While I’m sure everyone has heard that Miss Julia River Contor was born, not everyone has heard my birth story. I’ve been wanting to write it for a while now (well, almost exactly a month), but I either didn’t fully have the words yet, or the time was not yet available to me. With my almost one-month old napping next to me, I think I’ll take a moment to try and tell you what happened. (Pictures included, thanks to the very wonderful talents of Andrea of Andrea Jo Photography). Heads up, this is a record for myself as well, so I might get a little more detailed than you're comfortable with. Also, it’s super crazy long, so I hope you’re in for the long-haul.
Saturday, December 13th, 2014
06:00
I got up to pee (for the zillionth time), and as I was wiping, I noticed some pink. It was that kind of pinkish blood that you get right at the beginning of your period. You know, the stuff that makes you say, “Dang, it’s back. Wasn’t it just here last month?” Except, when you’re 41 weeks pregnant, it makes you say, “Finally some progress!” Which is exactly what I said (well, almost). I had read about the shedding of the mucus plug and how it can either be in one snot-looking pass, or it can be a gradual bloody discharge. I had also read that it could mean that labor was anywhere from a few days off to a few seconds off; so, I went back to bed and debated with myself whether I should wake Jake up or not. If it was a few days, or even hours, off, Jake could sleep a little longer—and I figured that labor probably wasn’t a few seconds off just because everything else had been going so slow (at my doctor’s appointment the previous Thursday—only two days prior—I had been told that I was not only not dilated, I wasn’t even softening up. My doctor’s exact words were “Well, that just isn’t budging, is it?”).
Before I could really decide one way or another, Jake woke up to use the bathroom. Because he was already awake, I told him that I had some blood and that that was a good thing (he looked a little nervous when I first told him). I told him that it meant we were finally moving in the right direction. I was pretty excited. (I had really wanted to go into labor on my own, but since I was 41 weeks and not softening at all, my doctor had scheduled me to be induced the following night—Sunday, the 14th.)
06:15
So Jake went to the bathroom, and then he came back to bed. I felt like I still needed to go even though I had just gone (welcome to the world of pregnancy), so I did. As I sat there, I kept wiping and wiping, but the fluid just kept coming. It wasn’t a gushing, so I wasn’t sure right away that my water had broken, but I had also read (and been told) that sometimes when a woman’s water breaks, it’s more like a trickle than a gush (in fact, it’s very rarely a gush, unless it’s medically induced—meaning the doctor uses a big crotchet-needle-looking thing to tear the bag). Because I was on the toilet, I wasn’t making any effort to hold anything back, and I just kept leaking. From our toilet, you can look into our room and see the bed. I told Jake to call his mom (who was previously a labor and delivery nurse and who is now a NICU nurse) and ask her how much blood constitutes “holy crap, holy crap, we should go to the hospital now”? So, he called and the very short conversation went something like this:
Jake (laying down in bed): Hi, Mom. This is Jake. Danica is bleeding—(he sits bolt upright) okay, we’ll there soon.
Like I said, it wasn’t a very long conversation. I put on the only pad I had in the house (I hadn’t had a period in 41 weeks, and prior to that, I had only had periods for two months because before that I had an IUD, which meant no periods, for 3 years).
07:00
After making sure that cat would have enough food, double-checking that we had everything we would need and slowly waddling out to the car (I waddled. Jake walked—just in case you were confused), we left for the hospital.
On the very brief walk from the car to the hospital, I told Jake that my water had definitely broken—or at least it was in the process of breaking. I could feel all kinds of leaking. It honestly felt like a period—a gush that makes you wonder if you peed your pants, but you know you didn’t pee because you tried to stop it, and it wouldn’t stop.
Jake and I went up to the second floor and down the hall to Labor and Delivery.
I was shown to my room.
I changed into a hospital gown and sat down the on the bed. The nurse, Maggie, had lain out what I call a puppy-pad (you know those absorbent pads you use to potty-train a puppy? It was one of those, only for me and not a puppy). Maggie explained that she needed me to leak on the pad (that was not a problem) so she could test what I was leaking and make sure I really was leaking amniotic fluid and not something else. She said that if I wasn’t leaking amniotic fluid (and provided I wasn’t leaking something life-threatening), then I would probably be sent home. She asked me a bunch of medical history questions (and up until I had Julia, my medical history was incredibly boring—which it turns out was a good thing. Doctors like boring medical histories). Eventually, after many questions (some to see if I had Ebola, which of course I did not), I was finally tested. She had this tiny strip of paper that she rubbed against the mess I had left for her on the puppy pad. It turned the magical color of purple that meant I was leaking amniotic fluid, and I could stay!
