I think that the number one lesson that God is teaching me through parenting so far is that I am not the one who is in control of my children or their lives. I know that I've been entrusted with the huge responsibility to parent my little ones wisely, but ultimately I can't control everything they do. This fact is simultaneously freeing and frightening - nothing illustrates this more for me right now than the story of my sweet Lydia's birth this past Tuesday.
The last few months of my pregnancy with Lydia have been a little hectic, to say the least. Moving to a different state, sojourning in various temporary living situations, unpacking and settling into a new home, beginning a new routine and lifestyle, trying to find a new sense of community, and raising a rapidly-developing, strong-willed toddler all combined to make me feel somewhat less prepared for Lydia's arrival than I wanted to be. As my due date approached, though, Steve and I were deeply blessed by seeing how God worked to provide for some of our bigger support needs and surround us with people who would care for us during this busy time.
As the end of my pregnancy approached, I was able to complete a few tasks that helped me feel more in control of my situation. We toured the labor & delivery unit at the local hospital, set up the baby's bassinet, washed tiny newborn clothes, and unpacked supplies. I updated the birth plan that I used with Luke and attached it to cute candy bags to hand out to the hospital staff who would care for us. I spent time showing Luke videos of fetal development and newborns to help him understand what was going on in Mommy's tummy and what his new sister would sound like. All of these little things gave me a sense that I was ready for this new baby's arrival.
I know that often when women come to the hospital with a "birth plan" the nurses know to expect that very little about the birth will actually go as planned (despite everyone's efforts to make it so). However, I felt that I had outlined a broad enough birth plan to provide wiggle room for all kinds of scenarios. After all, Luke's natural, unmedicated birth followed my plan pretty closely, and I was grateful that I had the opportunity to let the hospital staff know some of my "wants" both during labor and after Luke's arrival. Little did I know that, with Lydia, the only part of her birth that would go as planned is that I would have a completely all-natural unmedicated delivery again.
For the past couple of weeks, I had been experiencing "false labor" - the strong Braxton Hicks contractions that came when I walked around, but eventually stopped when I rested. I even had a night about a week prior to Lydia's birth where I was up all night with these type of contractions which eventually stopped. I wasn't concerned with this, though. I had the exact same experience towards the end of pregnancy with Luke, and knew not to get really excited until the contractions came at regular intervals, were increasingly painful, and stuck around for more than a couple of hours. So, when I had some consistent 8-minute apart cramps on Monday night after taking Luke on a walk to the playground down the street, I knew I should wait it out for a while to see what happened. Sure enough, those contractions lasted until about my bedtime and then subsided.
When I woke again at 2am with consistent cramping again, though, I had the sense that maybe (finally!) this was the real deal. As I timed the contractions, I saw that they still weren't on-the-dot regular but were coming at intervals of 5 1/2 to 8 1/2 minutes apart. I told Steve that I thought we might be in the beginning phase of true labor, and decided to take a shower to relax and see if, indeed, these contractions kept coming. With Luke, I was in labor for about 26 hours, so Steve and I fully expected to be in this process for the long haul again.
The contractions lasted (although at inconsistant intervals, and not super-painful), through the early morning. I called my parents to let them know that I thought today would be the day - they planned to be able to arrive at our place by early afternoon which (given our long labor experience with Luke) seemed to be just about the right time that Steve and I would probably head to the hospital. I felt fine, and Steve had a couple of loose ends to tie up at his office before starting paternity leave, so we made the decision to have our sweet friend/grandma-on-call, Jo, come stay with Luke and I while I labored at home in the morning. (Now, remember that Steve's office is less than a 5 minute drive from our house here on base, so it seemed fine for him to run over there for a few hours). I was thankful that Jo could come to stay with me - Luke adores her, and I knew that, with her experience of having five children herself, she would be a good person to have around while I was in early labor.
Once Jo arrived at about 8 in the morning she helped me give Luke breakfast and dress him for the day. I stayed mostly on my feet and felt the urge to bustle around doing small tasks like emptying my dishwasher and making sure that the last-minute items were tucked into our hospital bags. After about 45 minutes of this activity, my contractions were definitely getting stronger, and I sat down to take a rest. I remember telling Jo "I've never been so happy to be in so much pain!". I began timing the contractions again, just to check my progress, and found that they were still between 5 1/2 and 8 minutes apart. These contractions were definitely becoming quite painful, though, and I told Jo that I might go try to sit in my bath for a while to rest, hoping that the warm water would relieve my pain. First, though, I decided to try to go to the bathroom - it felt like I might need to have a bowel movement, and that might also help me feel a little better.
Imagine my surprise when, instead of producing a bowel movement, my urge to push turned incredibly painful and I suddenly was experiencing the burning sensation I remembered from when Luke was crowning during his birth. I reached down and was shocked to feel a smooth bulge that I realized was my still fluid-filled amniotic sac. In a state of confusion as I looked at that silvery membrane, I felt a little frightened and wondered "What in the world do I do now!? Can I stop this?! Maybe if I just pant instead of push...?" But... even as the reality of what was happening began to register in my brain I experienced another severe contraction accompanied by the uncontrollable urge to push. With a gentle sploosh my water broke and I suddenly was touching the hard top of my baby's skull. I yelled for Jo, telling her that my water just broke and that the baby's head was right there - I'm sure she was a surprised as I was! Jo stayed remarkably calm for me, making a quick call to Steve to let him know to rush home, fielding a call from my mom who happened to call right at that moment as well, then calling 911.
