There always seems to be a miraculous plan in place. And, one in which when things do not go quite the way I think I envisioned them, there is very much a reason for this--upon which--I endeavor to learn from and grow. I also know this about me: I have a very strong soul, and it will push my body beyond it’s limits. Case in point, the 10k run in Switzerland when I passed out from deyhydration in 1998 and the exertional heat stroke in 2003 after the run with my Marines. Mind over matter? For me, I will just keep going and going. Aidan Alexander’s birth is one such story and lesson for Alex and I, from which my belief and strength in myself and God has luminously blossomed and grown for me. As I seek out answers to the purpose of my life, and embark on this journey to grow more spiritually aware and to create intentionally—this is that story. And our little boy is one amazing spiritual being.
Blankets for Aidan
Counting down the last days of the 39th week…I could feel our little boy preparing himself to come into this world in tandem with my body’s preparation for his impending arrival. All of the worldly items baby Aidan would need, as well as all preparations for a natural childbirth…in water…at home were finished. We were all ready and just patiently waiting for the right time.
In the mornings I would watch our mind movie of his birth. I would go about the day envisioning Aidan being born as I put away the dishes, ran and swam in the swimming pool, walked Paddi, and had dinner with Alex. At night, Alex and I would watch our mind movie again before retiring to bed, for a night of rest for Alex, and a night of wiggling into the right position for a few minutes of hard sleep for me.
And then it was Friday, September 19th, our “estimated” due date. I had been having Braxton Hicks contractions on and off for a few hours at a time, usually starting in the evening for the past couple of days. Friday night after swimming they began again as I was preparing dinner. At around 8pm I called my midwife, excited to report that they were increasing in strength and frequency. Yahoo! I tidied up the kitchen, had some tea, and settled down to try to get some sleep during what was to be the early stage of labor.
At around 6am the contractions were still coming strong. I happily patted my tummy and spoke to Aidan in my head—excited at the journey that lay ahead. When it was a more convenient hour and Alex was finally awake—I told him this was it, he’s coming, and I hope it is today, Saturday, September 20th! We called my midwife around 8:30am and she suggested that we go about our daily routine. In the afternoon the contractions were closer together—and we called our midwife again to check in. She reminded me to have lunch and then for us to go for a walk.
And walk we did. We took ourselves and Paddi on six walks. (Later I found out each walk was a little under a mile and a little over a half mile!) It was hot outside, so in-between the walks I would down tons of water, cool off—and off we’d go again. I really enjoyed being outside, and this precious time to just ramble about anything and everything with Alex. Towards the end, Paddi was getting a little tired of the routine. Not us!
However, I was revved up and excited that Aidan was going to be in our arms in a short while. Alex was excited too! My husband really was a champ during the walks, because I have a feeling it was slow going, and a little tedious as I repeatedly asked how long this contraction was, and how long that one was, and were they closer together from the last time we timed them on our previous walk. At the same time, I wondered if this was really labor, because, I had this weird feeling that even though my muscles were working to birth Aidan, he didn’t feel like he was quite ready to come out yet. I could envision the whole process, but somewhere there seemed to be a block. I chalked it up to my inexperience and uncertainty about the birthing process—and didn’t mention it to anyone. I think around 8 or 8:30pm we called our midwife and decided we were ready for her to come on over. The midwife and her two midwife assistants arrived around 9pm. We had been in early labor now for 24 hours.
The midwife checked my progress, and said that we were now in active labor as contractions were 3-5 minutes apart, I was 6cm dilated, and 90% effaced.
Yay! We’re going to have the baby tonight!..................................Right.
Throughout labor I endeavored to remain calm, relaxed, and inwardly focused—practicing the art of looking like I was sleeping while birthing, thanks to the Bradley method. I never really kept track of the time. And it very much felt like I did when I would run marathons or compete in triathlons…I just keep on going with the finish line in mind until it is in sight. The intensity of the contractions increased in the wee hours of the morning just before the sun began to rise again. I cannot tell you how many times I went from the bed, to the birthing tub, to the bathroom, and back again. All I can say is my birthing team, and especially Alex, were amazing. They kept me motivated, focused, and I could feel constant whispers, gentle soothing touches of hands, and warm love envelope me as I birthed.
Looking back, around 4am, when the contractions became much more intense, so much so, I was requesting constant counter pressure on my lower back…we figured out this is when little Aidan came back up out of the birth canal and turned posterior (or face up), as indicated by the back labor. I believe this was shortly after I had dilated fully, and we had begun pushing.
