From the night I came home from the hospital with my first child, I knew that I wanted to give birth to a second child,
and that if God would grant us this desire, that I would be so grateful. The
“second time around,” however, was unlike my first experience in almost every
way, and definitely not entirely what I imagined when we set out to make our Heeter
family of 4.
With Brinkley, our first, everything seemed God-ordained.
God spoke to us clearly, telling us to have a baby, so we stopped preventing
pregnancy. God allowed us to get pregnant that very first time. We were in such
a strong faith season and He continued to build our faith during the pregnancy
and the delivery.
(To read How God Gave Us Brinkley, truly part 1 of this
story, click here)
Fast-forward a couple of years. In the time between having
Brinkley and getting pregnant with Milo, I became a doula. I learned so much
about pregnancy, labor, birth, breastfeeding, newborns, postpartum…etc. I felt
way more “prepared” and definitely more educated than the first time around.
This field had become a passion of mine. I had attended roughly 30 births since
the birth of my daughter and felt very “ready” for time number two. This time,
however, it was me who was planning my pregnancy and birth. A second pregnancy
was something that Chris and I had discussed, wanted, planned, and were ready
for. We weren’t questioning whether or not it was God’s will. The bible says to
be fruitful and multiply and that children are a blessing from God. We were
just ready this time without God having to convince us it was time like He had
to with Brinkley, and we knew that God would be giving us his “ok” whenever we
got pregnant.
I guess I expected we would conceive on our first time
together again. But we didn’t. I guess when that is your only experience, it’s
easy to expect that, but in reality, it usually takes longer. So even though it
“felt” a lot longer, it really wasn’t. I was just so caught up in my emotions
and wanting to be pregnant that getting my period was so disappointing. But,
after a few months, we had the pleasure and blessing of reading that positive pregnancy
test again! It was such a different feeling than last time. With Brinkley I was in
shock, not realizing it could “work” that fast. I was overwhelmed and didn’t
know what to say. I sat in a corner with my hands over my mouth. But with Milo,
I jumped up and down with excitement. I let out praises and sounds of joy and
hugged both Chris and Brinkley over and over again. We immediately went out to
celebrate, and we had so much fun telling our friends and family over the
course of the next month or so.
(Milo in the belly!)
With Brinkley, I knew practically nothing, but I also didn’t care to really educate myself. I was pregnant in America, so I ate whatever I wanted to,
“rested” as much as I wanted to (I didn’t have any other children to care for
yet), and figured that when the time came, I would go to the hospital, get my
epidural, and have a doctor deliver my baby (vaginally). And fortunately for
me, that’s exactly what happened. Knowing what I had learned since that
experience, however, I wanted to do things differently this time around. I
wanted to take care of my body and my baby. I was going to be eating whole
foods, less processed and sugary items, and more leafy greens and proteins.
Less Diet Coke and coffee, and instead tons and tons of water. Less laying
around, and more walking and pre-natal workouts and stretches. I would be
praying over every step of the process and ultimately praying circles and
circles around the labor, delivery and health of my child. I read a book called
“Supernatural Childbirth” and it was very inspirational. I read the prayers and
declarations over myself and my baby daily. I worked on the perfect worship playlist
that I wanted to have during labor. I was focused on every detail and doing my
best this time. I was giving my baby my all. I was praying out pain and
discomforts of all kinds in the name of Jesus and trusting Him to help me to
have a safe and enjoyable pregnancy, labor, and delivery.
