Let me begin by saying that all women need space to share their birth stories. No matter how it went, it’s an experience that shapes you as a person and is something to be shared. However, not everyone wants to hear these stories. As a woman in the process of deciding whether I was ready to have kids and while anticipating going into labor, some of the horror stories were really not helpful. I’ve realized, though, that it’s more about the person needing to share and wanting some validation to the challenge they made it through.

So, this is my space to share. I’m sure I’ll talk about it in person with people as well, but I’m creating my own space because this was a transforming event (I became a mom for crying out loud), and it was one heck of a hard process (even the nurses said so). If that’s not your cup of tea, no worries, but if it is, welcome to my story. It will be long, but then, the process was long, and it involved bringing a brand new human being into the world.

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In short, my story can be summed up like this: I started the induction process around 9pm on April 5th and eventually had Liam via C-section at 4:12am on April 7th with a long time, including three hours of hard pushing, before the decision to have surgery was made.

After a rather pleasant pregnancy, apart from managing gestational diabetes with diet and exercise, it was finally time to meet our little Liam.

At my 39 week appointment, the midwife told me I would get induced if I didn’t go into labor naturally by 40 weeks. Well, the day of induction arrived, and to our surprise no baby. We truly thought I would never make it to the month of April, let alone my due date, but here we were. I tried a few things like walking, pumping (a good excuse to get acclimated to my breast pump), and bouncing around on my exercise ball, but nothing happened. And so it was, after calling to verify there was indeed an empty bed for me to come to at the appointed hour (6pm on April 5th, fondly known as Induction Day), Ronny and I calmly packed up the car and drove to the hospital. I won’t lie, it was nice to not be contracting in the midst of that.

A pandemic was a strange time to be anticipating the birth of a child. Pulling into the hospital parking lot, we were greeted by the sight of a tented entrance to the emergency room and eerily empty lot. We walked to the Women and Children’s Pavilion, where two medical staff waited to ask us questions about whether we had been exposed to corona. They told us that I, the pregnant woman, could go to the Labor and Delivery wing, but they would need to verify if my support person, Ronny, could come. 

I am a composed person and very few things could cause me to publicly lose my cool. Had Ronny been denied entrance, that would have been my undoing. I had been told when I called an hour prior that he was good to go, and the worker was just doing her job, but I don’t think she really considered the status of us as a couple. I was a pregnant woman on the cusp of induction and she was suggesting I might have to do that alone. Nope. After getting confirmation he was good to go, we were escorted to the Labor and Delivery waiting room. Again, eerily empty. 

After registering, providing license and insurance, and waiting about ten minutes, we were brought back to the room and the nurse immediately instructed me to change into a gown. I’m not sure why I was so surprised by how quickly that happened, maybe it’s because I wasn’t even in labor yet, but they were not messing around. 

That evening, I was given an oral medication to help soften my cervix and get my body primed for labor. Ronny and I had several uneventful hours that evening watching Downton Abbey and eating dinner. Knowing I would need it, I opted for the sleeping pill that was offered. I was given my second dose of “labor medicine” around 2am, and by about 5am I was beginning to feel contractions. By around 5:30 I was feeling contractions that were uncomfortable enough to get me out of the bed and walking around. I was grateful for the sleep I had gotten and knew Ronny was going to need as much as he could get as well, so I managed the contractions for about 30 minutes while I let him continue sleeping. They gave me my third dose around 6am, by which point, Ronny was up.

After trying the exercise ball for a few minutes for some relief, I decided a bath would be ideal. The nurse encouraged the idea, telling me that heat often helps with contractions. 

Excellent. 

A few weeks before labor started, I told Ronny one of the most helpful things to me in the process would be to have goals. I’m nothing if not goal-oriented. If contractions were lasting roughly 45 seconds, having a countdown would be helpful mentally in persevering through. Well, the time in the bath was a good test of that. He came and stood with a timer, giving me countdowns. It definitely helped, as did feeling somewhat weightless in the tub.

Eventually, I started to feel slightly overheated and got out to cool down and use the toilet. While still sitting on the toilet, fully naked, a nurse - who I had not yet been introduced to - opened the door to check on me, because Liam’s heart rate had dropped with the heat of the bath. It was then I realized that any semblance of modesty was out the window. 

“Hello nurse I’ve never spoken to, by all means come see my weird, naked, pregnant body. I have no secrets anymore, so it would seem.”