It’s now about mid afternoon on Sunday, September 21st, and I’m still going strong. Sort of wondering why I would go from pushing for an hour or so, to having to wait to push after being checked. I just figured, this is how it is done. I never thought, wow this is taking a long time, or wow I’ve been pushing for a VERY long time—I just went with the flow of things. Still it felt like Aidan was ready to come and wanted to come out, but there was something blocking the final stages. At some point our midwife had asked if she could break my waters. I asked if that meant he would have to come within 24 hours—I knew there was some sort of timeline if the water was broke, due to risk of infection. So I or we decided not to, I would keep on going. Unbeknownst to me, I was dilating from 9cm to 10cm—allowed to push, but then I would close back down to 9cm. There was a cervical lip, so that also added to the impediment. Maybe, I’m just not pushing hard enough? At this point for me, I was focused on relaxing and deep breathing—figuring the half hour here, hour there of pushing was normal. Well, for this birth, I guess it was my normal?! I continued to move from the bed to the tub and back again…Alex rubbing my back, giving me water, enticing me to munch on something to keep my strength up. The intensity of contractions could still be felt in my back so Alex or one of the midwives was giving me constant back pressure—bless their hearts, I believe I was wearing them out, but I was far from being tired yet. My midwife was intermittently giving me homeopaths to help the birthing process along. We just kept at it. Aidan’s heart rate throughout all of this was staying strong with good variation around 140 beats per minute.
Around 1:30pm we decided to break the amniotic sac. So much for Aidan being born in the caul, but now maybe it would be easier for Aidan to come on out. I saw the look on my midwife and her assistants’ faces at the same second in my head a voice whispered that there was meconium in the fluid. The midwives kept up the banter of encouragement, but I knew something was not quite right, I saw the quick look that passed between them, and watched them walk out of the room to confer with each other as Alex continued to encourage me. He never left my side. I had another whisper in my head that he was going to come via a C-section. A few minutes later, after the midwives had consulted, my midwife told us that yes, there was meconium in the amniotic fluid. The baby was not in distress as his vitals (which were constantly being monitored) told us this, but something had stressed him prior to labor and he had passed meconium in utero. Hmm. My midwife told me the fluid looked like pea soup—and the viscosity was of the worst kind. There was a slight possibility of Aidan aspirating the meconium once he was born or other complications—which meant we should be near oxygen and monitors, i.e. equipment not in our home. (In vaginal births if there is meconium present in the fluid, there is a lower risk of aspiration than with a C-section, because in a C-section the baby is suddenly brought into the air without passing through the birth canal, which normally compresses the meconium out before baby’s first breath.) I was given the choice of calling an ambulance or going in our car. It was not an emergency, so the car it was as Alex scrambled to put some kind of bag together for us, and we drove to the hospital around 2 or 2:30pm. Subconsciously, I knew I was nestled in God’s hands, and remained calm and focused on breathing and not pushing. At this point I had been pushing during active labor, I would guess, for about 3 or 4 hours since 9pm the night before.
Once settled into a room at the hospital the nurse checked me, and I was good to push (dilated at 10cm). My midwife later told me that a lot of times when moms arrive at the hospital their progress slows down or regresses, because of the fear of unfamiliar surroundings and procedures. However, not the case for me! I wasn’t really worried, I was still in the zone of inner focus and what my body needed to do to birth Aidan. Plod, plod, plod…while giving thanks in my head for being in this with Aidan and Alex together. Lying almost on my back, I knew the next best way to push in this position was with my legs brought back to my chest. Alex and the midwife were amazing here, because they helped me to do this during each push. At one point I tried squatting on the bed, sort of awkward. They tried having me put my leg on the tray table, absolutely not after one pushing contraction! I pushed for another hour plus.
The nurses’ shift changed, and our new nurse said stop pushing, you’re not dilated to 10cm yet! What? She had the charge nurse come in and check, and nope I have to wait again. During this change over there was some jockeying by this new nurse with the midwife—not the best energy. However, we were blessed in disguise, because the charge nurse and I clicked, and she stayed with us and physically held back the cervical lip while my midwife and Alex helped me hold my legs back in a squat position, and I pushed to a count of 10 four times during each pushing contraction. It really is an amazing experience when you have three other people flanking you and you can feel there energy and thoughts tuned in to helping you birth. Waiting through contractions before I could push was a bit rough, but then I was ready to push again. At some point they stuck an IV in me, and then administered Pitocin. I had been pushing 5 or 6 hours, and even though I wasn’t in any pain, I figured I needed the Pitocin just given the facts: by now I had been in labor since Friday night—with no real good solid rest. I also had not really eaten anything of substance since Saturday late afternoon. The lemon ice never tasted so good in between the contractions. Alex could see his head, so I thought we were really close. Apparently, at some point Aidan again decided to recede back and then down again. What was going on?!
