Boy, oh boy, our baby boy is here at last!
And oh boy was it quite an experience to get him here.
Every baby's story is different, I'm learning that to be true.
From the very beginning this pregnancy was different. Because we had been trying to get pregnant, I had been taking pregnancy tests every couple of days from the first day I should have been able to get a positive result. But I kept getting negative results AND I kept not starting a new cycle...for two weeks! So if you were to go by the first day of my last period then my due date would have been March 8th...but with the crazy, whacked-out cycle we didn't think that due date would be accurate. When we finally went in for the first appointment and explained the situation to Dr Layton he decided it would be more accurate to go off the ultrasound. We got a new due date of March 19th.
We went through the typical misery that is the first half of the pregnancy and just when we thought the hard part was behind us I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes. That definitely came as a shock since I had never had a problem in that regard during my previous two pregnancies. I went in for the four-hour glucose test on Christmas Eve and got my diagnosis between Christmas and New Year's. After feeling unnecessarily guilty and shedding some tears and getting past new fears, I got into the swing of things fairly quickly. I learned a LOT about how to eat for maintaining good sugar levels - each day's eating rubric looked like this:
Breakfast: 30 g carbs
Snack: 15 g carbs
Lunch: 45 g carbs
Snack: 15 g carbs
Dinner: 45 g carbs
Snack: 15 g carbs
I did really well. I was lucky enough to never have to get on medication and by the end of the pregnancy they even reduced the number of times I had to check my blood sugar each day (only twice instead of four times). Even though I REALLY missed my sugars (I have the biggest sweet tooth of anyone I know) I felt amazing in my third trimester. I had WAY less water retention, more energy than usual, much less back pain and I ended up losing like 8 pounds (I was 146 lbs at the beginning of January and 138 lbs at 40 weeks). Awesome.
At 37 weeks baby boy threw us another surprise and had flipped around so that he was no longer head down. This led into yet another world of fears and unknowns. For the following week I did a series of stomach massages/exercises and a whole lot of praying to try to persuade the baby to flip around again. If he was not cooperative they would have to try to manually turn him (which could've led to a c-section if not successful). Thankfully, all the prayers and hanging upside down (haha!) actually worked and at 38 weeks he had flipped back to head down all on his own.
As the due date got closer, I was very hopeful and optimistic that I would go into labor on my own. I felt really confident that my due date was accurate to my weird cycle plus I was having contractions off and on for the last few weeks (that had never happened previously) plus this was my third baby. I really was wanting to do labor and delivery without medication this time around. However, I knew I wouldn't be so committed to an epidural-free experience if I was induced with Pitocin. It is rumored that labor pains are more intense and more frequent on Pitocin than they would be naturally.
Still, at my 39 week appointment I was only dilated to a 2 and 40% effaced. It was something but not nearly as far along as I had hoped I would be - especially as I was really starting to juggle my desires to
1. Do labor naturally
and
2. Have the most help at home for the longest time possible after the baby arrived.
We went into my 39 week appointment on the 11th hoping to schedule an induction for Thursday, March 17th so I would have every bit of Ammon's time off work for help with the baby and kiddos. But Dr Layton was going on vacation that weekend and so we couldn't schedule induction until Monday, March 21st.We were penciled in at 5:00 a.m.on Monday, March 21st.
We spent that last weekend productively - Ammon got his first few garden boxes built and installed and also checked off the bulk of items on his "honey-do" list. Plus, he did a little extra and planted us some rose bushes! They're gorgeous!
Me? I did some time with this wicked mistress. TWICE. Dis-GUST-ing!
So I spent most of my time in the bathroom. It did spur on contractions both times but nothing that stuck around.
Sunday night we eagerly anticipated Grandma Baysinger's arrival (she was going to come spend the night at our house so she could be with the girls when we slipped away in the early morning hours to have a baby). However, when I called the hospital that night they were very busy and told me not to plan on coming in at 5:00 the next morning...to get a good night's sleep and they'd call us the next day when they had space for me. As if that were not disappointing enough, shortly after that the hospital called back again and said that they were going to have to entirely reschedule my induction for 9:00 p.m. because Dr. Layton was held up at an airport. He wasn't going to be back in town until Monday afternoon. Bye-bye yet another day of Ammon's time off work.