I had been told I needed to wait for one of the midwives to come check my progress before I could get an epidural. I was sad to learn that the midwife I had been seeing for my appointments and who was supposed to be on call, actually was not. There was a schedule change and her friend was on call instead. Rhonda was great, but it was still a bit of a bummer!

Eventually she came in, told me I was about 3cm and said the lovely phrase:

“Girl, you go ahead and get that epidural.”

They told me it would take about an hour, which I’ll admit, was disappointing. Fortunately, the wonderful anesthesiologist, Eddie, showed up within about 20 minutes. It was no joke having to hold still during the process while feeling a contraction at the same time. Woof.

30 minutes later, after some adjustments to make sure my right hip was also numb (it took longer for whatever reason...foreshadowing), life got simpler. They did have to give me some more drugs to right my blood pressure shortly after the epidural. (I have low blood pressure to begin with, so it wasn’t entirely surprising it got a little wonky.) After that, I had time to eat some popsicles, chicken broth, and jello. I took a nap. Ronny and I relaxed. What a dream.

Around 3pm, they came to check me again, broke my water (which shocked Ronny with how bloody it was though I didn’t see anything), and started pitocin to encourage the contractions to get going. If you know anything about me, you’ll know that the machine to pump the pitocin became a bit of an issue because of the rhythmic sound...and it went on for nine hours. I eventually had to resort to listening to music (the Hamilton soundtrack worked for some reason) to block out the noise. Ugh.

The rest of the time was a bit of a blur until pushing began. I had my bladder emptied several times, continued consuming clear liquids in the form of popsicles, jello, and broth (seriously, that chicken broth was the bomb) until I threw up some jello after brushing my teeth (first time I’d thrown up while pregnant and it made Ronald sad), switched sides I was lying on, and rested. The epidural started to wear off in my right hip and groin area which was not ideal, so, after turning me to that side for a while, they gave me more to help. 

It never fully got numb again. 

Also, the band that held the monitor for Liam in place kept slipping under my ribs (I have mild scoliosis), which added to the general discomfort. 

I know birth is not a comfortable process, but adding the ever-increasing-untouched-by-the-epidural area on my right hip and the never-ending sound of the pitocin, there was a long stretch of hours where it got rough. 

Around 9pm, the midwife came in and told me that based on how I was progressing, there was a possibility of a C-section. She told us that if it were her, she would want to know. It wasn’t a guarantee that it would happen, but she wanted us to prepare for the possibility. Even then, it didn’t really feel like that’s where it would end up.

Honestly, between that conversation and midnight, I don’t remember much of what happened, other than they put me in upright positions to help Liam shift down. Noooot the most comfortable I’ve ever been, but who is surprised?

Around midnight, the nurse came and started shifting things around. It took a little while to realize she was preparing me to start pushing. I’m not sure why I thought there would be more warning (my body never really gave me the sense it was time which probably should have been a good indicator that a C-section would be necessary), but I was surprised that it was game time. 

Pushing, as any first-time mom knows, takes a little practice. I was still feeling contractions to some degree, so it was honestly a relief to have something productive to be doing during them rather than just doing whatever I could to get through them. After a short time, the midwife and nurses were telling me I was a good pusher. 

Who knew you could be a good pusher? 

Over the course of the next three hours, they moved me from side to side. Apparently, Liam’s head was turned sideways so by having me push in different positions, they were attempting to correct that before it was time for him to be born. I even pushed with my legs closed a few times. So weird. I must admit, it never occurred to me that I would push in any position other than what they do in movies. Stirrups never even entered the picture. I also pooped several times. The only way I knew was because I could smell it (gross, I know), but when I asked about it, there wasn’t much answer. I think the staff was trying to protect me from feeling embarrassed, which I wasn’t at all. I knew pooping was part of the pushing deal. 

When they tell you to push like you are about to have a large bowel movement, why would it then be a surprise you had one?

Close to the end of the three hours, I kept asking if I was getting close. They had also put a permanent catheter in (as opposed to the ones they put in and take out), and I kept asking them when it would be time to remove it. I was very aware of it and not pleased to be aware. In my fog of exhaustion, I vaguely remember hearing one of the nurses say, “That’s what she’s concerned about?” in response to the catheter. Fair enough, but still, get it out will ya?

By this point, there were probably eight medical staff in the room. It felt like they kept multiplying over the course of the pushing period. The final position they put me in was to lift the back of the bed and have me face it on my knees. It was the most physically tired I think I’ve ever been in my life (and I’ve played ten hours of tennis in a day).