Instinctively, I knew Aidan was not going to come out the traditional way. Again, I heard the faint whisper of “C-section.” I told Alex and the midwife that I had this feeling. They encouraged me to keep on pushing. So, naturally, I kept on going. It is very important to note here that despite having this feeling that the only way he would come was via C-section, I never for a moment felt like I was giving up or giving in—or a failure. Debriefing with my midwife, in retrospect, I still feel as if we did everything in our power to help Aidan come the natural way. There was just some other plan.
At some point they upped the Pitocin again. The doctor would come in and check every now and again my progress. While waiting for this round of pit to rev up, my midwife asked Alex to go get something to eat and drink. He had constantly been by my side. Waiting to push was excruciating, and a couple of times it looked like Alex was about to tear up. (In the fall of 2005 and 2006, he had held my hand and helped me through both of our horrendous miscarriages with all the blood and anguish. I had seen that face before.) My midwife just wanted him to take a breather for a while; however, in less than five minutes he was back in the room munching away on something the nurses gave him so he didn’t have to go to the cafeteria or find a vending machine. They brought one in for my midwife too. I think, that’s when I realized, THEY were exhausted. The adrenaline in me was still pumping, so I was still ready to go, if only I can mentally focus on relaxing through these pushing contractions as the pit kicks in…So we pushed again. Thank God for Alex, my midwife, the charge nurse, and the other nurse tracking our vitals. Push….1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10, Push….1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-19, Push….1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10, I could hear myself say, “one more!” Push….1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10….and wait for another contraction to come. On and on we went, as I tried to push harder each time.
The doctor comes in again, around 8:30pm, I believe. I was not really getting any farther with the stations (although not really told this at this time). Blessedly, he had allowed me to keep birthing, despite the length of time I had been in labor at home. He was also attempting to honor my request to stay natural. He said we could keep going for another thirty minutes or so. I knew Aidan was not coming out through the birth canal. I was firm this time. We need to do the C-section.
The next 30 minutes were the worst for me. Here they had just given me more pitocin, and I was fully dilated, and not allowed to push! I have been in a constant state of gratitude and prayer, I’m sure Alex had been too off and on. The anesthesiologist is in the room, I’m signing paperwork, concentrating on not pushing—gone is my natural pain blockers, because of the artificial hormone in my body now, drip drip drip goes the IV. When will they wheel me into the operating room? Come on!
There was about a 12 inch gap between the bed I was in, and the operating table. I was told to move myself onto the operating table. That takes some will power and guts. I’m shaking, because of the crap inside of me. Ok, focus. And, focus I do—one leg, a butt cheek, an arm hanging on for dear life, as the other leg, and butt cheek make contact. Not allowed to lie down. Gotta sit up. Sit up, and cradle/slump over your baby. Legs dangling on either side of this narrow operating table. The sting of the spinal was not even felt, so excruciating it was to hold myself in a sitting position between these contractions I could not listen to. And, I’m lying down. Legs going numb. It’s cold in here. Arms are strapped down. I feel the belts tighten. The curtain goes up. Alex walks in and stands by my head. At some point we prayed aloud together. The doctor’s and nurses are chatting merrily away. I’m an object. Three minutes or so are going by. These are the longest and shortest minutes of my life. Tug, tug, tug, big tug, wiggle, wiggle, tug. This is nice, I can feel myself being ripped open. A big yank…and all I hear is this LOUD, LUSTY cry at 9:04pm on Sunday. I hear Aidan being borne through the air. Lots of joking about pea soup, a green baby with a green gardening thumb…Alex has disappeared beyond the curtain.
My baby, he’s crying! Alex, pauses as he walks by my head, I have one glimpse upside down of a greenish looking baby boy—and out the door they go to the nursery. Looking back, it was loud wailing for sure, but the stamped cry in my head also sounds a little wet.
It is sooo cold in the operating room. I manage to ask them to save the placenta. I smell burning flesh. I feel stitch, stitch, stitch….staple, staple, staple. When they were taken out a few days later—I think there were thirty staples. Thankfully, I was 1-2-3 lifted back onto the bed I had been birthing in…and wheeled back into the labor room. Vitals monitored for an hour. My midwife had went home once the surgery prep had began. She would stop by the next day to check on us. When can I see Aidan and Alex. Not yet. Alex was able to come back in briefly. We decided he’d go home to let Paddi out, and then head back here for the night. They wheeled in a cot for Alex. And, the wait begins.
