Sound the Alarm

It's baby time! The excitement is overwhelming. I can't explain it, but instinctually, my body just knew what to do. I could feel the pressure of a contraction and my body just knew when and how to push. It was uncomfortable, but it I wouldn't describe it as pain...yet. Joel held my hand, brushed my hair back, he told me over and over again how great of a job I was doing, how proud he was of me, and how close we were to meeting our baby. I needed to hear all of those things. I was SO tired. I'd been in labor for what seemed like forever and its exhausting to say the least. Even though you're laying down the whole time, it takes one hell of a toll on your body. Joel later told me it took everything he had to not laugh at me while I was pushing. Apparently my face turned redder than my hair because I was pushing so hard and I was grunting like wild boar. Bless his soul.

After pushing about six times, all of the sudden in the middle of my next push, the fetal monitoring alarm went off. My baby's heart rate dropped, then went right back up to normal. I panicked and yelled "what the hell is that?". My midwife told me it happens sometimes and I shouldn't worry about it. But I WAS worried. No one wants to hear that sound. I can still hear it in my mind, I still have nightmares about it. I pushed about three more times, and the alarm sounded off each time. Then on my next push, the alarm sounded, but this time it didn't stop. Her heart rate plummeted and wasn't coming back up. This time it wasn't my Mom and Joel telling me not to push, it was my midwife. And that when things got scary. Our baby's umbilical cord was compressing, cutting off her oxygen with every contraction.

Our perfect girl

My midwife hits the emergency button next to my bed. A flood of nurses from the L & D floor and the NICU rush into my room as well as the Doctor in charge of the entire floor. They basically push Joel out of the way, two nurses grab my legs, and push them all the way up into my armpits. The doctor and all the nurses are talking so fast about vacuum assisted birth, forceps and episiotomy's. I look over at Joel, who has basically been forced into the corner, and he is terrified. I could see it all over his face. He later told me he thought in those few minutes he was going to lose us both. I was so scared, I needed him to be strong for me and the baby. I literally yelled at him, "change your face!". And he did immediately. He manned up and even though he wasn't next to me anymore, I just looked at him and knew we would be ok. Then I see the doctor rip open a steri-pouch and pull out a pair of sharp ass scissors. Oh shit, I thought to myself. I know what this means. Episiotomy time. He's going to give me a vag-anus. I hope he knows what he's doing. Joel better not be watching this.

With one swift motion, he performs a grade 3 episiotomy. I wouldn't Google that if you know what's good for you. I swear it was so quick it was like he was cutting through tissue paper. The doctor looks at me and says, "I need you to push like your baby's life depends on it, because it does. We have to get her out NOW and she won't make it to the OR." He was yelling at me. I needed to be yelled at.

Up until that moment, I didn't feel like a Mom. Hell, I'd only been pregnant in my mind for five weeks. When the doctor told me that, I reached down deep into my soul and my maternal instinct took over. I pushed so hard. I was the only one who could save my baby. And I did. She came sliding out in that one powerful push. And it HURT. For a split second, oh my God did it hurt. She came out screaming, peeing on everyone and everything. They place her on my chest for a second before whisking her out of the room to check on her. I did it. She's here and she's ok.

I yell at Joel to follow our baby because I've seen the Lifetime movies, y'all. The ones where the hospital accidentally switches babies. That was certainly not going to happen to us. I yell "what's her Apgar?" as they wheeled her out in her little box. The nurse laughed. She had only been out of my womb for less than a minute and I was already demanding to know her test score. NINE. Her Apgar was nine. She was perfect. They said the only way she would have been a ten is if she came out pooping.

I got what I wished for out of my birth plan. I got drugs and we both didn't die. Success. Victory. Joel is a Dad, and I'm a Mom. From the second the Midwife pushed the emergency button until they placed our perfect baby on my chest, less than five minutes had passed. It seemed like a lot longer than that when you live through it. Those will forever be the most terrifying, harrowing, daunting, exciting, rewarding, and amazing five minutes of our entire lives.

Joel becomes a Daddy

"DO NOT PUSH"

I'm bored. Labor is boring. Now that I'm no longer in pain, I'm freaking bored. The only thing on TV is Law & Order reruns, and to be honest, I'd already seen those episodes. My Mom, Dad and Sister are in and out of the room periodically through the night. We are all just waiting for the show to start. I can't sleep really because I'm too anxious, not to mention, starving. It has been something like 18 hour since I'd last eaten, and that makes a pregnant mama very unhappy. And I'm still mad about the snickerdoodles. I'd of sold my soul for some of those snickerdoodles. Read: Joel is an asshole.

