She is here!
Baby Girl Dietrich arrived at 4:56 on Tuesday, March 18.
And if still-wet baby photos along with labor and delivery stories, offend you - skip this post. There is one above that contains ONLY post delivery sweetness.
In all honesty, in this age of birth plans and momma's trying to decide just how they want their labor and deliveries to go, this baby's birth would be a complete fail. If I were one to make a birth plan and expect it to be followed it would have gone much differently. However, I am not one to write a detailed birth plan. It may be old school, but my "birth" plan has always been to be flexible, to adapt, to follow the advice of the medical personal - while thinking and questioning on my own a bit, and in the midst of all the chaos to try and be fully present and enjoy the moment.
I had really wanted to go into labor naturally this time. I had planned to go at least a week beyond my due date if need be and wait for natural labor to begin. After being induced with all the other kids, I really wanted a less planned, less clinical labor day. However, since my blood pressure decided to climb, that was not to be.
I arrived at the hospital on Tuesday morning, March 18, at 7 am, knowing I would be induced. Chad had an early morning meeting, and I insisted he go to it. I knew it would be hours before anything exciting happened, so it seemed senseless for him to sit in my hospital room watching boring things like blood draws and IV's being started.
The medical team took over in a flurry of activity. Blood was drawn. An IV was started. Monitors were hooked up. Antibiotics were hung. The endless cervical checks began. (I was 2 cm dilated at this point.)
My previous inductions had gone very quickly. The doctor had broken my water, started pitocin, and two of our babies were born within two hours.
This time a different procedure was used, and somehow I knew from the start that it would be a much slower process. I had warned everyone - from the kids to my labor nurse - that I did not expect the same crazy fast delivery this time. I am glad I was prepared.
At about 8:30 the nurse placed a tiny pill of something called cytotech directly on my cervix. She explained that the doctor's say it is like dynamite. It can take a while to ignite, but once it does. . . watch out. After it was inserted I needed to lay flat for a bit over an hour. As the cytotech soaked in, she ran a bag full of antibiotics in through my IV since I was strep B positive this delivery.
Chad arrived between 9:30 and 10:00. At that point I was having some pretty minor cramping. We were then instructed to start walking laps, with the idea that walking would speed up labor.
By 11:30, I was bored and impatient. (Probably foolishly so.) I could tell it was going to be a long afternoon, so I begged for lunch. They brought me some soup and a sandwich right away.
My doctor came to check on me at 12:00. At that point I was maybe 3 cm dilated, and feeling really good. If I had been at home, I would more than likely not have suspected labor - but I would have started to notice intermittent contractions. She broke my water. I asked when she wanted to start pitocin. She laughed at me. She said that we should walk for a while and see what happened. She cautioned once again that once cytotech "ignites" it "explodes."
So we walked.
If I had to do this labor again, I would just relax at this point. Things were progressing. Contractions were certainly taking place - but the labor was "gentle." We walked laps and chatted until 2:00. The central theme of our conversation was her name. . . which one would it be? And how would it be spelled? I was feeling really good during all of this. It was the first time in 20 years that I asked Chad to slow down when we were walking, but I was able to walk and talk through all of the contractions.
At 2:00 I needed to be hooked up to the IV for more antibiotics. I was about 5 cm dilated and having regular contractions. They were increasingly strong, and I was starting to feel the baby descending.
I was also aware that there was a long way to go before baby would arrive. . . and that the kids got out of school in an hour. . . and that they REALLY wanted to meet the baby THAT DAY. Sierra had been texting me all day wishing for updates. I had a decision to make. Should I hold off on the pitocin and see what developed, or bite the bullet so to speak, and rush this baby along? I hesitated and Kami, my nurse, suggested we just get it done! So she started a "small dose" of pitocin.
I would say that the pitocin and cytotech combined into the explosion my doctor had been talking about because I was soon experiencing a labor like no other I had experienced before.
My biggest concern with starting pitocin was that I would then be stuck in bed, hooked up to a monitor. My nurse assured me that had changed. They now had monitors that could leave the bed. However, we could not get that monitor to work. Baby girl was hard to monitor during this part of my labor. Her heartbeat kept coming and going as her position changed. The nurse reassured me that nothing was wrong, but it was stressing me out. Because we had her heart checked out so thoroughly earlier in my pregnancy, I was totally paranoid about having her well monitored as labor progressed - so staying chained to the bed was how I remained until she arrived.
By 3:30 I was wondering if I could survive this labor without pain meds. I have never had an epidural - the needle in my back idea freaks me out. I had a drug called stadahl during Krissy's delivery, but the other three came sans pain meds. . . and fast. I have always gone from 7 to 10 cm in about 15 minutes - and although I had been cautioning myself and everyone else all day that there was no guarantee that would happen again - I was hoping. Trying to make a wise decision about pain management in the midst of the craziest pain of your life is surreal. Trying to think through a fog of pain about what would be best for the baby is so hard. I remember telling the nurse, "I don't know what I want." Assuming baby would come quickly - I was at 6 cm and "7" seems to be my golden ticket - I decided to wait until 4:00 to make a decision. I did not want baby to be born drugged up and sleepy, yet I was not sure I could endure hours of pain like I was experiencing.
