Hannah’s Birth Story

Posted on March 18, 2019 by justeeni

Ever since Lydia was born, I have enjoyed hearing others’ birth stories. Some are encouraging, inspiring, or at times, intimidating, but all have been useful in preparing me for another birth. So this is Hannah’s birth story. Here’s my disclaimer: this is going to be long (for the most part) unedited. If you don’t enjoy hearing lots of medical sorts of details, this post may not be for you.

When I was thirteen weeks pregnant, I had a surgery done to help keep Hannah from being born super early. During surgery, the doctor tied two stitches through the cervix to add extra support. This helped the boys make it to 35 weeks (Paul – 35 weeks and Elijah – 35 weeks and six days) and we were hoping for similar results this time around. During my other pregnancies, those stitches were not removed until after my water broke and I was in labor. It was a complicated and painful removal that I was dreading.

Due to a number of circumstances, I saw a variety of doctors this time. Finally, one doctor asked, “When is the plan to remove the stitches?” and I answered, as I had always been told, “Thirty-seven weeks”.

“Really?! That surprises me!” she answered. The doctor continued to explain that cerclages are difficult to remove during labor (which I already knew!) but not nearly as difficult to take out before labor. She suggested removing the stitches as early as my next appointment, and I was 33 1/2 weeks at the time. So we scheduled the next appointment for 35 weeks and two days, fully expecting to have our baby that very day.

The day came and Dan and I left the kids with Grandma while we headed to the office. I had been having painful contractions for ages and we were excited to meet our baby. In the office, another doctor expressed his hesitancy at removing the stitches so early. Then he checked and realized I was dilated to three already and decided to send me right to the hospital to have the stitches removed so that I would be there if labor took off quickly.

We made our way to the hospital and began a very frustrating afternoon meeting with various nurses and doctors and waiting…and waiting…and waiting. Despite our doctor’s phone call, the doctor on duty didn’t want to take the stitches out. It was too early. She never met with us but left us in our room to wait until the shift change. The shift change came and went, and our new nurse came in to introduce herself and tell us that she had no say in the decision, but that the doctors were arguing about what to do.

Finally a doctor came in, sat down, and began to explain in her best calm-down-the-flustered-pregnant-lady voice that I was too early. It was too soon to remove the stitches or we might go right into labor and have a 35 1/2 week preemie. We, of course, were fully prepared for this, expecting it actually. We discussed and argued. I didn’t want those stitches to tear through my cervix. I didn’t want to have to go through this whole afternoon all over again. Nope. She was firm.

However, I had been having contractions since I had arrived, and because I was “so” early, they wanted to keep me in the hospital for further monitoring of preterm labor. We argued this point more firmly. I had been having daily contractions for weeks. We didn’t expect to burst into labor that day, but were hoping to get those pesky stitches out before that actually happened.

The doctor wouldn’t budge, but sent us home with dose #1 of a two-part steroid shot for Baby’s lungs and told us to come back the next day for the second dose.

Twenty-four hours later I was back at the hospital, standing stunned in triage, because I had come in for my second shot and the nurse had told me to change into a hospital gown and get settled for some nice, long monitoring because I was having contractions before 37 weeks. I frantically texted Dan asking for backup, and “What do I do?!”. He hurried up to the room (I did not put the gown on) and we explained our situation as politely as we could, insisting that we did not want to spend another afternoon sitting in a hospital room. (Dan also brought in all four kids and didn’t try to manage them very well, just to make our point a little stronger.) Thankfully, the nurse kindly gave me the shot and sent us home.

The weekend passed and we set up a plan with our doctor to remove the stitches the following Monday (36 weeks, 0 days) in his office. We found babysitters and headed in for attempt #2. The procedure, which has taken anywhere from 30 minutes to over an hour during and after my other labors, took probably 3 minutes. It was mildly uncomfortable, but so quick, and, just like that, we were on our way back home, wondering when Baby would come. The contractions started, picked up, then tapered off over the next several hours while we had dinner and played games with our babysitters. By 10:00 things looked pretty uneventful and we sent our friends home and headed to bed. We were amazed as day after day passed and no baby came.

On Thursday morning, I slipped on some ice and fell rather gently, into a seated position on the ground. Aware that you’re supposed to call if you fall during pregnancy, I called my doctor’s office and was sent back to triage for four more hours of monitoring. It’s not hard to imagine what happened. When the doctor’s saw that I was preterm and having contractions (36 1/2 weeks, a record for our babies), they told Dan I would be advised to stay 24 hours for monitoring. He firmly opposed them. “My poor wife does not need to be kept up all night in the hospital for contractions that she has been having for weeks!”. The hospital visits were getting old and the longer we stayed, the more frazzled I became, constantly at odds with every medical person we met. After three hours I was ready to beg them to send me home, stressed out, tired, wanting a nap in my own bed. They reluctantly agreed, and my last thoughts before my much-needed nap were about how bad I felt about arguing with the nurse and, probably, ruining her day.

By Friday night I was in significant pain, between the almost constant contractions, and a bigger baby than I’d ever carried before. She was entirely on the left side of my body, something every nurse we met with pointed out in amazement. The grumbly part of me was adamant that this was more uncomfortable than any “normal” pregnancy because I had just as much baby but only on one side. The trying-to-be grateful part of me sympathized with twin moms, because they have just as much baby on each side. The preemie mom in me was thrilled to be a couple days away from term. The pregnant mom in me wanted Baby to come out already.

