birth story – Page 3

Embracing the Experience

May 10, 2017 by Asharae 3 Comments

If you’ve missed my previous posts, here are links for the introduction, part one, and part two.

From the beginning I figured it would be best to hold my “birth plan” with open hands. I truly did not want to come in with a list of demands for my nurses. Mostly I just wanted to experience it all. I wanted to be fully present to the birth of our child. If I had found that I couldn’t be fully present because the pain was too great, then I planned to get an epidural. But until that time, to me, “fully present” meant embracing the experience without medication and remembering that it was something my body was meant to do.

I found it so helpful to remember back to our birth class when we learned that the pain of childbirth is not like other pain that we experience. Rather than something that is done to you against your will, they reminded us that the pain of birth is a sort of side effect of your body bringing your baby into the world. Seeing it that way was so so helpful for me.

I was very uncomfortable sitting in bed, so when I was finally allowed to get up, I took advantage of the birthing ball my nurse brought me and I sat and rocked back and forth on it to ease the discomfort of each contraction. Because of being hooked up to the monitors and IV, it was pretty difficult to move around the room, but I found I was most comfortable sitting on the ball anyway.

I found that for me, the most helpful thing was to focus on my breathing. I found myself going inwards, closing my eyes and just breathing my way through each contraction. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Over and over. It felt a lot like yoga – breathing through the discomfort, taking my time, and not letting myself get too worked up as things got more difficult.

Since I’d taught at Creative Mornings that day (and had to talk over loud music the whole time), my voice had been more strained than usual, so I found that my throat was feeling dry and scratchy as I tried to breathe through each contraction. It took a lot of concentration to keep my breath under control so I wouldn’t start coughing. It was a frustrating distraction, but one that probably helped me maintain that calmer breath throughout my labor. My nurse did have to remind me a couple times to calm my breath and keep it under control though.

Tim was extraordinarily helpful throughout my entire labor. He held my hand nearly the entire time and encouraged me through each contraction. In the beginning when I used the birthing ball I found it was helpful for him to rub my lower back as each contraction was fading. Any other time it felt sort of irritating to be touched, but that firm pressure on my back at the end of each contraction helped me feel like they were fading more quickly.

Tim also took it upon himself to watch the monitor and let me know how my contractions were progressing. He only made the mistake once of warning me when a contraction was coming and I quickly told him, “I can FEEL when they’re coming. Don’t tell me that again!” Poor guy. The rest of the time he just watched the monitor and would tell me when a contraction was waning.

Even though I could usually tell that the wave of a contraction had reached its peak and was on its way out, it was so helpful to have him reassuring me that I was almost done with that particular one. He would also tell me when I’d gotten through a really strong contraction – his enthusiasm and encouragement was truly wonderful. “Babe! You beasted that one! That was a big contraction! You’ve got one more under your belt. One step closer to meeting our baby.”

It was also really helpful to have Tim breathing with me, especially when my contractions got a lot stronger. He would hold my hand and breathe along with me through each one. This kept me focused and kept me from breathing too quickly. There was one particular time when my nurse told me my breathing wasn’t good. It was starting to get away from me as the pain got more intense. Whatever it was that she said really helped me to slow down and lower the tone of my breathing which helped each contraction feel more productive.

Since I was hooked up to the monitors and IV, which made it harder to move around, I just went back and forth between sitting up in bed and sitting on the birthing ball, depending on what felt most comfortable at the time.

In our bag I had packed a list of scripture verses to carry me through when things got more difficult. I didn’t know if I would actually look at them, but I knew I wanted to have them on-hand in case I needed a reminder or some encouragement. At one calmer part of the night, I asked Tim to grab that sheet of paper and I read through a couple of them and underlined the ones that stood out. Looking back at my list, I focused ones that had to do with fear – or more accurately the lack of fear in that moment.

Isaiah 41:10 was one of those, “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” I remember reading and re-reading those words “do not fear” and “I am with you” a few times in between contractions.

The details get a little fuzzy in my brain as the night went on, but I remember being told I was at 5-6cm and that I needed to lean over on my right side so that I’d thin out more on that side to even things out. As I progressed and got closer to 8cm I remember alternating between holding Tim’s hand and gripping the rails on the side of my bed. I found myself gripping the rails even in between contractions and once I realized it, I found that my hand was cramping up and needed Tim to massage the tightness away.

