Birth and all that Jazz

I am sitting here at my computer holding the most precious earthly treasure ever bestowed on me--our beautiful, sweet, darling, adorable baby girl Béibhinn. Andrew and I are completely in love with this little treasure and we often wonder at God's rich grace in giving us care of this precious little girl. 

Some friends have asked me tell our 'birth story' on this blog. Throughout my pregnancy I liked to avoid reading or hearing other people's 'birth stories' as they often sounded scary and unpredictable and just made me worry a whole lot more. Before I ever found out that I was pregnant I knew that should I ever give birth to a child, I wanted one thing: a natural labour. For me that meant no c-sections, no epidurals. I was going to do this on my own and the hospital and doctors were just a necessary backdrop to the whole scenario. 

I also thought I'd like a boy. The idea of a big brother appealed to me. and Andrew and I always had a name for a boy even before I became pregnant. Throughout the pregnancy I was convinced that my tummy held a little prince!

Well, I have seen the Lord teach me lessons throughout my life. Every time, I'm surprised by how He does it. My 'birth story' was a humbling experience, that ended with joy, not just because of our wonderful daughter but also because of the peace and satisfaction I felt despite all my plans and hopes being turned on their head.

My pregnancy was classified as 'high risk' because of Type 1 Diabetes. But with help from the Lord, some hard work, and a talented medical team, we had a very healthy pregnancy. So healthy that my OB was very happy to let me go to full term and beyond.

A month before my due date I started having a lot of contractions every day and these increased in occurrance and intensity up to 40 weeks. By 40 weeks they were increasingly uncomfortable and taking away my sleep. Still, a week before my due date, my cervix was closed and posterior -- I was in no position to give birth despite all of the contractions. My OB scheduled me for induction on my due date but she seemed to be open to waiting longer if I had made no progress. 

When we arrived in the hospital Monday evening, I was tired from increasingly intense overnight contractions. They examined me and found that I had made no progress that week. They gave us some options. (1) We could go home and come back on Friday to see if there was any change. (2) We could stay and go ahead with the induction (beginning with a small pill to open my cervix and follow on from that with a pitocin drip to bring on contractions). (3) The other option was to use medication that would soften the cervix, give it 24 hours and if I hadn't made any progress or gone into labour then I could go home. 

I was exhausted from contractions so I figured we could give the labour a kick start with a mizoprostal pill. Maybe that would be all we needed to get me into full labour. Usually it will take a couple of these pills administered every four hours to start any contractions or opening of the cervix. However, after giving me one small dose of this, I went into full intense labour within an hour. There was no turning back.

We were in labour for 28 hours. Every 4 hours they would check me and every 4 hours they would declare, "Same exam. No progress." This baby seemed unwilling to leave. My OB visited and could only guess what was going on. She seemed to think that the baby's head was not engaged, possibly because the shape of my pelvis was not favourable. I pushed on, stubbornly determined to not use pain relief. I decided that i would give myself 48 hours of labour before agreeing that nothing was happening and accepting a c-section. This whole time I was praying that things would change and that baby's head would engage. 

The labour pains became so intense and exhausting that by 2am Wednesday morning I knew I couldn't do it anymore. Andrew was collapsing too. I had fought hard for a good few hours, convinced I could do this. The truth was, I needed sleep and I needed the pain to stop. Mentally, I couldn't cope with two sleepless nights in pain and then make a rational decision with regard to c-section. I finally cracked and asked for an epidural. 

As they prepared me for the anesthesia, I broke down in tears, so disappointed that it had come to this. All my hopes for this labour and my ideas about what I could do were gone. I had buckled under the pain.

The epidural was a relief. As the doctors hooked me up to all the medical paraphernalia that accompanies epidurals, I looked around me and thought, "this is about as far from natural labour that I can get". But even in this I felt a peace that the Lord was guiding us and giving us wisdom to make these decisions at the right time. I slept for about 3 hours on the epidural. It was wonderful.

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At 5:30am I woke up. The nurse had been checking my blood sugar levels all night but now she was looking at the fetal monitor. She asked me to move position in the bed to see if the baby would do better. They were a little concerned that the heart rate dipped with some contractions. I moved position. Then she gave me an oxygen mask (horrible things). The baby didn't improve.

The resident told me gingerly that my OB wanted to do a c-section because of the baby's heart rate dips. After the drama of the night before it was no wonder she approached me like this. She probably expected me to break down again. At this point, however I felt totally calm and totally at peace about the doctor's decision. I just wanted to see my baby healthy on the outside.

Andrew woke to my conversation with the resident. The sight of me in bed with 4 IV drips, a fetal monitor, blood pressure monitor, and the Darth Vader hiss-suck of the oxygen mask hit him pretty hard.

Within an hour they had me prepped and rolled into the operating theatre. My OB was there by about 6:30am and Andrew was in scrubs and ready to come in. The c-section was not fun. You felt extremely vulnerable and you had to have that horrible oxygen mask over your face again. Most of that whole experience was not something I would want to ever recall apart from that precious moment when from behind the blue screen I heard my OB announce "It's a girl!" I couldn't believe it.

A little girl! It was the best surprise I've ever had. I was convinced we were having a boy and even thought that was what I wanted. Before I even saw my little girl I was filled with joy and excitement as if all I had ever wished for came true. 

I entered this pregnancy with designs of my own. After all, I knew what I wanted and just needed God to support my plans for a smooth natural birth. Anything else was distasteful. 

The two of us had adamantly declared for 9 months that we wanted a boy. From atop the operating table, I shed tears of joy over the blessing that Andrew held beside me.

The Lord knows us better than we know ourselves. His grace overrides our pride. He knew that at the end of that ordeal, holding a baby girl would be the best gift He could give us.

So, my dramatic birth story will probably be retold for years. The lessons learned through the birth of precious Béibhinn, however, will last a lifetime.