This time I was planning a natural birth, at home. After
spending an entire pregnancy watching almost everything I put into my body, I didn’t
want to risk taking any sort of pain medicine that could negatively affect my
baby right before I met my baby. I also didn’t want to risk being pressured/forced to
have an unnecessary induction if my baby wasn’t ready to come out by 41 weeks. I
felt God had told me that He wanted me to have my second baby naturally and to
rely on Him (and His timing) to help me through it. I wanted to have my baby as
Mary had Jesus and as the majority of women have given birth since the
beginning of time-not in a hospital hooked up to a hundred machines, surrounded
by strangers and florescent lighting (like my first time). I didn’t want to have a medical
procedure, I wanted to have my baby. After the love I felt for Brinkley when
she was born, I didn’t want to risk even the smallest thing going wrong with an
unnecessary intervention during the labor, so I would go without them, for the
sake of my baby. I didn’t want to fret over an “overdue” pregnancy, concerned
the doctors might push to induce earlier than absolutely necessary, I wanted to
go into labor on my own when my body and baby were ready. I didn’t want to have
to worry about when to leave my house to have my baby, I just wanted to have my
baby in my home, in my living room, actually. And after having attended several
water births, I also wanted to have my baby in the water. Those births were so
special and the mothers seemed at such peace in the water, as did their babies
when they were born. I wanted my support team in the room with me, my
doulas/friends/family. I wanted Brinkley and my mother to be there for the big
moment if the timing was right. I had this picture in my head, this vision that
I longed for. And part of that vision included giving birth to my second baby
girl. I really, really thought (ok, wanted) it would be a girl. I relate all of
this to a wedding planner who finally gets to be married. She’s attended and
helped plan tons and tons of weddings, and now it’s her turn. The day she got
engaged is the day I got pregnant. And the day of her wedding is the day of my
delivery. That’s what it felt like for me. I was a birth planner and now it was
my turn to give birth (again), having learned so much from my training, my first
experience, and everyone else’s. It was my dream birth! (Let me reiterate the
word my there. I realize this is not
everyone’s dream birth, nor do I think it should be, this was just the way I
felt I wanted things to go, and I
realize and respect and love that plenty of other mothers feel differently than
myself for a variety of reasons, just like I wanted/had a different birth than this my first time around!)
Well. God tells us His ways are above our ways for a reason,
right? We make plans and He laughs, right?
First of all, I was very very ill. My plan of eating right
and exercising only lasted two weeks before I was overly nauseas and vomiting
all day everyday. It was miserable. A lot of people lose weight when that
happens to them, but I gained weight because the ONLY food in the world that I
could stomach without gagging was french fries. And when you eat those for
weeks on end you gain 10 pounds fast. My puking became comical to my daughter.
She would mimic me in the mornings as I would walk into the kitchen to get her
breakfast, immediately need to puke (because being in the kitchen made me
puke), and I would throw open the back door and just hurl. She started
pretending like she was barfing too. We even have it on video. The smell of cat
litter also set me off instantly. Our cat ended up being re-housed with my
in-laws because even walking past the room where the box was made me puke
instantly (and primarily on the floor of the garage because it was the closest
place at the time). My poor husband had to clean up a lot of puke. I could go
on and on and on about all of the things that made me puke and how often and
what not, but let’s just say I was a nauseas, exhausted, puking machine until
about 16 weeks pregnant when it finally started to subside. I would still get
sick and nauseas a lot, but around week 16, life finally became somewhat
bearable and I started to believe that I would one day feel good again. I still
continued to pray daily for Jesus to take away my sickness, but I didn’t
understand why He didn’t for so long.
Next came a HUGE disappointment. We found out I would not be
able to have a homebirth due to insurance/financial complications. We simply
wouldn’t be able to afford it and I was devastated. I was in mourning over
losing the biggest aspect of my dream birth.
Two
days later, we found out we were having a boy, another big shock to my system. Obviously
I am head over heels in love with Milo. Now. But finding out that I would not
deliver at home, and that I would not be having a girl, in the emotionally
pregnant state that I was in, I lost it. I cried for days and days.
(Our Gender/Name Reveal Announcement)
Soon after all of this I found out I would not have my
initial birth team of doulas/friends there either. Long story short here, my
dream birth was slipping out of my hands faster than I could handle. I also
found out that my mom would be leaving town for a few weeks right before my due
date (it didn’t actually end up happening thankfully but I wouldn’t know that
until later). Another disappointment. Brinkley arrived early, and since this
was a second baby, there was a better chance that he would arrive early as
well, if not earlier than she did. It just gave me such uneasiness as we inched
closer and closer to my due date and I now needed a back up plan for who would
watch Brinkley when it was time to have Milo. The mama bear in me needed to
know that my first cub was being well taken care of so that I could labor
freely and without distraction or worry for my second cub. With all of these
“changes” I felt like I had pre-partum depression (I made that term up). My
circumstances were obviously not in my control and I wasn’t doing well with
that.
I still continued to seek God every morning. For an entire
hour each morning I felt like I was pleading with Him. God, why is this
happening? Why is everything changing? I feel like Chris is the only human
being I can count on. Why? Why? Why? In hindsight this may have been overly
dramatic, but in the hormonal, physical, and emotional thick of it, it was all
I could focus on. I tried to count my blessings, I tried to focus on the
positives, but it was getting harder and harder. I was starting to lose faith.
