A Baby Story

Birth Stories....I believe these tales to be an important thread in the building of one's character. What child does not relish every detail in how he came to belong to his family? Hearing your own birth story makes you feel wanted, loved, and appreciated. It doesn't matter how your birth story goes-- whether your mother had pain medicine or not, whether you were delivered by c-section, or if your parents bought you on the black market (okay, so perhaps that one matters)---it is still a great recount of how you came to be a part of your family. My brothers and I are all adopted and we all have a birth story. These do not include tales of midnight cravings, delivery rooms, and timed contractions, but rather of waiting and phone calls and frantic trips (my oldest brother's involves a tornado) to finally get that precious baby. All birth stories are wonderful and courageous. Not one is better or more respected than another because they all have the same perfect ending....a sweet baby to add to your family. Isaac turns one tomorrow and I thought this to be the perfect place to share his sweet story of becoming part of the Phillips' family: Grapevine Chapter.

Although Isaac's birth story started on Saturday July 30th, things did not really start happening until Tuesday August 2nd (I know the whole four days of labor really sounded extreme--those first two days were uncomfortable and not much fun, but it was not the screaming and cursing type of labor portrayed on television. No worries, friends.) I woke up early on Tuesday August 2nd to send my husband off to work. He had an important meeting that day and I wanted to wish him good luck (besides, once you hit that nine month mark in your pregnancy not a lot of sleep is happening). Weeks earlier, Tobe had told me (jokingly) that I could not have the baby on August 2nd because he had such important things to do that day. My due date was the 5th, so we figured we were safe, especially since this was my first baby and first babies are usually late. I decided to hide a note in his lunch box (something I do on occasion) and this time chose to write the note from Isaac. I forget exactly what I wrote in that note, except for the part that read "Don't worry, Daddy. I won't be born today. Love, Isaac." Right about the time that I placed the note in the lunch box and started to zip it up, I felt some interesting things happening in my body--either the baby kicked my bladder or my water had broken. Because I had been a good pupil of my Child Birthing Class, I decided that if I could not tell precisely what had happened then it must have meant that the baby kicked my bladder. I kissed Tobe and sent him off to work without mentioning a thing.

My mom was already in town and staying with us as we eagerly awaited Isaac's arrival. That same Tuesday morning we laced up our tennis shoes and headed to Main Street to get some yummy breakfast at the Main Street Bread Baking Company. After eating we proceeded to take the very long way home (about 3 miles) and work off some of those delicious French pastries we had just consumed. By the time we arrived back at my house, I decided that indeed my water had broken and that it was not Isaac kicking my bladder. I confessed my secret to my mom and then called Tobe. Upon calling Tobe, I phoned the doctor's office to see if they wanted me to wait until my scheduled appointment later in the day or go to the hospital. They bumped my appointment up to that morning. I then jumped in the shower, washed and dried my hair, and applied my make-up with the hopes of looking fabulous in the birthing pictures I assumed would take place later that day. I sent my mom to Sonic to grab an early lunch for me since I knew that once I arrived at the hospital I would be deprived of food. Then we headed off to the doctor's office, where my water really broke while I was in the restroom (apparently it had just been a tear at first, which is why I had a hard time discerning what had really happened). I was only dilated to a 1 and 50% effaced so my doctor sent me next door to the hospital to be admitted and started on pitocin. Tobe rescheduled his meeting and rushed in from Dallas. My dad cancelled his patients for the day and drove in from Arkansas. Tobe's parents both left work to come wait for Isaac. We arrived at the hospital around 11:00am and the pitocin drip was started around 11:30, in hopes of creating a steady labor pattern. The first nurse I had that day told me I could expect to have Isaac around 6pm that evening. Fabulous. Because I am such a scheduled person, I really took this time to heart and expected to be pushing a baby out at 6pm exactly.