No one was reassuring me that a lot of progress had been made, and I became somewhat fearful about how depleted I felt. There had been a brief moment of hope when the nurse showed Ronny that you could see Liam had hair, but there wasn’t much other than that. Had someone said we were close, I would have found it in me to get the job done, but as it stood, it was a scary feeling to recognize how gassed out I was. The nurse even started using food as incentive (I wanted chicken fingers and french fries so they ordered it and had it brought to the room, along with food for Ronny).

The midwife and surgeon were both in the room by this point and mentioned a C-section. They calmly explained the risks of both getting one and continuing in the same way I had been. The trouble was that any progress I made while actively pushing was lost once I stopped. Liam’s head never really continued to lower where it needed to be no matter how well I pushed, but they did say I could keep pushing for another two hours.

Yeah right, there was nothing left in the tank.

I was still very much feeling contractions at this point, so in the midst of the conversation we would pause to let me push. Experiencing a contraction while pushing is far more bearable (seems like there might be a lesson in there about pushing into pain to get through it…). I must say, all of them were incredibly supportive and would cheer me on during each push. It was funny to me that Ronny encouraged me to use my core every time.

Once their explanation concluded, I looked at Ronny to see what he thought. I was for sure leaning that direction because of how tired I was, but I wanted him to give some insight. Poor guy, I had pretty much gone into my head for several hours and we had not conversed very much.

He asked if we could talk by ourselves for a little while, which was a good call. It was pretty apparent the surgeon and midwife were trying to give us the opportunity to make our own decision, but that they believed a C-section was the wisest option in their professional opinions. Ronny walked around to the side of the bed I was facing and kneelt so I could easily see him, and we discussed the decision. It was not a long discussion, but there was time for a few contractions and pushing to get through them. I was really not in a position to think clearly and trusted Ronny to be able to help make the right choice. We gave a little time to let the Lord give us peace and ultimately decided surgery was the best decision for both Liam and me.

Once we gave the green light, things moved quickly. Lots of bustling happened around the room: Ronny packed up all of our things (after I mentioned to him that he should and a nurse confirmed we would not be back to that room), the nurses prepped me, gave me something to help prevent nausea during surgery, and we waited for the anesthesiologist to come give me the even better drugs. And still, I felt the contractions (I know, it’s not like they suddenly become less intense and they were still deadened somewhat by the epidural, but the pain was there). The surgeon informed me I’d feel more comfortable soon. 

The anesthesiologist, this time, was a large black man. I say that because he was quite the presence and was exactly what I needed at that time. His name was Ralph, and after hearing him speak for about a minute, I informed him that he had an announcer’s voice. I also voiced my concerns that this new round of drugs would not be sufficient since the epidural had worn off somewhat, and I was not about to endure feeling any part of the surgery. He assured me it would be fine. 

With Ronny following behind with our belongings on a cart, Ralph pushed me down the hall to the operating room and nearly banged the bed into a door. I remember making some comment about how I was the one on the drugs so what was the deal with his driving? He laughed.

Being in the operating room was strange. There were mirrors so I could see my abdomen which I was somewhat grateful for and not at the same time. Grateful because I was curious what the surgery would be like, not so grateful because I did not want to think about the recovery. Ronny was left in the hallway to get decked out in scrubs while they got things situated (apparently my bladder was full which was presenting a problem). I asked where he was, because I was concerned they might forget about him.

Ralph also took the time to demonstrate how I was totally numb by rubbing something on my arm and then on my abdomen, which gave me peace of mind. I was laying on the table with my arms spread to either side of me and a curtain rising in front of my face. I had an oxygen mask on periodically. Eventually, Ronny came in, and Ralph encouraged him to get his phone out because it was almost time. I was about to say something to Ronny when all of a sudden I heard a cry.

My heart leaped with a joy I had never experienced before. It was the most incredible feeling.

At long last, at 4:12am on April 7, 2020, we were about to meet Liam. He was actually here!

Ronny looked on over the curtain, and I said, “Ronald! Take pictures! I can’t see!” This was not Ralph’s first rodeo of a surgery, and he laughed as Ronny quickly snapped a few pictures.