I
reached the last month of the pregnancy, and if you saw me, you know that I was
in fact, HUGE (for me)-MUCH bigger than I ever got with Brinkley (but that
doesn’t mean you should have ever TOLD me that…that doesn’t make a pregnant
girl feel good, EVER!).
(Two months to go!)
This did not make sense to me. I ate WAY better and
exercised WAY more than I ever did with Brinkley, and yet, my belly was bigger
than ever. I did not have gestational diabetes (they checked!) so why was I so
big? Those lovely stretch marks that I managed to dodge with my first
pregnancy? They were EVERYWHERE! It was quite the unsettling sight for me. I
was so uncomfortable. The heartburn, the varicose veins, the leg cramps, the
swelling (I had Brinks in the winter, but it was still 80 degrees in October
here), the peeing Every. Single. Hour. All. Night. Long. (And all day long). The
pure act of getting up and down. The back pain. Everything. Anything you could
feel at the end of a pregnancy, I felt it. I was in such discomfort and so
exhausted that I wanted to be done being pregnant. I swore I wouldn’t say that
my second time around because I KNEW he would come eventually and in God’s
perfect timing, but it just became unbearable. Brinkley was not making things
any easier on me, taking advantage of the fact that she knew I could no longer
chase and catch her or get her to do much of anything that I needed or wanted
her to. I gave up on a lot of things near the very end.
Week 38 came, and then it went. In my heart of hearts I
expected him to come sometime that week, only because Brinks came during week
39, and with how big I was and the fact that he was a second baby, I figured
week 38 was the magic week (secretly). I was wrong. I was also wrong about week
39. But week 39 started to get really mean. It started with endless
contractions that would come and go, just enough to get me excited, and then
disappoint me. Then came week 40. On my due date, October 29th, I
went to a wedding and everyone figured I would dance the baby out that night (I
tried….more contractions, but alas, no baby).
(Due Date picture-40 weeks on the dot!)
Then came week 41. The. Longest. Week. Ever. Now I was
getting more mad than sad. I didn’t understand. God-I’ve done all of the
things. I’ve eaten well (post nauseas stage), had lots and LOTS of water, kept
moving, saw the chiropractor weekly, did the Miles Circuit countless times,
went walking most mornings at 6am, ball bouncing, did my pelvic exercises, all to
no avail. I swore I would do nothing but have sex to help bring on that baby (a
natural induction if you will), but during week 41 my vulnerability hit and I
got desperate. I started doing nipple stimulation, acupressure, I even took
black and blue cohosh (all with approval by my midwives). The only thing I did
not try was castor oil. Ick. No. I would rather not be stomach cramping, and
uterus cramping, and pooping, all for nothing. And let’s be honest, with my gag
reflexes, I would have thrown it up before it ever made it down. All of these
failed attempts brought on temporary contractions but nothing that lasted. Despite
how far along the pregnancy was, he simply wasn’t ready yet.
It was now Thursday and I would be 42 weeks on Saturday. Chris
chose to start his paternity leave on this day because he no longer wanted me
to have to handle Brinkley alone all day with the physical and emotional state
that I was in. Thank goodness! We were on our way to Statesville (I had chosen
the Natural Beginnings Birth Center in Statesville to deliver as a second
choice to home) for yet another appointment to do a non stress test
(NST-monitors the baby’s heart rate, movement and contractions). I had already
been there earlier that week for one, and I had them sweep my membranes (another
“natural” induction method. OUCH. Again, I was desperate) but it didn’t put me
into labor. So here I was, making the trip out to Statesville for what I hoped
would be the last time before my labor.
On my way there, Chris and I were riding along and listening
to worship music and I finally…gave up. For weeks I’d been pleading with God
every morning for an hour (and pretty much all day long) to bring Milo to us.
I’d been questioning, begging, and nearly demanding God to do what I wanted Him
to do. But on this particular ride to the birthing center, I gave up. I
surrendered. I finally said FINE. DO WHAT YOU WANT TO. And it was…freeing. Why
didn’t I do this earlier? (oh yeah…because of the physical miserable-ness). But
still, it felt good to finally ACTUALLY give this over to God. Did I understand
why He wasn’t answering my prayers? No. But this takes me back to one of my
go-to scriptures I have to visit time and time again. Proverbs 3:5-6, Trust in the Lord with all your heart and
lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He
will make your paths straight. That’s what I had to lean on now. Him and
Him alone. Only He could see the entire map of this journey, and I could only
see the step right in front of me. Only God knows what He was saving me from,
helping me avoid, and taking me through-His ways are ALWAYS in our best
interest, even when we can’t see what He sees. This is something that is so
hard to remember when you’re the one going on the journey.
