the most powerful words are "I'm sorry" and "Please forgive me."  True forgiveness means keeping no records of wrongs.  I am a good friend and I deserve the same love and forgiveness that everyone else does.  It takes a very humble person to admit fault.  God still loves me even when I screw up.

What great life lessons to learn!  What great strength I have found in the Lord, my husband and myself.  What a wonderful time to welcome a new baby-when I'm whole, loved and forgiven!

free at last, free at last

Last week when I went to the Dr., she said that she thought that our baby would be coming early (since in his last ultrasound he was measuring two weeks ahead of schedule).  She said that he might come at 38 or 39 weeks.  The reality of him coming early sunk in quickly and I became a freak of nature: cleaning, organizing, rearranging.  Thank God for Michael, he is so patient with me, and while I am up cleaning at midnight he knows just when to tell me to go to bed!

Throughout this entire pregnancy I have been so fearful.  I have worried about everything.  Cried about everything.  Through good friends, family and scripture I have finally turned my fear over to the Lord.  I no longer feel anxious (okay, on occasion I do) or feel the need to control everything around me.  In truth, what can I really do?  I am totally out of control of anything to do with my body, or baby.  I have to trust that EVEN IF something does go wrong, the Lord will provide strength, comfort and be a place of refuge for me.  All I can do now is submit to the Lord's will and prepared mentally, emotionally and physically for this adventure.

Oddly enough, I now feel excitement.  This is not something I have felt yet during this process.  Part of me feared losing this baby and out of that fear I was not able to fully enjoy the experience.  But I will no longer be a slave to my fear.  I will rejoice in the Lord and that he has blessed us and allow myself to enjoy this process (as much as I can feeling huge and swollen :).  I feel free.  Finally.

keeping up with the jones'

As I approach motherhood I am thrilled, yet terrified at the same time.  I am thrilled because this is something that I have always wanted.  I can't wait to teach our son things and watch him grow into a young man of integrity, kindness and deep faith (at least I hope he grows into these things).  I am terrified because at times I feel so incredibly inadequate.

I love reading blogs from other Moms to see what recipes I can borrow (okay, steal and pass them off as my own..ha ha), but sometimes when I do I find myself so discouraged.  I see these Moms using cloth diapers, and making EVERYTHING from scratch, they have gardens and are able to sew.  I look at myself and see how I am none of the above things.  Even if I learned to sew or used cloth diapers, I don't see either as an enjoyable experience.  Then I begin to wonder if I will even be a good Mom since I do not do those things.

In reality I know the truth.  Just because you have a green thumb or spend hours in the kitchen concocting some new from-the-earth entree, does not make you a good Mom.  I look at my Mom (she had her flaws, but I happen to think she did a pretty good job) and try my best to think what made her so great.  What I come up with is love.  She loved us.  She sacrificed for us.  She worked hard.

Tonight as I was preparing dinner I was praying and asking the Lord if he would help mold me into a better Mom for Mason.  It began like this, "Lord, would you help me want to make things from scratch? Would you give me a passion for making clothes for my baby boy?"  About half way through I realized how absurd I was being and began asking the Lord to make me the best Mom I could be.  That I would embrace who I am as a person and accept all of the wonderful ways he has set me apart from others and refine those things about me.

I think this was a much better prayer.
Besides I don't really want to be one the the Jones'.

troubled.

Today was so scary.

I went to my Dr. appointment as usual and was not expecting anything too exciting.  Since I am 31 weeks now, I have appointments every two weeks instead of every four.  The nurse came in, took my blood pressure, which was normal, and asked me the routine questions.  She said my weight gain was good and did not see any swelling and I was excited that everything was normal still.

Then, she had me lay on my back so that we could listen for the baby's heartbeat.  I always love this part of the appointment, I love getting to hear my little guy's beating heart.  It was taking her longer than normal and she had such a weird look on her face.  She then began pressing her hand firmly on my belly to get him to move.  The next words that came out of her mouth were "I can hear the umbilical chord, but I can't hear the baby's heartbeat."  My heart started to race and tears started to well up in my eyes.  All I could to was pray to God that it was a mistake and that she would be able to find it.

And she did.  Then she apologized for scaring the crap out of me.  I must have looked so worried.  She said that his back was turned to her and it was more difficult to hear it.  Still, I was so shaken up.  Even after the appointment I had this terrible anxiety that something was wrong, and if it was not wrong yet, that it would go wrong in the future.  I am not kidding you when I say that I worried all day long.  I kept praying and praying that God would take the fear from me and that I would trust him.  It was so hard though.  My mind kept wandering to the "what-ifs."  I tend to worry anyway, but besides the normal worry I feel we do not have medical insurance to top it all off.  We applied for Medicade, but will most likely be turned down because Michael and I have too high of income (which I might add is not all that significant).

Even after praying, my heart still felt troubled.  Michael came home for lunch and I could feel my self being harsh with him when he told me not to worry.  He tenderly asked what was wrong and I cried like a baby.  I told him how worried I was about our son today when they could not find his heartbeat, and that I would just die if something happened to him.  He hugged me and told me to trust the Lord and reassured me that he was in full control.  I believe him, because I know my God.  I know that no matter what happens to this little boy, God is in control.  That even if something terrible happens God is still good and he will work out whatever it is for his glory.  I just need to trust that.

I won't lie, the heaviness is still not totally gone, but I have peace in knowing that God is in control and that he loves me and he loves this little baby that is growing inside me.  My prayer is that I will be at peace with whatever God chooses to do in the rest of my pregnancy and for his birth.  It is so comforting to know that he is in control and not me.  I would have it all screwed up by now.  Of course I hope that the rest of my pregnancy is "normal" and that I have a wonderful birthing experience (as wonderful as it can be), but if it is not, then I pray I will have the strength to face what God has for Michael, baby and me.

mumbo jumbo

Lately, I feel so out of sorts.  This has been a whirlwind of a year.  Valentine's Day marks the day that Michael and I got engaged.  Since then, we got married and found out we were pregnant.  There has been so much change in such a short amount of time.  Not to mention how incredibly selfish a few certain "friends" have been during this process.  Needless to say they are no longer friends.  What is ironic about that is that it was their choice and not my own.  Go figure.

Michael has been so supportive, but he can't possibly know what it is like to go through all of these changes alone.  Especially the pregnancy part.  It is both terrifying and thrilling at the same time.  For as long as I can remember I've longed to be a wife and a mother.  Now that it is happened I feel strange.  I am over joyed to have this incredible opportunity, yet sad to see the remnants of my old life fading away.  It has been a bitter-sweet process.

During this time I find myself drawing more near to the Lord.  Asking for his comfort and peace.  Asking for more of his love and understanding.  I know that his ways are not my ways.  Sometimes it just all does not make sense and I desperately wish it would.  I wish I knew why.

Not only are these things so overwhelming, but leaving Club Christ is going to be so hard for me.  I have earned the trust of these kids.  They not only trust, but love me.  God has used me in such a huge way in their lives and it is difficult to leave after everything I shared with them about life, and love, and not giving up when things get hard. How can I leave them?  Because that's how they feel.  That I too, am leaving.  Giving up.  Moving on to "better things."  I pray daily that I can convey to them God's new calling on my life.  That I am not gone for good, just gone for now.  That we are still family, that I love them and that and it will never change.

I must admit.
I feel much better getting all of this out.