Sunday afternoon, after a meager snacky lunch, I took a delightful nap and woke up to my water breaking. I spent the next hour in the bathroom waiting for Dan to get someone to watch the kids and prepare to leave. I was so excited, talking to the kids, asking them to help in various ways. Everyone was running around, guessing when Baby would be born, making all the preparations. My water broke at about 4:30 and by 5:30 we were in the car munching on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches our baby sitter had sweetly thrown together for us on our way out the door.

In that hour, contractions hadn’t started and I was expecting another 5 1/2 hour labor. I insisted over and over that Dan stop at Chipotle on the way in to get us some food for after the delivery. He, sweet husband that he is, kept asking if I was sure, saying he felt bad leaving me in the car that long. The contractions picked up. Dan bought the burritos. As I waited for him to come out, I wondered if that decision had been a mistake. Even my speedly labors didn’t usually get this serious so fast.

We made it to the hospital, but I was mid-contraction when we pulled up to the door, so we waited it out. Meanwhile, two women were standing in the entrance watching and pointing. I seriously wanted them to go away. I was already in too much pain to have a conversation, even a brief one. They stayed. When I waddled up to the door, I learned that they were the doctors just coming on duty. “One of us will probably deliver your baby” I was told. They sweetly called up to triage and got me all checked in so I didn’t have to do a thing. Then they got me a wheel chair and left me with Dan.

In moments, we were in triage going through my long medical history with the nurse. Moments after telling her we were hoping for a natural delivery, she looked at the monitors and said, “I don’t like your baby”. (To be honest, I become quite a sarcastic little Mama Bear when I’m in labor, so the thought that immediately popped into my head was, “What do you mean you don’t like my baby?!? I don’t like you!”. Thankfully, I’m also shy and would never say a thought like that out loud, I think.) . She went on to explain that our baby’s heart rate was “flat”. The rate wasn’t changing during a contraction like it should. Baby could be sleeping, but something could be wrong.

Despite all my preparations, all my reading, all my logic, I was ready for them to wheel me into a c-section and save that little baby. Thankfully, Dan was clear-headed enough to ask a few questions and give me some advice. In minutes I had changed my position, Baby had woken up, and the heart was doing what they wanted. We were back on the path to a smooth delivery.

The nurse left us in the room to be monitored and we remained in triage for the next 45 minutes. Labor was getting intense. I kept telling Dan, “I don’t think I need to push yet, but they should probably get back in here”. I was seriously wondering if we were going to deliver that baby in triage without a nurse or doctor in sight. At 7:30, they checked me and said I was dilated to 6. Then they took my to my labor room. I must have been in transition at that point, or at least close, because I can’t remember if they wheeled me or if I walked. I remember saying there was no way I could walk at that point. I remember them offering me a stretcher. I remember going back in forth about what I wanted. I think I walked, but I honestly can’t remember.

We came into our labor room and our jaws almost literally dropped when we saw that we had the same nurse from the day I had fallen, the same nurse we had argued with for so long, the same nurse who’s day I had ruined. I hadn’t expected to ever see her again and there was an awkward moment for, I think, all of us. I went to the bathroom and came back to bed, answered a few questions, and asked for a big bean bag. Up to that point, I had just laid on my bed on my side, relaxing through the contractions, but now things were too intense. I climbed on the bed, and flopped, belly down, onto the bean bag between contractions. I had been telling Dan for a while, “I don’t want to do this.”, and “I just want this to be over”. He knew I was close and kept encouraging me in all the sweetest ways that I can’t remember anymore.

I had started to feel some pressure from the baby descending that only lasted as long as the contractions, so I hoped I was close. As soon as I was on the bed, they checked and said I was at seven, but almost eight. Things were so intense and I desperately wanted to be done. I was discouraged, looking at the clock, thinking about how a five and a half hour labor was still more than two hours away. “I don’t know if I can do this”, I thought, and “Oh God, help me!!!”, and those were my cues that I was almost there.

At Dan’s guidance, and the nurses agreement, the doctor was brought in. I was aware of Dan and the nurse talking, could hear every word, but couldn’t show it. I was in a zone, in a fog. They told me to turn onto my back (from all fours) to be checked again, but as I turned I felt that unmistakable and irresistible urge to push. I didn’t really push, but my body pushed for me. I knew my eyes were bulging out of my head when I looked up at Dan, so I shut them quickly (lest he laugh at me, which I couldn’t stand the thought of at that moment). He said something along the lines of, “Justine, if you can just wait a little…”, but there was no hope of that. I didn’t know if I had ever made it to ten, but every involuntary part of my body was pushing that baby out. Before I made it to my back I felt Baby’s head coming out. I was eager to not tear for once, so I tried my hardest to stop the pushing and count to ten. I made it to three, cheered my heroism, and pushed. A moment later it was over, they were placing her warm, wet body up into my arms.