When we called to let Grandma Baysinger know that she need not stay the night with us they were already on their way out - which turned out beautifully. The girls were thrilled to have Grandma and Grandpa there to help do bedtime routines (so thrilled, in fact, that Miss Lynnden refused to go to sleep - who could blame her?).
Plus, Grandpa Baysinger was able to give Daddy a father's blessing. I can never be grateful enough for the righteous fathers in our lives and our loving Father in Heaven - that blessing was exactly what Ammon needed.
Monday, Ammon got a garden box installed in Mesa and I did my second dose of Castor oil. I also took a scenic walk to the park with the girls. I REALLY wanted labor to kick in.
No luck on the labor front though.
Early that evening Ammon gave all three of us girls a blessing and we got the girls into bed and told them that Grandma would be there when they woke up in the morning.
When we called at 8:00 that night everything looked good at the hospital so we waited for Grandma to arrive. Before long, she was there and we were able to talk for a little while, snap one last picture and then head off to the hospital.
The nurse got me checked in and all set up.We were a little less than impressed as she seemed to have a really difficult time with the computer system and couldn't get my IV in. However, she gained some points back as we discussed my plan - she was very encouraging about my desire to go epidural-free and very understanding that I might change my mind. We discussed forgoing the epidural even while on Pitocin and after assuring me that it could be done she told me that we would just take it a little at a time and see how it went. I would be free to change my mind at any point. This was very relieving to me - I expected judgement to come down harshly one way or the other ("You really should just get the epidural, dear." OR "Okay, I'll make sure there is no epidural for you!")
So at 10:45 p.m. I was officially on Pitocin and they were to come in every 30 minutes to up the dosage. At that point I was dilated to a 3cm and 60% effaced and already having contractions (thank you Castor Oil). It didn't take long for Ammon to try to get some sleep but I was really expecting labor to kick in and progress quickly (with Lynnden it only took about 5 hours from Pitocin to birth). Plus, I was really anxious about trying this epidural-free experience for the first time so I didn't really even try to get sleep.
Looking back, maybe I should have tried for sleep. Or invited the nurse in and tried to make friends or something.As it was, my contractions stayed very manageable through most of the night, Ammon tried to sleep and I rarely saw the nurse. I spent my time pacing the room, bouncing on a birth ball and laying in various positions on the bed.
Eventually the contractions did start getting more intense and Ammon got up and was very supportive. I got through most of these contractions while standing up, facing Ammon and holding onto Ammon's arms with my forehead on his chest. I remember looking at the clock and telling Ammon to make a note: contractions are getting pretty miserable at around 4:30 a.m. - and that was the last time I looked at the clock.
Things went on that way for a while. Mostly me standing, leaning into Ammon and breathing through the contractions. As they got more intense though, I became less capable of managing them. Ammon tried massaging my back and putting pressure on my hips which helped a little but not a lot. I didn't have as much pain in my back as I did on top of my pelvis. I know that sounds obvious but it felt so different than anything I had ever felt before. It didn't feel uterine exactly - it felt like someone was pressing a brick onto the top of my pelvis bone. So I tried sort of dance squatting and tried sitting on the birth ball again - that did NOT feel relieving. After sitting on the ball that time, I remember I was fairly terrified of ever having to sit or lay back down to birth the baby.
Eventually, the contractions were just awful. I would get really hot and nauseous at the peak of each contraction and so we got a barf bag handy. I remember being so irritable with Ammon at this point. I would get to the top of a contraction and snap at him for the barf bag because I was sure I was going to need it. But then the contraction would come back down and I would practically throw the bag back at him like "Why am I holding this? I have other things to be focusing on right now." Over and over and over again.