Because the details are so fuzzy to me, I don’t really remember the order that everything happened in relation to how dilated I was. At one point the overnight Doctor gave me the option that she could go ahead and break my water for me, which would speed things up a bit, but would also make the contractions stronger. When I hesitated, she reassured me that there was absolutely no rush and I could wait for my water to break on its own if I wanted.

After an epidural, having the doctor break my water was the other thing that really gave me the heebie jeebies, so I decided to wait on that one. Before the doctor had even left the room though I felt that sort of “gush of fluid” they talk about and I remember saying, “I think the baby heard you! I think my water just broke!”

Read the next part of our story here.

My “Birth Plan”

May 9, 2017 by Asharae 4 Comments

If you’ve missed my previous two posts, you can read the introduction here and part one here.

At this moment I couldn’t have been more grateful that we’d already packed our hospital bags. It was hard enough for me to focus and tell Tim to grab our toothbrushes and my toiletries bag. I can’t imagine if I was also trying to make sure I packed clothes, snacks, our camera bag, and baby’s car seat as well.

Tim loaded up the car, we gave our puppies a little love (Bentley was clearly freaked out at my distress) and told them we might bring them a new brother or sister soon, and hopped in the car to head to the hospital.

I remember shuffling across our front yard in the dark, the wet grass under my feet, the thunder still rumbling in the distance, and looking back at our house with an intense feeling of change and transition ahead of us. It was sort of a bizarre feeling, looking back at the house I grew up in – the one my husband and I now rent – thinking that this might be the last time I step out that front door before becoming a mom.

Now, the doctors office we’d been visiting throughout our pregnancy is in the same hospital building as the Labor and Delivery wing where we planned to have our baby, so we had practiced the drive to the hospital dozens of times. We had assessed the traffic situation at different times throughout the day and we knew detour routes if it became necessary for us to go a different way. The one scenario I hadn’t imagined was driving to the hospital at night, on empty streets, in a lightning storm.

The rain had all passed by, but the roads were still wet, the power was out in many of the buildings we passed by, some of the stop lights were also out, and there was lightning in the distance all around us as we got on the road and drove the 35-40 minutes to our hospital. It was a surreal and beautiful experience.

As we got on the highway, Tim commented on how extraordinary it was that the same God who was responsible for the powerful lightning storm has also been knitting together the tiny life in my belly. Again, one of those moments that’s always going to stick with me.

When we arrived at the hospital we entered through the emergency entrance and the lady behind the desk already knew my name when we walked up. She got on the phone to call transport and announced to them “We’ve got another one!” Apparently we were the third couple in a row that had checked into labor and delivery that night.

I settled into a wheelchair and was taken up to the second floor, given a room and a hospital gown, and hooked up to monitors and an IV with fluids. I remember feeling pretty uncomfortable when we arrived and I was made to sit in the bed for quite a while before I could move around. I was 2.5 cm dilated when we arrived and that’s when we realized we were definitely staying the night at the hospital and likely having a baby the next day.

I hadn’t come up with an official birth plan, or even written anything down. If I had, it would’ve said something like “I want to participate in labor as long as possible. If I can deliver my baby without medication or an epidural, that would be wonderful. Epidurals freak me out. However, I want to leave the door open for that if I decide later that I have to have one. And if the baby is in danger, do whatever it takes to keep him or her safe.”

That’s pretty much what I told my nurse, and when I shared this with her, she looked a little nervous. Maybe that was just my interpretation of the look she gave me, but she did tell me that 98% of women get epidurals. Or maybe she said that only 2% of women deliver naturally. I forget the details. Either way, her lack of enthusiasm for my “birth plan” was not terribly encouraging. If she was trying to convince me to not go “all natural,” it didn’t work. I was even more determined to try and work with my body, focus on my breathing, and to “participate as long as possible” in my own labor and delivery of our baby.

Read the next part of the story here.

A Dark and Stormy Night, A Birth Story

May 8, 2017 by Asharae 7 Comments

If you missed it, be sure to read the introduction to our birth story here.

It was a dark and stormy night… That’s how all good stories begin right?