That was all a moment. All one big, restrained push. I never made it to my back, but delivered in a kind of seated position. Later Dan told me his version. Only the nurse had gloves on when Hannah was born, so the nurse was the once to deliver her, which made her day, I’m pretty sure. She’d never delivered a baby before. The umbilical cord was wrapped around Hannah, so as soon as she was born, the nurse unwrapped it, causing her to sort of “flop” onto the bed. Then they handed her to me and we all found out she was a girl, which was a shock to me, as I thought she was a girl all along, and I’ve always been wrong before. 😀

The doctors and nurses in our room exclaimed over how cute she was, and assured us that they don’t say that to everyone, and guessed that she looked big enough that she might be over six pounds. When they weighed her an hour later, we found out she was closer to seven, and we got some funny looks when Dan and I exclaimed, “She’s HUGE!”.

And so, Hannah became a part of our family. After a couple days in the hospital, we were discharged together, my third take-home baby. She was our first take-home girl, our first baby who didn’t need jaudice treatment, and our biggest baby by far.

Hannah Grace Taylor
December 16, 2018
7:57 PM
6 pounds, 12 ounces
20 inches long

The Days Before Elijah

Posted on December 1, 2016 by justeeni

Ever since Lydia was born, I have enjoyed hearing others’ birth stories. Some are encouraging, inspiring, or at times, intimidating, but all have been useful in preparing me for another birth. So this is Elijah’s birth story. Here’s my disclaimer: this is going to be long (for the most part) unedited. If you don’t enjoy hearing lots of medical sorts of details, this post may not be for you.

Since my last update was way back in October, I’ll have to back up a little before I actually tell Elijah’s birth story.

I had been having contractions off and on starting at about 30 weeks. So, for several weeks I was constantly on my toes thinking, “Is Baby going to come today?” However, I had had contractions off and on for a couple weeks with Paul and we didn’t want to put everything on hold just because I was having a few contractions that might be nothing. So I took it easy when I could, but we kept enjoying fall and preparing for Baby. We went apple picking, took the kids to a cider mill, bought pumpkins, and watched some world series games at Dan’s parents’ home.

We got our car seat, packed the hospital bag, and set up the bassinet. One by one we were checking items off our “to-do before Baby” lists. I even had a verse picked out that I thought I would be using a lot to get through labor:

Psalms 28:7
The LORD is my strength and my shield; in him my heart trusts, and I am helped; my heart exalts, and with my song I give thanks to him.

The one last project we wanted to finish before Baby came was repairing our shed. The shed in our back yard was a mess: dirty and rotting. Early in November, Dan started repairing it, knowing that once Baby and/or Thanksgiving hit, we’d be busy and it would get too cold to work on it anymore. We really wanted it done so we could clear out some space in the garage to park the car this winter.

Just before I hit 35 weeks, I woke up one night with pain in my belly. It was, I think, pain from stretching, and I had experience the same sensation about a week before Paul was born. I knew our time was running out, even though I hadn’t hit 35 weeks yet. I got up and headed downstairs where I could try to relax on our exercise ball until the pain would go away. As I leaned on the ball, I started to worry about Baby.

When was the last time I felt him kick?

I couldn’t remember feeling any movement all day.

What if he didn’t have enough amniotic fluid?

What if the umbilical cord was knotted or compressed?

Before long I was a basket case of worry and could hardly think clearly enough to pray. But I did pray and as I did, I felt led to read my labor verse, and the rest of the chapter. (If you want you can go read Psalms 28. It’s not too long). What stood out to me as I read it that night was that God had heard the cry of the Psalmist:

“He has heard the voice of my pleas for mercy….The LORD…is the saving refuge of his anointed…Be their shepherd and carry them forever.”

I felt assured in my heart that God had heard my prayers and that Baby was going to be safe. I gratefully turned off the lights and went back to bed. As I lay down to go back to sleep, I felt Baby kick and I fell asleep with a song in my heart.

The next week Dan attacked that shed with all his energy. But, on Monday morning (the day I reached 35 weeks, and the day Paul was born) I could feel pressure from the stitches in the cervix pulling.

Tuesday I had an appointment and my doctor told me the cervix had shortened right up to the stitches and that I should come in if I had any more strong contractions. In that case, he would remove the stitches to prevent their tearing as the cervix tried to dilate.

The rest of the week was a race to finish the shed. Meanwhile, I didn’t have any strong contractions, but I had very steady weak contractions. I was in a dilemma about whether to go in, knowing that they would probably remove the stitches and Baby would probably be born. I was trying to wait for Dan to finish the shed, and trying to give Baby just a few more days. We started to pray that it would be clear when we needed to go in, that something would be an obvious sign that it was time to get the stitches out, or that my water would break like it had with all my other babies. The stitches were pulling more and more and the contractions kept coming.

Friday night, we took the kids out to eat (a reward for Lydia when she learned another Bible verse) and Dan and I chatted about what to do. He had finished the roof on the shed, but still had a lot more work to do. I was worried about the stitches. Dan kept assuring me that he wanted me to go in when I felt like I needed to, but I just didn’t know if I needed to or if I was being anxious for nothing. We prayerfully decided to try to wait until Monday morning (36 weeks), then call my doctor and ask if we should just get the stitches out. Dan even planned on taking the day off work so he could be there for whatever happened.

Saturday was a hard day for me. I was trying to stay off my feet, but I was also watching the kids while Dan and his Dad attacked that shed some more. The day was long. The hours dragged by, but Dan made really good progress and we both felt satisfied that night. Dan had finally knocked the bulk of the work off the shed and I only had to make it 36 more hours before calling the doctor.

