I promise that this is the final installment in what has turned out to be a long-winded set of posts. My goal in writing out all these details, though, is for Lillian to enjoy them someday.
Everyone knows that the final installment in a trilogy is (usually) the best one.
Star Wars (both 1-3 and 4-6),
Indiana Jones (though I do love
Raiders also),
Lord of the Rings, Jurassic Park 3 (HA--just seeing if you were still paying attention). This one obviously is the best since it ends (spoiler alert!) with the birth of Lillian Ashley Grooms.
The Labor and Delivery wing looked about like what I remembered from our hospital tour, though it certainly felt different, given that I was stopping to breathe through contractions as we walked to our room. I'd already spoken with my doctor's office and had learned that my doc was on call (for her last Wednesday ever) at another hospital, and that unless we wanted to change hospitals, I was going to be delivering with Dr. Lynch, the on-call doctor for that day. I had had two previous appointments with her and was more than fine with the change of events, since getting in the car to drive to a different hospital sounded pretty ridiculous. Anyways, Debbie, one of the L and D nurses met us in the hallway and started playing 20 Questions, a game that quickly turned into 63 Somewhat Bizarre Questions about Life and Pregnancy. I told her that I wasn't sure if "this was it," but that it certainly felt pretty real. We got to the enormous delivery room and she handed me a beautiful hospital gown--really, it wasn't bad at all. I decided to leave my bra on, something that totally backfired on me later, but at this point I was still modest. Giving birth + two days in the hospital learning how to breastfeed completely cured me of this.
So Debbie chatted away, asking me one crazy question after another since she was pretty sure that we would be staying. The one I remember most vividly is, "Do you feel safe at home?" How sad that this is on a standard list of questions for almost-mothers. Dr. Lynch came in around 8:00 to check me out and confirm that this was the real deal. She quickly ascertained that I was 5 cm dilated, 75% effaced and the baby was at a -1 station (locked into the pelvis but not fully dropped yet). This was huge news, considering that a few days previously I was at 1 cm and 50% effaced. They were all impressed that I had made it that far at home and that I was handling the contractions so well. Thomas and I fist bumped (Go Team Grooms!) and simultaneously celebrated and panicked that this was, in fact, IT. He went to get the bags out of the car and to call our parents, both of whom jumped in the car and raced to the hospital. My parents arrived within about 30 minutes (sorry about your Costco trip, Mom) since they live in Charleston, and Thomas' arrived several hours later from Aiken, SC. In the meantime, I was hooked up to my Group B Strep antibiotics, and had an IV placed twice--the bruises from the first attempt just went away this week. I tried to mentally prepare for what the day had in store. "Let's see...give birth, meet the baby girl we've dreamed about for nine months, breastfeed for the first time...all in a day's work." Yep, no way to wrap your mind around all of that, so I prayed and focused on remaining calm.
I decided to go for the epidural in the hopes that I could rest a bit before pushing later that day. The nurse checked me again around 9 am and I was at a 6/7. Woohoo! She estimated that the baby would come in the early afternoon based on my quick progression. HA. The only bad news was that my cervix was still really posterior and it needed to move forward.
The anesthesiologist arrived around 9:30 and proceeded to fail twice at placing my epidural before succeeding. Third time's a charm, right? He was probably my least favorite medical person that day because the more he struggled, the grouchier he got. Honestly though, the epidural was nothing compared to the contractions, and probably the most painful part of it was that he had to peel off what felt like 2490809 square inches of tape from my back each time he had to reinsert it.
For the next couple of hours, I labored in a delicious golden fuzz of pain meds. I looked at the contractions on the monitor, talked to my parents and Thomas, and watched
Scrubs on the iPad. I even planned out when I would do my hair and make-up, an idea that was later thrown out the window and run over.
The doctor came back at midday to check my progress. Big fat zero. I was still at 6/7 and still 75% effaced. I was definitely bummed. So Dr. Lynch went ahead and broke my water to move things along. I carefully avoided looking at the scary hook and embraced the sensation of sitting in warm liquid. They also started me on a low drip of Pitocin to help the contractions speed up. Again, not my ideal, but they were still sure that I was going to have the baby that day, so I was game for almost anything. They kept the dosage low until Debbie checked me again around 2pm--still no progress, though she was psyched that my cervix was now fully forward and ready for a baby to "slide out." I was definitely feeling more pain now, and particularly in my back.