At this particular appointment, I had them sweep my
membranes again, but this time it didn’t hurt (it usually does, a lot). That’s
because they found out I was 6cm dilated and 90% effaced. Interesting. I wasn’t
in labor and yet I was 6cm along. I’m a doula-I tell my clients all of the time
that dilation means practically nothing until you are fully dilated because
it’s true. And sure enough, here I was at a 6 feeling no contractions whatsoever. The NST
picked up some small contractions but I couldn’t feel them. It was encouraging
to know, that regardless of when I went into labor, that I would at least be a
6 when it started. They told us to go home and finish anything we needed to
before the baby came because they all had a feeling it could be anytime now
(duh lol). I was excited. I felt like God was saying, “See, you finally stopped
asking and just let me do what I wanted to do and I gave you a 6cm head start.”
Chris and I made a stop at the local joint there called JP’s for a foot long
hotdog and milkshakes (a rare treat, this was one exception to my healthy
eating, suggested by the midwives there!). We were chowing down on the way home
and immediately went to get stuff to finish his nursery. I was ready to nest
now lol. I started having contractions soon after we got back to Greensboro,
but to make that long evening a short story, they stopped when I laid down for
the night. Sigh. No baby again.
Now
it was Friday morning. I stopped over at Jamilla’s house to get a heartbeat
check on Milo (all was fine) and she said I was having contractions (again, I
could not feel them). So we went to the park and I went on a BEAUTIFUL walk. It
was a gorgeous, crisp, fall day, my favorite kind of weather day ever. Chris
took Brinks to play on the playground while I briskly walked the loop at Country
Park, listening to Michael Buble jams the whole way. That’s when those lovely
contractions started to make themselves known. Nothing that stopped me in my
tracks, but it was good to know that things seemed to be starting up. We went
and got a wonderful lunch, actually finished getting the stuff for the nursery
together, then I wanted to take a nap. Unfortunately, the nap halted my
contractions, which shouted to me that this start and stop (prodromal labor)
was a positioning issue, so I immediately did the Miles Circuit (a series of
positions you do in order to get the baby in the correct position for
labor). They returned some, but not as strong or as often as they had been. It
was time to distract myself. I went to the store to walk around and get
whatever my heart fancied. I primarily went to get stuff to make a chocolate
birthday cake for Milo, another early labor project of mine. When I came home,
life resumed as usual, and the contractions sort of piddled around all evening.
Finally, around 12:30am, I gave up on this being THE night, and went to bed.
(Brinkley
was playing with my phone and took this picture on that Friday evening, the
ball was my only seat near the end!)
And that’s when things got better. And by better, I mean
worse/more intense. It’s the lingo I use a lot with my doula clients-when
they’re having a really strong contraction, I like to tell them “That was a
good one!! Awesome!” even though I know they’re thinking the opposite. Anyways,
I probably only got an hour or two of sleep that night because for the first
time, laying down did not stop my contractions-Hallelujah-I was finally in
actual labor. Albeit early labor, but still, labor.
It was now Saturday morning, November 12th, 2016,
exactly 42 weeks along. Around 6am I called the midwife on call because I had
an NST check scheduled for 9am and I wanted to see if we should just hold off
coming out to Statesville since I was now in labor and we could just wait until
things intensified instead of making two trips. But she pointed out that since
I’d already had a few days of prodromal labor that I should come in just in
case this labor stopped as well, and that way they would have an NST on record
and I wouldn’t need to come in later. She told me, however, to go ahead and
bring my birth team and anything I wanted or needed for labor in case things
picked up while we were there and we decided to stay. That’s when it actually
hit me. When I started packing the final things in my bag and loading the car
and putting my labor music into the CD player, it hit me that this was FINALLY
it. My adrenaline SURGED. And therefore, my contractions CEASED. Go figure. But
those are hormones for you. Thankfully about 2/3 of the way to Statesville, while
listening to my labor music mix, they returned. Phew!