When giving birth to Luke, I pushed for an hour and a half, finally needing a big episotomy to help ease his 9lb body into the world. Lydia had different plans. As another contraction gripped my body, I realized that I did not want my baby to be born into the toilet so I stood up and stepped into the middle of our bathroom. With the next contraction, my beautiful daughter slid from my body and into my arms.
The first thing I noticed about Lydia was that her umbilical cord was wrapped tightly in a knot around her neck, and that she was dusky and limp. Honestly, I wasn't sure that she was even alive, even though I had felt her kicking in between my contractions just minutes ago. The second thing I noticed was her full head of thick dark hair. The moments after Lydia's birth are some of the most intense I've ever experienced - I was simultaneously a mother and a neonatal nurse, everything primal in me and every ounce of my advanced nursing knowledge came together with the sole focus of getting my new baby to cry. I couldn't unloop the umbilical cord from around Lydia's neck, so I yelled for Jo to find me scissors in the kitchen so that I could cut the cord. After cutting the cord, I placed Lydia onto the bathroom counter and continued to attempt to stimulate her, rubbing her and flicking the soles of her feet in an attempt to make her cry. She remained limp and cyanotic, so I covered her tiny mouth and nose with my mouth and gave her a small puff of breath. Looking back, I'm so thankful that I had practiced these very skills so many hundreds of times as a nurse, so when this time came what I did felt reflexive. After the breath, Lydia moved her arms a little and let out a small coughing cry, but quickly became limp again. Since she didn't respond to my continual stimulation, I gave her another little breath - after that second breath she finally began to cry stronger and become pink. I have never heard such a sweet sound as that tiny cry.
About this time, Steve rushed in the door - he says that the first thing I said to him was "Look at all of her hair!" Haha! I was truly in a daze at this point! I think I then told him that she had been born with her cord wrapped around her neck and that I had to give her a couple of breaths before she started crying. After checking if I was ok (I'm sure I looked awful - standing half naked in a pool of blood and amniotic fluid, with a severed umbilical cord still hanging from me and blood all over my face from the breaths I had given our daughter), my incredibly quick-thinking and calm husband rushed upstairs to get towels to wrap Lydia in to keep her warm. Steve encouraged me to put Lydia skin-to skin on my chest (I married a smart one!) then wrapped us in a beach towel as EMS personal arrived and began to provide care for Lydia and I.
Poor Luke had witnessed everything from the living room, and was freaking out as I was wheeled out of the house in a stretcher. I knew he was in good hands, though, and trusted that Jo would snuggle him and give him a lot of love. I was so thankful to hear Lydia crying angrily as I was placed into the ambulance next to her. The paramedic who was holding her told me that she was doing well and that her blood glucose was 80. From that time on, Lydia has had no residual effects from her dramatic birth. She began breastfeeding during the ambulance ride (and hasn't stopped since!). She weighed in at 7lbs 14oz, 21 inches long, and has been declared "absolutely perfect" by every pediatric practitioner who has checked on her.
It has taken me several days to even begin to process everything that happened so quickly. Many people have told me that I am a superwoman, but I really don't feel that way. During Lydia's birth and the moments after, I never felt so vulnerable and out-of-control in my life. Throughout the rapid drama of those moments, the thought "Jesus was born like this", played itself over and over in my mind - I think that the Lord was reminding me that He is in control, even when a birth does not happen at all as planned. The combination of sleepless nights and postpartum hormones has made me feel that I put my baby in unnecessary danger by laboring too long at home (even though my rational brain knows that is not the case).
As I hold my precious daughter now, reveling in the exquisite perfection of her tiny features, I feel overwhelming gratitude. First, I am grateful to the God of the Universe who gave and sustains the life of this child. I am also so thankful for our dear friend Jo, who was there in my moment of deepest need. Little did I know that January 29 was also Jo's birthday - she and Lydia will be linked in a special way for the rest of Lydia's life. I am grateful for all of my nurse mentors at Levine Children's NPCN and NICN units - although I hated the mock codes that we had to do at the most inopportune times, I know that all of that practice helped save my daughter's life. I am thankful for the security force team and EMS workers who provided initial medical care to Lydia and I, and the firefighters who stayed behind after I was whisked away to the hospital and cleaned up the huge mess in my bathroom. And, definitely not least, I am so thankful for my calm, strong, quick-thinking husband - he is my rock, an amazing daddy, and my perfect partner for both crazy times and fun times.
Lydia - As you grow up hearing this story of your dramatic entrance into this world, I hope you always understand that God has you securely in his hands. I don't know what you will face in your life, sweet baby, and I won't always be able to stop scary things from happening to you (or you from doing scary things!). I can be certain, though, that God is sovereign over your life, and that I can trust Him to take care of you wherever life takes you.