It felt like a long time but probably wasn't before I couldn't breathe through the contractions anymore. I really had used up my arsenal of mental preparation and didn't know how to go on. I didn't think that I could go on, really. I should have asked to get into some water; I've heard that baths and even just running hot shower water over yourself really helps at this point, but I really couldn't even think anymore. Plus, part of me didn't think they would let me since I was hooked up to IVs and such. That might have been true but I didn't even ask. So I asked Ammon to get me the epidural. This would have been an excellent point in labor to have an excellent nurse. Someone who had been there before to really coach me through and help me find strength and relief and hope. But I did not. I hadn't seen my nurse in a long time. In fact, when we called for the epidural it was another nurse that I had never met that came in to make sure that an epidural is what I wanted.
I remember thinking that getting the epidural was going to take forever. That I didn't know how I could possibly survive the amount of time it would take for them to check my progress, notify the anesthesiologist and have my turn come around. And I really didn't know if I could possibly hold still for the length of time they would need me to hold still in order to put that needle in my back. Contractions were coming every one and a half to two minutes and lasting about that long as well.
But they didn't check my progress.Say what?! I thought that was crazy but was too eager to get the epidural to request getting checked. I knew that to get checked would mean laying down on the bed (which I really didn't want to do) and it would also mean taking more time (which I didn't want either). Now though I really, really wish they had checked.
Still, Ammon and the nurse coerced me onto the bed so that I could sit and be ready for the anesthesiologist. And the anesthesiologist got there fairly quickly. In that time though I had become really crazy. I would cry out in pain throughout each contraction and had demanded a cool rag to help with the nausea that came at the peak of each contraction. I would hold that rag on my head only at the peak of each contraction to relieve the heat. Eventually, I started to bite and pull at that rag through each contraction, like a dog playing tug-of-war. I was also pounding on Ammon's chest and arms throughout each contraction, poor guy. It was like the pain gave me a violent energy that I couldn't fight. I felt like the pain was exploding inside of me and I guess that made me explosive in turn. Even right in the middle of everything, mentally I knew I must seem insane and weak but physically, I had no power to do anything else. And between contractions I became dejected and depressed because all I could think was that another one was coming.
I was so glad when the anesthesiologist arrived (there is hope!). And nervous (could I hold still long enough?). And self-conscious (I'm screaming and acting like a crazy person with no ability to control myself). While he was getting set-up I remember one particular contraction came on and the nurse started telling me to breathe through it and that I could do this. It seemed insincere to me though (what did she know about what I could do? We only met a couple minutes ago! She hadn't seen me get to this point and I didn't even know her name!) So mostly I thought she was crazy and I just cried out over and over again "I can't, I can't." And when the contraction came back down it was the first time I remember really crying. Maybe I had been before, but I remember it at that point and all I could say was "Please, no more. No more."
The anesthesiologist did manage to get the epidural inserted between contractions. I was so impressed with that. Truly. However, like last time with Lynnden, the epidural only worked on one side of my body. My left side started to feel some relief but that almost made things worse - the pain on my right side seemed more intense in contrast to my numbing left side. Again, I remember crying between contractions. I felt really depressed now because I had the epidural and I was still in pain. Plus, I had this experience with Lynnden and I knew that my other side wasn't going to get numb quickly, if at all.
I was still screaming in pain through each contraction and so the nurse called the anesthesiologist back into the room. He pulled the epidural out a hair so that it might be able to move through some of the tissue better and hit both sides like it should. That did make the difference and it slowly started dulling and eventually numbing the pain on my right side too.
I don't remember if it was right before or right after the anesthesiologist came back that second time when Dr Layton called the hospital and asked how I was progressing. So the nurse checked me (finally) and I was "done." Fully dilated, fully effaced. (Huh, maybe that is why I was so crazy. Maybe that is why I thought I couldn't go on. Maybe I could have done it if someone had just checked me and told me I was almost there. Siiiggghhh. Oh well.). Dr. Layton told them he was on his way and not to let me push yet. I would guess that was probably between 6:00 and 6:30 but I can't be sure.