Dan was exhausted from working out in the cold all day, and I was eager to get to bed just so it would be the next day, so we prayed again for Baby and for a clear sign if we needed to go in earlier than Monday, and then we went to sleep.

At 3:15 I woke up on my feet, running to the bathroom. I was still only half awake when I got there and it took me a minute to evaluate whether I had just wet the bed or if my water broke. This is the third time my water broke while I was sleeping, so it didn’t take me long to realize that was what had happened. I felt overjoyed that God had answered our prayers again by giving us an obvious sign to go to the hospital before Monday morning, and also that Dan had just barely made all that progress on the shed.

Because it was the middle of the night and I knew Dan would be exhausted, I waddled downstairs to make him some coffee for the long night ahead. At 3:30 I woke him up, “Dan…my water broke.” He got up pretty quick, despite how tired he was, and started making calls to find a babysitter. The first two people on our list didn’t work out, but the third had just called me that afternoon to remind us that she could watch our kids whenever I went into labor. It was so neat how God worked that out so we felt it was ok to call her even in the middle of the night. After we called, she told us that she had woken up at 3:30 and was just wide awake thinking, “I wonder why I’m so awake!” Just a few minutes later she got our call.

By 4:00 we were in the car, on the way to the hospital. Soon we were in triage, where the hospital doctor on call and the resident sat down to remove the stitches that had been bothering me all week, but that had done a good job keeping Baby in for a new record: 35 weeks and 6 days.

To be continued…

Baby #4: 32 and 1/2 Weeks

Posted on October 28, 2016 by justeeni

I am so happy to be passed the 32 week mark! Last weekend I was utterly convinced Baby was going to be born before Monday (the day I hit 32). It was purely psychological, apart from a few random contractions, and I made it to Monday just fine, with Baby still in my belly. But let me back up a little…

Just before 31 weeks I started having some abdominal pain which I suspected to be related to contractions somehow. After two days of off and on pain, I started having clear contractions lasting about one minute, about five minutes apart. They never lasted long, so I didn’t expect Baby to come right away, but I was definitely concerned. This sort of thing started about a week and a half before Paul was born, and we weren’t hoping to have Baby come earlier than Paul.

At my last doctor’s appointment, a few days after contractions started, my doctor noticed some prelabor signs. Baby is head down, and his/her head is getting lower. There is also some effacement going on, probably from all those contractions. I’ve been taking it easy, more or less, as I have been for several weeks now. However, we aren’t putting our whole lives on hold this time. I’m still homeschooling Lydia and Dan is still at work all day. I just try to rest when I need to and avoid lifting heavy things as much as possible. I’m cooking the easiest meals I can think of and my 5-week meal plan (repeating the same few meals over and over), posted on the fridge and crossed off as each meal passes, has become my count down to Baby.

After the last ultrasound, the contractions stopped. About a week later I began to feel more pressure, but only occasionally. I’m guessing that has more to do with Baby’s position than anything else, so I just try to lie down when I notice it.

Meanwhile, we are getting excited to meet Baby! I’m only 17 days from the gestation when Paul was born, and less than five weeks from FULL TERM. I’ve finally packed my hospital bag. I wrote out a Birth Plan and stashed that in my purse along with my camera, so we’re not without either one no matter when Baby comes. We’ve lined up some babysitters for the kids too. So all I really have left to do is pack a bag for the kids and, when we get closer to 35 weeks, set up Baby’s bassinet.

I’m still craving almond milk, and have a cup every night. (We’re actually out right now, so I’m thinking the weekly Meijer run is happening tonight!) Other cravings come and go, nothing too major. My joints are all getting nice and loose, which makes it hard to sleep and lie down for very long. Between the joints and constant bathroom runs, I’m getting up several times a night some nights now. I’m trying to be disciplined to go to bed early, and I can tell my body needs the extra rest. When I’m not lying down I have an almost constant sore back, something new for me. My babies never got big enough for that before. 🙂 I’m not complaining though! A little sore back and trouble sleeping are far better than leaving Baby in the NICU every night!

I’ve mentioned this in my Instagram posts, but I’ll say it again here. It’s starting to sink in that there’s really going to be a Little Person coming home from the hospital soon. The pregnancy has been so full of medical stuff, praying, waiting, hoping, and taking it easy, that it’s not hard to forget that fact. Lately I’ve been thinking more about our names, imagining Baby and even having Baby dreams. Lydia is practically counting down the days too.

My next appointment is Tuesday, and soon we’ll be going every week for visits. I never know if I’ll have a chance to write another blog update, but mini updates will definitely be in my Instagram pictures. I so appreciate everyone who has been thinking of us and praying for us throughout the last weeks. God has been so kind and is, once again, answering our many prayers.

Baby #4: Halfway There!

Posted on August 8, 2016 by justeeni

Between all of our summer activities, preparing for school this fall, and keeping up with the Little Ones, this pregnancy is flying by! It definitely helps to know that Paul made it to 35 weeks. Our doctor is very unconcerned and expects us to make it even longer this time. I can honestly say I am (now that the first trimester is over) enjoying this pregnancy more than any of the others.

This is the famous “alien” shot. Baby is looking right at you with his/her head on the right and is holding up his/her hand over his/her chest. You can even see his/her little eyes.

