Evelyn Belle's Birth Story

Evelyn Belle

It's difficult to believe that just a little over one week ago, I was sitting here with a giant pregnant belly with one little baby growing inside of me. Today I sit here with a tiny bundle of joy sleeping soundly next to me. How awesome is that, I ask you? I have spent the last week counting my blessings and am so happy to be the proud mama of now three beautiful children. My sweet new baby's introduction into this world began last Sunday morning...

Around 36 weeks pregnant, my doc informed me that she'd be shocked if I made it to my due date so I began rushing around like a mad crazy fool in hopes of at least getting one more shopping trip in for food. 37 weeks came...then 38...39...and my wee one still, much to my docs surprise, did not grace us with her presence. By November 17th, I had but one last thing that I'd hoped to do before I became a mama again. I wanted to go see the last Twilight movie with Mandy. I believe now that I willed my body to not go into labor until I was ready because the morning after we went to the movie is when the craziness began.

I woke up Sunday November 18th around 5:00. I don't know why, but something just made me wake up and think, "This day is going to be different." I fed the cats, had my 10th pee break, and went back to bed. At 6:20 I woke up to what I thought was something trickling out of me. I laid there on my side for a couple of minutes and then I felt something else. My first real contraction. Ouch. Nothing like the hundreds of Braxton Hicks I'd been getting forever. I thought, "Wow...that kinda hurt...I wonder what will happen if I stand up." So I did and gush! It was official. My water broke. I woke Josh up and called a few people to let them know it was time. My awesome mom came to be with the kids and off to the hospital we went with a towel between my legs.

The contractions started off pretty painful. Nothing I couldn't handle, but still...ouch. When we got to the birthing center they checked me and I was 3 cm dilated. I had decided that I wanted to go epidural free this time around as the last two times, it just didn't work out for me. Quite frankly, I was afraid of something else going wrong with the third epidural. After a couple of hours of contractions they checked me again and there was no progression. They decided that I needed pitocin to help my contractions along. Boy howdy, did that suck. The contractions had been 3 minutes apart from the beginning and very painful for some reason and the blasted drugs didn't make it better. Seven hours went by with still no progression on the cervix but something else was wrong. I looked at the monitor and the baby's heart rate dropped into the low 50's during a contraction and fought to get back up to normal. Not good. I called the nurse in and they started watching things closely and called the doctor. The baby wasn't tolerating the contractions well. Something was definitely wrong. They stopped the pitocin and put me on oxygen in hopes of getting the heart rate back up and steady. Eight hours in to labor and I still had no progression. The baby's head was facing the wrong way and made it so that my cervix wasn't being pushed on correctly and causing the horrendous back labor. At times I was having five minute long contractions and the baby was going without oxygen for far too long. The pain never stopped even between contractions and they had to put in internal monitors in hopes of getting the best read possible for heart rate and contractions. As badly as I was trying, the pain beat me and I said I'd try the epidural. This is when things went downhill fast.

I was scared of getting another wet tap with my epidural so my awesome husband and our amazing nurse held me down tight so I wouldn't jump and mess it up again. (this happened with Abby's birth.) It worked and I was dissappointed in myself for not making it. But this was the least of my worries now. It was purely by God's grace that I got that epidural when I did. They were watching the monitors like hawks and the baby's heart was still not responding well to the contractions. Within 45 minutes, just as the epidural was taking full effect, I called my Mom and Aunt Rita. I was still on the phone when the room began to buzz. The heart rate plummeted into the low 40's. The phone was ripped out of my hands and suddenly I was aware that things were about to get serious. I heard the word "c-section". I was terrified. The room was spinning and I was being wheeled out leaving Josh behind me. People were scurrying in every direction and I couldn't focus. Lucky for me, I also had some great family there who said just the right things at the right time to ease my panic...even if it was only slightly and for a short time. (If you read this, thanks again Ben and Heather.)

They took me to the operating room and started to prep me for an emergency c-section. As they wheeled me down the hall, I couldn't stop being more terrified than I'd ever been before. The doctor was explaining the risks of major abdominal surgery as they wheeled me away without Josh by my side. When he said, "I have to tell you that with major emergency surgery, there is a risk of death." Talk about something you don't expect to hear. From here, I don't remember many specifics. They had me on that table so incredibly fast. It was amazing how fast they can assemble 12 people in a room for something like this. I kept asking where Josh was and finally I heard him beside me. He was scrubbed in and finally by my side holding my hand. Like I said before, I don't remember too many specifics, but there are a few things I do remember clearly. The look of fear on Josh's face as they put the curtain up. He was scared and I've never seen him like that before. Scared for me...scared for the baby. I remember sickly pressure and pulling and asking over and over again what was happening and if we were okay. I remember them saying that they found the problem and that the cord was wrapped around the baby's neck which was why she wasn't tolerating labor. And then I remember hearing her crying through the drug and adrenaline haze. I remember looking over to see my baby and Josh holding her for the first time. And I remember hearing the time old announcement of what my baby was. "It's a girl!" Evelyn Belle was welcomed into this world at 3:14 p.m. on November 18th, 2012. She was 8 lbs 5 oz and 19 3/4 inches long. And she was so beautiful and precious. Even through the drugs, I was in love.