When we (myself, Chris, and my friend Brittany-our best
friend and birth documenter if you will!) got to the birth center, we just came
in the back door and walked right in. Since it was a Saturday, only the midwife
was there. She wanted to do the NST first which was totally fine, and then I
requested a quick ultrasound because I wanted to see exactly where this kid’s
head was and why it kept starting and stopping my labor. Ah…it was floating
back and forth, right above where it was supposed to, but hadn’t yet engaged
itself down where it needed to go. The lovely midwife, Nicole, told us to go
walking for an hour or so and then come back for a Doppler heart rate check as
well as a cervical exam. So we went to the “mall” of Statesville and walked around
for awhile. We were actually enjoying ourselves! It was a little less than two
weeks before Thanksgiving so of course Christmas stuff was all around and we
had quite the time smelling all of the Bath and Body Works holiday candles and
choosing our favorites. When we got back to the birth center everything was
still the same-I was still 6cm and 90% as I had been on Thursday, and my
contractions were still early labor contractions. Jen, the nurse, suggested I
take a nap since I didn’t sleep much the night before. This was the best
suggestion ever. The room there was so cozy and homey and Chris was able to rub
my back to sleep while I laid as comfortably as I could with a peanut ball in
between my legs, but at least I had a heating pad to ease the contraction pain
(that heating pad saved my life in labor, I will now be keeping one in my doula
bag for my clients!). Although I probably only got 20-30 minutes of actual
sleep, laying down for that hour and a half made a huge difference in my labor.
I got up because the contractions were getting so intense. I now had to stop
talking and walking through them and just breathe. This was all GREAT news! Jen
told us to go grab some lunch and go walking some more and come back in a
couple of hours (that’s the great thing about a birth center…no need to keep me
in a bed, under bright lights in a hospital gown, starving, and hooked up to
monitors that may or may not tell us what we already know. Instead I got to go
outside and go get food -fuel- and labor how I wanted and needed to. That's my way to labor naturally! I heart
birth centers! And midwives!).
Chris
and Brittany were really the ones who needed to eat- my fuel of choice was
multi-grain scoops and purple Gatorade. They didn’t want anything greasy so we
ended up at the Ruby Tuesday's salad bar. Thankfully it was pretty deserted
inside and there weren’t many people around to watch me labor. While we were there
things started picking up more. I was walking laps around the tables and
stopping for intense contractions. I didn’t need anybody yet, I was still quite
capable of handling myself, but I knew it was time to leave there soon and get
into a more peaceful environment. The best part of lunch was the look on
people’s faces when they saw that I was in labor, and that my husband and
friend were sitting down to a meal (per my instructions, I needed my team to
have energy because who knows how long this day would be).
(Their
final meal!)
We got back into the car (this would be the last car trip
because ouch-contractions in the car are zero fun) and went back to the birth
center to walk around out back. There was a small horse farm in the back and we
walked along the fence and looked at the horses, pausing for contractions. I
now needed to lean on Chris through them. Soon we would go inside, and I knew
that once I was inside, I would not come back outside without my baby. This
made me excited and nervous all at the same time.
(The horses were a
good distraction, and it was such a beautiful Fall day!)
(Right
before walking back into the birth center for good!)
When they went to do the next check, I was still the same.
Still a 6, and still about 90% effaced. This didn’t deter me though. I knew
that cervical checks were just a momentary glimpse of what was happening and
that it could change at any second, and most likely, would.
What happened next was the ONLY real regret of my entire
experience. Had I been my own doula (when you’re a doula, I think you still
need a doula, I definitely could not doula myself), I know what I would have
done. But since I was instead, a 42-week pregnant woman in active labor who
desperately wanted to meet her son and have his birthday be that day, I made a
choice that if I had to do it again, I wouldn’t have. I asked them to break my
water. I knew where his head was now (they could tell during the cervical exam),
and I knew that my contractions were intense and frequent enough that all
things considered, this would make my labor speed up and not slow down. Why did
I do that? Again…vulnerable, desperate, you name it. I needed another doula who
was not me to talk me out of this. But since everyone in the room knew that I
WAS a doula, they trusted me when I made the decision myself. They shouldn’t
have lol. Things were going great as they were and God and Milo didn’t need any
help from me. At that point I still felt in control. I still felt like I was
managing the pain well and that I could go on for several more hours like that,
especially in that peaceful environment with several comfort measures/tools at
my disposal. But the MOMENT they broke my water, all of that went out the
window. HOLY OW. I shot up immediately and had the most intense and painful
contraction to that point and I grabbed Rebecca, the student midwife (who had
just broken my water) and gave her this look and said PUT IT BACK! Put my water
back! I need that cushion back to get through this! Oh My OW! But it was too
late…my water had been broken and my pain cushion was gone. I’ve always
believed (since my doula training) that if your water hasn’t broken yet, there
is a reason. And in this particular labor, I believe the reason was because God
was trying to help me get through as much of the labor as possible with that
cushion for my contractions. But I couldn’t put it back, I made a choice and
now I had to live with the consequences. This choice, while it did immediately
put me from active labor into transition, and I do believe ultimately sped up
my labor, it started to break me. I now could not last several more hours like
THIS. Milo needed to come REAL soon now that the pain was so REAL.
