ASHER'S BIRTH STORY

Another Manic Monday has come and almost gone.  Mondays either tend to go terribly wrong, or unbelievably smooth.  Today was not only smooth, but I got so much done on top of all the normal stuff involving caring for a FULL HOUSE of kids. Now everything is put back in its place.  The kitchen cleaned, the floors are scrubbed, and everyone is sleeping while Dave is out at small group, and I type away in a cozy and nicely lit corner of the house.  Ahhhh....Quiet.

And Alas, I have come to tackle to telling of Asher’s birth story.  He is 4 months old! Can I believe it?  He is such a sweet little guy and we all enjoy him so very much.  In fact, Dave and I fight over holding him most days during the dinner hour and tea time.  Well...not so much fight, but the saying is, “Oh here, hunny, let me take him for you!”  And then one of us reaches and grabs the baby from the other. We aren’t doing a noble thing, but selfishly just want the baby.  We are learning more about him each day and notice a real LOVE for music, a very tactile nature, and a more introverted nature.  He is so calm and chill with his little family unit, but doesn’t like strangers so much, extra noise, and has started playing strange.  When he wakes up from his naps, or in the middle of the night, he tends to just talk to himself for a while and enjoy the down and quiet time.  He has a horrible time with eczema these days, and we are trying a few new strategies this week.  If it doesn’t improve quite a bit, I will go off dairy since it is a common trigger according to several people.  I do love my cream, cheese, butter, and milk.  But if you could see what he does to his little face, waking up in bloody scabs from all the scratching, you could cut out a food love too!   Everyone who sees him says stuff like, “What’s wrong with his face?”  “ What’s up with the cheeks?” etc etc...  I’m just tired of explaining he is teething on top of dry skin, on top of eczema, on top of scratching himself until he is bleeding.  I know it is just a skin rash, and there could be much more difficult conditions to have to explain, but it’s been hard for me, all the same.  Just an honest thought.

Anyways, back to September 28^th when Asher entered the world.   Anyone following my blog may remember a few frazzled posts about going crazy waiting for his arrival.  And I was!  It was worse than just feeling done and curious about when he would come.   I was just an emotional mess, really, incapable of so many things and feeling like a stranger to myself.  After a couple of weeks with several false-labor start ups, I was really worried I would not recognize the signs that I really was in labor and get myself to the hospital in time.

Well, labor started on Saturday night around 8:00.  I was sitting on the couch talking with Dave.  Probably after crying my eyes out about the fact I hadn’t had ANY motion in the ocean all weekend, and had been trying everything under the sun for a couple of weeks.   I really wanted to have the baby on a weekend when Dave was home, as it was one less thing to arrange.  He was being a great husband and gave me a stellar foot rub while listening to my repeated woes.   As he was wrapping up and told me he needed to start marking, on his last foot squeeze, I had the biggest contraction out of the blue that had me holler and bolt upright from my comfy brown leather couch in the living room.  Dave and I laughed, and then resumed as normal, because these intense contractions out of nowhere were a pretty normal thing.  Dave started marking, and I paced around the house wondering if I should go bounce on a ball or something.  Anyways, I resigned just to sit on my butt and do nothing.  But, about 10 minutes later, another substantial one came.  And then again another 10 minutes later.   It was kind of déjà-vue like, as I remember doing early labor at home with both Robyn and Janna while Dave was marking at the table.   I made some lame comment about the marking bringing on our kids, and continued to time them.  They were every 10 minutes, but not getting closer together.

I decided to go to bed. Not get my hopes up.  Well, my contractions kept up ALL NIGHT long every 10 minutes.  They were too painful to sleep through, and I was having terrible back labor.  I would just kind of catch my breath, and then just about doze back off, and then BAM, be awoken be another.  I remember just TRYING to get some sleep, but just watching the clock at each peak of contraction. 

10:12. 10:22. 10:32. 10:42. 10:52.

