E's Birth Story 12.18.17 |

Here we are 3 months in, and I am finally making time to write down Ethan’s birth story, but #thirdchildproblems, right?

For those of you who have known me for a while, you know my history with long/difficult labors- (read Caleb’s story here and David’s here) and that I had high hopes of being able to have a VBAC (Vaginal Birth After Caesarian) this time around. God, however had different plans.

I changed doctors from my high risk doctor in the med center to someone who is supportive of VBACS and much closer. I brought my lists of questions to ensure we were a good fit. I wanted to make sure she wouldn’t force me to be induced on or before my due date, that big babies wouldn’t scare her, that my heart condition didn’t scare her, etc. I had a great experience with Dr. Miller, and I would still recommend her even though things did not go according to my plan.

Back story:
On the first trimester screen test, a test we almost didn’t do (and sometimes I wonder what if we had declined) a level of mine called PAPP-A came back low. At the time, I didn’t think it was a huge deal, but as my pregnancy progressed I realized the “rules” had changed for how my doctor wanted to deal with me. Those with low PAPP-A have a higher risk for stillbirth, low birth weight, restricted growth, preeclampsia, etc and due to those risks I had to get weekly ultrasounds (Biophysical Profiles) and weekly non-stress tests to monitor Ethan beginning at 32 weeks. Between our packing and moving and having to drag 2 toddlers to every single appointment, it was exhausting to say the least. It was also reassuring because each time they said he looked good, with the exception of one time where my doctor made me go back to the hospital later that night for more monitoring. I was getting close to 36/37 weeks when I asked my doctor again about how long she would let me go before being induced (she said 41 weeks originally). And she said, “oh no, you have low PAPP-A, the recommendation is to deliver at 38 weeks”. I was shocked and there may have been some (or a lot) of tears shed. I thought the reason we were doing the weekly tests was to make sure he was doing okay, and that I could still let him stay put until 41 weeks as long as he was looking good on the tests. I did not want to go through another c-section, and I knew that being induced when Ethan and my body were not ready at all only increased that chance. All that to say, after many questions and weighing pros and cons, Bryan and I decided to wait a little longer to see if I would go into labor naturally. The other tricky thing was that my due date was December 22nd and my doctor was off the whole week before Christmas. If I were to go into labor and show up at the hospital, I could get stuck with a doctor who wasn’t a fan of VBACs and would simply say I would have to have an automatic c-section. It was an agonizing choice. We prayed and talked about it again and again trying to weigh the pros and cons. We finally decided we would never be able to forgive ourselves if something happened to Ethan, so we waited until the last possible day my doctor would still be on call (Monday, December 18th) and went to the hospital to see if we could get labor started.

I had tried all the things, and I mean ALL the things to see if I could make him come on his own (pumping, pineapple date smoothies, eating tons of dates for weeks before, walking, spicy foods, eggplant parmesan, seeing a chiropractor weekly for the last trimester, bouncy ball all day long, etc, etc- see full list here) but nothing seemed to help. My dream was to go into labor naturally and have one of those amazing birth stories, and I tried everything in my power to make that happen. A theme in my life over the last several years is I try to do all the “right things”, and I don’t get the outcome I want in the end. Unlike school, where I could follow a formula, study, prepare and ace the exam, this whole life as an adult is much more complicated. Sometimes we prepare and research and try and fail again and again. God, in His grace, has allowed me to do so. He has broken my pride again, and again (especially through Caleb’s colic/fussyness, hard first 5 months of life that no book I read prepared me for). I can read all the how-to books, the suggestions, the blogposts and still come up with the less than desired result. God is obviously trying to teach me a huge lesson about control and pride and ultimately the Gospel: the beautiful truth that I cannot EARN His favor. He gives it freely. That is what grace is (Ephesians 2:8-9). It is just taking quite a few tutorial sessions for this “good girl” to understand her desperate need for His grace. I can pray and pray, and He can say no. But, I digress….

