Giselle Grace's birth story

It is funny that I feel the need to write down her story, but I realize more than ever that my memory is not as reliable anymore and I need a quicker way to commit it to the records of this little family than journaling it down.  I have to say, journaling is a far more preferable choice, but this season in life begs for practicality.  That being said:

Since my first birth, due dates haven't meant much for me.  When we were deciding on a date for my mom to come, we figured December 12 to be a good date, since my due date was the 14.  Trying to get an affordable ticket on that date was nearly impossible so we began moving the date back one day at a time until we arrived at an affordable price.  We bought a ticket for December 8, and on that date, both my mom and dad arrived.  Ben was off on the 9th so we ventured out to do some Christmas shopping that I wanted to get out of the way.  He was scheduled to work on Friday night.  

Friday morning was spent at a Christmas get-together for the little people at my SIL, Dee and I reconciled myself to the idea of Ben being scheduled to work the next two nights.  In my mind, this also meant that any chance of an early delivery was stricken out of this weekend... after all, I had prayed that it wouldn't happen on a night that Ben had to work.  For starters because we needed the money and also because he'd be so far that the whole idea of his driving back to get me and then take me to the hospital was too much for me to handle.  Add to that the fact that Emily, who was our call person to stay with the children, couldn't do it that night.  Our second person on the list couldn't do it either, they both had to work the next morning.  So, I couldn't possibly have this baby tonight, it was way too impractical from every point of view.

I took a little nap and then got to work on dinner.  I had decided on making a turkey, mashed potatoes, and vegetables.  Worked on my feet for about an hour and attributed the braxton hicks to that and how hungry I was getting.  Dinner was enjoyed, contractions didn't stop, but didn't bother either.  At around 6:00 p.m. I decided to go lie down in bed because the braxton hicks kept coming.  By 7:00, knowing that Ben would have to leave for work at 9:00 I called him and we began timing them.  They were like big tight hugs that stretched from my belly to my back and pretty steady at between 9 to 11 minutes apart.  We had quite a few conversations that went something like this:

Me:  "ok, here comes another one"

Ben:  (who had downloaded a contraction timing app, and as he timed it) "do you think you'll go tonight?"

Me:  "I don't know"

Ben:  (while getting ready for work) "that was 9 minutes since the last one"

Me:  "Do you want to call _____ ? (fill in the blank with your choice of:  work, the midwife, mom, etc.)"

Ben:  "Let's give it an hour and see what happens"

When he was due to leave and we'd ran out of hours to "give it to see what happened" and the contractions would not get stronger, or more frequent, we decided that he'd call in to let them know that he'd come in late if nothing happened.  We had a few more of those conversations trying to figure out when to call the midwife, when to arrange for alternative child care, etc. pretty much with each contraction.  At 10:00 with the same progress, which I might add, was very unlike my other labors, I alerted the midwife.  She encouraged me to continue to call her periodically and labor at home.  At some point after this I fell asleep for 20 minutes and was woken up by a contraction, when we realized it had been 20 minutes since the last one we figured things were going to slow down and I dozed off again.  Twenty minutes later another contraction woke me up together with the realization of being extremely hungry.

I let Ben sleep, came downstairs and called the midwife while I ate a PB&J.  Contractions picked up again, same intensity, same frequency and by 1:00 a.m. we decided to go on to the hospital and get settled there, hopefully, in the tub.  I called the midwife to let her know.  She told me she was already in the hospital and to take my time since the tub was unavailable, the hospital was full and at this point I'd be offered the surgical room to labor in.  This labor was very far from the ideal I had hoped for.  At this point I realized I had a choice:  I was going to be frustrated by all these circumstances that were beyond my control, or I was going to make this baby's birth the joyful celebration it was meant to be and control those things that I could actually control.  I decided to chose the latter and so was determined to have a good attitude throughout.

Once we hit the road, my contractions picked up to every 4 or 5 minutes.  A midwife friend who lives in Hawaii called me and judging by my voice said that I sounded like I was about 4 cm dilated (whatever that sounds like) and she wondered if we weren't hurrying to the hospital too son (it was 2:00 a.m.).  She really wanted to hear me through a contraction, but her phone call was the only respite I got in the whole 35-40 minute drive:  absolutely no contractions while I was on the phone with her.  Upon arriving at the hospital, I had to register, although I had pre-registered, so I did what I needed to do to deal with the contractions in the middle of the hospital lobby while a very sour faced lady took all my information again.  But I reminded myself that this was to be a joyful time, so I tried to ignore that as much as possible and focus on the thought that there should be a good reason for this that I probably was unaware of.  Sure enough, by the time she was done with the paperwork and called to see where I was supposed to go, a L&D room had been cleared and I was duly escorted by a very nice nurse.