 Dave climbed into bed pretty late that night.  I debated telling him, but wasn’t sure if it was the real deal, and didn’t want him to be too excited to sleep, so just tried to lay still, keep quiet, and let him rest up.  We were gonna have a baby soon!  I remember finally falling asleep for about 45 minutes around 5 am. 

At 5:45, I debated getting up for the day.  The contractions were still going, and I wanted to get moving, but I felt like as soon as I got out of bed, things would progress, and I wanted to give Dave as much sleep as possible.  So, I waited until close to 6:30, and woke him up.  I said something like, “ Dave.  I’ve been up all night having contractions 10 minutes apart.  I feel like as soon as I get out of bed, things are going to get going. Get up. Get a shower.  Caffeinate yourself.  I think we’re gonna have a baby today!”

Dave was like, “ OK! Let’s do it.  And he got himself all ready.  Sure enough, as soon as I stepped foot out of my bed, the back labor got worse, and the contractions moved closer together.  I showered, and Dave got the kids up and eating breakfast, and I came downstairs and we started timing them.   They were not super consistent, but anywhere between five and ten minutes apart.  I still wasn’t feeling like they were productive feeling enough.  I could still breathe and talk through them.  I sent an email to my friend.

Hey Mary
I was just wondering what service you and john are going to today and if your day is filled up or you are going to be around much ?  I have been up all night with contractions 10 minutes apart, mild but steady since 8pm last night.

My on call person for the day lives about 45 minutes away, so in the event things pick up ,  I'm just wondering if you might be able to swing over for an hour or so before she would get here?

Honestly, today better be the day!!! But I  am not holding my breath.

C

SO, my friend wrote back and offered to come watch the kids so I could go for a walk with Dave to try and get things rolling.  She came over to hang out with the kids, and Dave and I started doing a little loop around our crescent. I think this was around 9 or 10 am.  With walking, they became 2-3 minutes apart, but not quite long enough or intense enough.  I didn’t want to go to the hospital prematurely.  I was also SO tired from being up all night that after an hour or so, called it quits to come inside and rest.  Dave put on a movie to watch with the kids.  Mary and I drank tea and kicked our feet up and talked.  About 45 minutes later, the contractions brought about a deeper sensation, and I knew FOR SURE the baby was coming today.  We called our friend from out of town who has agreed to watch the kids for the whole day if needed.  I told her not to rush, that we were going to feed the kids lunch and get them down for naps before heading into the hospital. 

Wendy arrived around 2:00.  She is a doctor, and was so excited!  In between showing her a couple of things in the house regarding the kids, I would have to pause and bend over and breathe to get through a contraction. She would be like beaming, patting me on the back and saying, “ Oh ya! That’s good.  Yep.  Baby is on the way.”  So chill.   We hopped in the van, and got to the hospital around 2ish.  I had really bad contractions the drive in.  Something about the sitting position in the seat just killed my back!  By the time we got parked, and into the labor and delivery section, and into an assessment room, I was sure I was 4 or 5 cm dilated and the baby would be on it’s way before supper. 

Well, the assessment nurse, was a lovely lady.  I think since it was my 4^th baby she thought I’d be like 9 cm or something. And we were both surprised to find out I was only 3 cm dilated.  She actually didn’t seem too convinced that I was even IN labor.  I had NO idea why I hadn’t progressed in this area, but was certain I was in labor.  She gave me a chat about maybe going home and resting there, because I might not even be in labor, or it could just be a long ways off.  I was devastated!  To have everyone rearrange their lives, and the kids all settled in with a sitter, and my bag packed, I was ready to HAVE THIS BABY!    I politely nodded choking back the tears, and she offered me the chance to go and walk a couple of hours.  If I was really in labor, that would certainly speed things up.  I took a deep breath, said OK, and that I would be back.

So, Dave and I returned to the long halls on the main floor of the hospital to walk.  We had done this for a couple of hours with Janna in the middle of the night when nobody was there.  But, it was a Sunday afternoon and there were oodles of visitors in this corridor surrounded by gift shops, coffee shops, sitting place, and ATMs.  We were told to time the length of each contraction and that they really should be at least a minute long.  So I paced and Dave timed.  The first hour was ok.  I could keep my moans and focus to a minimal amount.  But I hated feeling like I was laboring in the middle of the world.  Women would walk by and give me a sympatheic nod.  Men would look at me terrified and then straight ahead. 