At 20 1/2 weeks now, I’m not big enough to be uncomfortable, and I’m no longer feeling terribly sick. I have had some more nausea this week, but nothing compared to what it was before. I’ve also had my first evenings of pregnancy insomnia. Two nights in a row I lay in bed completely wide awake until I finally gave up and got up. After a couple hours, a snack, and lots of reading, I eventually was able to go back to sleep. Since then, I’ve cut my naps shorter and I’ve been sleeping better. Soon the days will be here when I’ll be exhausted and unable to sleep for other reasons. 😉

Pregnancy cravings are always interesting. I haven’t had any uncontrollable cravings lately, though there have been nights when I really wanted a brownie or some Ramen noodles, or the one night when I really wanted a chili dog. Mostly I’ve been craving fruit. Dan has been buying me my own little batch of nectarines every week and I eat one almost every day. I’ve also been craving almond milk. Almost every day, at some point, I have a cold mugful and it always hits the spot.

There’s Baby’s arm and leg!

Prenatal visits have been going well. Baby is measuring about right for his/her due date so far, and was head down at our 20-week ultrasound last week! Good job Baby! I’ve mentioned this before, but people keep asking, so I’ll say it again. We are not planning on finding out if we’re having a boy or girl until s/he arrives. I just loved getting through labor and delivery and being handed my baby when I found out Paul was a boy for the first time, and I’m looking forward to being surprised again.

There have been no signs of early labor, so far. There was about a week of concerning symptoms (I’ll spare you the details) but a quick trip to check on Baby’s heartbeat calmed our fears, and our doctor suspects it was just aftermath from my surgery around week 13. I’m only going to the doctor once a month, compared to once every other week with Paul, so everything feels very laid back and happy.

I had grand hopes of cooking three months of freezer meals again for this baby, either for time in the NICU, time on bed rest, or time after Baby is born. I only got through a small fraction of my list before the first trimester nausea hit too hard to keep going. So, our chest freezer is full of soups, crock pot meals, and some homemade “Larabars” and muffins, but that’s about the extent of my emergency planning for this pregnancy. I am just hoping things continue to progress smoothly and I won’t have to be on bed rest for two months (or at all) come fall.

It’s just so hard to believe how far along Baby is already. I like to pack my hospital bag at 24 weeks, since that’s the age Baby could survive if s/he dared to come that early, and that’s only 3 1/2 weeks away! Hopefully, though, it’ll be another 16 weeks or so before this Little One arrives.

Abigail’s Birth Story

Posted on September 21, 2013 by justeeni

Ever since Lydia was born two years ago, I have enjoyed hearing others’ birth stories. Some are encouraging, inspiring, or at times, intimidating, but all have been useful in preparing me for another birth. So now, I’m going to take my own turn to share Abby’s birth story. So here is my disclaimer: this is going to be long (for the most part) unedited. If you don’t enjoy hearing lots of medical sorts of details, this post may not be for you.

The weekend of September 6-8, God began to prepare us for Abby’s birth. I originally had scheduled my next prenatal appointment for September 11th, which turned out to be Abby’s birthday. However, the week before she was born I suspected that I had developed an infection and we scheduled a quick appointment for Friday, September 6. The infection turned out to be nothing serious, and nothing that would affect Baby. During the appointment, our midwife decided to go ahead with the normal prenatal care instead of waiting until the next Wednesday. Because Lydia was born early, the doctors had been periodically doing ultrasounds to measure the length of the cervix. A shortening cervix is an indication that labor could start soon. All of our previous measurements had been around 4.5 cm, but this time it was only 2.5 cm. While still within the range of normal, Dan and I were concerned at such a large change in just a few weeks. Our midwife wasn’t concerned, so we scheduled the next visit to take place in two weeks, and headed home.

On our drive home, Dan and I discussed the unusual change in length. I decided to research it a little bit, but couldn’t find anything conclusive. I sent out messages to friends and family asking for prayer. Dan and I started to wonder if perhaps Baby would surprise us by coming early…again. On Saturday, Dan and I decided to take our belated anniversary date in fear that it might be our last chance before Baby was born (and we were right!). Sunday I had a long talk with a friend at church who happens to be a midwife. After hearing the details of my situation, she also was concerned and recommended I try to stay off my feet as much as possible.

Also during the weekend, a couple different families offered to watch Lydia, should I go in to early labor. Everything was falling into place so that if Baby came, we were ready (as ready as we could be).

The next few days I stayed off my feet as much as I could. Dan took over all of my chores and I made a little calendar countdown to 36 weeks, my goal for Baby 2. We decided that each Saturday we made it without having Baby, we would reward ourselves with a treat. Still, we kept talking about how we were mentally preparing for Baby to come.

Dan and I were hoping for another natural delivery with this baby, and I was reading up on all that goes on during labor, ways to handle the contractions, and how Dad can be a good coach. Dan doesn’t do well with medical things so I was taking notes to make him a little cheat sheet with the things I felt he should know and the different ways he could be helping me. Tuesday night, I stayed up late reading over some of this material, taking lots of notes. In fact, I stayed up far later than I should have, and it was close to midnight before I was ready for bed.