Alex came back around a little after midnight. After some tears were shed by me—my gratitude for his strength, and all of his help through the birth, and what an amazing man he is…he slept…and snored. I didn’t sleep at all that night.
Gone were our dreams to have Aidan birthed, and laid gently on my chest immediately, so he could root and suckle. Gone, really, was even my hope to see my darling baby boy. I had had a glimpse. Now, he was being poked and prodded.
He aspirated the meconium, meaning the poo was in his lungs. He is on oxygen, and they have hooked him up to an IV by shining a flashlight through his transparent skin on his tiny hand. In goes the glucose and the beginning of the antibiotics. He is lying hooked up to tubes on a warming bed with a bubble over his head. He needs help to breathe on his own.
All, I’ve seen is the one glimpse, and then the two pictures Alex took of Aidan in the nursery—one with a hat on his cone head, and another on the scale….8 pounds 4 ounces.
When may I hold my baby boy?
My wish was granted 24 hours later around 8:30pm, Monday night. We laid our hands on his tiny back, gave him kisses, and talked to baby Aidan. We snuck in one of his receiving blankets from home, and curled this around his bedding. The plan was to soak up Aidan’s delicious baby smell, and then have Alex bring the blanket home for Paddi to cuddle into—so he could get used to our newest family member. Out went the plan for Paddi to welcome Aidan to our world as he came in to the world. Kissies. And gentle rubs on his back and one foot not attached to the heart rate monitor. He held on to our fingers. And, we talked to him. I was not allowed to stay in the nursery, my IV needed attending and more meds were called for, and I was not allowed to exhaust myself, because Aidan needed me strong.
During the day, I became familiar with pain medications, and attempting to go to shuffle to the bathroom and use the bathroom. I have elephant legs for legs—there is no sign of ankles, and I found out even toes can swell and become like Vienna sausages on acid. And, pump, pump, pump every 15 minutes with the hospital grade breast pump. Sputter, drip, sputter a drop of colostrum came out here and there. An ounce bustled off to the nursery, to be given to Aidan when he is off the oxygen.
I was on my second trip back to the nursery with Alex. That had to be the longest walk ever. This time, I was allowed to hold Aidan as I held an oxygen tube near his nose and mouth to help him breathe. Skin to skin contact. He was hot from the warming bed, but oh so breathtakingly beautiful. Alex was snapping away capturing this moment on film.
What’s this? He’s nuzzling my breast, and rooting around! I asked the nurse if he could try latching on. Every time we were near Aidan, and while I was holding him, he would stabilize, and was able to breathe more easily on his own. I asked him aloud if he was an angel, a child of light, and he said, “yup.” Now, it may have been him gulping down the pure oxygen from the tube, but then again, maybe not. Our proximity, our touch, and our voices—he knew us. Please, I just pumped, there is no colostrum coming out, it won’t interrupt his antibiotic and glucose drips. Please. A call to the doctor, and we were given the go-ahead. A little after midnight on Monday, Aidan was suckling without oxygen. We monitored his vitals closely. And, I thought it would be at the most for five minutes. Nope. Sixty minutes later, he was still sucking away. We were both dozing from the oxytocin. And, I was in another world not having really slept since Friday night.
Our baby was here.
The next few days, I plodded back and forth between my room and the nursery with Alex’s help. Alex would go home in the evening to let Paddi out and get away from the hospital. He would come back to sleep next to me. Every two hours I was in with Aidan letting him nurse. Talking to him. Cuddling him. Loving our little boy. Covering and holding Aidan with our blankets from our life at home. Our angel. Alex switched the receiving blankets out during his brief visits at home to play, feed, and cuddle Paddi.
After spending a bit of time getting a little worse—we were told he either would begin to get better, or get worse and need to be transferred to the NICU in Tucson. He turned the corner. Most of the meconium was gone from his lungs after a few days—baby’s cannot effectively cough it up, so there is risk of infection as the bacteria from the meconium sits in his lungs. However, the bacteria is his bacteria—and hopefully wouldn’t cause his body to attack itself. There were some scares along the way, he fought off an infection, they thought his liver was too big (indicating a bigger problem), and he had the beginnings of jaundice with too much bilirubin in his system, but he pulled through. His ultrasound of his liver came back normal. He’s healthy!
We were released from the hospital around 2pm on Thursday, September 25th.
The blankets for Aidan worked. We all lay cuddled beneath blankets on our bed. Our whole family—me and my three boys. We were home.
My milk came in on Saturday.