I must admit I was a little surprised that she was a girl. Everyone said I was having a boy, but regardless of that fact, I didn't mind one bit what the baby was. I just wanted it to be healthy. From the moment they wheeled me into the OR till the time she was born all happened in mere minutes. It was the most frightening experiences I've had. The nurse told me later that asking for the epidural when I did could not have been more perfect on the timing. Had I asked for one much later and Josh wouldn't have been able to be with me because I would have been put to sleep. And she also told me that the situation was pretty serious. Had I been a home birth or not in the hospital for care, we would have lost our baby and I would have likely died as well. Scary things to hear, but a relief and a blessing that we have hospitals with the ability to assemble an emergency crew in mere minutes.

Evie (pronounced ee-vee...long E...not short E) did wonderfully. She scored high on her Apgar and is a super healthy (and hungry) little girl. She had a few problems with spitting up for 24 hours due to not getting the "big squeeze" from a normal birth, but other than that, it's been wonderful. She is named after both of my grandmas. Evelyn from my Granny and Belle from my Grandma. As for me, I was healing and getting along so well much to the surprise of the nurses and my doc, that they even released me after 48 hours instead of 96 which is the norm for a c-section birth. I won't lie though. The whole healing from major abdominal surgery thing kind of sucks as I have zero feeling in my stomach skin and zero muscles to sit up with. Oh...and the pain thing stinks too. Each one of my kid's birth stories is unique and somewhat abnormal for as far as births go. But it's been worth each and every nanosecond of pain and healing. Evie is our third beautiful blessing from God and I'm thankful for more today than I was the day before. Welcome to the world and welcome home sweet Evelyn Belle. We love you with all our hearts!

40 weeks...or rather 2 days away from 40 weeks.

Getting ready to leave for the hospital. One last shot with just two kids.

Thanks to our awesome nurse, when we had no time to bring a camera, she took Evie's first picture right after birth. Thanks nurse Donna!

Alex and Abby meeting their new sister for the first time.

With mama right after being sewed up.

Thanks again to our nurse for the pictures she e-mailed us.

Abby is smitten and she always calls her Evelyn Belle. Too cute.

Alex loves being big brother round two.

At home with big sister and daddy.

Sweet Evie on her birthday.

Home at last! Welcome home sweetheart!

 More pictures to come soon!

Chiropractor in Waiting

There are a few men in Alex's life that he looks up to with eyes of wonder and adoration. First, of course is dad. In fact, Alex has come to the point in his life when going with mom to the store is no longer a viable option if it's possible to stay home with dad and watch football. But there is a second man in his life that he absolutely adores and I'd probably say he's earned the title of second place when it comes to male role models (judging by Alex of course) and that guy is Uncle Ben. His uncle is a chiropractor who has worked on me several times. So what does Alex want to be when he grows up? According to his teacher and the many, many times he tells me, he wants to be a chiropractor and work with his Uncle Ben. It's very amusing. Anyhow, one of things that Alex has watched his uncle do when working on my shoulder is called Kinesio Taping. It's basically this nifty stuff that helps muscles and whatnot to heal. Since the first time Alex watched his uncle do this, he's been absolutely fascinated by the process. Heck, he's been fascinated with the whole chiropractic gig. But the tape really has his interest. I can't tell you how many days I've spent getting "fixed" by Alex when he pretends to be my chiropractor. It's adorable.

Long story short, I did something pretty bad to my right rib(s) while coughing/throwing up/etc during this pregnancy. As an act of desperation, my brother-in-law recommended trying to tape my own ribs with some cheap KT tape from Wal-mart after watching an instructional video on YouTube. Alex watched that video over, and over, and over again. Pure 100% fascination. He jumped off the computer after the 10th time watching it and excitedly said, "Okay mom! I can do this. Lift your shirt up and I'll tape your ribs for you!" He was serious folks. No joke. Well, Josh was the lucky winner who got to tape me. But as it turns out, the stuff didn't stick to my skin at all. Alex stumbled upon the rest of the unused roll in a drawer in the bathroom a few days later and while I was lying on the bed one day attempting not to go into labor, he asked if he could use the tape to fix my legs (which incidentally weren't in pain). As the tape was essentially worthless, I said I didn't care. I kid you not. The kid spent at least an hour kinesio taping my legs. The good news is...the tape isn't cluttering up my bathroom drawer and the sore muscle from all those pregnancy charlie horses is gone. The bad news? Josh got his arm taped and turns out that removing tape from a hairy arm is not pleasant. Alex asked me to take a video of him so that he could show his uncle Ben how great he is at taping. It was darn cute so Uncle Ben? I hope you watch this. Your apprentice in the making.

