I may have completely slacked on making any attempts at documenting our little Sticky Bun's (now Tintin's) pregnancy. While we are at it, I think I am about 2 birthday updates behind on Panini too. But I do want to get the details of Tintin's birth written down before I forget them. Tintin's birth felt a lot like this pregnancy; filled with touches of uncertainty, doubt, offering up suffering, beauty, gratitude, and a lesson in trust.
Pregnancy after a miscarriage was, as expected, an entirely different experience than pregnancy prior to our miscarriage. Each day felt long not because I was uncomfortable but because I was anxious. In the beginning I told myself "I will feel better once we have our first ultrasound" and then "I will feel better once we are past 9 weeks" and then "I will feel better once I start feeling his movements" and then "I will feel better once his movements get stronger" and then "I will feel better once he is in my arms". And the truth is, the anxiety lingered...lingers on. So I have to find a way to trust that my worries will not change one single thing. I have found myself filled with overwhelming gratitude to mother this little life, knowing how my heart aches for Bennett and knowing how others long to carry a baby. This pregnancy, filled with so much fear was also filled with so much beauty and appreciation beyond words.
And so the birth. With Zilla, I was young, unemployed, and content to wait as long as he needed to make his arrival. When we passed Zilla's due date it did not phase me. With Panini, I was working and TIRED. I was ready for him to come two weeks before his due date and did every natural birth induction method I could find. He came one week early. With Tintin, I needed his birth to happen on a very specific timeline. He had to wait until Nina got here, otherwise Zilla and Panini would be attending their brother's birth. But the moment Nina arrived, I wanted him to be born. The anxiety of not being able to see or hold him in my arms reached its boiling point and the days dragged on. There was also the pressure of knowing Nina would have to leave soon and he needed to be here before that. On the 22nd I started having some contractions that were coming every 6 minutes but never grew very strong or long. After a few hours of contractions, and a few hours of everyone getting excited, they fizzled out.
As the due date came and went I started to worry about needing an induction. I had an appointment with my doctor on the 26th and we decided I would go ahead and have my membranes stripped to see if that would encourage things to get going. I was measuring at 4 cm and 50% effaced. Most of Friday was normal up until 8pm. I began to feel small and short contractions again. I didn't want to get myself, or anyone else too excited, so I did not say anything as we put the boys to bed. Jason and I came down stairs and began talking. I started peeking over at Jason's phone to see how frequent the contractions were coming. At this point I let him know that I was having contractions every 6 to 8 minutes and that they were a little stronger and longer than the ones I had on Monday night. I could tell he was getting a little jumpy and we agreed if they progressed to every 5 minutes or if they started lasting at least a minute we would head to the hospital. We had about a 30 minute drive ahead of us and I did not want to be going through transition stage in the car.
At about 10:30 we made the decision to go to the hospital. I called my mom and text my sister to ask for prayers and let them know Baby Tintin may be on the way. When we arrived at the hospital we were quickly brought back to triage and I was feeling encouraged by how quickly we were being seen. A nurse midwife came to check me and I was still dilated at a 4 and about 60% effaced. She sounded unsure if this was real labor or just my body responding to having my membranes stripped with some contractions that would once again fizzle. She told me she would like to wait until 1:30 (two hours) to check me again. I let her know that my labors tend to progress very quickly. She nodded and left Jason and I to ourselves.
At this point Jason and I agreed we should try to rest in case things ramped up. Hubskie fell asleep in the chair while I tried my best to get comfortable. The triage bed was about the most uncomfortable thing I could imagine at the time and I needed about 5 additional pillows if I was going to actually get rest. Meanwhile the contractions were definitely picking up and I desperately wanted to be back in a labor and delivery room with more options for positioning. At 12:40 I asked Jason to get the nurse as I was feeling confident that this was really labor and I should be moved out of triage into an actual room. The nurse midwife checked me again and I was still 4 cm and 70% effaced and she mentioned the head did feel lower. She then said she would like to keep me in triage because it still might not be labor and that she would not check me until 1:45 am. I again mentioned that once my labors pick up they move very fast. She said that even for a fast labor, one hour wouldn't make much of a difference.
Time went on and I was no longer able to sit quietly in bed. I got up and tried sitting in the recliner, which did not help at all. I went back to the bed and tried getting into the position I was most comfortable in during Panini's labor, but did not have enough pillows to support me. At this point I was irritated. I felt discouraged that I apparently wasn't progressing, I felt discouraged that the nurses still didn't think I was actually in labor, even though the contractions were starting to hurt very bad. I started to doubt myself and my ability to get through the labor and delivery. I began to offer up each contraction for intentions of friends and family. I tried to refocus myself and not fight the contractions. I noticed myself tensing up when one would begin and I had to tell myself to let the contractions work for me. By 1:40 I was in a lot of pain and telling Jason I couldn't do this. I was ready for an epidural because early labor had never hurt this bad before. Contractions were coming every minute. I felt a ton of pressure. I did not understand why I was having such a hard time with what may not even be labor. I was afraid something was wrong.