Because I wasn't completely numb I could feel the pressure coming down through me, but because I was mostly numb it wasn't hard to fight the urge to push. Dr. Layton got there a little while later and spent a good few minutes telling us about his disastrous travel over the past few days. Yup, while my legs were up and I was ready to push. Haha. It was fine though because by that point I couldn't really feel much of anything. I was happy to lay there in my temporary respite while Ammon and Dr. Layton relived Dr. Layton's miserable flying situation.
Eventually the story came to a close and Dr Layton broke my water. He had been sure to puncture just the smallest of holes because I had so much "bulging" water...and WOW, that was a LOUD gush. The nurse told me I could push when I felt like it and so the pushing began. It only took two "sessions" of pushing and then at 7:12 a.m.on March 22nd our baby boy was here.
What struck me the most about that moment was how calm it was. I'm sure that was partly in contrast to the extreme sensations I had been experiencing just a short while previously. But also, I wasn't nervous about meeting this child like I had been with the first two. There wasn't a great commotion or rush of emotion. I didn't have the same fear to combat. There was relief. There was satisfaction. There was love. And such a sense of awe at this process of bringing life across the veil. And a sense of disbelief that this was my baby boy. It was a clear, calm moment and I felt so much more confident and sure of myself as a mother than I ever have before.
I held him for a while and shortly thereafter began nursing him. Eventually they took him across the room and did his measurements and such.
And Daddy got to hold him.
We ordered me some breakfast (good riddance gestational diabetes!).
Do you SEE all the carbs on that plate? I wasn't pregnant. I wasn't diabetic. I had a beautiful, healthy son. I had a plate of carbs. I had TWO fresh, warm blankets (I had been shivering and freezing right after giving birth). I was pretty much at the peak of happiness.
P.S. I pretty much inhaled all of that food in about two minutes. Something about childbirth puts a manly hunger into a woman!
We eventually got moved over to recovery and after a few hours I was able to get removed from all my tubes and wires and such...which meant I could shower! Hooray! As, I was finishing up getting dressed we welcomed Clark's first visitors...Grandma and Grandpa Lords.
I was especially welcoming when they presented me with my very own delectable treats!
Grandpa often has these at his house and they are easily one of my favorite sweets in the world. I craved them like mad while was going without sugars and jokingly told Grandpa that he couldn't hold my baby unless he brought me those at the hospital. Haha. He remembered!
Sometime after that we decided which name we felt best about: Clark Alan Baysinger.
Clark: A strong name we both loved for years, felt like it was a name he could make his own, one his posterity could use.
Alan: His Daddy's and his Grandpa Baysinger's middle name.
That evening Grandma Baysinger brought the girls to meet their brother. It was the sweetest thing. Really. We have it on "film" if you don't believe me. Seeee?
They loved that baby boy right from the beginning. It was so nice to see my girls and have our whole family together for a little while! I was surprised at how much I missed them and it hadn't even been a full day away when they came to see us.
We were able to get our very first family picture while they were there.
HA! Oh, that Lynnden girl.
We were also able to get our first acceptable family picture too.
Grandma Baysinger took some time to love on grand-baby #13 and help us introduce him to his sisters too.
From there, Grandma took the girls back home with her where they got to have a sleepover at Grandma's house - easily one of their favorite things in the world! I was so glad and so grateful they got to spend that time with Grandma. I didn't have to worry about them one little bit because they were in such great hands and so happy to be there with Grandma. Grandmas are the best. Seriously.
The next day was full of Clark's tests and procedures and such. We had expected and hoped to be out of the hospital by mid-day but ended up being delayed until that evening. I think we got home around 6:30 or 7:00 where Grandma already had the girls fed and cleaned up and ready to be home again. So we were gone almost 48 hours.
A lot can happen in a little time.
I'm learning more and more that it's the littlest things that leave the largest impressions, the largest emotions, the largest impacts.
I mean this little boy, not even 8 pounds, has filled our hearts completely with love and joy and hope.
We're all in love with him.
Especially me.
Can you tell?
Welcome to the world Clark.We love you. We're excited to learn who you are and share our family adventure with you.