But first, let’s rewind. Thursday afternoon, July 7th, 2016, I had my regular weekly checkup with my doctor and he told me I wasn’t dilated at all. In his words I was “thinning a little bit” and the only thing he could guarantee is that I wouldn’t be having a baby that day. I was honestly a little disappointed since I was just a few days away from our due date and was hoping for a bit more of a sign that Baby Kroll was about to make his or her appearance.

My parents were arriving back from a three week road trip that Thursday afternoon and Tim’s parents had the following week off of work and would be arriving on Friday around lunch time. I had my final commitment before our due date scheduled for that Friday morning – teaching a handlettering demo with Skillpop at Charlotte’s Creative Mornings gathering.

When I woke up Friday morning for our event I was feeling so good that I decided it wasn’t necessary to pack our hospital bags in the car. I had a feeling it was going to be another week or so before baby was ready to meet the world. Oops. Tim and I set our alarms for 5:45 am on Friday and drove into Charlotte early for Creative Mornings.

That afternoon, around 5pm, I started noticing a low backache along with my regular Braxton Hicks contractions. I’d been having Braxton Hicks for several weeks, so this new ache wrapping around to my back definitely felt different to me. It got stronger as Tim and I prepped dinner for our families, and he was great about stepping in and chopping all the veggies for the dish we were making (it was this pasta salad if you want to know! It was completely delicious!!) Even though the discomfort I was feeling felt different, I had a difficult time deciding if my back was just achey because I’d been on my feet all morning, or if the feeling coming with my contractions was actually something different.

I began timing my contractions around 6pm and found that they were pretty sporadic. I played it cool and tried not to let everyone know what was happening. Tim was in the loop, but he and I both thought it might be a false alarm. I felt like it was a little dramatic to tell our families, “Woe is me! Now that you’ve all arrived, I’m suddenly going into labor!”

As we sat down to have dinner, however, I started getting more and more uncomfortable. We were a little short on chairs at our dinner table, so I opted to sit on a yoga ball so no one else would have to – it just helped that it also made me a lot more comfortable than sitting on a stationary chair. Looking back now I’m sure that was a good move to encourage baby to keep moving in the right direction.

In the weeks leading up to our delivery, I kept wondering what our birth story would look like. I imagined a few scenarios, but really couldn’t picture how it might turn out. One idea I’d had for months involved our parents praying for us as I was going into labor. In my head I imagined us being at the hospital, Tim’s parents and mine gathering around my hospital bed as I experienced some minor contractions, and praying for a safe labor and delivery for the three of us.

Our parents had prayed over us at our wedding rehearsal and ceremony, so I thought it would be really special to have them do that again at this new life transition. When we finished dinner that Friday evening, I decided I’d rather have them pray for me right then and there. It seemed to me that things were progressing rapidly enough that if I waited for my idealized hospital room scenario, it might not actually happen.

A massive thunderstorm had rolled through as we were finishing dinner and cleaning up, and we could hear the remnant rumbles of thunder as our parents laid hands on us and prayed for our baby’s safe delivery. That was truly a moment I’ll never forget. It was extraordinary hearing words of truth and peace spoken over us as we were on the edge of so much change.

We said goodnight to everyone, told them we’d let them know if we decided to go to the hospital, and sent them on their way. I decided to lay down to see if my contractions would subside at all. When they didn’t, and instead felt like they were getting stronger, I decided it was time to call the hospital. At this point my contractions were still fairly irregular – lasting anywhere from 30 seconds to one minute, and coming every five minutes to every minute and a half. Since it didn’t quite fit the 5-1-1 model (contractions arriving 5 min apart or less, lasting at least 1 minute, occurring for 1 hour or more) for when you’re supposed to head to the hospital, I figured it was best to just call in.

Here’s where I need to stand up on a little soapbox. When you’re in labor, and are having contractions that are strong enough to take your breath away, the last thing you want to do is listen to a lengthy automated phone menu. I was ready to curse the makers of the automated messaging system by the time I finally reached a real person on the other end of the line. And unfortunately the poor girl I got first probably thought I was crazy. “What is your pain, on a scale of 1-10?” Me: “Right now? I’m feeling pretty good right now. Maybe like a 1? I figured I’d call in between contractions. Oh wait, do you mean when I’m having a contraction? Because those are getting pretty strong. That would be like a 4 or 5… What are you asking me again?”