At about 1:55 I began groaning quite loudly with each contraction. The nurse came in and cheerily asked if the contractions felt stronger and at this point there was not a chipper bone left in my body. I could barely talk with the intensity of the contractions and how close together they were. The nurse midwife came in and asked me to lay down so she could check me. I could not lay down. It hurt too bad. I finally managed to get into a position to be checked.
"YOU'RE 8 CM FULLY EFFACED BABY IS IN BIRTHING CANAL" cue shocked panic mode. The nurse and nurse midwife quickly start to prep the triage bed to move me. The nurse midwife is simultaneously rolling me down the hallway and calling the on call doctor to let her know she needs to go to my delivery room now. Poor hubskie is trying to gather all of our things, text all the family members, and chase us down the hallway. I am not in a good mental head space. On one hand I am relieved that there was a reason the contractions felt like the baby was coming out. On the other hand, this is not how I wanted it to go. I wanted to spend time in the labor and delivery room with hubskie, take some pictures, and I wanted to be in a much more assure of myself place before starting to push. But here we were.
When we came into the delivery room (2:02 am per the text Hubskie sent my family) the doctor immediately questioned why I was just being admitted into a room. The nurse midwife said that I had unexpectedly progressed from 4 to 8 cm in an hour. By unexpectedly she must have been referring to the two times I told her to expect me to progress quickly. The triage nurse was telling the L&D nurse a brief history of me and mentioned that I did not want an epidural, which made me laugh, because even if I did want an epidural we were clearly past that at this point. The doctor took a seat to check me and told the team the baby was coming, it was time to start pushing. I can very honestly say I was not ready to push. This labor didn't necessarily progress any faster than Zilla's or Panini's, but I felt so unsure of everything up to this point that I had little confidence. My pushes during the next contraction were obviously timid and useless. Fear had taken over. The L&D nurse helped me climb out of that fear. Her words were full of encouragement and started to rebuild my resolve. After a few contractions with pushing our sweet Tintin was born at 2:12 am. He was born "en caul" and Jason got to watch the doctor remove him from the amniotic sac as he was being born.
Zilla and Panini met their new brother on Saturday afternoon. My heart could have exploded to have all three boys with me in that bed together. It is a moment I will cherish always.
And now soapbox time. Did you know the maternal mortality rate in the United States is the worse among developed nations? And many experts looking into this issue believe it has to do with care teams in hospitals not listening to their patients? The maternal mortality rate is even worse among women of color. This is a problem America. Women are being told that the symptoms they're experiencing are normal or that they are overreacting. Maybe they are not being told this in words, but in actions (or inaction in most cases). Google it, there are countless stories. New York Times recently ran the story America is Blaming Pregnant Women for Their Own Deaths.
In my case, when I was told that I wasn't yet in labor, despite expressing feeling intense pressure and very strong contractions it really only meant discomfort and a blow to my pride. But for many women it can be a critical point at which the care team can choose action or inaction. I get it, I wasn't any more dilated, so by that standard alone, you couldn't tell whether or not I was in labor. But nurses and doctors need to start listening to their patients too and not just their monitors. If I am telling you that I am in labor, that my contractions are stronger and closer together, believe me. If I tell you that my labors progress quickly based on experience, believe me. I left the hospital feeling very irked by this experience and I realize it is because I know about the maternal mortality rate. What if something was wrong? It seemed like they had decided I simply had a low pain tolerance and was struggling to make it through early labor. Meanwhile I was going through transition phase sitting cross legged on a hard bed while my husband slept because you told him I may not be in labor. That it would be at least another hour before we even see progress if I was. Meanwhile, I felt alone as my anxieties surrounding this pregnancy were all coming to a boiling point. Despite me saying more than once that I progress quickly. Saying that the contractions felt stronger and closer. Yes, by standards of the amount of dilation, I "wasn't progressing". But listen to your patient. Believe me, I could tell when I went from being able to talk through a contraction to not being able to.
Again, in my case it resulted in increased discomfort and fear. But in so many others the lack of listening results in much more tragic outcomes. So I'll step down now. But I hope you are a little more aware of the problem going on. If you are a pregnant woman or a husband about to hold the hand of your wife in labor, don't shy away from insisting that your care team listen to you. That they take what you are saying seriously. If you do not feel that they are, say it again and again until they listen to you simply out of exhaustion.
