Raiden's Birth Story

There are two impressions that the birth of our son has left upon me. The first is that I have been hemmed in on every side with support. Family, friends, and God have all been surrounding me during this time and lifting me up to be able to do what I could never have done alone. The second is that I am most definitely not in control-of my destiny, these events, or my own child.

At my 38 week check-up, I waived the internal exam for the second week in a row, telling the OB that I hadn’t had any pre-labor symptoms that would lead me to think I’d dilated. No Braxton Hicks aside from three little ones one night, no mucous changes, no nothing.

Two days later, I awoke in the morning with the feeling that I’d just started my period. I was cramping mildly and I had a bit of blood on the toilet paper. I called the midwife on duty, who said that I should keep an eye on it and call if I soaked a pad. I called that afternoon and updated her, but took the show for my mucous plug and hoped I still had a few weeks before delivery.

My parents were on their way to visit and bring baby furniture as we moved in to our new apartment. The moving process had been arduous, but we had made great headway and I focused on getting the place ready for my parents’ arrival. I kept having mild cramps, but they weren’t bad—less intense in frequency and duration than period cramps.

My parents came, unloaded the car, and we went to Dalton for some Iron Gate pizza. We had a marvelous time and fantastic meal, enjoying every bite and every moment. We returned, exhausted, and made sleeping arrangements for the evening. Because of David’s 3^rd shift sleep schedule, he’d be on the couch, I’d sleep in our bed with Mom, and Dad would have the guest bed. I chatted with Mom as we settled in, then both of us drifted off.

At about 2AM, I had about 5 harder, more painful cramps in a row, about 4 minutes apart. I realized that I would not be sleeping well that night, so I relocated to the living room to join David as he played Skyrim. I curled up on the couch next to him with a sleeping bag and a trash can for vomiting, which I used several times. We spent the night with David helping me through contractions, timing the contractions when we could, and me sleeping between contractions as best I could.

By 8 the next morning, September 22, I realized that I hadn’t felt Raiden move for several hours. I called the midwife, Vikki, and she said to come in and be checked. Mary, an elderly lady, checked us in and remarked that “you haven’t dropped yet, are you contracting, sweetie?” I’d had 4 or 5 contractions while she was checking us in!

Raiden’s heartbeat came in strong and regular on the monitor, and so did my contractions. Vikki’s check revealed that I was a solid 4 cm. dilated and 90% effaced, much to my surprise. I was admitted to labor and delivery, and we called my mom to make the short drive up to the hospital.

Much of the rest seemed to happen in a blur. I’m not sure what “method” I wound up using, but it worked like this: deep breath as the contraction began, focus on focal point, count in and out in slow sixes and relax through the contraction. After some practice, I was able to knock myself out in between contractions and sleep until the next one began to rise in intensity. My mom would call out what the contraction was doing on the monitor and encourage me that it would be short.

Because I chose to “go natural” and avoid pain medication, I was allowed to go off of the monitor for a little while and enjoy soaking in the whirlpool tub, walking around the hall and room, and laboring in a rocking chair. I did have to have an IV for several things, but they gave me a saline lock so that I could be more mobile in between fluids.

The checks throughout the day revealed that I was progressing, but very slowly. Vikki worried some when I got “stuck” at 7cm for a couple of checks, and suggested a “whiff” of Pitocin to get things going after a few other things failed to move my stubborn cervix. She didn’t want me to get to the end and have no energy for the final pushing. I accepted the “go juice” and waited for everything to get strong and hard.

It didn’t. In fact, I barely noticed much difference at all in the contractions. They were maybe a tiny bit stronger, but much less so than I expected. I was getting the minimum dose, so I only noticed that my contractions were a little more hard-working and, thank heaven, a LOT shorter. Nothing about Pit should do that, to my knowledge, but my contractions were about 1 ½ minutes apart and about 30 seconds long.

They progressed in strength until, while rocking in the rocking chair at about midnight, I started feeling antsy, like I needed to use the restroom. I went, but there was nothing there. I knew then that the pushing stage was almost upon me. I waited a few more contractions until the urge was strong enough that it was interfering with my breathing and focusing. I felt better bearing down than relaxing, so I cheated a little when my coaches weren’t looking and breathed through my teeth while exerting mild pressure on my abdomen.

Vikki checked, and I was 10 cm all around except for a 9.5 at the top. She said I had a bit of a double bag that was covering the opening, so she moved it out of the way and called for the pushing preparations to begin. I asked for a squat bar and the nurse set one up for me. During this time, my brother, Chris, whose name Raiden got for a middle name, called and prayed for me over the phone. My mom, Bailee, and David were with me and got me positioned to push.

Vikki showed me a reclined position and suggested I try that one for a couple of contractions. On the first try, I moved the baby lower, but the other two didn’t accomplish much. I scooted into the squat position to give that one a try. The first one, my feet nearly slipped out from under me on the absorbent pad. We moved the pad and I gave it a serious effort. I could tell the difference, and so could Vikki. A couple more pushes and we had the beginning of a crown—time to move the feet out of the way and give birth.

Crowning hurt like nothing had—the other was muscle pain, this was sharp and intense. “Burn” is the word used to describe it, but it’s the burn of a tremendous stretch and was only alleviated by pushing more, even putting pressure on it in between contractions seemed to help. It was over in a minute, followed by Vikki calling out that we had a head, that I should stop pushing. “Too late,” she said a second later, “we have a baby!” I could hardly hear her over the upset voice of my newly born son, who was dried off and placed on my belly for me to meet! I hadn’t even been pushing a full half-hour, but my legs were trembling from the exertion. It was 1:04 AM on Sunday, September 23, 2012.

Raiden squawked for a little while, sitting on my belly and scooting around while we waited for the placenta and while David cut the cord. The little fella played at nursing some, then after a few minutes, I handed him off for the weight and other welcome party events. I required a considerable number of stitches for my 3^rd-degree tear, which I had incurred when Raiden popped out all at once, and with his fist in the air. Go, baby. I’m thinking the timing of that rock fist could have been a tad bit better, but it made a great opening statement for a new life greeting the world with his fist held high.

After the stitching, chatting with the medical personnel, introductions to the grandparents, and all the congratulations and pictures, the tired visitors headed home and my mom left us with the makings of a tea party she had packed as a post-labor surprise. David prepared each of us a cup of tea, and we enjoyed sipping it while holding the tiny boy. He was truly beautiful—the spitting image of his father.

 I don’t normally think that newborns are pretty. They are usually swollen, misshapen, purple, and splotchy. Raiden was none of those things. He had soft, brown hair, a slightly dark complexion (at least compared to his pasty parents), and was long, lean, and expressive. As much as he favors his father in looks, he favors his mother in personality. Both of us were content babies, but I was the snuggler, and he definitely kept that trait going. He loves to be warm and close to a body.

There were things I “knew” that I had accepted would be true about this little boy—that he would be a blessing, that I would love him, and that every bit of discomfort, every sleepless night, every frustration, all the work, and all the cost would be worth it. I had no idea why, and I really didn’t feel any of these things until I spent time building the relationship with him. All of those statements are true and I feel their impact now, though a few weeks ago, I’d have thought, “yes, I know it will be, but I just don’t see it now.”

So, welcome, little Raiden Christopher. All 7 pounds, 9 ounces, and 21 inches of you. We accept you with love.

For it was You who created my inward parts;
You knit me together in my mother’s womb.

I will praise You
because I have been remarkably and wonderfully made.
Your works are wonderful,
and I know this very well.

Psalm 139:13-14