Tuesday had been a strange day for me. I wasn’t sure if it was just the strangeness of staying off my feet for a few days in a row, or something else. I had started taking two naps a day, and during my afternoon nap I felt Baby moving like crazy and in positions I hadn’t felt her in before. In the evening we decided to run to the grocery store as the rest of our week was looking pretty busy. I went along for the ride, but stayed in the car while Dan and Lydia went in. Dan came out with some “extras” that hadn’t been on my list: a beautiful bouquet of flowers for me, some tasty snack food, and a frozen dessert treat, which we were calling the treat for the coming Saturday, assuming Baby wasn’t born yet. Then we had gone home, tucked in Lydia, and stayed up late reading. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite “right”, so after I got ready for bed, I stayed up for about 10 minutes reading about the signs of labor, trying to find some correlation to the strangeness I had been feeling all day. I couldn’t find anything definitive, so when Dan came in, we prayed together and then I went to sleep.

12:00 AM, September 11
Ten minutes later, I felt a huge gush of liquid and realized with dread that my water had broken. For a moment I wondered if I could have just wet the bed, but I got up and ran to the bathroom. By the time I was fully awake I knew Baby was coming and I burst into tears. Scared and shaking and wishing this wasn’t happening I yelled for Dan. He came toward the bathroom asking what was wrong and I told him: “My water just broke!”

I was losing amniotic fluid like crazy, so I just stayed in the bathroom, giving Dan instructions on what to pack for me and asking him, “What are we going to do with Lydia?” I was trying to keep it together, but I kept thinking about months in the NICU, this time with a toddler… “I can’t do this”. Dan called my midwife friend, who happened to be awake. She agreed to come over with her baby and stay with Lydia so we wouldn’t have to wake Lydia up and take her somewhere.

During the phone call, Dan asked which hospital we should go to. There was a hospital just minutes from our house in Plymouth or the one in Ypsilanti where Lydia was born and we were preregistered, but that one was 30 minutes away (I had just preregistered on Monday). No one was really sure but our friends advised us to go to the hospital we knew the best, so soon we were in the car on our way to Ypsi. Later we found out that the hospital near our house in Plymouth has no NICU and doesn’t know what to do with babies. Had Abby been born there, she probably wouldn’t not have survived. In the best case scenario, they would have put me in an ambulance and sent me to the Ypsi hospital anyway.

During the drive Dan prayed for me and Baby, and for Lydia as well. I took half the drive to tell Dan all the things I wanted him to know about labor, because we were pretty sure Baby was going to be born by morning. I told him some things like, “Answer as many questions for me as you can, especially if I’m in the middle of a contraction”, “If they ask about pain medicine, let me answer first and then if they keep bugging me, just keep telling them what I want. That way they won’t get mad at you”, and “Most importantly, just don’t leave me. Stay as close to me as you can. I like you more than them!” (During Lydia’s birth the doctors pushed Dan out of the way and he could only reach out sometimes and hold my foot. I was not a fan of that situation.)

Once I had filled Dan in, I told him that I was freaking out. I knew that wasn’t going to help anything. So we decided to sing a song. We sang “Before the Throne of God Above” and then spent the rest of the drive praying some more. Suddenly we were at the hospital, but we couldn’t remember where to go! We made a couple of wrong turns and then Dan got me to the right drop off place. I told him to park the car and run in. I wanted to be dropped off, but I didn’t want to go in alone.

When he dropped me off, the security guard asked if she could help me. I stood there awkwardly for a moment trying to figure out what to say, “Uh…my water broke…and I’m only 28 weeks along…and I don’t remember where to go.” She grabbed a wheelchair and looked toward the parking lot. “Is he fast?”, she asked me. “Yes,” I assured her, “I told him to run”. Dan had caught up to us by the time we were at the elevator and he was soon holding my hand again. Apparently I like him to hold my hand non-stop during labor and delivery.

1:00 AM
At triage I had to fill out and sign a few forms. I was flustered, trying to get in as fast as possible. Dan, annoyed at the delay, asked if we could hurry things along. “She’s only 28 weeks!” The nurses assured us they were going as fast as they could. Over the next couple of hours Dan and I just wanted them to give me the shot of bethatmethatsone, which is a steroid that helps early baby’s lungs…if it has enough time to get into their system. We suspected, from Lydia’s birth, that they would not be able to stop labor, and that our time was extremely limited.

By this time contractions had started and I was battling the physical pain along with the emotional trauma of imagining the next few months of living in tbe NICU. After all of our hoping, praying, extra prenatal care, and precautions, Baby was still coming early in a scenario that was eerily similar to Lydia’s birth. I was devastated, but trying not to dwell on the next months as I knew I needed to be emotionally strong and mentally focused to make it through the next hours.

Soon I was in a triage room and the doctor had wheeled in an ultrasound machine. “She’s breech”. Another blow. On Friday she had been head down. I looked and Dan and told him, “She must have been flipping during my nap. That’s why it felt so strange.” That stinker. The doctor went on to poke and prod me in lots of unpleasant and painful ways. Dan was my hero, when she kept asking, “How are you doing?” I kept squeezing his hand and he answered for me, “She’s hurting a lot.” Finally the doctor got what she needed and made a rough estimate that I was dilated to 1 cm. Then I was wheeled into a labor and delivery room.

1:30 AM
By this point my contractions were about 3 minutes apart and were lasting about 45 seconds. I was able to focus on the clock or the cross on the wall and take deep breaths, and it wasn’t too bad. Occasionally a doctor or nurse would comment on how “stoic” I was, that they couldn’t tell how much pain I was in. We met two more nurses who started hooking me up to antibiotics and fluids through an IV. The antibiotics were to protect Baby in case labor had been triggered by an infection. Then they told me I would have to be on magnesium and they would be giving me the bethatmethatsone shot soon.