(Rebecca consoling me
during my first post-water breaking contraction)
I told them to fill up the tub while I waddled over to the
shower. Because here is the other thing. As soon as my water broke, BAM! Back
Labor! Something I was blessed not to have had with Brinkley’s labor, and not
to have had with Milo’s labor up to this point. During transition, I was
convinced for awhile that he was OP (sunny side up) with how crazy painful my
back labor was, but later we would see that no, he was in perfect position, he
just had a GIANT (99th percentile) head that would be FELT
EVERYWHERE regardless of his position. Again, the heating pad SAVED my back
whenever I was on the bed.
While I was in the shower I was leaning on Chris like never
before and I soon realized that I must have been putting on quite the show (I’m
not a quiet laborer if you get my drift) because he started to cry. My husband
does not cry. He didn’t shed tears at our wedding or at Brinkley’s birth, and
I’d only seen him cry a handful of times in the years and years we’ve been
together, but seeing me in that much pain broke him too. I looked up at him and
tears were streaming from his eyes as he held me and struggled to catch his
breath. So I decided I could cry too.
(Both of us crying!)
As soon as the tub was ready I decided to hop in. This was
probably another mistake. Looking back, I think I needed to stand and sway in
that shower a little longer and let gravity help me a little more before
settling into what became my cave for the next two hours. When I got into the
tub I did start to relax somewhat, and it was definitely the most comfortable
place to be in the room. But when those contractions came, they REALLY came. I
was in a zone. The zone. There was moaning. There was puking (that’s transition
for you). There was slurred and senseless speech. Apparently I kept saying “you
guys, you guys, you guys….who has done this? How did you do this? Help me! You
guys…!” That was my phrase. You guys. Seriously-this was way hard.
(Contracting in the
tub, with my awesome hub!)
Thankfully I had 5 people in the room helping me,
but I honestly think I needed one
more lol. Brittany was documenting because I asked her to and she was an extra
set of hands, prayers and encouragement. Chris was in front of me to pray,
encourage, squeeze and hand hold. The midwives and nurse were all around me
doing counter pressure and hip squeezes and running warm water over whatever
was exposed, while trying to encourage me as well. Once they started that I
wouldn’t let them stop. A contraction would come and I would yell “BACK!”
meaning, get your hands back on my back or I might die. We were all doing this
together for a couple of hours in the tub. I think I really could have used one
more person to really get in my face and talk to me personally, somebody that
knew me, and knew birth, and knew what they were doing and what I specifically needed
to hear because I really felt like I was losing it. Everybody in the room was
doing great at what they were doing, but looking back I really could have used
one more. A doula. My doula. The midwives and nurse were all trained doulas and
were awesome, and I couldn’t have done this without them, but I needed a doula
who knew me well and what I
specifically needed to hear to help get me through this. (I’ll note that I
initially had planned to have a doula, but when my top and closest choices were
unavailable, and my dream birth had continued changing during the pregnancy, I
didn’t want to rely on any more people, risking the fact that they might let me
down, or things might change again, I didn’t think I could emotionally handle
that. That was part of that pre-partum depression I was talking about before).
(Overhead shot of all
of the helping hands on my back!)
There was one point during transition where I experienced
something I had seen many times at other births. I was on all fours in the tub
and I was turning in circles, I felt like a hamster. I was trying to escape.
Trying to escape the contractions. Trying to escape my own body. Trying to
escape this labor. The student midwife noticed too. She simply came up to me
and said, “I know what you’re trying to do, but you can’t get out of this. The
only way to get out of this is to get through this, and you’re the only one who
can do that.” And I knew she was right. I was just so done though.
(Realizing I had to do
this, I couldn’t get out of it!)