07:55ish
I was officially checked into the hospital. Maggie checked my cervix, and I was dilated to a one (she did tell me she was being a little generous). I was poked in preparation for an IV should I need it, and I was told to hang out and wait for the real fun to start. I was also informed that, unless my contractions started for real (I had the beginnings of contractions; they didn’t really hurt. They were more uncomfortable than painful—they felt just like period cramping) and I started to dilate, I would probably have to be put on pitocin and induced anyway, but I was also told they’d wait a few hours to give my body a chance. Now, poor Jake was still essentially in his pjs and a full beard. His mom was just finishing her shift at the NICU (which is just down the hall from labor and delivery), so she told Jake she’d hang out with me so he could go home, shower and come back feeling like a person instead of a zombie. I was fine with that. While hanging out with Jake’s mom, my contractions started. They were uncomfortable, and I could talk through them.
10:15
By this time, the contractions were definitely more than uncomfortable, but I could still talk through them. They were about three minutes apart. Maggie checked me again—I was still at a one. She told me that she and the doctor (Dr. Cox) might put a little pill right next to my cervix to soften things up. It also started to look more and more like they were going to have to put me on pitocin. Jake was back by this time and we’d all had some breakfast (I was told I could eat because pushing was far off, and labor was probably going to be long). Jake’s mom went home to get changed and get some sleep (she had just gotten off the night shift).
12:25
The contractions were getting stronger. I could no longer talk through them, but I could still breath through them. The resident, Dr. Mayo, and Maggie checked me again. I was still at a one. Maggie and Dr. Mayo said they were going to talk to Dr. Cox and see about getting me started on pitocin. Jake napped when he could. I was still able to manage the contractions on my own, so I let him sleep because I knew I was going to need him later, and he’d need all the energy he could get. At this point, I still wanted to have Julia as drug-free as possible. It wouldn’t be easy, but I was confident I could do it.
13:05
I was put on pitocin (for those of you who don’t know, pitocin is a drug—technically called Oxytocin—that is an artificial version of the hormones a woman’s body produces to start labor. It causes contractions to become stronger, longer, and closer together). I really hoped that I’d only need the pitocin to get going, and then I could do the rest of labor without it. My hope was in vain. The pitocin kind of worked: my contractions definitely got stronger, longer, and closer together, just like they’re supposed to.
The contractions were terrible. I needed Jake for these, and he was there. He helped me breath. He helped me focus, and I needed to focus. I knew they would be bad. I didn’t know they’d be that bad, and the worst part was that it was only the beginning. Maggie gave me a few tricks: she raised the bed so I could stand next to it and lean into it. She said squatting would help in two ways: it would help me manage the pain, and it would help the contraction do what it was supposed to—move baby further down and soften my cervix (and hopefully dilate it as well). The only problem with doing this was that I would lean forward which meant that the monitor that was keeping track of Julia’s heartbeat went offline during the contraction, and it’s during the contractions that they really need to watch her heartbeat. Luckily, Maggie was pretty awesome. She said that as long as I made sure I leaned back so the monitor could pick Julia up again after a contraction, she’d only need Julia’s heartbeat during a contraction once or twice every half hour or so. If she could see that Julia’s heartbeat was essentially the same before and after a contraction, she could tell that Jules was doing just fine.
During these contractions, I moaned. It seemed to be the best way to try to manage the pain. I would use the bed to get through a contraction, and then when standing became too exhausting, I would sit on an exercise ball and rock and moan my way through the pain there. Maggie said I was textbook. I was doing everything I should be. I was doing everything exactly as I should be. I was perfect. Except for one thing.
14:30ish
Maggie said they were going to check me again soon. I told Jake, after a particularly nasty contraction that I couldn’t manage because I had to stay on the bed so they could watch Julia’s heart, that if I wasn’t at least at a two, I couldn’t do it. I had already been in labor for eight hours, seven of which were accompanied by contractions that were only getting more painful. If I was dilated to a two, I could do it. It meant that there was a purpose to my pain, and we were going somewhere. During each moment of relief, I told myself that I could do it. I could have this baby without any kind of pain-alleviating medication, but during the contractions, I had a much harder time convincing myself of that. They were getting to the point that I was sure I was just going to burst into tears, but I kept telling myself to hold it together. Maggie finally came and checked me. I could tell by the look on her face that it wasn’t good news. Not only was I still at a one (she said I had a little wiggle room), but they were going to have to increase my dose of pitocin, meaning the contractions were only going to get more intense and much closer together, meaning less recuperation time between pain. I almost cried. I looked at Jake and told him I couldn’t. I looked at Maggie. I just couldn’t do it. I was already exhausted. I didn’t have the strength physically, emotionally, or mentally to make it through nine more centimeters, not if they were all going to take this long and definitely not if the doctor was going to have to up the pitocin, which he was. I told Maggie I couldn’t do it. I told her I wanted to do it, but I couldn’t. She told me that getting some pain management medicine would be a wise decision. She also told me that, based on the level of intensity and frequency of my contractions, I was experiencing the contractions that are typical when a woman is dilated to a five or six, but I was only at a one. She said that the contractions were only going to get worse, and that I would still need energy to push once I finally made it to ten. Maggie also explained that while I was doing everything I was supposed to and everything I could to get myself to relax during the contractions, there’s only so much that we can control, and my body wasn’t relaxing enough to let the contractions do their work. My body was staying too tense during the contractions and was fighting them. This was why I was having contractions that should have been dilating my cervix but weren’t. She said the epidural would help my body relax enough to let the contractions do their job and get Julia down.