There was no tub, but I had my music, was surrounded by loved ones and had the Holy Spirit  to help me through this celebration to welcome my new baby!  I continued to labor and was not checked because due to the weird nature of the contractions, I didn't want to find out that I was really only about 4 cm dilated and be discouraged, so I wasn't checked.  By the way, did I mention that the midwife on call was the only one midwife I had never seen during this pregnancy?  Yeah... she did do her homework, though and knew that we wanted Ben to be given the choice to catch the baby, and that I didn't want my water broken.   She was great, very non-intrusive and attentive to my every wish.  

It must have been about 4:00 a.m. when I decided to get checked to see how far along we were.  This labor was so different that I couldn't possibly guess.  My midwife's exact words were:  "hmm... you're about a 7... but can be 8, but can be 9... your cervix is so soft!" (Thank you, Evening Primrose Oil!).  We all knew that all we were waiting for was my water to break.  My water has never broken spontaneously.  She told us the other lady was in the pushing stage so this time she'd take longer to come back and instructed us to call immediately if my water did break.  For this birth, I had visions of never breaking the water but let it come as it may.  I told everyone I could to remind me I didn't want my water broken!  But, I was feeling very tired, and unlike Benny's labor, I was beginning to feel overcome by the contractions... somehow they just felt different and I was beginning to feel as though I couldn't stay on top of them.   I never really thought of the fact that this had already been a whole-night process after a full day of being awake, and I was already past the 6 hours that my previous two labors had lasted, I just couldn't understand why I felt so spent and why I wasn't "enjoying" the overall experience like I had in the past.  I believe Ben could also recognize this as we discussed having my water broken, he acknowledged how much I'd ask him to help me avoid it and wait, but I definitely wasn't feeling on top of things as I had in previous labors.  We agreed that the next time she came in, we'd ask her to break the waters.

About 45 minutes later she came in and we asked her to break the water.  She called the nurse, donned on her overall surgical robe, and all the excitement and preparation for the baby's appearance came into play.  Ben took his watch off and got ready to catch his newest child and following the fluid came an immediate URGE to push.  I pushed!  As I was pushing and hearing all the excitement of knowing a little head was out, overcome by the excitement of meeting my new baby and my body taking over this monumental task of bringing forth life, I remember hearing something along the lines of:  "a hand, that's a hand!" followed by the midwife's instruction to not push but BLOW... "yeah, right!" I thought "as if I can do anything to stop this!" but proceeded to attempt to blow, thinking "what's the point of blowing anyway, the hands are out so the baby must be out already!" 

The rest happened so quickly, as it always does.  That glorious moment when you see that slimy little body.  I stretched my hand to touch this little stranger in my husband's hands as he moved the cord to reveal whom he held.  His voice announced "A girl!", I must have whispered "...a girl!" as he lay her on my chest.  We snuggled for over the first hour of her life, skin on skin, my sweet babe and me.  She didn't care much for nursing, she was content to be by my heart.  It was during this time that I understood what had happened as she was born.  Ben didn't get to catch her fully as intended.  The midwife had had to interfere to keep me from tearing because my little girl was born with her little hand raised above her head!  He caught the rest of her body, or some part of her, or "the gush" as he has said, but whatever he caught or not, this was a glorious, precious and joyful moment!  Every time I'm getting ready for labor I think I want to bring my contact lenses because I don't want to miss anything from those first seconds of my little passenger's emergence into this world.  The funny thing is, I never do... but come to think of it, I never need them!  I don't want to say that the moment is "magical" because that seems an inappropriate word for such a moment... I don't really know how to describe it.  EVERYTHING becomes so bright and rich, at the same time that everything and everyone around becomes the blurriest of blurs as you get to meet this little person.  What a sublime, and enriching moment that is!  What a wonderful idea God had in sharing His creative power with us to bring forth life!

Whether it was because the hospital was so full or only because they were honoring all my requests, I'll never really know, but I was extremely pleased to have only one nurse and my midwife attending.  We didn't find out her weight until very, very much later (for hospital standards, anyway), so much so that my midwife left without knowing her weight.  Was it an ideal birth?  Yes, it was.  Not in terms of being painless, or quick, or predictable, or according to plan, or any such thing.  It was ideal in the sense that I trust the One who thought this whole process up.  I have learned that processes are extremely important, and because He devised it to bring life forth, I trust the process in my body as well.

"Welcome to our lives, my sweet Giselle Grace.  You are a promise, a promise of the all encompassing power of the Most Holy, and it has been an honor to be the vehicle He chose to give you passage into this world!"