I tried to push once in the tub. They noticed. I told them I
was just trying it out and that I didn’t have the urge, I just wanted to
experiment. This made them want to check me though and see where I was.
Ah…9.5cm. Just a lip of the cervix to go. And it wouldn’t go. That lip just stayed
and stayed. Who would have thought such a small little piece could create so
much pinching and pain and lack of progress during pushing. Geesh.
At this point I think the midwives knew I would need to get
out of the tub to push and I started
to realize just how big Milo actually
was. I prayed and prayed and prayed for months for him to be a small baby.
Preferably 7-8 pounds or less. I knew a smaller baby with a smaller head would
be easier to push out, and since I was doing this naturally, I wanted it as easy
as I could get it. But when I tried to push for that first time it hit me just
how big he must be. Everybody says (and I have seen) that pushing your second
baby out is easier and faster. I pushed Brinkley out in 40 minutes with an
epidural, on my back. So this should have been cake. But I learned that size
makes a big difference when pushing. I knew when God told me to have a natural
labor that He wouldn’t give me a baby that I couldn’t push out, but I think He
decided that He would make me get to the threshold.
(Chris praying over me while I went through a really hard contraction)
Convincing me to get out of the tub was comical. I believe I
simply told them, NO. I knew things would feel that much more intense out of
the water and I didn’t want any part of that. But they ended up practically
picking me up and getting me to the bed after a few contractions of my stalling.
I started really pushing and it was so painful. That lip of
cervix was creating a pinching pain on top of the contraction that they kept
telling me I had to push through, but golly gee, it was so hard. That pain was
just so sharp and intense. Don’t get me wrong, I was glad to be “doing
something” about the contractions instead of simply enduring them, but ouchie
wah wah…this was way more difficult than with Brinkley. It didn’t help that for
some reason I NEVER felt the urge to push. Even with the epidural with Brinkley
I felt the urge and I experienced that pressure you only experience during a
vaginal birth, that watermelon sitting on your bum hole feeling, but I just
wasn’t feeling that with Milo. Which made me feel like I wasn’t making any
progress. Which was pretty defeating in the moment. I remember thinking to
myself, why isn’t this kid coming out? Why can I not feel him moving down? Why
is this taking so long?
We were flipping all around. Sometimes on my back, sometimes
on my side (only one contraction there, that was the worst and I flipped myself
back over), and sometimes on my hands and knees. When I heard them say they
could see his head, you would have thought that would have made me happy. But
it didn’t. I had seen many babies’ heads come out of many pregnant women and I
knew if they were saying this for the first time that we still weren’t close. I
could feel it. And I was right. If we knew just how big his head would be they
wouldn’t have mentioned it at first sight.
When I FINALLY got to the ring of fire, where his head is at the widest point coming out, that’s when I
decided I actually WANTED to push. That’s when that watermelon pressure urge
finally came. But of course, my midwives were doing their best to make sure I
didn’t tear and they helped me stretch through that burning, intense time. Soon
though, with the next contraction I believe, his entire head finally emerged.
What happened next I didn’t expect but somehow adrenaline
pumped through me so fast that I remained calm and knew just what to do. I went
to push the shoulders out and I thought I was about to have my baby, but they
wouldn’t budge. I pushed as hard as I possibly could and they weren’t moving.
They were stuck. I had witnessed this in one birth before, and knew exactly
what it was. Shoulder Dystocia. A cause of brain damage or death in babies if
not dealt with swiftly and efficiently. Somehow my midwives and I remained very
in control. At their call I flipped onto my hands and knees, took a huge
breath, and pushed with everything in me as they tugged and tugged. Their hands
were opening me and pulling him as I was pushing, and then they flipped me back
over again to continue to the process. I remember having this peace that his
shoulders or collarbone would probably be broken when he came out and that he
would need a cast but that it would be ok because he would be alive. I knew God
didn’t put me through all of this just to take him away from me and that we
would get him out. The midwives were brilliant. They knew exactly what they
were doing and worked together so well. And with my efforts and theirs, he
finally came loose and was born. Milo Halstead Heeter was born at 6:14pm on
November 12th, 2016, in Statesville, NC.