The anesthesiologist came into the room shortly after this (probably on request of the nurse), and I had just had a particularly bad contraction, so when I saw him, I said, “Are you the angel of mercy?” He thought that was funny, but I was actually pretty serious. He asked me if I needed anything, and I said the epidural. I had so wanted to have Julia without the medication, and maybe if I didn’t have to be on the pitocin and could have worked up naturally and gradually to the contractions I was feeling and would feel leading up to that ten, then maybe I could have done it, but that wasn’t an option. My amniotic sac was punctured, which meant Julia was no longer safe in a sterile environment. Every minute I didn’t have her, every moment I wasn’t closer to that ten and to pushing her out was a minute and a moment bacteria could be invading. She was at risk—not a high risk, not yet, but we were getting closer.
15:20
Angel Paul (the anesthesiologist), as my sister called him, started me on the epidural. Holding still during a contraction while someone sticks a big needle in your back is not easy, but I had Jake, and I had Maggie. Paul was also really good at his job. He waited until my contraction was over and immediately started the process. Each time he had to do something that required me not to move, he would warn me. I was then able to tell him whether it was a green light or red. When he was actually putting the epidural in, he had started right after a contraction, but the process took long enough that the next contraction started before he had finished. I wish I could tell you exactly what that was like, but part of me doesn’t have the words and the other part doesn’t fully remember (which is probably for the best, I’m sure). There were a few terrible contractions in between getting the epidural put in and the medication actually kicking in, but once that medication kicked in, I was much happier. I could still feel a tightening, but it wasn’t the intense pain it was before. This epidural allowed the doctors to turn up the pitocin, and it allowed me to finally rest (not sleep, mind you, just rest).
Maggie came in later and told me that I had made Paul’s day by calling him the angel of mercy. Her exact words were “He’s walking around this hospital like he owns the place.”
Around 16:15ish
I was checked again. I was finally at a two. Maggie had been right. Within one hour of being on the epidural, I had dilated a centimeter. If my tolerance for pain was higher or if I was more mentally capable of handling that pain, who knows how long it would have taken to finally get that two. At the end of the day, though, it was still only a two, and I had eight more centimeters to go.
20:15
Sometime during this whole thing, my mom and sister had driven up from Utah. They had been there for when I received the epidural, but I don’t remember exactly what time they came. I also don’t remember what time they left. I just remember essentially kicking them out because I needed sleep and for sleep, I needed quiet. And while they were doing their best, Palmers aren’t exactly known for being quiet. Sometime after they left, I asked Jake to call the nurse in. I was really shaky. I had noticed it earlier, but it came and went, so I hadn’t thought much of it. At this point, I was almost constantly shaking. The nurse came in (there had been a shift change, so this was a different nurse. Her name was Louisa). She checked me, and I was dilated to a three (yes you read that right. I’d been in labor for fourteen hours, and I was at a three); I also had a temperature of 101.2 F. Dr. Mayo was informed, and he came in to talk to us. He said that because my water had broken so early in labor, I was at risk for infection. To see if I had an infection, they looked for three things: whether I had a temperature (which I did), what my heart rate looked like (good), and what Julia’s heart rate looked like (also good). Because I was only one of three, I wouldn’t need any antibiotics. If I became two of three, they’d need to start me on the antibiotics.
Sometime shortly after 20:40ish
I wasn’t really sleeping as much as I was dozing. Louisa and Dr. Mayo returned. Julia’s heart rate was getting tacky, and I still had a temperature. They started me on two different antibiotics intravenously that would continue to be administered all through labor until Tuesday morning. Sometime after this—I’m not sure exactly when—I called Louisa and asked her if the epidural could be turned up. Angel Paul came back and explained that I was supposed to feel pressure; I told him that I was feeling more than pressure. I was okay being uncomfortable, but the whole point of the epidural was that I would be able to rest and sleep, so I would have energy to push, and the pressure I was feeling was enough to make that rest and sleep elude me. I told him he only needed to turn it up a hair. He did. That wonderful Sainted man.