Friends began calling and stopping by to visit. We were fortunate to get the large labor room so there was plenty of space for everyone to hang out. I never thought I would be the type of person who would have a room full of people with me while I was attempting to give birth, but it made the time pass quickly and enjoyably. Everything was still strictly PG at this point so there was nothing inappropriate to be seen. The nurse kept having to come in every hour or so and up the pitocin because my body would not maintain a steady contraction pattern. Around 5pm, I realized that Isaac was not going to be born by 6 o'clock. By this point, I was really starting to feel the contractions (and the hunger pains) and was having to focus more on laboring. A shift change happened around 7pm and we got a new nurse (our fourth one of the day!). However, Kathy was to be my nurse throughout the night and was excellent. Although she knew I was going to have an epidural eventually, she encouraged me to wait as long as possible so that my body could be in a good labor pattern (key words of this whole story). Around 9pm things were getting pretty serious with the contractions. Isaac was in such a position that all my labor was in my back. Kathy kept having me try different positions (rocking chair, birth ball, on my side, standing up) to encourage Isaac to move down and to encourage dilation (I was still at a 1 at this point). She then kicked everyone out of the room and told me that things were getting serious and I needed all of my energy focused on Isaac. My doctor came sometime that evening and informed me (sweetly) that Isaac was not going to be born that night. She said that because I looked good and the baby looked good, she would allow me to keep laboring throughout the night (some doctors only allow women to labor up to 12 hours after their water has broken and then perform a c-section because an infection can set in and be harmful to mom and baby. However, my doctor allows 24 hours as long as everything looks great.) She encouraged me to try to sleep once I got the epidural and would reassess everything in the morning. Around 10:30pm the contractions hit HARD and I decided that I needed the epidural because Isaac might come out through my back if I didn't have something. Unfortunately the woman next door also needed an epidural and because she was delivering triplets, she ranked first. Finally the doctor arrived (his name was Dr. Needleman--isn't that a riot?) and put in the lovely epidural, which promptly made me freezing cold and gave me the shakes. However, I did fall asleep for a bit. Tobe pulled the makeshift couch right up to my bedside and curled up to sleep some as well.

The nurse continued to check me throughout the night, having me change positions in the bed to help Isaac moved down. At one point I developed a fever so I was given a large amount of fluids to bring that down (which also made my face swell up like the Stay Puff Marshmallow Man). Although the goal was for me to sleep that night, I was wide awake the majority of the time. I had to be on oxygen due to the fever, so that large mask made it difficult to sleep. I just laid there, starting to feel scared about the whole act of pushing a child out of my body and realizing that it was too late to turn back now. I started praying for some kind of miracle---that Isaac would just somehow fall out and we would all be okay. At 5am, Kathy came in to check me and see if I had progressed any during the night. Honestly no one was really expecting anything to have happened and most people were assuming Isaac would have to be delivered by C-section (at one point the night before my dad was behind the nurses' station reading their logs and checking their c-section rate). However by 5am I was completely effaced and almost dilated to a 10. The doctor was immediately notified and Kathy said I would start pushing in about an hour.

By 6am the doctor had arrived and I began to push. By 7am another shift changed happened and Kathy (quite sadly) left and was replaced by two other nurses (However, Kathy hung around the hospital as long as she could so she could meet Isaac, despite the fact that she had been working all night and had children of her own waiting on her at home.). My doctor stayed with us the entire time I was pushing (most don't come into the labor room until the baby is ready to crown) and she, the nurses, my mom, and Tobe all chatted between contractions (in which I would sometimes I have to remind them that I needed to push). Although it was a long time to push, the atmosphere was very light and happy and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves (maybe not me so much). Tobe was an excellent labor coach and was even told by the nursing staff that he should coach a sports team of some sort. Finally after 2 hours and one minute of pushing, Isaac was born at 8:01am on August 3rd. I don't remember if he cried right away or not, but I remember him being placed on my deflated stomach and just looking at him and kissing his sweet head (that was quite cone-shaped after all that pushing). He was healthy upon arriving and the baby nurse gave him his first bath and did all those important first things right in the labor room so Isaac did not have to go to the nursery. It was around this point that someone noticed that my epidural had fallen out and had likely been out for quite some time. I had noticed that the pushing had not been pleasant at all, but I thought that was how it was supposed to be. Because the doctor did need to put some stitches in, the doctor was called to come and fix the epidural. Upon his arrival he proceeded to make some joke about how I didn't need drugs for just a few stitches. I almost hit him but refrained since I wanted to be a good example for my son who was just feet away getting a bath.

The nurses scurried off and found me some food (part of which was a club sandwich from Jason's Deli that Alison had brought me the night before and the nurses had hidden in their fridge), which I think I ate in three large bites. Then we were off to the postpartum unit to spend the next day and 1/2 before returning home. By the end of that day, although I was exhausted and an emotional disaster, I remember looking at Isaac all bundled up in his standard hospital receiving blanket and blue knit cap and feeling like I had known him forever.

That is his birth story--long, but wonderful. Tomorrow he turns one, something that I cannot wrap my mind around and could possibly cause me to spend the whole day hiding in my closet crying. That same little boy swaddled in the receiving blanket almost a year ago came crawling into the kitchen yesterday, clutching a special toy, only to lift it up for me to enjoy. That same little boy who cried and cried to be feed those first few days can now hold his own food and drink and my lap is now serves as a comfy dining chair rather than the source of food. I am sure my post tomorrow will be filled with many more sappy mother sentiments. For now, enjoy these pictures of Isaac's birth day.

(How can Blogger hate me so early in the morning??? Check back for the pictures later)