Our adventure continues as we learn and explore our new world together. Praise be to God, amazing grace how sweet are the miracles and blessings bestowed upon us! If we were living in any other era, Alex would be a widower. Aidan and I would not have survived childbirth, because Aidan was not coming out. The miracles of modern science allowed us to be here, and for our strong, healthy baby boy to be a child of light our world so much needs now. We have much to learn from him, and believe me, he will be loved and nurtured so that he may know down deep inside he is beloved so he can go out and perform his purpose driven life with overflowing, abundant joy.
Blankets for Aidan
Counting down the last days of the 39th week…I could feel our little boy preparing himself to come into this world in tandem with my body’s preparation for his impending arrival. All of the worldly items baby Aidan would need, as well as all preparations for a natural childbirth…in water…at home were finished. We were all ready and just patiently waiting for the right time.
In the mornings I would watch our mind movie of his birth. I would go about the day envisioning Aidan being born as I put away the dishes, ran and swam in the swimming pool, walked Paddi, and had dinner with Alex. At night, Alex and I would watch our mind movie again before retiring to bed, for a night of rest for Alex, and a night of wiggling into the right position for a few minutes of hard sleep for me.
And then it was Friday, September 19th, our “estimated” due date. I had been having Braxton Hicks contractions on and off for a few hours at a time, usually starting in the evening for the past couple of days. Friday night after swimming they began again as I was preparing dinner. At around 8pm I called my midwife, excited to report that they were increasing in strength and frequency. Yahoo! I tidied up the kitchen, had some tea, and settled down to try to get some sleep during what was to be the early stage of labor.
At around 6am the contractions were still coming strong. I happily patted my tummy and spoke to Aidan in my head—excited at the journey that lay ahead. When it was a more convenient hour and Alex was finally awake—I told him this was it, he’s coming, and I hope it is today, Saturday, September 20th! We called my midwife around 8:30am and she suggested that we go about our daily routine. In the afternoon the contractions were closer together—and we called our midwife again to check in. She reminded me to have lunch and then for us to go for a walk.
And walk we did. We took ourselves and Paddi on six walks. (Later I found out each walk was a little under a mile and a little over a half mile!) It was hot outside, so in-between the walks I would down tons of water, cool off—and off we’d go again. I really enjoyed being outside, and this precious time to just ramble about anything and everything with Alex. Towards the end, Paddi was getting a little tired of the routine. Not us!
However, I was revved up and excited that Aidan was going to be in our arms in a short while. Alex was excited too! My husband really was a champ during the walks, because I have a feeling it was slow going, and a little tedious as I repeatedly asked how long this contraction was, and how long that one was, and were they closer together from the last time we timed them on our previous walk. At the same time, I wondered if this was really labor, because, I had this weird feeling that even though my muscles were working to birth Aidan, he didn’t feel like he was quite ready to come out yet. I could envision the whole process, but somewhere there seemed to be a block. I chalked it up to my inexperience and uncertainty about the birthing process—and didn’t mention it to anyone. I think around 8 or 8:30pm we called our midwife and decided we were ready for her to come on over. The midwife and her two midwife assistants arrived around 9pm. We had been in early labor now for 24 hours.
The midwife checked my progress, and said that we were now in active labor as contractions were 3-5 minutes apart, I was 6cm dilated, and 90% effaced.
Yay! We’re going to have the baby tonight!..................................Right.
Throughout labor I endeavored to remain calm, relaxed, and inwardly focused—practicing the art of looking like I was sleeping while birthing, thanks to the Bradley method. I never really kept track of the time. And it very much felt like I did when I would run marathons or compete in triathlons…I just keep on going with the finish line in mind until it is in sight. The intensity of the contractions increased in the wee hours of the morning just before the sun began to rise again. I cannot tell you how many times I went from the bed, to the birthing tub, to the bathroom, and back again. All I can say is my birthing team, and especially Alex, were amazing. They kept me motivated, focused, and I could feel constant whispers, gentle soothing touches of hands, and warm love envelope me as I birthed.
Looking back, around 4am, when the contractions became much more intense, so much so, I was requesting constant counter pressure on my lower back…we figured out this is when little Aidan came back up out of the birth canal and turned posterior (or face up), as indicated by the back labor. I believe this was shortly after I had dilated fully, and we had begun pushing.