I have been dreading the bethatmethatsone shot since I got it with Lydia. When Dan saw the nurse preparing the shot, he told me he understood why. Apparently it is a very thick liquid which makes it hurt a lot as it enters the muscle. I was so nervous for the shot, I kept flinching and couldn’t relax. In the end it wasn’t quite as terrible as I had dreaded. It hurts, and it takes a while to inject it all, but I just lay on my side moaning into my pillow and soon enough it was over and I was just a little sore.

Then it was time for the magnesium. Magnesium, some suppose, may help stop labor. More than that, it protects Baby’s brain and decreases their risk of getting Cerebral Palsy. Magnesium. Everyone who mentioned it apologized and told me how terrible it is. It only took a few moments before I felt the effects. You suddenly get very hot. You feel like you’re in a fog and everything is slow and groggy. You start sweating like crazy and your body feels heavy. And while the nurses and your husband put cold wash cloths on your head you try to think clearly and ask how long the magnesium will last. Twelve to twenty-four hours. And on top of that, you’re still sore from the shot. You’re still having contractions which are getting more intense. And you’re still trying not to think about everything that’s in store for the next months with a preemie in the NICU. You’re devastated that this is happening again. And then the doctor comes in to tell you that you have to have a c-section.

Because Baby’s head would be so big in comparison to her tiny preemie body, there was a danger that the head would get stuck on the way out, and all of that trauma would go to her fragile neck. The doctor went on to explain the difference between a classical and transverse caesarean section. A classical c-section uses a vertical incision to get to Baby and is reserved for deliveries with complications or that need to be done very quickly. Many women are able to have natural vaginal deliveries after a c-section, but not after a classical c-section. Once you have a classical c-section, there’s no going back. No more natural deliveries. There’s too much risk of the incision reopening during delivery. The doctor explained that, because Baby was breach and so early, a natural delivery was not possible. And based on Baby’s specific position, it looked like we would need to do a classical c-section.

Dan asked if there was any other option, besides the classical c-section, but the doctor wasn’t optimistic. As I lay there with my contractions and my magnesium, and my disappointment that Baby was coming early, the doctor began to explain all of the risks of a c-section. I know she had to do that for legal reasons, but it was a bit ridiculous given the circumstances. When she finished talking I managed, through my haze, to inform her that Lydia’s labor was extremely fast. “If you’re going to do a c-section, I’m guessing you want to do it before it’s time for me to push baby out, right?” She agreed. Dan and I warned her that they better check me often, because with Lydia no one knew I was really in labor until it was time to push.

2:30 AM
The doctors gave me instructions to call them immediately if I felt pressure of if the contractions began to get more intense. Multiple times they urged me to tell them what I was feeling because I was so “stoic” that they couldn’t tell how much pain I was in. They asked if I wanted a NICU representative to come in and tell me what’s involved in having a 28 week old baby and I said “definitely not”. That was the last thing I needed to be thinking about right then. They had checked me and confirmed that I was only dilated to 1 cm, then left me to labor away.

Once they left, I lost it. I couldn’t stop crying. I kept thinking and telling Dan, “Some women just have to go through labor! I have to go through labor pinned to a bed with painful exams, shots, and magnesium, the devastation of failing to get to term, the dread of the coming months, the disappointment of having a to have a c-section even though Baby was head down a few days ago, and now the probability that I could never have a natural delivery again”. I think the nurses picked up on my wanting to be left alone, so they didn’t bother us much at that point. Over and over again throughout the labor, Dan had been helping me so much. This was another one of those moments. He began to sing to me “Jesus, all for Jesus” (one of our wedding songs and a family favorite) as he put wet wash cloths on my head. He assured me that things were going to be ok, that God was in control even over this, and that I was doing a good job. I still couldn’t stop crying, but was grateful for my wonderful husband.

I don’t know how long we were left alone. When the nurses came in and saw that I was crying they asked why, wondering if it was from the pain of the contractions. “Everything”, was all I could say. I was overwhelmed by it all.

3:00 AM
It wasn’t long before my contractions did start to feel more intense. I reluctantly called in the doctors and they decided to check me. Now I was dilated to 2 cm and they took some time to decide what to do. At this point, my doctor had showed up and was calling the shots. She said, while we could wait until I was dilated as far as 4 cm, it was getting risky because we didn’t want Baby to “fall out” and get stuck. We also didn’t want the c-section to be rushed. On the other hand, laboring longer gave time for the steroid and magnesium to work. It also gave time for labor to stop on its own (which we weren’t expecting). Our doctor decided to go ahead with the c-section and left to get things lined up.

3:30 AM
Things got busy as nurses began to prep me for the c-section, explain what would happen, and gave Dan clothes for the operating room. They told us we would have to be separated briefly but that Dan would be with me during the procedure. I asked Dan, “Aren’t we going to pray?” and he asked everybody if we could have a moment. They all politely stopped what they were doing and we took a moment to pray for Baby, me, and a safe delivery.