I am so thankful for an excellent care team after leaving triage. I truly cannot say enough positive things about every single other person I came in contact with at the hospital. When I arrived to labor and delivery and told the nurse there that I couldn't do this, she reassured me that I could. When I brought up concerns or questions I was greeted with exceptional customer service. When I mentioned a history of PPD and PPA, the on call OBGYN came for an extra visit to discuss this with me. This is the kind of care that women and people in general should be receiving. And I am even more grateful for this little life who has been entrusted to me. He is our little Sticky Bun, Tintin, my little snuggabug, and I love him so.
As the due date came and went I started to worry about needing an induction. I had an appointment with my doctor on the 26th and we decided I would go ahead and have my membranes stripped to see if that would encourage things to get going. I was measuring at 4 cm and 50% effaced. Most of Friday was normal up until 8pm. I began to feel small and short contractions again. I didn't want to get myself, or anyone else too excited, so I did not say anything as we put the boys to bed. Jason and I came down stairs and began talking. I started peeking over at Jason's phone to see how frequent the contractions were coming. At this point I let him know that I was having contractions every 6 to 8 minutes and that they were a little stronger and longer than the ones I had on Monday night. I could tell he was getting a little jumpy and we agreed if they progressed to every 5 minutes or if they started lasting at least a minute we would head to the hospital. We had about a 30 minute drive ahead of us and I did not want to be going through transition stage in the car.
At about 10:30 we made the decision to go to the hospital. I called my mom and text my sister to ask for prayers and let them know Baby Tintin may be on the way. When we arrived at the hospital we were quickly brought back to triage and I was feeling encouraged by how quickly we were being seen. A nurse midwife came to check me and I was still dilated at a 4 and about 60% effaced. She sounded unsure if this was real labor or just my body responding to having my membranes stripped with some contractions that would once again fizzle. She told me she would like to wait until 1:30 (two hours) to check me again. I let her know that my labors tend to progress very quickly. She nodded and left Jason and I to ourselves.
At this point Jason and I agreed we should try to rest in case things ramped up. Hubskie fell asleep in the chair while I tried my best to get comfortable. The triage bed was about the most uncomfortable thing I could imagine at the time and I needed about 5 additional pillows if I was going to actually get rest. Meanwhile the contractions were definitely picking up and I desperately wanted to be back in a labor and delivery room with more options for positioning. At 12:40 I asked Jason to get the nurse as I was feeling confident that this was really labor and I should be moved out of triage into an actual room. The nurse midwife checked me again and I was still 4 cm and 70% effaced and she mentioned the head did feel lower. She then said she would like to keep me in triage because it still might not be labor and that she would not check me until 1:45 am. I again mentioned that once my labors pick up they move very fast. She said that even for a fast labor, one hour wouldn't make much of a difference.
Time went on and I was no longer able to sit quietly in bed. I got up and tried sitting in the recliner, which did not help at all. I went back to the bed and tried getting into the position I was most comfortable in during Panini's labor, but did not have enough pillows to support me. At this point I was irritated. I felt discouraged that I apparently wasn't progressing, I felt discouraged that the nurses still didn't think I was actually in labor, even though the contractions were starting to hurt very bad. I started to doubt myself and my ability to get through the labor and delivery. I began to offer up each contraction for intentions of friends and family. I tried to refocus myself and not fight the contractions. I noticed myself tensing up when one would begin and I had to tell myself to let the contractions work for me. By 1:40 I was in a lot of pain and telling Jason I couldn't do this. I was ready for an epidural because early labor had never hurt this bad before. Contractions were coming every minute. I felt a ton of pressure. I did not understand why I was having such a hard time with what may not even be labor. I was afraid something was wrong.
At about 1:55 I began groaning quite loudly with each contraction. The nurse came in and cheerily asked if the contractions felt stronger and at this point there was not a chipper bone left in my body. I could barely talk with the intensity of the contractions and how close together they were. The nurse midwife came in and asked me to lay down so she could check me. I could not lay down. It hurt too bad. I finally managed to get into a position to be checked.
"YOU'RE 8 CM FULLY EFFACED BABY IS IN BIRTHING CANAL" cue shocked panic mode. The nurse and nurse midwife quickly start to prep the triage bed to move me. The nurse midwife is simultaneously rolling me down the hallway and calling the on call doctor to let her know she needs to go to my delivery room now. Poor hubskie is trying to gather all of our things, text all the family members, and chase us down the hallway. I am not in a good mental head space. On one hand I am relieved that there was a reason the contractions felt like the baby was coming out. On the other hand, this is not how I wanted it to go. I wanted to spend time in the labor and delivery room with hubskie, take some pictures, and I wanted to be in a much more assure of myself place before starting to push. But here we were.