During my pregnancy I had happened upon a video of a woman in Ethiopia giving birth. She was alone, assisted only by her neighbor lady, in her home. She had a dirt floor, and her many other children were zipping in and out of view as she labored. Right before the baby was delivered a piece of old plastic was placed on the dirt floor to provide a "clean" place for baby to drop. Baby fell from her squatting position onto the "clean" plastic. Her neighbor ran next door for a piece of old cording to use to tie off the baby's umbilical cord. Minutes after the baby was born the mother made a statement that may never leave me. She said, "Having babies is easy. . . it is keeping them fed that is hard."
All day as I labored I thought of that women and so many women like her. I was having an overly medically assisted birth in a pristine hospital. I had all sorts of options available to me. . . including the best pain meds in the world. And to me, birthing a baby was HARD, but feeding her would be easy. Knowing that fact was sobering and inspiring in an odd sort of way. It challenged me to find a way to be fully present in the pain, to face it, embrace it, and use it. Climbing on top of the pain, breathing slowly, relaxing, and not allowing myself to panic became my total focus.
When I was 8 cm, my nurse called the doctor to come. She was sure things would speed along. The time for pain meds was in the past, and baby would soon arrive. That is when laboring in a hospital becomes weirder than ever. The room is filling with people. Lights are being turned on. Equipment is being hauled into the room. Quiet chatter and anticipation fills the space. In the center of it all, I am laying on a bed trying to stay focused on relaxing, breathing, all while feeling baby move down with a force and pressure that I have never experienced before.
Poor Chad hates all of this. Seeing me in so much pain breaks his heart. I get it. I would feel the same way. I remember him rubbing my forehead throughout contractions, knowing he would do almost anything to make it all stop. Wishing I could reassure him that it would be OK, soon it would be over and she would be here.
I remember getting a work related text. . . and responding to it. . . knowing the sender had no idea I was in hard labor. . . scrambling at sanity. . . looking for anything to distract me from all the pain ripping through my body.
I remember random conversations whispered throughout the room. Chit chat about boats. Questions about whether I had had stadahl or not. My doctor wondering if it would be OK for her med student "Jean" to deliver my baby. What would we name her? My doctor checking my cervix. . . yet again. . . telling me 15 more minutes. Thinking I may not survive 15 more minutes. Then taking a breath and working through another contraction. My nurse taking charge, deciding I could push through the remaining rim on my cervix and get the baby here sooner.
I have never pushed for more than a few minutes. Once it was "go time" they have all come quickly.
Not this time.
As if even my body were mourning the end of this stage of life, pushing was slow going. I had to work hard. I could feel her descend each and every inch. Between contractions they kept telling me to breathe for baby, listening carefully to her heartbeat, feeding my slight paranoia. I remember my nurse calmly counting... the doctor commenting on how much hair the baby had while quietly coaching the med student on delivery... thanking another med student for holding my leg so I could rest between contractions. At one point the doctor pushed the baby back just a bit between contractions. I gasped. She said, "I like her heart tones better there. She will be here soon. It's OK."
Crowning happened in the midst of several contractions, and it was nearly unbearable. That experience was new to me. Birthing had never gone this slowly. I had never been so aware. In retrospect there is a rare beauty about that awareness. I totally experienced this little one's birth with an acute awareness that I have never before experienced. Suddenly her head broke completely through, her shoulders quickly followed, and then everything paused as they encouraged me to grab hold of this tiny, wet, slippery gift and pull her up to my chest.
I was shocked at how hard she was to hold onto. She was so slippery, so tiny, yet so huge. Above all, she was so incredibly welcome.
Seeing your child for the first time is the most incredible feeling in the world.
Whether by birth or adoption, coming face to face with the child you have been praying for for such a long time is a holy and sacred moment.
Time stops forever.
I will be forever grateful for these first moments with our baby.
They were unrushed.
They were precious.
They were a gift.
I was allowed to look at her, soak her in, hold her next to my skin, and just be with her for as long as I wished. I am so very thankful.
While I gazed at the amazing little girl laying on my chest, there was activity all around me. Chad cut her cord. The doctors delivered the placenta, carts were wheeled around, supplies packed up, blood pressures taken - but I was fairly oblivious. The only thing that mattered was the first moments I was having with my baby.
Eventually, I told her nurse she could grab her. I wanted to know how much she weighed. Plus I was freezing. I needed the doctor to finish her work on me so that I could be swaddled in warm blankets.
The nurse took her to a table that was almost within reach of my bed.
I was able to experience everything that was happening with our girl.
I was so thankful.
About the time the nurse grabbed our baby, my doctor came near me and said, "You are not going to be happy with me."
"How many stitches?" was my first question.
"None." she responded to my relief. "But you are clotting quite a bit, so I am going to need to massage your uterus." That did not concern me. They always "massage" your uterus after you give birth. . . or so I thought. This massage was like no other. She took her hand and pushed long and deep into my uterus, twice. It was awful. It did end the clotting, and has totally reduced the post-baby bleeding though.
(I wondered if this was a new labor and delivery practice, but the med student the next day assured me it was not. She had never seen it done before, so I guess I was just lucky!)
Thankfully, I had baby to keep me (and CHAD!) distracted through all of this.
She is breathtaking, is she not?
She weighed a perfect 7 lbs.
And look at her hair!
(Yes. I did have lots of heartburn.)
Even after all that slow pushing, she has a perfectly shaped 14 inch head.
(For the record slow for me was quick for some, I pushed for 30 to 40 minutes.)
And she was 20.5 inches long.
To put that into Dietrich baby perspective. . .
my smallest baby was 6.14
the biggest 7.10
longest 21.5
shortest 19.75
Here she is. . .
less than 2 hours old
waiting for her kids to arrive so we can reveal her name.
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