The next hour (approx. 2:00-3:00 pm) was a lot less "golden fuzz" and a lot more "red haze." The doctor confirmed what I had feared the night before with all of my back labor--baby girl was facing up instead of down. "Sunnyside up," as it were. As the Pitocin increased my contractions, my back labor intensified with a vengeance. The epidural was really effective at helping the front side of my body feel pressure instead of pain, but pretty much worthless at stopping any of the pain in my back. So I sweated, groaned and cried like a baby through a lot of painful and long contractions. Thomas spooned ice in my mouth and my mom stroked my hair. We put on
Doc Hollywood (I love me some 1990's Michael J. Fox) in an effort to distract me from the intensity of the pain. But the waterworks really started when the nurse told me that baby girl's sunnyside up position increased my likelihood of a C-section by a good bit. Obviously the #1 goal of the day was to keep the baby and me healthy, but I really wanted to give birth naturally.
At about 3pm, after an incredibly intense contraction, I suddenly felt the urge to push. It was exactly like all of the books say; there is no feeling like it. I told Thomas to go get the nurse and when she came in, I smoothly said, "Um I know that I was only at a 6 an hour ago but like I feel the need to push so what does that mean?" She checked me, and I was at 10 cm, 100% effaced and the baby had dropped down. It was showtime! Going from 6 cm to 10 cm in less than an hour was definitely not normal, thank you Pitocin, but I also felt like it validated all of the pain I was in. She was ready, and I was ready. We kicked our parents out, and it was just Thomas, me and my favorite staff person at the hospital, Debbie (I actually cried about missing her when we came home from the hospital. Chalking that up to the crazy postpartum hormones though.).
Pushing a baby out was the most amazing thing I've ever experienced. My body took over and my world shrunk down to Thomas, Debbie the nurse and the baby girl. Thomas held one leg, Debbie held the other, and I pushed three times each contraction for ten seconds each time. I was completely focused on the sensation of pushing, the sound of counting, and the taste of the ice Thomas spooned into my mouth between each contraction. Debbie kept telling me what a good pusher I was, and being the words of affirmation girl I am, I ate this praise up and worked even harder to replicate or increase the intensity of each push. About 20 minutes in, Debbie said, "I can see her head! She has hair!" We had hoped she would have some hair, so we were pumped. Debbie included Thomas in everything she was doing and seeing, which was awesome since he had been unsure of how much he wanted to see but was happy to be included. Various nurses started to come in and out, bringing delivery-related items in. Meanwhile, I just kept pushing and chomping on ice. Debbie told me about an hour into pushing that she was sure I could deliver vaginally and that we were (most likely) not going to need a C-section. This gave me the energy to keep going at a time when my energy was starting to flag.
After about an hour and ten minutes, baby girl had worked herself a good way down the birth canal and Debbie was instructing me how to keep the intensity of the previous push going so that she wouldn't slide back in. She was in contact on and off with the doctor, who was in the adjoining building finishing up her appointments for the afternoon.
And all of a sudden it was time for her to be born, about an hour before Debbie had predicted. Booyah, I was a pushing champion. This unfortunately meant that I had to stop pushing for a few contractions, which was painful and uncomfortable, while she summoned the doctor. Our parents later described hearing the doctor's squeaky shoes running down the hallway to our room. Dr. Lynch was in the room for all of about five minutes before our baby girl surfed her way into the world. I use the word "surfed" because the feeling I remember most was the sensation of warm water drenching me (and the doctor). Apparently most of the amniotic fluid had been stuck behind her, so when she slid out, most of that came with her. She instantly cried and one of the delivery nurses deftly wiped her off, wrapped her in a blanket and stuck her on my chest. Thomas then cut the cord like a pro and then went out to tell our anxiously awaiting parents what her name was. And just like that, all of a sudden we were parents! She was all gooey and squirmy and lovely.
Lillian breastfed while I delivered the placenta and got stitched up from my level 2 tear. First stitches I've ever had, for the record. Terrific. Next time I will definitely wear a nursing bra instead of a regular one because it was pretty comical trying to get everything situated so she could feed. We had about an hour together as a family of 3, plus all of the medical people of course, and we laughed about the fact that I had planned to do my hair and makeup and that I had been bothered earlier by Thomas' t-shirt and backwards baseball hat. We were both sweaty and gross and didn't care at all.
Around 6 pm our parents came in--they had been chomping at the bit to come and see her and to make sure everything was okay--and they were able to watch her get weighed, 6 pounds and 15 ounces, and measured, 20 inches. We later found out that she was in the 37th percentile for weight, the 50th percentile for height and the 94 percentile for head circumference. Ha. Baby bighead, just like we'd anticipated!
We stayed in the hospital for two nights and went home around 1pm on Friday, September 2nd. Postpartum stuff is no joke, but I will spare you all those details, so that those of you who haven't given birth may still want to some day.
All in all, giving birth was the most painful and incredible thing I've ever experienced. It is amazing how God put all of the little pieces and parts together to allow your body to first grow a baby and then birth one. Life truly is a miracle. A bloody, sweaty, messy one, but a miracle nonetheless.
Check out those chins! She is definitely in what my dad refers to as "the Winston Churchill phase" of babyhood. Still completely precious though.
39 weeks 0days