Super serious.

The result of a six year old's taping job.

Seriously?

So I should be sleeping. Yup. Should be sleeping. But as it would typically go, a slight wrench has been thrown into my last days of pregnancy. Apparently, I'm meant to deal with an incredibly poorly timed stage of events. It can all be summed up in three basic things.

1. 6 year old asthmatic with a coughing cold
2. 39 week pregnant mom with coughing cold and badly damaged ribs
3. Imminent labor at any given moment

Why, oh why, did the kids have to bring home a cold one week before I'm set to be in severe writhing agony away from them in the hospital? When Alex gets sick like this, it always leads to me sitting up with him and checking his oxygen levels and lungs all night long for at least 3 nights. Those nights start tonight. I'm due to give birth by next Tuesday and could pop at any given moment. Josh is a very heavy sleeper who gets up to work at 4:30 every morning to a job situation where he could be in danger of many unplanned accidents if sleep deprivation is privy to the situation. That leaves me to the kids when their sick. As it should be, of course. But if I pop, I must leave my kids and flee to a hospital where I will not only be in active labor attempting to squeeze a watermelon out a lemon hole, but where I will be constantly worrying about my asthmatic child back home barking away in his bed. And I must leave this responsibility to my mom who never had to deal with such situations with her four kids. Not to mention that bringing home a newborn to sick people can't possibly be a good thing. So...what am I doing right now? Praying.

When I'm done praying, I'll pray some more. What was once a hopeful moment that I might stay pregnant for the sake of trivial things has now become a hopeful prayer that we can all be well before labor sets in. Every time I cough, my right ribs threaten to shatter. Each time I hear my son barking just one small room away my eyes pop open in worry and fret. Timing, so it seems, is a funny thing. So for anyone out there willing to throw a prayer our way, please pray for quick healing of this cold for us all and for this little baby to stick around in his/her comfy womb for just one week longer so we have time to heal. As fun as childbirth is, I do hope to not add worry, fret, and punctured lung from coughing to the list of things to deal with that day. Ugh....timing.

39 Weeks

Looky who is still here and as fat as the world! My ultimate goal (go ahead...call me pathetic) is to make it until at least Saturday after 3:00 p.m. Why? Oh, ya know. Only the most pathetic reason you can possibly imagine. Awhile back, tickets were purchased to go to see the final Twilight movie on opening weekend. I've seen all but the first one with Mandy in the theater and we are both very hopeful that I can bake this little turkey just four more days so we can go see the final installment together. One last hurrah until breastfeeding is over. So basically a year from now as that's how long the little kiddo will be attached to my...well...you know. Actually, there comes a bit of freedom upon solid food so maybe I'll escape once again in six or so months. :-)

So how am I? I'm peachy actually. Other than the fact that I'm having severe rib pain still from that possible fractured rib and my hip still hurts awful bad, I'm doing about the same. It's uncomfortable, yes. But I could go another two weeks without blinking an eye. Do I think I'm going to go another two weeks? No. Not really. The belly's hangin' pretty low these days. Some days I'm afraid I'll actually physically sit on it. But as most pregnancies go, I'll probably pop right at the exact time I don't want to. My best bet is either one hour before we leave for the movie on Saturday, Thanksgiving Day as we sit down to eat ourselves silly, or tonight at the beginning of a school week. But I'm hoping and praying for one of those rare due date deliveries which are supposedly unlikely if you're not induced.

Truth be told, the worst problem I'm having is answering the consistently repetitive questions. "Still no baby?" "Are you getting induced soon?" But my personal bane is the phrase I hear daily from people...including total strangers. "Woah! You look like you're about to pop!" Which roughly translated is: "My goodness! You're a huge fat cow. That must suck." To which I would love to answer, "Why thank you for noticing! I was hoping someone random would draw more attention to my ginormous belly today and remind me how fat I am!"

So for now I'm still here. That's about it. Until week 40...maybe...