4:30 AM
I was wheeled into an operating room and separated briefly from Dan. As soon as I saw some metal instruments I got scared and thought I would be the random person for whom a spinal block wouldn’t work. They gave me a numbing shot (which did hurt) and then the spinal and I lay down on the operating table. Soon enough my legs felt warm, then tingly, then I couldn’t lift them. An anesthesiologist near my head kept asking what I was feeling to make sure the spinal was working. She told me I should be able to feel pressure, but not pain. Finally I confirmed that the spinal worked, even though I was bothered by how clearly I could feel what they were doing, just not the sharp pain associated with it.

Dan came in to join me and I realized that there was a glass cabinet to my side that allowed me to see what the doctors were doing behind the curtain they had put up to block my view. I told Dan not to look and then made sure not to look myself! The procedure was miserable. It’s one thing to breath and relax your way through contractions. It feels natural. Your body is doing what it was made to do. The pain of the c-section was completely different. No, I couldn’t feel sharp pain, but it felt like they were ripping out my insides. I groaned and moaned and cried my way through and the anesthesiologist by my head kept telling me I was doing great.

At 4:53 AM, our Baby was delivered. Dan got to see her before she was rushed to the NICU. He told me, “She’s purple, and I think she has hair.” As the doctors put my insides back in (or that’s what it felt like) a NICU doctor came to report that Baby was doing well. She weighed 2 pounds, 15 ounces and she was 15 ¾ inches long. She was crying and was able to breath without a ventilator, just a CPAP.

At some point as the doctors were finishing up, my doctor told me some good news. I had labored long enough to make some extra room for the surgery and they were able to do the transverse incision after all. No classical c-section! I breathed a silent prayer of thanks to God, because I had been praying over the past hour that He would make it possible to do the transverse incision.

Dan was ushered out of the operating room and a nurse asked me if I wanted to see my placenta. I said, “No thanks”, but she said, “I’m going to show you anyway”. As it turned out, Baby’s umbilical cord had been connected to the membrane, that is, the sack of “water” that broke. The nurse showed me the umbilical cord with all the blood vessels and then a big hole right next to it where my water broke. “You’re lucky,” she said, “Someone’s watching out for you!”. I learned later how serious it could have been if those blood vessels had disconnected when my water broke. Under those circumstances I would have been immediately put under and there would have been an emergency c-section. However, without that connection between me and Baby, both our lives would have been in serious danger and even the emergency c-section might not have been fast enough to save Baby or possibly me. (That’s my best understanding of the situation, at least) It was one of those moments, in the middle of a lot of bad, when God reminded me that He was taking care of everything after all.

Recovery was miserable. I received multiple different pain medications, including two doses of morphine and I was still squirming. Dan was loyally staying by my side, waiting to see Baby with me after recovery. However, he hadn’t slept in about 36 hours and was really struggling to stay awake. I was struggling not to be mad at him for being sleepy! Our “two hours” in recovery somehow turned in to four, but finally we got to go see Baby.

We spent a few minutes in the NICU looking at our new Baby, and by 10 AM we were back in the Mother/Baby unit (finally) alone. We were able to pray together and confirm Baby’s name: Abigail Faith. Then we made the phone calls to our parents telling them that Baby had come early.

And now little Abby is working her way through the NICU. We have a long road ahead of us, but are grateful for God’s hand in everything that has happened so far. He prepared us mentally and emotionally for Baby’s coming. He provided someone to watch Lydia and advice that sent us to the right hospital. He gave us peace during the car ride and a unity that lasted through the whole labor. He gave us a special moment together just before the c-section to worship and refocus on trusting Him. He allowed us to pray together before the surgery, and display to the nurses and doctors where we were placing our trust. He protected me and Abby when her water broke from severing the umbilical cord and putting us both in danger. He allowed me to labor just the right amount of time for the doctors to perform a transverse incision, opening the possibility for natural labors in the future. He gave us a baby who is feisty and strong, big for her age and amazing at breathing even though there probably wasn’t time for the steroid shot to really reach her. And He revealed the reason I have been having early babies (but I’ll post about that later).

God is good, and taking care of us. We are so grateful that, even during a labor completely different from anything we ever wanted, He was in control. While it was all happening, I was devastated, but looking back I only see His goodness and protection.

Introducting Abigail Faith

Posted on September 12, 2013 by justeeni

Here’s is my promised pregnancy shot from the past weekend. The picture on the left is me 28 weeks along with Lydia. The picture on the right is me at 28 weeks with Baby 2.

Here’s Lydia on her birthday, just 2 weeks and 6 days after that picture was taken.

And here is Baby 2 on her birthday, just 4 days after that second picture was taken.

Introducing Abigail Faith Taylor

Born: September 11, 2013 at 4:53 am

Weight: 2 pounds, 15 ounces

Length: 15.75 inches

Well, little Abby decided to come even earlier than her sister. While so much of this labor and delivery was not what we had prayed or hoped for, God’s handiwork was all over it. From the preparation of our hearts and minds leading up to labor, His provision for everything we needed, just before we needed it, answered prayers during labor and delivery, and Divine Protection, God was definitely in charge of this situation.

I plan to post the details of Abigail’s birth story later, along with updates on how she is doing. For now, Baby is doing very well (for her age) and Mommy is recovering well too. We are currently trying to figure out a plan for handling our Munchkin along with this new little one, as we expect to spend the next two or three weeks with Abby in the hospital NICU.

MI Taylor Family

We live in Michigan.

Tag Archives: birth