We show up early (5 am) on Monday morning and Dr. Miller’s plan was to place a foley bulb in to start to soften and dilate my cervix. She couldn’t use cervadil like my previous labors because of my prior c-section. I was super afraid, and it was incredibly painful, but when she was feeling around in there she realized I was actually already 3 cm dilated! Praise Jesus!!! I was SOOOOOOO beyond excited and thought, maybe, just maybe this would actually go smoothly this time around. Third time is a charm, right! She breaks my water and we hope that this will kick labor into gear without pitocin (using pitocin increases chance of uterine rupture when attempting to VBAC). I wasn’t progressing much, so they began pitocin and I labored for a few hours. I asked for wireless monitoring and walked the halls as much as I could. I used the peanut ball. I bounced- I wanted so badly to make this thing work. I would’ve loved to try to labor without an epidural, but my sweet labor and delivery nurse kindly pointed out that if I did need a c-section it would be much easier if I had an epidural as then they wouldn’t have to knock me out. So around 1:30 pm or so I got an epidural. I was 5 cm dilated and I was finally able to get some rest (we hadn’t slept much the night before). At 3:00 pm, a group of about 5 nurses barge into my room. One is talking to Dr. Miller on the phone, they turn me over and make me get on all 4s, trying to find Ethan’s heartbeat. Another gives me a shot in my upper arm and tells me this will stop my contractions. Another tells me we are having trouble finding your baby’s heart rate (it had been extremely low for 10 minutes straight) and that they were going to ask Dr. Miller what to do. Then quickly the on call doctor is in the room and talking to Dr. Miller on the phone and saying she can start and prep me while Dr. Miller is on her way. They tell me the words I so had not wanted to hear, “we are going to take you back for a c-section now”.

My eyes spilled over with tears. My body had failed me once again, but this time I wasn’t crying because I was upset about the c-section, I was crying and pleading with God that He would spare Ethan’s life. I was so afraid that we were going to lose him. I didn’t care what they had to do to me, I just wanted my son to live. They rolled me back into the brightly lit, sterile OR, put up the sheet, kept wiping me with wipes asking “is this cold?” to test for feeling, telling me it was going to be okay. I heard Dr. Miller’s voice and was full of relief. She got there in time! Bryan came in all dressed in scrubs and held my hand. They called out the time: 15:19 and I felt tons of pulling and tugging and pushing on my belly and then, finally at 15:23, our third son was lifted out of me. It was the longest 4 minutes of my life. Hearing his first cry brought relief to this Mama’s heart like none other. He was here and he was healthy. As they were stitching me up, Dr. Miller told me she was sorry it didn’t work out how I hoped, and she even said if I am brazen enough we can wait a couple years and try again (we have yet to decide if our family is complete yet). I was able to hold Ethan for a little bit and got to have him on my chest when they rolled me into recovery. The smallest of our boys, he was 7 lbs 8 oz and 20.5 inches long and absolutely perfect. We have no idea why his heart rate was down for so long. The fear was that my uterus was rupturing since his heartbeat had been below 100 bpm consecutively for around 10 minutes. Some decelerations are normal (Caleb had many and the cord ended up being around his neck), but the medical team was fearful since his heart rate had gone low and stayed low and did not want to risk it with a VBAC.

Later that day, Bryan told me when he was putting on the scrubs to come into the room he saw another dad outside. Somehow they struck up a conversation and the dad had asked if we were having a boy or a girl. Bryan said, “A boy, how about you?” and he said, “My baby didn’t make it.” His wife had carried the baby full term and had noticed less movement and when they came in, they couldn’t find a heartbeat. And just like that, they lost their first child. Bryan wept with this man, and asked if he could pray for him.

Three months later and I still cannot think about that poor sweet couple without tears filling my eyes. The kind of grief they are experiencing seems almost too much to bare. Even imagining what it would be like for a second cripples me. I decided right then, I wasn’t going to complain about not getting the birth story I wanted. I wasn’t going to complain about being cut open and having to endure a more difficult recovery with two toddlers and stairs in our new home. I was going to be thankful. God spared Ethan’s life and mine. Sometimes it is helpful look at the big picture and gain a little perspective.

I’ve said it before and I will say it again: comparison is the stealer of all joy. Sometimes I still have to fight that tendency: to compare the story God wrote for me to the one He wrote for others. But going down that road always brings discontentment. Let’s choose to dwell on the good. Let’s choose to think about the many things He has given, the many prayers He has answered instead of the few He has not (the way we thought we wanted, anyway). Let’s choose to count our blessings, to tell Him why we are thankful. I have found that gratitude is often the vehicle through which contentment comes. (read more here: Prescription for Contentment)

One of the very positive things about what happened was we had a baby in record time of showing up at the hospital (our other two, we had to be there for almost 2 days before we even had them and that was exhausting!). This time, we got to go home on Wednesday! We only had to spend 2 nights there! But then a week later, after going to the ER for severe swelling, shortness of breath and chest pain, I had to be readmitted due to high blood pressure. They ran several tests (mainly because I have a heart condition) and gave me a magnesium drip and blood pressure meds and finally were able to send me home after a couple of days when my blood pressure finally came down. Sadly we had to spend Christmas eve and Christmas day away from our big boys, but in the end, we made it. I took the medicine for 6 weeks and then stopped and so far, so good.