Pretty sure I could hear her rolling her eyes on the other end of the phone line. Luckily she transferred me and the second nurse I talked to was so friendly that he made up for my annoyance with the phone menu and the confusing questions. I explained to him that I was having contractions that were stronger than the usual Braxton Hicks. His response? “Riiiight onnnn!” I had to smile. When I told him they were lasting anywhere from 30 seconds to 1 minute and arriving 5 minutes to a minute and a half apart, he got quiet for a moment and then firmly said, “Don’t panic. I want you to get in the car and come to the hospital right now.“

You can read the next part of the story here.

Beckett’s Birth Story, An Introduction

May 8, 2017 by Asharae 4 Comments

I’ve been debating whether or not I wanted to share Beckett’s birth story, and how I wanted to share it if I did. I’ve gone back and forth on how I felt about it – not sure if I wanted to keep it to myself, as a story for just our family, or if it’s one I wanted to share to somehow encourage other moms-to-be.

So many of the birth stories I’ve heard or read are difficult ones. They’re often told with an undertone of disappointment because things didn’t happen as planned. Even many of my friends have really difficult pregnancy and birth stories, ones that didn’t turn out the way they expected or hoped. I know those aren’t the only stories out there (in fact, just this weekend I heard a very joy-filled birth story!), but the difficult stories are often the ones that stand out the most.

I’ve hesitated to tell my story – Beckett’s story – because it’s not one of those. My pregnancy went as smoothly as it could have, and labor and delivery was an incredible experience. I look back at his birth day with so much joy.

That’s not to say the process of bringing him into this world wasn’t painful, or that everything happened exactly as I expected it to, or even that there aren’t a couple things I wish could have been different. But overall, that afternoon, night, and morning that I was in labor are some of my favorite hours of my life. I’ve never felt more present to a life experience before. Never felt more in-the-moment, or more alive. I know that’s a weird thing to think, and I assure you it’s an even weirder one to try and put into words.

Birth stories are a funny thing – they’re deeply personal, told with pride, terror, or some combination thereof, and sometimes they’re told with entirely too many details. When I was pregnant, I felt like every birth story I heard was meant to scare me. Anyone that saw my round belly suddenly felt inclined to share with me how their aunt’s half-sister’s friend’s cousin was in labor for 30-someodd hours, or how the mom that was hellbent on having a natural birth ended up with a C-section (spoken, of course, like a curse word), or the mom who needed three epidurals because the first two didn’t work, or any number of stories involving words like foreceps, vacuum extraction, tearing, and stitches. YALL. STOP. These are NOT the stories a soon-to-be-mom needs to hear!

We need to stop telling birth stories like 13-year-old boys at camp telling scar stories, each trying to one-up the last one. I should pause here to say – if it’s your own birth story, you have every right to share it. Please share your story with someone. And while you’re at it, write it down so you always remember your own story – it’s amazing how quickly the details fade if you don’t put words to paper. But please please please, think before you blurt out the worst details of other mom’s stories, or even the worst details of your own story to an expecting mom. It’s not kind and it’s certainly not helpful. Once she’s had her baby, or if she asks specifically, by all means, share all the details if she’d really like to know them. If she’s anything like me though, she’ll want to be spared those details till after she’s experienced labor and delivery for herself.

Truthfully I’ve been afraid of sharing Beckett’s story at the risk of coming across like another scar story, or seeming like I’m wearing our story like a badge of honor. That’s not my intention at all. I know now that I needed a little time for myself to make sure I was in a good place to share our story of bringing him into the world.

I wrote the story of Beckett’s arrival in the weeks after he was born, mostly typing it on my phone while nursing him in the middle of the night, but I haven’t shared it till now. The past few weeks (okay, months – I’ve been stalling on posting this) I feel I’ve been hounded by the idea that sharing our own stories is important. So, in an effort to fully embrace my story, especially my birth story of bringing Beckett into the world, I’m sharing these words with you now. I hope my story can encourage even just one mom-to-be.

A note – If birth stories are a sore spot for you, feel free to skip on over these posts. If you’ve struggled to get pregnant or stay pregnant, I won’t be the least offended – nor will I know – if you choose not to read. I pray healing over you if that is your story. But if you’re in a spot where you need to hear a happy, encouraging birth story – especially if you’re an expecting mom – then read on.

You can find the next part of our story here.

And I’ll leave you with a photo of a very-pregnant me with our pups.