It’s now about mid afternoon on Sunday, September 21st, and I’m still going strong. Sort of wondering why I would go from pushing for an hour or so, to having to wait to push after being checked. I just figured, this is how it is done. I never thought, wow this is taking a long time, or wow I’ve been pushing for a VERY long time—I just went with the flow of things. Still it felt like Aidan was ready to come and wanted to come out, but there was something blocking the final stages. At some point our midwife had asked if she could break my waters. I asked if that meant he would have to come within 24 hours—I knew there was some sort of timeline if the water was broke, due to risk of infection. So I or we decided not to, I would keep on going. Unbeknownst to me, I was dilating from 9cm to 10cm—allowed to push, but then I would close back down to 9cm. There was a cervical lip, so that also added to the impediment. Maybe, I’m just not pushing hard enough? At this point for me, I was focused on relaxing and deep breathing—figuring the half hour here, hour there of pushing was normal. Well, for this birth, I guess it was my normal?! I continued to move from the bed to the tub and back again…Alex rubbing my back, giving me water, enticing me to munch on something to keep my strength up. The intensity of contractions could still be felt in my back so Alex or one of the midwives was giving me constant back pressure—bless their hearts, I believe I was wearing them out, but I was far from being tired yet. My midwife was intermittently giving me homeopaths to help the birthing process along. We just kept at it. Aidan’s heart rate throughout all of this was staying strong with good variation around 140 beats per minute.
Around 1:30pm we decided to break the amniotic sac. So much for Aidan being born in the caul, but now maybe it would be easier for Aidan to come on out. I saw the look on my midwife and her assistants’ faces at the same second in my head a voice whispered that there was meconium in the fluid. The midwives kept up the banter of encouragement, but I knew something was not quite right, I saw the quick look that passed between them, and watched them walk out of the room to confer with each other as Alex continued to encourage me. He never left my side. I had another whisper in my head that he was going to come via a C-section. A few minutes later, after the midwives had consulted, my midwife told us that yes, there was meconium in the amniotic fluid. The baby was not in distress as his vitals (which were constantly being monitored) told us this, but something had stressed him prior to labor and he had passed meconium in utero. Hmm. My midwife told me the fluid looked like pea soup—and the viscosity was of the worst kind. There was a slight possibility of Aidan aspirating the meconium once he was born or other complications—which meant we should be near oxygen and monitors, i.e. equipment not in our home. (In vaginal births if there is meconium present in the fluid, there is a lower risk of aspiration than with a C-section, because in a C-section the baby is suddenly brought into the air without passing through the birth canal, which normally compresses the meconium out before baby’s first breath.) I was given the choice of calling an ambulance or going in our car. It was not an emergency, so the car it was as Alex scrambled to put some kind of bag together for us, and we drove to the hospital around 2 or 2:30pm. Subconsciously, I knew I was nestled in God’s hands, and remained calm and focused on breathing and not pushing. At this point I had been pushing during active labor, I would guess, for about 3 or 4 hours since 9pm the night before.
Once settled into a room at the hospital the nurse checked me, and I was good to push (dilated at 10cm). My midwife later told me that a lot of times when moms arrive at the hospital their progress slows down or regresses, because of the fear of unfamiliar surroundings and procedures. However, not the case for me! I wasn’t really worried, I was still in the zone of inner focus and what my body needed to do to birth Aidan. Plod, plod, plod…while giving thanks in my head for being in this with Aidan and Alex together. Lying almost on my back, I knew the next best way to push in this position was with my legs brought back to my chest. Alex and the midwife were amazing here, because they helped me to do this during each push. At one point I tried squatting on the bed, sort of awkward. They tried having me put my leg on the tray table, absolutely not after one pushing contraction! I pushed for another hour plus.
The nurses’ shift changed, and our new nurse said stop pushing, you’re not dilated to 10cm yet! What? She had the charge nurse come in and check, and nope I have to wait again. During this change over there was some jockeying by this new nurse with the midwife—not the best energy. However, we were blessed in disguise, because the charge nurse and I clicked, and she stayed with us and physically held back the cervical lip while my midwife and Alex helped me hold my legs back in a squat position, and I pushed to a count of 10 four times during each pushing contraction. It really is an amazing experience when you have three other people flanking you and you can feel there energy and thoughts tuned in to helping you birth. Waiting through contractions before I could push was a bit rough, but then I was ready to push again. At some point they stuck an IV in me, and then administered Pitocin. I had been pushing 5 or 6 hours, and even though I wasn’t in any pain, I figured I needed the Pitocin just given the facts: by now I had been in labor since Friday night—with no real good solid rest. I also had not really eaten anything of substance since Saturday late afternoon. The lemon ice never tasted so good in between the contractions. Alex could see his head, so I thought we were really close. Apparently, at some point Aidan again decided to recede back and then down again. What was going on?!
