February 20, 2015
I remember feeling like I was living in a dream as I walked down the empty halls of the Utah Valley Regional Medical Center. My left hand felt warm and sweaty as it nervously clutched Ammon's hand in a tight grip. The other arm was loaded with my suitcase and pillow and a black polka-dotted diaper big that had been carefully packed just minutes before, filled to overflowing with the cutest, tiniest baby clothes, socks and hats. Ammon had laughed at my indecisiveness as I tried to pick out the perfect outfit. "He won't know what he is wearing, you know. He won't even notice what color his curtains are in his nursery that you've spent hours decorating!" But it mattered to me! I wanted everything to be perfect for the arrival of our sweet, new baby.
A baby? Could it actually be real? Yes the last 9 months of morning sickness, grapefruit cravings and a dwindling closet of clothes that actually fit over my growing tummy seemed very real. And so were the kicks and hiccups and twists and turns that I could feel stronger each day. But the idea of a baby, living and breathing outside of me, a tiny little person that would need me every minute of every day still seemed so unreal. I would sit in my mom's old rocking chair in Benjamin's new nursery staring at the little bassinet and try to imagine the little baby and the cries that I would soon hear from that little corner. I opened the dresser over and over again to fold and refold tiny baby clothes, trying to imagine the little hands and toes and arms and legs that would soon fill them. I tried to imagine what my little son would look like and smell like and feel like.
Benjamin was due on February 16th, President's Day. But that day came and went with no baby. I went to my scheduled doctor's appointment that morning and had a non-stress test to see if we should be concerned about the fact that my belly had not grown a single centimeter in the past 6 weeks. They listened to his heart and monitored each contraction. I loved staring at the screen and watching his heart rate spike each time I felt him kick or roll over. "100% perfect," they told me. "Nothing to worry about, he is just going to be a little guy."
So the waiting game continued. I worked all day the next day cleaning a neighbor's house, hoping a little overexertion would help get things moving. Nothing. I hiked/stumbled down a steep dirt hill with my crazy dog as he excitedly treed a raccoon. Nothing (except my mom laughing hysterically at the sight of her 9 month pregnant daughter on her hands and knees trying to scramble back up to the street). Finally Thursday came with another doctor's appointment. I crossed my fingers, hoping that those crazy efforts had done at least some good. When the doctor told me I was still only dilated to barely 1 cm I disappointedly waited for him to give me a pat on the shoulder and send me home. However, he surprised me instead by calling the hospital and scheduling an induction for later that evening. "It's time," he said. "He needs a little extra help deciding to come, but he's ready."
A flood of emotions hit me hard. My baby was coming! Probably that very night! I felt excited and scared and joyful and nervous. Who was this stranger that would suddenly be a part of our family forever? Were we ready? What was labor going to be like? Would I be strong enough? After dropping Ammon off at school I decided to spend the rest of the day with my sweet mom. She knew exactly how to calm my fears and distract me with her contagious cheerfulness. Before I knew it, I was sitting in my apartment, bags packed and ready to go, receiving a blessing from my wonderful husband and amazing dad. We excitedly hugged my parents goodbye and drove to the hospital, ready to begin the biggest adventure of our lives.
The first few hours in the hospital flew by. The nurses were great and made us feel relaxed and comfortable. It was around 9:00 pm when I received my first dose of cytotec, a drug that softens and ripens the cervix. They told me that I would receive a new dose every 3 hours until I was dilated to 3 cm and then they would begin giving me pitocin, the drug that really starts your labor with intense contractions. I was hopeful that everything would go quickly enough for Benjamin to be delivered before 6:00 am, because my favorite doctor, Dr. Woolsey, would be on-call until then. However, the cytotec didn't seem to do much. I felt light contractions, but nothing more than I had been feeling for the last couple of days at home. Ammon settled down on the couch next to my bed for the night while I tried to fall asleep- nearly impossible given the adrenaline pumping through my body, the IV, the heart monitor for the baby (that fell off every time I shifted my weight) the other cords strapped around my body, and the constant interruption of nurses coming in to ask how I was doing.