23:55
I told Louisa I was feeling a lot of pressure. She asked if it was all the time or only with the contractions. I told her it was only with the contractions. She told me I’d know when it was time to push. Dr. Mayo came in to check me again. I was at an eight. Louisa said it was no wonder I needed the epidural turned up a bit; my body had finally gotten the message that we were having a baby. As much as we had all hoped Julia would be born on the 13th (so her birthday would be 12/13/14), at 5 minutes to midnight it was close but no cigar.
Sunday, December 14, 2014
02:00
Louisa and Dr. Mayo came back in to check me—they had to wake me up because I had finally fallen asleep. It was finally time to start pushing. Well, it was time to get everything ready so then I could start pushing.
02:08
I started pushing.
While I was pushing, I had a temperature. I don’t know how high it was. I also must not have been getting enough oxygen because Louisa gave me an oxygen mask to wear between sets.
I pushed for everything I was worth. Jake held one leg, and Louisa held the other. The leg Louisa held was completely numb. I couldn’t feel it at all, but I could feel Julia. It was an intense pressure. My first few pushes were terrible. I had never done this before; I didn’t know what they wanted. Louisa and Dr. Mayo were very helpful. They told me where to focus. Jake was perfect. There were a few pushes when Louisa and Dr. Mayo had stopped counting, and I needed the counting. The counting told me how much longer I needed to go for. I couldn’t push indefinitely, but I could push for ten, breath, push for ten, breath, and push for ten more. All I had to do was say, “count” and Jake would. Eventually, I got a push where Dr. Mayo and Louisa both said “good push. That was a really good push.” So, I focused on making them all like that one. I focused on that feeling.
And I pushed.
They could see her head.
Dr. Cox came. And I pushed.
03:19
After 21 hours of labor and an hour and ten minutes of pushing, Julia River Contor was born. 8 lbs 0 oz. 21.5 inches long
At some point earlier, they had noticed in my waters had a color that meant meconium (baby’s first poop) was mixed with my amniotic fluid. I saw Julia briefly. Then they took her to the NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit) to make sure she hadn’t swallowed any meconium.
They brought Julia back from the NICU. She hadn’t swallowed any meconium. Grandma Tea (Jake’s mom) got to do her footprints, and then I was finally allowed to hold my little girl skin-to-skin.
I wish I could say that the story ends here, that 24 hours later, I was home with my healthy baby girl, but then that wouldn’t be what happened.
I held her skin-to-skin for about half an hour. Then, a very reluctant nurse came back and told me that Dr. Cox had ruled corio for this case. Basically, that temperature I spiked earlier in labor meant I could have had an infection, and he was saying that I did have an infection. I would need to stay in the hospital for an additional 48 hours, and my darling little girl would have to stay as well, but she would have to stay in the NICU.
Around 07:00
I didn’t get to see her again until they were taking me to my recovery room down the hallway marked “Moms and Babies” or just “Mom” in my case. I saw her, but I don’t think I held her. She had a bruise on her hand from where they had tried to put an IV but failed because her veins were just too small. Instead, she had an IV in on the left side of her head. I was taken to my room where I tried to sleep. Jake had gone home to shower and change and get a little sleep.
Around 10:00
Jake and his mom came back around 10 to give Julia her first bath. She had to occasionally be put on oxygen when she first got there because she would fall asleep and wouldn’t breath as much as she needed to. The nurse said that it was mostly to bother her nose enough to remind it to do its job.
Epilogue
Julia had her first visitors on Sunday. My mom and sister, Becki, went to the NICU to see the very first grandchild on my side. Jake’s Grandma Julia (Our Julia’s namesake), Uncle David, Uncle Bryce, and brother, Drake, saw her as well. On Monday, some of Jake’s hanai family came to see her. On Tuesday, some more of his hanai family came.
Julia and I both received antibiotics until Tuesday, December 16th. Neither of us needed our last round (I never spiked another fever, and Julia’s cultures came back negative, which was a huge relief because that morning, her IV had leaked when they rinsed it, and they had to take it out. Provided her cultures came back negative, they wouldn’t have to put a new one in; they did, so they didn’t). Julia passed her car seat test (she needed to sit in her car seat for an hour without anything terrible happening), which she needed to do because she had been on oxygen, even though it was only very briefly.
Despite some initial worry that I would be going home alone, I was discharged with my brand new baby at 19:00 Tuesday, December 16th, 2014.
Motherhood has proved more intense than labor, I think. But every time I think I can’t do it, I think that I must be doing something wrong, I just remember that Heavenly Father would not have sent this amazing little spirit down to Jake and I if he didn’t think we could take care of her.