The second hour was bad!  I could not keep focused, or my laboring noises in.  Hospital staff would pop by and ask if I needed a wheelchair or directions to the laboring unit.  People would whip around wondering what the heck those terrible noises were,   It was funny because Dave was using his Ipod to time my contractions, which looks like a phone.  So, here i am walking for a while, and then a contraction hits. I would double over, pant, sway, grunt, breathe breathe breathe....and he would pull out his phone.   This one little old lady was walking by with her daughter I would guess, and she loudly exclaimed, “ That poor girl is having a baby- and HE is ON His PHONE!!!”   

It was my roughest early labor by far.  Probably being up all night long was not helpful, but I was having terrible back pains, and could not get in ANY position that felt comfortable.  With the other kids, Dave would do counter pressure and I would sort of hang forward, and that always seemed to help me get through it... but my back was way too painful to be touched, and I just couldn’t find a position that I could breathe through well.   I just wanted to be admitted to a nice cosy room.  Have a hot bath, and labour in peace, not in front of hundreds of strangers passing by.   Anyways, the 2 hours of death passed by.  My contractions were mostly a couple of minutes apart, and a minute in length.  I knew I must be about 5 or 6 cm and couldn't wait to get settled into a nice warm and dim room with just Dave and a nice nurse on hand to catch this baby!

So, I got back into the assessment room, and between moans and wails, had another assessment.  I was told  I was still only 3 cm dilated!

WHAT?!?! THE?!?!?! SHEOL?!?!

The nurse continued on with this little speel about going home blah blah blah.  I burst into ugly sobbing crying.  “ I don’t know WHY my cervix is not doing what it is supposed to do! But I KNOW I am in labor.  You can’t send me home.  I’m terrified my water will break in the car.  And when my water breaks, my babies COME!  Like, the last one almost fell on her head onto the floor it was that quick. “  I put out all my fears and stress and just prayed they would believe me and admit me to a room.  I felt like if I could just go into that nice quiet private room, my cervix would catch up with this whole labor thing, and the baby would come along.

The nurse (not my favorite I’ve ever had) told me that it was against policy to admit anyone unless they were 4 cm dilated, and they could give me some meds and send me home, OR I could have some drugs and walk some more.  I told her I would walk some more. WITHOUT DRUGS.  But that I hated laboring in front of  a whole bunch of people and that I just wanted to be admitted.

I left.  I cried.  Dave and I decided to try walking around the outside, as a friendly resident had suggested.  It was a beautiful and sunny and mild September day.  I did not want to stray far from the hospital doors since I really, honestly, felt, like I was 100 cm dilated, bulging, and ready to blow.  So, we tried walking around this one little building that had some picnic tables, and things.  It was terrible.  There were still plenty of people watching my labor show.  I was on the ground groaning and thrashing during the worst ones, and just sitting still crying and praying through the more mild ones.  I’m not a big ranting “rights” type of person.  But I felt inhuman.  I felt like I was not being given the proper space and care to bring a life into the world.  I had only had good hospital experiences until this point.  But I was really upset. 

Finally, I was too tired to walk anymore.  I’d already walked over 5 hours that day on no sleep and an already bad back.  We went back into the hospital, and I just sat on a stiff uncomfortable bench breathing deeply, but staying frozen during contractions.  I started trying all those funny phrases they’d mentioned in prenatal classes 5 year earlier with Jesse.  “ My cervix is a beautiful blooming flower....”  “ My baby is gracefully descending down a spacious and perfect slide....” I was thinking these things while moaning horrifically.  We did this for a while.  I felt bad for Dave.  He couldn’t help.  I was happy he was there.  But, that’s all he could really do.