So much goes on outside the delivery room bubble I'm living in. Parents fighting in the waiting room. My family eating food in secret. At one point my Mom went home to let out my dogs and Tripp, my oldest pup, ran away. Thankfully she got him back. All of which I had no clue about. I guess the less I knew about all that the better. So we just wait. All night and into the early morning. Joel naps on and off, I try to but its basically impossible with the constant checking of my vajayjay and having to reposition every hour. I'm in for the fight of my life and the damn nurses won't let me rest up to prepare for it. I'm convinced this is going to kill me. Around 7am or so the nurse checks me again. I'm at 7cm. She tells me we need to speed things up, again. I thought that is what the Pitocin was for, but she has another idea.

Enter the Peanut. It is a peanut shaped birthing ball. The nurse tells me to roll over onto my left side. HA. She's funny. I am literally paralyzed from the waist down. I cannot move. I need help. Enter Mom and Joel. Mom gets on my left side near my head, Joel is on my left at my feet, and the nurse is behind me. I do my best to help them out, and we manage to roll my beached whale sized self onto my side. With my ass hanging out facing the door to my room for all to see, Joel lifts up my right leg, audibly grunts, and the nurse puts the peanut ball between my legs. The idea of this position with this contraption is to help open up my pelvis. That is probably painful, but the Nazi made my night already with his magic juice.

The Peanut Birthing Ball

So we wait some more. Joel has to literally stay at my feet because I even though I couldn't feel a damn thing, In my mind I felt like I was going to fall off the bed. So he had to stay there and keep my legs on the bed and the peanut in place. He was so patient with me and my irrational fears. Here is where I also need to give a shout out to my Mom. She was a real life Carol Brady MOM during this stage of labor. I was increasingly getting more and more anxious about delivering my baby, starting to panic because the nurse told me it wouldn't be much longer. My Mom stood next to me, wiped away my tears, brushed my hair out of my face and tucked it behind my ear. Her and Joel both kept telling me how proud me they were of me and how it was almost time to meet our baby girl. They both reassured me everything was going to go smoothly. At that moment I remember feeling SO  much love and felt so encouraged by both of them. They made me feel strong when I was feeling so weak and exhausted. I will forever be grateful to them for getting through those last couple hours of labor.

After about an hour of peanut position, all of the sudden I feel like I have to take the biggest shit of my life. The pressure a woman feels when the baby descends is like nothing I can describe. I felt like my hips were being pulled apart with the hooks a butcher uses to carry slabs of meat. Even with the epidural, I feel a ridiculous about of pressure down there, I seriously thought the baby was going to come out of my ass. I can't control the feeling. I panic and yell "I have to push NOW". My Mom and Joel perk up, and panic themselves. My nurse had stepped out of room and was no where to be found.

Simultaneously, Mom and Joel both yell repeatedly "NO, DO NOT PUSH". Joel says "neither of us are equipped to deliver a baby!" My Mom looks at me dead in the eye and in the same voice she used when I'd get in trouble as a kid says "Jennifer Elizabeth, you will not push." Like I have a choice or something. My body is doing whatever it wants at this point and I don't have a damn choice in the matter. Joel yells for the nurse and she pops back in. I am once again rolled onto my back and the nurse checks me. "It's go time, you're at 10cm". I look at my Mom and Joel and say "TOLD YOU." Because I'm mature like that.

I decided that I only wanted Joel in the delivery room. I wanted our daughter to start her life with just her newly appointed Mom and Dad. I wanted my "golden hour" to be just the three of us. So my Mom kissed me on my forehead, told me that I could do this, wished us good luck and left the room. Shit is getting real people. A midwife and a couple other nurses come into my room, shuffle around getting everything ready for the delivery, the midwife puts my concrete legs into the stirrups and we are ready to go. I tell Joel to get a good look at my vajayjay because it will never be the same after all this. I forbid him from looking at my lady parts while I delivered his daughter. I wanted him to remember my vajayjay as it was before and I didn't want him to be scarred for life by seeing what was about to happen down there. I've seen videos. It does not look normal. RIP my vagina.

Our very own Peanut