Each time the nurse came in to check my cervix I would be hopeful that they could finally start me on pitocin and get things going. But the cytotec didn't seem to be doing much at all! I was still barely dilated to 1 cm when they came in at midnight and then again at 3:00 am. I was starting to wonder if the baby was ever going to come, but then around 6:00 am, right before the nurses were due to come check on me again, things started feeling very different.
I was groaning in pain by the time I woke Ammon up to ask him to help me to the bathroom. That's where the nurses found me several minutes later when they finally came in to see why I had been unhooked from my many monitors for so long. My nurse tried to coax me back to bed, but I didn't want to budge. It felt like someone was hitting me in the stomach over and over again. Things got chaotic in the hospital room around then as the morning shift nurses arrived to replace the night shift nurses. About six nurses filled the little room, trying to figure out who would be replacing who, getting updates on various patients, and trying to figure out why the crazy pregnant girl who wouldn't get off the toilet seemed so distraught.
Finally things calmed down a bit and I met my two new nurses who convinced me that I could survive the 20 foot walk back to my bed. I curled up in pain in my bed and tried to remember everything I had ever heard in the hours of classes I had taken in preparation for this moment. Ammon seemed unsure of how to help me too, but just having him hold my hand was so comforting.
My nurse checked my cervix again, told me I was still a 1 cm, and asked me if I wanted an epidural. Boy did I want an epidural! But as much as I wanted an epidural, I wanted a c-section even less and I had been told that an early epidural often results in a prolonged labor and an increased chance of needing a c-section. So through clenched teeth I told her I would wait.
Instead my nurse gave me a dose of fentanyl, a narcotic that would lessen the pain of the contractions. I laid on my side in my bed, gripping the side rails and trying to breathe through each contraction. I remember shouting out in pain and in panic as I felt another contraction come and go. Close to tears, I started to wonder how I was going to surive the next who-knew-how-many hours of labor. At this point of exhaustion and despair, I remember Ammon coming to my side, holding my hands and telling me something that made all the difference. "Focus on the pain," he said. What? How could that even help? "Focus on the pain," he repeated, "and you will realize that it is not a part of you. It is real, and it is painful, but it is outside of you. You can survive any amount of pain if you make it a physical thing, not an emotional thing."
I only waited 30 minutes before I called my nurse back in to check on me. I was sure that I must have progressed during the last painful hour, so you can imagine my shock and disappointment when she told me I still hadn't dilated at all! "Still a 1...maybe a tight 2," she told me. Suddenly I felt like crying. I must be such a baby! I still hadn't even begun real labor and I was already feeling like I couldn't go on for much longer. "You really should have the epidural," my nurse told me again. "It can only help. Plus, the anesthesiologist is going into surgery soon and will be unavailable for the next hour and a half, so if you want it anytime soon you better get it now." Reluctantly, I accepted what I felt was defeat and asked for the anesthesiologist.
Poor guy! I hope they paid him extra for his efforts. I was writhing in pain and the panic in his voice didn't help me relax as he warned me not to move and begged the nurses to hold me still. I believe my nurse, Jaimee, was sent from heaven. She was exactly what I needed. She firmly held my hands and let me crush her fingers with each contraction. She was a calm and steady voice that I could concentrate on while drowning out the panic and confusion that filled the room. Finally, just as the epidural was going in I felt something burst and water gushing down my legs. My water had broken. Shocked, the nurses checked my cervix again. In less than an hour I had dilated to an 8 and the baby was already crowning!
Nurses ran in and out of the room, calling the doctor to come as quickly as he was out of surgery and preparing to deliver the baby in case he didn't make it. They told me that I was lucky to have gotten the epidural when I did, because if they had checked me and realized I was an 8 before giving me the epidural, they probably wouldn't have let me get one at all. And to say I was feeling lucky was an understatement. The epidural made a huge difference! I stopped even feeling the slightest contraction and I was actually able to enjoy the next few moments of anticipation as Ammon and I prepared to meet our baby boy. My mom arrived at the hospital just minutes before the big moment. I was so thankful to see her smiling face when walked through the door. I felt her love and strength fill me with calm assurance that everything would be okay.
