I woke up on Carson's due date, March 17th, 2010 feeling as good as a 40 week pregnant woman could feel. Better than I had actually felt in the last week since I had been having some issues with my blood pressure. I have the most amazing doctor who, knowing I absolutely did not want an induction, checked my blood pressure, urine and dilation daily at her home for a week. I spent one night at 39 weeks in the labor/delivery triage monitoring my heart rate and met an awesome nurse who told me that I needed to start imagining my body going into labor. Because I had been induced with Montana (not a great experience for me), I was having a hard time feeling like my body actually knew how to go into labor. This nurse said, "Imagine your cervix opening up like a blooming flower". She talked about the power of positive thinking...and as silly as it sounded, I dreamt of blooming flowers for that whole week.
Anyway, so it's Wednesday, St. Patricks Day, and I am determined to not sit around and wait for this baby to come. After all, it's the due date and what baby ACTUALLY tries to come on its due date? No, no, I wasn't going to drive myself nuts all day, so Montana and I threw on our green (I was even proud of myself for putting on non-maternity green pants I had with my belly band), and we headed to the bounce houses with our friends Sam, Kamryn and Dylan.
The girls bounced around, played ski hockey and had a blast.
Afterwards we went for lunch at Pizza Bell. Sam told me, "You have to eat the Pepperoni Jalepeno pizza. It will put you into labor." Willing to give it a shot, I ate myself a piece of that spicy pizza and thought nothing more of it. We then headed to the library and opened up a new Sacramento Library card. Montana got to pick 5 new books to read. She loved it. We sat in the library and read to the girls. They especially loved when Sammy would read--everything sounds better with a gorgeous South African accent.
Afterward, we decided to head back to our neighborhood to let the girls play at Kami's house. As I drove home, I made a few phone calls as I often do in the car, because it's uninterrupted conversation time. As I'm nearing my neighborhood, I thought about squeezing in one more phone call, but stopped as a thought popped in my head. I had recently read an article in the Ensign, one of our church's monthly publications about how we are so involved and "tuned in" to all sorts of media nowadays, via phones, facebook, twitter, blogger, radio, television...etc, etc, etc...that we often times have to much going on to be tuned in to the Spirit. So, I thought, "Okay, I'm about to go through one of the hardest things in life in the next little while, childbirth, maybe I should just pray and meditate on that thought." I had been already having anxieties about child birth--thoughts such as "Women and children sometimes die in childbirth" had entered my mind too many times for comfort in the last few weeks. As I focused my mind to ponder and listen to the Spirit, the words came into my mind, "Your water is going to break tonight. You need to relax. You and the baby will be fine."
I felt a reassurance with those words, but part of me shuffled them off as wishful thinking. I thought, "Of course I want to hear that my water is going to break. Whatever...". We continued playing with our friends, without mention of my "inspiration", and then headed home to get dinner ready before Marc came home from work. I talked to Marc on the phone, and still didn't mention my earlier experience. I didn't want to sound silly. I called my doctor to see if there was a time she wanted to check my blood pressure, and we both decided we'd skip the day and see me first thing in the morning since it was getting late. She mentioned to me, that she was going on call at another hospital and that, "...tonight would be a great night for me to have the baby", for her schedule, jokingly. I laughed along with her and told her I'd probably just see her in the morning for the blood pressure check. I got off the phone with her, and called Marc to see where he was, "Are we having this baby tonight?", he asks. I answer the same as I had every other day that week, "Probably not babe---no more contractions than normal." I had been sitting on the couch while the meat for dinner was defrosting, and I hung up the phone with Marc. I checked something on my phone and then heard a pop...for a second I thought, "What was that?" And then, it registered in my mind just as I felt a gush of water. I jumped up and ran to the bathroom to affirm, that MY WATER HAD BROKEN. Not two hours after my experience.
I called the Dr. back, and she said because of my blood pressure she wanted me to go to the hospital right away. As soon as Marc got home (and three outfit changes later), we were on our way to the hospital. I arrived at Labor and Delivery at about 7pm. They got me a room, my dad came to take Montana and they started monitoring the baby. After a little scare of a dropping heart rate, they moved me in a different position, and the baby regained a steady rate. Then, I just waited for more intense contractions. They had become regular on the way to the hospital, but nothing I couldn't speak through. Around 9pm...they had started to get a little tougher, and that's when I pulled out my ipod and labor music, sat on a medicine ball...and looked like this:
Oh so beautiful, I know. Haha...hey-high blood pressure makes a girl retain water, okay? :)
At my previous appointments with my doctor, I had expressed anxiety about labor. I had the desire to do natural childbirth, and because Montana's labor and delivery had been something out of my control, I wanted so badly to be able to have the experience of working through the pain. My doctor gave her advice the same every time, "Just when you think 'I can't do this anymore', you'll ask for something, be too far along for it, throw up, and then have a baby."
Well, the contractions all the sudden turned hard FAST. I'm not sure what time it was, maybe about 10:00, I told the nurse, Marc, ANYONE who would listen that I couldn't do it anymore. "I CAN'T, I CAN'T, I CAN'T!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" is all I remember saying. The nurse on call was amazing, and talked me through it---she said the doctor would be in soon to check me and we'd discuss options at that point. I never did throw up, but I sure as heck felt like I was going to. I'm glad I didn't---remember, I had jalapeno pizza for lunch.
The doctor came in to check me, "Just a little something to take the edge off", I told her, not ready for an epidural, just DONE with this intense pain. She checked me, "Nope--you're an eight almost nine. You're about ready to push soon."
I was floored---my labor with Montana had spanned over 24 hours! I only got here 3 1/2 hours ago. Are you kidding me? That was the motivation I needed to stick it out just a little longer. I had been through the hardest part, right?
WRONG. Come to find out, little Mr. Carson had turned himself so that his head was coming out sideways. Long story short, the doctor had to try to turn him with each contraction, sometimes using the vacuum to do so, all sorts of different pushing positions and pain so excrutiating I thought I was on fire or dying. Apparently, the situation was getting critical for baby--which, because I was on Planet Pain, I didn't really quite grasp. My sisters at one point had huddled on the couch out of fear, my husband had turned away for fear of passing out from the intensity of the situation, and my very professional and experienced doctor even had some concern in her voice. I sensed something when the she gave me three more pushes to get him out. The anesthesiologist was paged for an emergency C-section. I pushed with everything I had. "Two more pushes, Stacy." I pushed with everything I had, and energy that I didn't have but came from somewhere else. "Okay, Stacy, this is it, last push." At that point, Heavenly Father handed my baby to the doctor. I pushed as much as I could, but I know it wasn't me. It couldn't have been. I never even heard the doctor or anyone say they could see the head--and they couldn't. One moment I had a distressed baby stuck up somewhere in my birth canal---the next second, I had a screaming, healthy baby on my chest.
I am sure of three things: God gave me a miracle, My doctor saved his life, and it hurt like the Dickens.
Carson De Vaughn Rogers was born at 12:46 a.m. on March 18, 2010 at 7lbs, 8oz and 20 inches long. His apgars were 9&9-the highest they could be. Here I had a baby who was so distressed in the canal that the doctor thinks he may not have had time to make it to an emergency C-section, and he came out perfect (aside from a cone head and some abrasions from the vacuum).
We fell in love instantly.
My husband was an amazing help to me. I love him so much. I'm so grateful to my mom, mother in law and two sisters who were there for the birth. Thank you for sharing it with me.
My doctor---I love her.
Montana came that next morning to meet her baby brother--and fell in love just as fast as we had.
And then we headed home to start the journey as parents of two...