Finally the 2 MORE hours of dreaded agony passed, and I went back to the assessment room.  I broke into tears AGAIN this time around.  But, it was because they said I was 5 cm dilated and could get into a room.  What would I like for pain management?  What was my labor plan?  What was I open and closed to?

This was kind of tricky for me, because I hadn’t even decided myself.  Having done both the very medicated and the totally natural labor,  I liked some things about the one, and other things about the other.  I just hadn’t really decided.  I ended up telling them I would like to do much of the process naturally, but I was not opposed to drugs, and if I felt like it got to be too much, I would ask for them.  But what I really wanted was to have a hot bath pronto!  That REALLY helped me with Robyn’s labor, and my back was just so sore I thought it was going to die on me.  I wanted off my feet, and into a hot bath.

So, I got into my room around 8pm, and  labor went double nuts.  It’s like my body needed that safe feeling place for me, and as soon as I got in there, it went into overdrive.  I got into the tub somehow.  But could still not get relief for my back.  About 2 minutes later I wanted out.  I wanted out, and I wanted an epidural. NOW! I pictured my smiling friend Tamara shouting at me, “DON’T BE A HERO.  JUST GET THE DRUGS!”  I felt like the baby was going to come VERY SOON, and I didn’t feel good in the tub, and I felt so restless and upset, and I wanted a bit of relief and rest before pushing and welcoming our baby into the world.

I haven’t ever seen Dave so happy.  He got a new light in his eyes, and whipped me out of the tub and onto our way for a bit of relief.  By this point, my contractions were really intense, and I was 9 cm dilated and bulging membranes.  The nurse was frantically getting me ready for the epidural, because we both knew as soon as my water broke it was game over for the epidural.  She called up MR. Anesthetic and got me all prepped. 

I really liked my nurse.  As soon as the anesthesiologist came in and was trying to ask me questions and all this, she was just trying to get this done for me.  “ She is5 foot 8, allergies penicillin...”  and rattled off a bazillion things while getting me into the dreaded C position for the needle.

I was having terrible contractions at this point, and wailing a lot while trying to hold still with a pillow stuffed in my face.  And here comes the worst part.   Mr. Dr. Epidual has a resident with him.  And guess who gets to give me the injection?  The student.  So, I’m sitting here as still as possible while they clean and prep and tape and load things up.  They have to put in this tube thing.  Don’t move they say! You could end up paralyzing yourself.  So, I’m so still.  And I feel a burning needle poking around  my spine.  And I hear the resident whispering to the doctor, “ I feel...crunching...bone crunching..”  And I hear the doctor say, “ Well, yes, you are looking for the space...you shouldn’t feel crunching....let’s retract that.....in 5 mm and 4 mm and 3 mm”

So, now, If I was training somebody, I would probably give them a go, but if they failed, maybe take over.  Nope.  Resident boy gets another try.  And this time I hear him say, “ Ugh...Crunching again”  And then he whispers to me, 

“ Ummm.  Can you tell me? Does that feel like it’s more to the left or right of your spine?”

Oh my gosh! I just about freaked.  I answered, “the left?!”  and looked into my nurses sweet brown eyes who was looking terrible sympathetic and then shot some death glares at the doctor who was supervising Mr. student. So, he got ANOTHER try and after another “retraction” the doctor had to take over and do it all himself. Anyways, the doc got in my room at 9:15, and it was about 10:00 that the freezing kicked in.  The doctor asked me permission to give an extra drug on top of the normal to get things moving quicker.  I think he felt really bad about how long it took.  Especially with all the noise I was making- followed by the thrashing around after the needle was in and I could move.

But then.  It was really wonderful for the next 10 minutes or so.  The pain went away.  I looked into Dave’s eyes and smiled at him.  I rested.  I got warm and cozy in bed.  We talked about how excited we were to meet our little baby, and wondered if it was going to be a girl or boy.  The doctor came in to check on me.  I was 10 cm.   She was great.  She had 4 kids of her own and did some of her training in Moncton New Brunswick. My water still hadn’t broken but was on the brink.  She left, and I suddenly felt really sick.  Like I was going to puke.  My eyes hurt.  The nurse dimmed the lights and told me to rest, I was probably tired.  She left the room, and all of a sudden my water broke!  I told Dave, he called the nurse.  The nurse returned.  Baby was coming!