What
a relief. When Brinkley was born she was screaming and pink and covered in
vernex and thrown immediately onto my chest, coming straight at me with her
long fingers. But this was totally different. I knew my baby was out of me
because of the relief I felt, but as I laid down on my back and breathed sighs
of relief there was no baby on my chest and no screaming in the room. I
couldn’t see him, but my baby was completely blue and limp and silent at the
end of the bed (cord still connected). But I knew the midwives would revive
him, I had no doubts, not even for a second, which is why I believe I was able
to lay there so peacefully while they tried to help him breathe. The Holy
Spirit had taken over and given me a supernatural peace that only He can give. I
know Chris and Brittany were really concerned because they were
silent and could see everything that was happening, and Chris knew this is not
what Brinkley looked like when she came out. But somehow I knew it would be ok.
I was so relieved physically and felt so light that I didn’t have a single
worry, not for one moment. It felt like an eternity, but soon we heard him
breathe for the first time, and once they were confident in his breathing, they
took the oxygen off and put him on my chest as they continued to rub him. My
HUGE baby boy was now in my arms and all I could think about was just how BIG
he was. I couldn’t believe that while I was there holding him that he was just
inside of me-he was HUGE!
(Our first photo
together)
Later on when we weighed him, the midwives were taking
guesses on his weight and they all guessed over 11 pounds. I couldn’t believe
it. He was just under 11 pounds, at 10 pounds and 12 ounces. But they said had
he not pooped everywhere when he came out that he would have been 11 for sure
lol. With Brinkley being just over 7 pounds, this was a BIG difference. He was
also over 23 inches long and his head was over 15 inches around. OW!!! BUT-with
my prep work during pregnancy and my amazing midwives’ care during the pushing
phase, believe it or not, I DID NOT TEAR! Wahoo!!! There’s the human body for
you. God knew what He was doing when he put me together and when he brought
Milo out of me!
(Sweet Milo Halstead-being born was exhausting!)
(Getting ready to go
home)
It was over. I had my baby in my arms at last and I was so
happy to not be pregnant anymore. I had a running joke (that was actually
serious) that running a half marathon a couple of years ago was more painful
and physically intense than giving birth to Brinkley (thank you epidural).
However, this definitely trumped that. Giving birth to Milo was the MOST
intense and painful thing I had ever been through. But I did it. And I was so
glad that I did! I accomplished what God had told me to do. With the help of
God and my amazing team, I did it. At 42 weeks I naturally pushed out my
“massive child” (my words exactly when they told me how much he weighed) and he
was as healthy as could be! I could
never have done that in the hospital. EVER. For about a million reasons that I
could list here but won’t, I can just tell you that wouldn’t have happened had I been with an OB and planning a
hospital birth (others maybe, but not me- the taste of that epidural is too sweet and tempting in that kind of environment for the amount of self control I have
during labor!). All of this also
probably wouldn’t have ended the same had I been at home. If it weren’t for all
3 of the women on my medical team, I’m not sure Milo would have been perfect
when he was born. He was REALLY stuck. All of this to say that I’m so glad I
chose to have him at the birth center. There may or may not be a video of me shortly
after the birth of Milo saying that if I ever get pregnant again I’ll be
getting an epidural lol, but it was all still very fresh in my mind. Had I gone
to the hospital and gotten an epidural I don’t think I could have pushed him
out and they either would have had to vacuum him or do a C-section. I also got
to go home as soon as I was ready to (about 4 hours after he was born!) instead
of having to stay there for a few days with constant interruptions from
strangers, something I didn’t quite enjoy about the hospital experience. On the
same evening Milo was born, we went home and I snuggled and slept with that
baby on my chest, and in my home. It was beautiful! So again, I’m SO GLAD I
delivered at the birth center!
(My
incredible team from Natural Beginnings Birth Center!)
-Milo Halstead Heeter born on 11-12-16 at 6:14pm-
-10 pounds, 12 ounces, 23+ inches long-
-10 pounds, 12 ounces, 23+ inches long-
Milo means merciful soldier, and we believe Milo will be a soldier in God's army, but have the mercy and gentleness of our God! Halstead is Chris' Dad's middle name, also Chris' grandmother's maiden name. It means shelter/refuge, and we believe Milo will be a place of shelter and refuge to anybody who comes to him that needs it!
There’s a lot more to say about this experience (hard to believe,
I know). There’s more to write about in terms of processing it all, what God
taught me, what my faith roller coaster looked like then and since then, how my
doula-ness impacted this, and how all of this has impacted me as a doula, a mom,
and a follower of Jesus. But that is a story for another time. For now, this is
enough. This is the story of how God gave us Milo, and I’m so glad that He did.
(Family photo session by Alexa's Photography)