It took several minutes for me to even see Liam, which felt very strange. I obviously didn’t get the skin to skin contact that happens after a vaginal birth. They had Ronny cut the remaining umbilical cord as two respiratory specialists took care of the little man off to the side of the operating room. In the midst of that, while I waited, a wave of nausea came over me and I threw up the liquid that was supposed to keep me from feeling nauseous. Awkward. About a minute later, Ronny came over with Liam. What a way to meet my son for the first time, face dripping with vomit.

But there he was.

As they finalized everything with the surgery (I could see the incision in the mirrors), the staff joked around with Ralph. Tough crowd when you’re the only male actively involved in the operating process. They then wheeled me to the recovery room, did a few checks with Liam, had Ronny hold him while some final checks were done on me...and after all that, I was finally able to hold my son. The staff member coached me on breastfeeding, and around 6:00am they gave Ronny and I masks and wheeled us to our mother/baby room with Liam in my arms.

April 7, 2020, 4:12am, 8 pounds, 2.5 ounces, 21 inches long: William Charles Wilson, to be called Liam. 

The next few days involved recovery. Six hours post surgery they removed the catheter and had me get up and walk. I threw up in the sink, which brought my hospital vomit count up to three. Escaped unscathed during pregnancy but didn’t get through labor and delivery. Bummer. Later that evening, they had to put a temporary catheter in (I was quite bummed I was unable to urinate on my own) to empty my bladder and “wake it up” after the surgery. Apparently, that’s a thing. They changed their procedure to remove the catheter after six hours rather than twelve, resulting in the need to help patients get their bladders going again. I felt pretty good that first day.

Day two was a different story. They had weened me off the IV pain medicine and I was just taking oral motrin and tylenol. By the afternoon, I was starting to feel desperate with the pain and waiting for the next round of pills, but I’d been resistant to the narcotic. The nurse came in and very compassionately told me that not only had I had surgery, but she recently learned I had pushed for three hours. She reminded me that was a lot.

I nearly started crying. 

After that, I felt permission to take the narcotic, which helped me tremendously on an emotional and physical level. It even made breastfeeding more bearable, since my uterus was contracting back to its original size every time Liam ate. 

In the midst of all this, we were trying to make sure Liam’s blood sugar was high enough. Since I had gestational diabetes when I was pregnant with him, they needed to monitor his levels for a little while. We had to supplement with formula to get him where he needed to be, and shoot, his gas smelled bad with the formula in his system.

On April 9th, after Liam got circumcised in the morning, we were discharged in the early afternoon and finally headed home.

Ronny was incredible the entire time. He kept family and friends so well updated on the process. Even after getting home, he helped take care of a newborn and a wife recovering from major abdominal surgery. He was, and will continue to be, an incredibly involved dad. He was so supportive throughout the process, and I 10000000% could not have done it without him!

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One theme of the birth story was the impact of COVID-19. It was hard worrying about whether there was potential for Ronny to not be allowed to come for the labor and delivery process. After a while, I wasn’t even allowed to have a visitor at my OB appointments. No visitors were allowed in the hospital, and only one support person could be there for labor and delivery. That meant that no one came to see us for the four days we were there. Our community was incredibly kind about delivering food and coffee for us (especially for Ronny...I still think it’s strange that the hospital doesn’t provide meals for the support person). The staff kept commenting on it. A nurse told us there were women in the hospital who had corona in the midst of having their babies. Everyone wore masks. Ronny couldn’t leave the room to get food without one. Even after leaving the hospital we didn’t allow people to come in the house to see Liam. We would stand at the front door and they could look at him through the glass. Family didn’t come to meet him until he was almost a month old. Just nuts and sad and strange. 

In general, it did give Ronny and I the chance to bond. We are the only two that went through Liam’s birth and first chunk of life. I would not necessarily have chosen it to go that way, but it turned out to be what we needed. 

I’m still processing the fact that I ended up needing a C-section, but that’s for another post. 

Liam, I love you. This is our story.

Timeline: 

4/5/2020

6:45pm - arrived at hospital

10pm - first dose along with the sleeping pill

4/6/2020 (due date)

2am - second dose

5am - awareness of contractions

5:30am - up out of bed

6am - third dose

6:30 - bath

8:30am - midwife came to check progress

9:00am - anesthesiologist got the epidural going

3:00pm - midwife broke water and pitocin started

9:00pm - midwife mentioned the possibility of a C-section

4/7/2020

12:00am - started pushing

3:00am - discussion and eventual decision to have C-section

4:12am - Liam was born