One Hug

I don't understand how school can change a mom's life so dramatically and do so at a speed so incredibly unfathomable by my brain. I knew this past summer would be the end of an era with the kiddos and the beginning of a new one. I just didn't realize how much it really did change...until today.

Life has been hectic to say the very least. What with being a mere 10 or so days from having a baby, being a room mom, two kids in different schools, and life in general, I've been busy almost every single day. Each day after dropping Alex off at school in the morning, my days simply run me raw. It's been go, go, go for weeks now and since Alex's confidence with his food allergies at school, I've let life get away from me in a way. Those few weeks when I met Alex at school for lunch were precious to me. It was harder for me to let it go than it was for him by far. But I did it. I moved on and started even scheduling my doctor appointments in that time frame. But for the past two weeks, Alex has been asking me each day if I could meet him for lunch. I've become so swamped during the days that I tell him the same thing each time. "I can't bud. I'm really busy today."

Today, theoretically of course, I was actually going to be home and could meet him. So when the kid asked me to eat lunch with him, I said I'd do my best to get there. Naturally, something came up. Last night I started to make my way to the E.R. for what I thought was a blood pressure issue. (I'm fine...false alarm.) My doc wanted me to come in at 10:15 for a quick blood pressure/fetal heart rate check and as they are only open until noon, I had to go. It's a good 45 minute trip there and I realized that it would be really hard to get back for lunch at 11:00 for Alex. For the first time in awhile, I floated up out of my body and realized that I could not, under any circumstance, miss my lunch date with my six year old boy entirely. I kept picturing that little face wrecked with disappointment when I failed to walk through those lunchroom doors today. And you know what? I hauled butt home just in time to catch him at his last five minutes of lunch. The look of joy on that little boy's face when I went into that lunchroom was pure happiness in it's most raw form. He jumped up and gave me a hug that I swear to this day, I've never experienced before. It was a hug that meant something more than just 'hello' or 'love ya mom'. It was a hug from a child who missed his mama. He gave me countless hugs after that and his big brown eyes were glassed over from little tears he dared not spilled in front of the world. And by golly, I could feel my own eyes stinging at the corners. I promised him that tonight we'd go out and look at the stars and find constellations together after Abby went to sleep and that's just what we did. Then we came in, read a book together and you could see the joy in his face. The one that say's "It's just me and mom". And it felt good.

I've decided not to let life get so hectic that I forget to spend time with the kids. Not just the typical routine days, but time. Honest to goodness time. Their eyes won't always go alight when they see you walk into a room. That one hug was a wake up call to me. I'll never forget it. It may have been the last five minutes of lunch, but it meant the world to him. I found out that he'd gotten to lunch late because he'd gotten lost and locked out of the lunchroom. It couldn't have been more perfect of a day to be there for him. I'm done rushing. It's time to slow down and enjoy the moments that I could have missed so easily. I could have missed that one hug. Thank God I didn't.

38 Weeks

I never did get around to posting more Halloween pictures, did I? Oh well. That's life for you. I've just been too busy disposing of the 12 pounds of chocolatey goodness that the kids can't have. And by "disposing" I mean with my mouth. Well...Abby can have it,  but it turns out that she doesn't like it. She is also having some adverse reactions to too much cow milk. I think four years without it has created a possibly slight lactose issue. Moving on.

I'm officially 38 weeks...as of tomorrow. I figure I will be too busy to post this tomorrow so I'll just whip it out tonight. I'd schedule it to post tomorrow like I used to before blogger changed, but I can't figure it out now. So when I went to my 36 week appointment, the doc told me I was 1 cm dilated and 80% effaced. She then said that she'd be surprised if I went much longer. Ha! I've heard that before, doc. Alex was 2 days late and Abby was just 4 days early and she said the same thing with both of them. Both of them had scheduled inductions (that never happened of course). Of course, it naturally sent me into a frenzy thinking I'd pop within the next few days and was worried I wouldn't make it to that lung-safe 37 weeks for the baby. Here I sit two-weeks later and still cookin' the turkey. I'm perfectly fine with that too. Oh sure, sure. My hip is shot, I had a dislocated rib (not ruling out a possible fracture according to the doc, but we can't take an xray) and I am fairly certain that I can only pee one teaspoon of urine at a time now. But it's all good. The longer this kid sticks inside, the better lungs he/she will have.

So other than the obvious discomforts that inevitably come with the last month of pregnancy, I'm good. I am, however, at that awkward stage of pregnancy where dropping the soap in the shower becomes a dangerous game of Russian roulette. Naturally I drop the dang thing every night. It's only a matter of time now before Josh hears me screaming as I ultimately plummet to my demise all for the sake of picking back up the blasted soap. 

38 weeks and counting.