All the nurses and doctor were really excited to see if it was a boy or girl.  There were 5 or 6 of them in the room as I was pushing, and they all were guessing a girl.  I stuck to my original instinct that it was going to be a boy.  The epidural was really nice.  I was able to inch out the baby slowly without any tears or pain.  The baby had a big head!  Everyone was so giddy around me in their calm and professional manner.  I will never forget it.  The final push, and squirm, and  Dave looking down and saying, “ Ohhhhh!!!!! It’s a BOY!!!!!”  I have never felt a more fuller smile, or a fuller heart.  I thought I would explode with happiness at that point. Asher game right up to me, and snuggled on my chest for a full hour.  Totally content and happy.   I never had that moment with the other kids.  With Jesse, I wasn’t sure what I felt about it, and had him cleaned up.  With Janna, she was so tiny amd had a cord all around her neck, they wanted to check her right away.  With Robyn I tried, but she ended up pooping terribly everywhere and was swimming in it.  But Asher, just snuggled right in, and I know I will never forget those moments with him, and Dave right by my side looking at him teary eyed.

All the stares, and back pain.  All the walking in the world.  I would do it again in a second for Asher. It made it all worth it.  My nurse let us linger and snuggle and feed for a few hours before transferring to our post baby room.  As she got us settled in with a new nurse, she told us that she had 2 kids, but her dream was 4.  That 4 hadn’t been able to happen for her, and that she had called dibs on the girl having her 4^th baby.  That we were a lovely couple, and how great to have 2 boys and 2 girls.  And I really felt like God was just smiling on me. That he was handing me this little gift, with a wink and a big hug.  And I felt so FULL.  So LOVED.  So amazed in those moments. 

And that is the story of Asher Robert Kevin Vance.  My hardest pregnancy.  My hardest labor.  Worth every struggle.  I will conclude with a poem I wrote for the person who guessed my due date correctly.  Natasha Tisdale guessed the due date of Asher correctly.  It’s funny because her mom, Janice, guessed Robyn’s due date correctly, and I wrote a poem for her last time.  But, I get to write a wee word about a great friend I grew up cheerleading with.  We were on the same team for 6 years, spent thousands of hours together over the years, and her mom was a great cheer coach and friend, too.  Thanks for reading . I’m out!   

Tash oh Tash,

An old friend, a cheer pal

My co-captain, confidant,

A sister, what a gal!

Six years on the same team

From the gym, to the the floor,

Basing, flying, front and back spotting

I think she did all four.

More than cheering together

Certainly, hundreds of hours each year,

I cherish the sleepovers, Twister, and gestures

And your fantastic family-so so dear,

Don’t get me started on Jan and her spray nine

Her starch and her cookies and smile

What a coach, what a mom and friend

Always going that “extra mile”

Well you take after her in so many ways,

Always ready to giggle,  tease, or laugh

And so deep and devoted, loyal and fierce

Committed to each of your tasks.

In high school you worked so hard

At friendships, family, and all subjects including Math.

 So smart and dedicated that after those years

You achieved An CMA, oh- what a tough path!

I must say, I always loved your writing

So bubbly, but also so neat,

Many folded up notes to “my eyes only”

The content so encouraging and upbeat

And even after HHS

I continue to receive these gifts.

A positive word and facemask in the mail,

The spirit she uplifts!

Now I must not forget to mention Robert,

We met him as they started dating at fourteen

Her high school sweetie she married.

A wonderful couple thought up in dreams.

She’s now a mom like me,

Two beauties she mothers each day

How lucky they really are

To have her guiding their way.

Even though time and space prevent us from hanging out

I enjoy keeping up over facebook and such

You were a big part of my growing up

So thank-you for who you are - Love you so much!