Instinctively, I knew Aidan was not going to come out the traditional way. Again, I heard the faint whisper of “C-section.” I told Alex and the midwife that I had this feeling. They encouraged me to keep on pushing. So, naturally, I kept on going. It is very important to note here that despite having this feeling that the only way he would come was via C-section, I never for a moment felt like I was giving up or giving in—or a failure. Debriefing with my midwife, in retrospect, I still feel as if we did everything in our power to help Aidan come the natural way. There was just some other plan.
At some point they upped the Pitocin again. The doctor would come in and check every now and again my progress. While waiting for this round of pit to rev up, my midwife asked Alex to go get something to eat and drink. He had constantly been by my side. Waiting to push was excruciating, and a couple of times it looked like Alex was about to tear up. (In the fall of 2005 and 2006, he had held my hand and helped me through both of our horrendous miscarriages with all the blood and anguish. I had seen that face before.) My midwife just wanted him to take a breather for a while; however, in less than five minutes he was back in the room munching away on something the nurses gave him so he didn’t have to go to the cafeteria or find a vending machine. They brought one in for my midwife too. I think, that’s when I realized, THEY were exhausted. The adrenaline in me was still pumping, so I was still ready to go, if only I can mentally focus on relaxing through these pushing contractions as the pit kicks in…So we pushed again. Thank God for Alex, my midwife, the charge nurse, and the other nurse tracking our vitals. Push….1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10, Push….1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-19, Push….1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10, I could hear myself say, “one more!” Push….1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10….and wait for another contraction to come. On and on we went, as I tried to push harder each time.
The doctor comes in again, around 8:30pm, I believe. I was not really getting any farther with the stations (although not really told this at this time). Blessedly, he had allowed me to keep birthing, despite the length of time I had been in labor at home. He was also attempting to honor my request to stay natural. He said we could keep going for another thirty minutes or so. I knew Aidan was not coming out through the birth canal. I was firm this time. We need to do the C-section.
The next 30 minutes were the worst for me. Here they had just given me more pitocin, and I was fully dilated, and not allowed to push! I have been in a constant state of gratitude and prayer, I’m sure Alex had been too off and on. The anesthesiologist is in the room, I’m signing paperwork, concentrating on not pushing—gone is my natural pain blockers, because of the artificial hormone in my body now, drip drip drip goes the IV. When will they wheel me into the operating room? Come on!
There was about a 12 inch gap between the bed I was in, and the operating table. I was told to move myself onto the operating table. That takes some will power and guts. I’m shaking, because of the crap inside of me. Ok, focus. And, focus I do—one leg, a butt cheek, an arm hanging on for dear life, as the other leg, and butt cheek make contact. Not allowed to lie down. Gotta sit up. Sit up, and cradle/slump over your baby. Legs dangling on either side of this narrow operating table. The sting of the spinal was not even felt, so excruciating it was to hold myself in a sitting position between these contractions I could not listen to. And, I’m lying down. Legs going numb. It’s cold in here. Arms are strapped down. I feel the belts tighten. The curtain goes up. Alex walks in and stands by my head. At some point we prayed aloud together. The doctor’s and nurses are chatting merrily away. I’m an object. Three minutes or so are going by. These are the longest and shortest minutes of my life. Tug, tug, tug, big tug, wiggle, wiggle, tug. This is nice, I can feel myself being ripped open. A big yank…and all I hear is this LOUD, LUSTY cry at 9:04pm on Sunday. I hear Aidan being borne through the air. Lots of joking about pea soup, a green baby with a green gardening thumb…Alex has disappeared beyond the curtain.
My baby, he’s crying! Alex, pauses as he walks by my head, I have one glimpse upside down of a greenish looking baby boy—and out the door they go to the nursery. Looking back, it was loud wailing for sure, but the stamped cry in my head also sounds a little wet.
It is sooo cold in the operating room. I manage to ask them to save the placenta. I smell burning flesh. I feel stitch, stitch, stitch….staple, staple, staple. When they were taken out a few days later—I think there were thirty staples. Thankfully, I was 1-2-3 lifted back onto the bed I had been birthing in…and wheeled back into the labor room. Vitals monitored for an hour. My midwife had went home once the surgery prep had began. She would stop by the next day to check on us. When can I see Aidan and Alex. Not yet. Alex was able to come back in briefly. We decided he’d go home to let Paddi out, and then head back here for the night. They wheeled in a cot for Alex. And, the wait begins.
Alex came back around a little after midnight. After some tears were shed by me—my gratitude for his strength, and all of his help through the birth, and what an amazing man he is…he slept…and snored. I didn’t sleep at all that night.
Gone were our dreams to have Aidan birthed, and laid gently on my chest immediately, so he could root and suckle. Gone, really, was even my hope to see my darling baby boy. I had had a glimpse. Now, he was being poked and prodded.