Nothing could have prepared me for the flood of emotions that swept over me during the next few minutes. The nurses' excited shouts, though loud enough to fill the room, were immediately drowned out in my mind when I suddenly heard the quiet cry that I had been waiting for. I was a mother! I remember quickly looking to find Ammon's face, wanting to know what he was seeing since I couldn't see much for myself. The tender look in his smile and the happy tears in his eyes said it all. I had never seen that kind of love in his face before and I knew he was feeling the same thing that I was feeling.
My arms ached to hold Benjamin as I watched from the bed as they cleaned him and weighed him. 7 lbs 1 oz and 19 inches of perfection. And his cry! The cutest frailest cry that just filled my heart with love. When they finally placed him in my arms, I could not believe how natural it felt. His tiny eyes would slowly peek open and then squint in the bright light before squeezing shut again. His perfect soft lips opened and shut as he searched for food. His little fingers found my hands and closed tightly on my finger. He was perfect.
Ammon's mom arrived just minutes after Benjamin was born followed by my own wonderful daddy. He brought the biggest, prettiest bouquet of flowers that I had ever seen! Megan, Melissa and Justin missed school to come watch Benjamin's first bath through the glass windows of the nursery. When they pricked his heel with a needle to check for jaundice, I saw Megan's eyes widen. I completely understood what she was feeling. As Benjamin jerked his eyes open and let out a tiny, helpless wail, I just wanted to hold him and comfort him and never let him go.
When they wheeled me into my room, Benjamin held tight in my arms, I was surprised to see Megan lying in my bed! I guess her sensitive heart couldn't handle seeing the tiny innocent baby get pricked and she came really close to fainting! They told me that a nurse had grabbed a wheelchair for her when they saw her pale face and gave her some crackers to snack on. I'm sure most of the nurses thought she was the new mother as they wheeled her to my room to wait for the rest of the family! Haha!
The 48 hours that we spent in the hospital after Benjamin was born were the happiest of my entire life up to that point. It was wonderful to receive visits from so many wonderful family and friends. Nurses waited on us hand and foot and brought delicious food every couple of hours. But my very favorite memories were the quiet moments when Ammon and Benjamin and I were left alone in our little hospital room. We were finally a family, and as we snuggled and loved and admired our new little baby, I felt indescribable joy. Everything was new, and everything was exciting. From changing diapers, to figuring out breastfeeding, to dressing Benjamin in his first outfit, everything was magical. I loved watching Ammon step into the role of being a father. As much as I loved Ammon before, watching him love and hold and talk to our little son filled me with an even deeper love for him than I had felt before.
The hardest part of the hospital was the first night when they took Benjamin from me to spend the night in the nursery, so we could finally get some sleep. Ammon was so tired that he konked out on the couch on the other side of the room almost immediately. But as I laid in my bed, trying to fall asleep, all I could think about was how alone I felt! I didn't realize why I felt so lonely and empty inside, until it finally hit me. Everything was quiet and still. I couldn't feel a thing. No kicks, no rolls, no hiccups, no elbows jabbing me in the ribs. After 9 months of having a little friend accompanying me everywhere I went, suddenly he was gone. And I missed him terribly! I finally fell asleep, but I was so happy when I heard a tiny cry just two hours later as the nurses brought Benajmin to be fed. I decided that the next night he would be staying with us, even if it meant we wouldn't get much sleep.
And suddenly, that magical weekend in the hospital was over and we were buckling Benjamin into his carseat for the short drive home. He looked like a tiny doll, barely big enough to peek over the buckle in his carrier. When we walked up to our Wymount apartment and opened the door, I felt something different than I ever had before in our cozy home. It felt complete. As if an emptiness that we hadn't even realized had been there before had suddenly been filled. We were a family! And like my Grandma Allen likes to remind me, our lives and hearts had been changed forever.