When we came into the delivery room (2:02 am per the text Hubskie sent my family) the doctor immediately questioned why I was just being admitted into a room. The nurse midwife said that I had unexpectedly progressed from 4 to 8 cm in an hour. By unexpectedly she must have been referring to the two times I told her to expect me to progress quickly. The triage nurse was telling the L&D nurse a brief history of me and mentioned that I did not want an epidural, which made me laugh, because even if I did want an epidural we were clearly past that at this point. The doctor took a seat to check me and told the team the baby was coming, it was time to start pushing. I can very honestly say I was not ready to push. This labor didn't necessarily progress any faster than Zilla's or Panini's, but I felt so unsure of everything up to this point that I had little confidence. My pushes during the next contraction were obviously timid and useless. Fear had taken over. The L&D nurse helped me climb out of that fear. Her words were full of encouragement and started to rebuild my resolve. After a few contractions with pushing our sweet Tintin was born at 2:12 am. He was born "en caul" and Jason got to watch the doctor remove him from the amniotic sac as he was being born.
Pure joy and relief and gratitude. Holding this baby in my arms for the first time was like someone had finally reminded me to breathe after nine months of holding my breath. The rest of our time at the hospital went great. The maternity nursing staff, pediatric staff, and on call OBGYN staff were all phenomenal. They have a hands off approach, which meant almost no night time interruptions. On our second night there, hubskie went home to be with Zilla and Panini. That night, the nurse held Tintin for me in between feedings so that I got a solid 3 hours of sleep. The food was decent and they even had vegetarian food options. It was definitely a different experience from the family filled hospital stays in Texas, but the quiet and calm had its own charm to it.
And now soapbox time. Did you know the maternal mortality rate in the United States is the worse among developed nations? And many experts looking into this issue believe it has to do with care teams in hospitals not listening to their patients? The maternal mortality rate is even worse among women of color. This is a problem America. Women are being told that the symptoms they're experiencing are normal or that they are overreacting. Maybe they are not being told this in words, but in actions (or inaction in most cases). Google it, there are countless stories. New York Times recently ran the story America is Blaming Pregnant Women for Their Own Deaths.
In my case, when I was told that I wasn't yet in labor, despite expressing feeling intense pressure and very strong contractions it really only meant discomfort and a blow to my pride. But for many women it can be a critical point at which the care team can choose action or inaction. I get it, I wasn't any more dilated, so by that standard alone, you couldn't tell whether or not I was in labor. But nurses and doctors need to start listening to their patients too and not just their monitors. If I am telling you that I am in labor, that my contractions are stronger and closer together, believe me. If I tell you that my labors progress quickly based on experience, believe me. I left the hospital feeling very irked by this experience and I realize it is because I know about the maternal mortality rate. What if something was wrong? It seemed like they had decided I simply had a low pain tolerance and was struggling to make it through early labor. Meanwhile I was going through transition phase sitting cross legged on a hard bed while my husband slept because you told him I may not be in labor. That it would be at least another hour before we even see progress if I was. Meanwhile, I felt alone as my anxieties surrounding this pregnancy were all coming to a boiling point. Despite me saying more than once that I progress quickly. Saying that the contractions felt stronger and closer. Yes, by standards of the amount of dilation, I "wasn't progressing". But listen to your patient. Believe me, I could tell when I went from being able to talk through a contraction to not being able to.
Again, in my case it resulted in increased discomfort and fear. But in so many others the lack of listening results in much more tragic outcomes. So I'll step down now. But I hope you are a little more aware of the problem going on. If you are a pregnant woman or a husband about to hold the hand of your wife in labor, don't shy away from insisting that your care team listen to you. That they take what you are saying seriously. If you do not feel that they are, say it again and again until they listen to you simply out of exhaustion.
I am so thankful for an excellent care team after leaving triage. I truly cannot say enough positive things about every single other person I came in contact with at the hospital. When I arrived to labor and delivery and told the nurse there that I couldn't do this, she reassured me that I could. When I brought up concerns or questions I was greeted with exceptional customer service. When I mentioned a history of PPD and PPA, the on call OBGYN came for an extra visit to discuss this with me. This is the kind of care that women and people in general should be receiving. And I am even more grateful for this little life who has been entrusted to me. He is our little Sticky Bun, Tintin, my little snuggabug, and I love him so.