He aspirated the meconium, meaning the poo was in his lungs. He is on oxygen, and they have hooked him up to an IV by shining a flashlight through his transparent skin on his tiny hand. In goes the glucose and the beginning of the antibiotics. He is lying hooked up to tubes on a warming bed with a bubble over his head. He needs help to breathe on his own.
All, I’ve seen is the one glimpse, and then the two pictures Alex took of Aidan in the nursery—one with a hat on his cone head, and another on the scale….8 pounds 4 ounces.
When may I hold my baby boy?
My wish was granted 24 hours later around 8:30pm, Monday night. We laid our hands on his tiny back, gave him kisses, and talked to baby Aidan. We snuck in one of his receiving blankets from home, and curled this around his bedding. The plan was to soak up Aidan’s delicious baby smell, and then have Alex bring the blanket home for Paddi to cuddle into—so he could get used to our newest family member. Out went the plan for Paddi to welcome Aidan to our world as he came in to the world. Kissies. And gentle rubs on his back and one foot not attached to the heart rate monitor. He held on to our fingers. And, we talked to him. I was not allowed to stay in the nursery, my IV needed attending and more meds were called for, and I was not allowed to exhaust myself, because Aidan needed me strong.
During the day, I became familiar with pain medications, and attempting to go to shuffle to the bathroom and use the bathroom. I have elephant legs for legs—there is no sign of ankles, and I found out even toes can swell and become like Vienna sausages on acid. And, pump, pump, pump every 15 minutes with the hospital grade breast pump. Sputter, drip, sputter a drop of colostrum came out here and there. An ounce bustled off to the nursery, to be given to Aidan when he is off the oxygen.
I was on my second trip back to the nursery with Alex. That had to be the longest walk ever. This time, I was allowed to hold Aidan as I held an oxygen tube near his nose and mouth to help him breathe. Skin to skin contact. He was hot from the warming bed, but oh so breathtakingly beautiful. Alex was snapping away capturing this moment on film.
What’s this? He’s nuzzling my breast, and rooting around! I asked the nurse if he could try latching on. Every time we were near Aidan, and while I was holding him, he would stabilize, and was able to breathe more easily on his own. I asked him aloud if he was an angel, a child of light, and he said, “yup.” Now, it may have been him gulping down the pure oxygen from the tube, but then again, maybe not. Our proximity, our touch, and our voices—he knew us. Please, I just pumped, there is no colostrum coming out, it won’t interrupt his antibiotic and glucose drips. Please. A call to the doctor, and we were given the go-ahead. A little after midnight on Monday, Aidan was suckling without oxygen. We monitored his vitals closely. And, I thought it would be at the most for five minutes. Nope. Sixty minutes later, he was still sucking away. We were both dozing from the oxytocin. And, I was in another world not having really slept since Friday night.
Our baby was here.
The next few days, I plodded back and forth between my room and the nursery with Alex’s help. Alex would go home in the evening to let Paddi out and get away from the hospital. He would come back to sleep next to me. Every two hours I was in with Aidan letting him nurse. Talking to him. Cuddling him. Loving our little boy. Covering and holding Aidan with our blankets from our life at home. Our angel. Alex switched the receiving blankets out during his brief visits at home to play, feed, and cuddle Paddi.
After spending a bit of time getting a little worse—we were told he either would begin to get better, or get worse and need to be transferred to the NICU in Tucson. He turned the corner. Most of the meconium was gone from his lungs after a few days—baby’s cannot effectively cough it up, so there is risk of infection as the bacteria from the meconium sits in his lungs. However, the bacteria is his bacteria—and hopefully wouldn’t cause his body to attack itself. There were some scares along the way, he fought off an infection, they thought his liver was too big (indicating a bigger problem), and he had the beginnings of jaundice with too much bilirubin in his system, but he pulled through. His ultrasound of his liver came back normal. He’s healthy!
We were released from the hospital around 2pm on Thursday, September 25th.
The blankets for Aidan worked. We all lay cuddled beneath blankets on our bed. Our whole family—me and my three boys. We were home.
My milk came in on Saturday.
Our adventure continues as we learn and explore our new world together. Praise be to God, amazing grace how sweet are the miracles and blessings bestowed upon us! If we were living in any other era, Alex would be a widower. Aidan and I would not have survived childbirth, because Aidan was not coming out. The miracles of modern science allowed us to be here, and for our strong, healthy baby boy to be a child of light our world so much needs now. We have much to learn from him, and believe me, he will be loved and nurtured so that he may know down deep inside he is beloved so he can go out and perform his purpose driven life with overflowing, abundant joy.
