A dear friend of mine gave me a little advice shortly before Quinn was born. She said something to the effect of your delivery will not go the way you plan. And when it doesn’t, embrace it. She was absolutely right. My delivery was nothing like I’d imagined. Despite all the craziness that ensued, Quinn’s birth was the most magical experience of my life to date. At long last, I’d love to share our birth story with you.
I was scheduled for induction on the morning of Friday, May 17th- one week before my due date. The plan was for us to arrive at the hospital on Thursday night so my cervix could be ripened with prostaglandins overnight. Friday morning my doctor would break my water, which would (hopefully!) induce contractions and labor.
Ryne and I spent every spare moment leading up to induction day preparing for Quinn’s arrival. We decorated her nursery, washed and folded tiny human clothes, cleaned the entire house, organized closets, touched up paint, trimmed our landscaping, bought food we’d never get to eat- anything you can think of that might make life with a newborn a little easier, we did it.
On Thursday evening we headed for the hospital around 8 pm. I felt surprisingly calm. I think I may have been in denial about the whole pushing a watermelon-sized baby out of a hole the size of a lemon thing. The nurse on shift that night was absolutely amazing! Once I was all gowned up and settled in, she started to place my IV at which point I passed out. Apparently it looked like I was having a seizure and Ryne was completely traumatized. Sorry again, babe!
Once I regained consciousness (and Ryne regained his sanity), the nurse placed the prostaglandins in my cervix and gave me medication to help me sleep so I’d be well rested for induction at 8am. My mom went home and my sweet husband stayed by my bed, stroking my hair until I fell asleep around 11pm.
At midnight, I was abruptly awoken by a gush of water between my legs. It took me a minute to realize what the heck just happened. Then it hit me- my first real contraction. I was in full blown labor. In the darkness of our room I called to Ryne, who was watching Jimmy Fallon on the always comfy pull-out couch, to tell him my water had broken. He ran to tell the nurse while I waddled to the bathroom to clean myself off, which was a complete waste of time because with every contraction more water gushed out of me.
The details from midnight to 6am are a bit of a blur because I was very sedated by a cocktail of medications. What I do remember is that my contractions were quite painful (understatement of the year) and the anesthesiologist was unavailable to give me my much anticipated epidural. She did eventually come to my rescue and two epidurals later I had complete pain relief that lasted through the night. Phew!
Around 6:45am, I awoke to every fiber of my body urging me to push. I was 9cm dilated. The nurse called my doctor to let her know I was nearly ready to deliver. About 20 minutes later, my doctor came by to tell me she had a scheduled C-section at a different hospital and would be back in two hours to deliver me. I thought to myself- Best of luck to you, but you’re not going to make it back in time to deliver my baby. She told me two other doctors were on-call if I needed to deliver before then (one of whom delivered Ryne almost 23 years before that!).
At that point, the urge to push was overwhelming. Not painful, but with every contraction I could barely resist the feeling. So every few minutes I asked the nurse to check me. I quickly dilated to 10cm. Score! Time to push, right? Wrong. This is when the system totally fell apart.
My amazing night nurse’s shift ended at 7am and a new nurse was assigned to me. Between 9cm and 10cm the on-call doctor had not been called. So when I was 10cm dilated, the on-call doctor was 15 minutes away, which is roughly equivalent to a million years when your body is holding in a baby against its will. Thirty minutes later… still no doctor.
The nurse kept telling me to breath through my contractions and not to push. Somewhere in there, my mom asked her to call the doctor again. After more than an hour of holding back, I started to cry. I told the nurse I couldn’t fight it any longer and I will never forget her response. She said, You can push a little bit to satiate the feeling, but if I have to deliver this baby there is going to be a lot of paperwork.
Looking back, I’m surprised my mom didn’t jump across the bed to strangle her. Honestly, in that moment, I barely noticed that the nurse was speaking. I was focused on breathing. Focused on my body. Focused on the thought of holding my child for the first time. When the next contraction came, I needed no one’s permission- I began to push. The on-call doctor arrived just in time to do the honor of catching our baby. Quinn Noelle was born at 8:53am on Friday, May 17th.
The birth was nothing like I imagined it would be, but the moment the doctor placed our tiny newborn baby girl on my chest was every bit as euphoric as I had hoped it would be. The room was all hustle and bustle while they stitched me up, but as I laid there soaking in my daughter’s warmth and our first moments as a family of three, my world was quiet.
