the birth of franz oliver.

Zac and I had been talking about trying to start a family for about a year, and decided that we'd begin trying near the start of this year. I had convinced him that there was no way that we'd have a baby in 2013, because it can take a healthy couple up to a year to get pregnant, and we both thought that it would take at least a few months of trying, if not longer.

Throughout the last half of February, I had the tiniest feeling that maybe I could possibly be pregnant, but kept reminding myself that it was nearly impossible. Near the start of March, I took a pregnancy test in a bathroom stall during work, and sure enough, that little stick told me what I already knew, but didn't let myself believe. I was pregnant! I didn't take any more tests after that one; I was sure.

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On November 5th, I went into my midwife appointment with Jenn and was told I was 3cm dilated and 70% effaced. I was contemplating whether or not I wanted to be checked at this appointment, in case I wasn't dilated at all. I didn't want to be let down. But holy cow, 3cm, and not even 40 weeks! Hallelujah! I had the midwife strip my membranes (that actually sounds more flattering than the actual thing), and I went on my merry way with cramps, but no contractions.

A week later, on November 12th, I had another midwife appointment with Dena. I was checked at 4cm dilated and 70% effaced. I was progressing! We also talked about induction, since I was past 40 weeks at this point. That scared the living daylights out of me. I did not want an induction. Or a C-section. I had made up my mind that, unless the baby was going to die, those two things were out of the question. She stripped my membranes, and we scheduled a non-stress test for that Friday, and another appointment for the following Monday, where they would possibly induce me (I would've fought it). All of this made me uncomfortably nervous, but my midwife told me that she'd be surprised if I didn't go into labor before this weekend. That made me feel a little better, but only just a little, because I've heard of so many women who don't go into labor when their doctors tell them that.

I went home that day and walked and walked and walked, trying to get this baby out of me so I wouldn't need to be induced. I texted Zac and told him that if this baby wasn't here by Thursday the 14th, I was going to drink castor oil, something I swore I'd never do. I was desperate.

The next morning, November 13th, I woke up to what I thought were cramps at 5:30 am. I laid in bed for a while and watched the sun come up, and thought "This could be the day that I meet my baby." I went to the bathroom, and noticed that these cramps were kind of regular. I started timing them at 6:00, and after a while, I realized that I was in labor! I told Zac, who was still groggy and in bed, "You could be meeting your baby today."

He left for work at 8:00, and I timed my contractions for the next several hours. They were consistent, but only barely--they'd be 7-10 minutes apart for an hour, and then 15-20 minutes apart the next hour, and then 5-7 minutes apart the next hour, and only seemed to speed up while I was walking. I was getting mad. I wanted this baby out! I walked circles around my living for as long as I could, only pausing when a contraction came on to lean over the desk or counter and sway back and forth (that helped a little). I tried to keep my mind busy by watching a few episodes of The Office, but that only helped for so long.

All the while, I was texting Zac while he was at work, and by 3:30, he asked if he needed to come home, because I was in so much pain. I said yes, and to please bring some food because I was starving. He arrived home around 4:00 with a bag of McDonald's, and we ate between my contractions, and with each one, I would walk over to the counter, lean over it, and sway, like I did earlier in the day, except for this time, Zac massaged my shoulders, which helped so much. By this time, I realized that if I wanted to go into the hospital soon, I needed to be standing up, because it helped my contractions go faster, so I stood.

At around 5:30 pm, my contractions were about 5 minutes apart for an hour, so I told Zac that we were going to the hospital now, because I wanted to get this going. He kept asking, "Are you sure? Do you want to wait a little longer?" He was nervous to go, and couldn't believe this was really happening! The drive there was much more calm than I would've imagined, and I only had about 2 contractions the whole way. I was hooked up to the moniters by 6:00, where we found that I was still only 4cm dilated, but 80% effaced. I wanted to punch someone, because surely the last 12 hours of early labor would've put me at more than 4cm.

The nurse there asked me about my past medical history, and asked if I wanted an epidural. I said I'd wait and see how bad things got. We hung out for an hour while my contractions were monitered, and that was the slowest hour of my life. There was a clock on the wall, and I'd look at it after every contraction I had, and realized that each one was about 3-4 minutes apart. We were getting somewhere, but my gosh, that was horrible! I moaned through them, and even cried through some. Zac offered his hand for me to squeeze, but I wanted nothing to do with it, surprisingly.

Just after 7:00, the nurse came back to check my progress, and discovered I was dilated to 4.5cm (she was probably making up the ".5" part to make me feel better). Thankfully, she saw how much pain I was in, and said, "I'm going to call Dena and let her know how far you are, and see if she wants to admit you." All I could think was, "Bless you, lady!" because there was a chance I was going to get admitted, and also, Dena was the on-call midwife that night! She was my favorite, and the one I had seen the day before. The nurse came back a few minutes later and said, "Dena's on her way, let's get you to your room!" I could've cried. She asked, "You're waiting to get an epidural, right?" and I said, "Actually, I want one right now."

We walked to the next door over, into room 118, the very last available room they had. As we got settled, Zac said "This will be our home for the next few days!" I got into the bed and was hooked up to the moniters again. In what seemed like no more than 5 minutes, the anesthesiologist came in and introduced himself as Bart. I will always remember his name, because he was a godsend. He put the epidural in, and 20 minutes later, I was feeling goooood. I even remember telling Zac that I wish I could have an epidural every day. It helped me relax, something I was having a hard time with.

Dena and my nurse, whose name was Deanna (I had the dream team!), came in and checked me. I was at a 5, and Dena said, "We're going to break your water", and that kind of made me nervous, because I knew that if I didn't have this baby within 24 hours, I'd have to have a C-section. They broke my water, which was a weird feeling, like my bladder had exploded with weeks worth of pee inside. They helped me get into a position that Dena swore would make me dilate faster: they turned me on my side and propped one leg up on the stirrup, and let me hang out like that for about an hour. After that hour was up, I was dilated to 6cm.

It was about 8:30 by this point, and because I was dilated to a 6, we called Heather, our photographer, and let her know to head over. She got there about half an hour later, and Dena and Deanna turned me over onto my other side and propped my other leg up.

At around 9:30, while Heather took pictures of us and our room, Dena came in and checked me again, and found that I was at an 8. She told us about how she and another doctor were racing to see which of their patients would dilate and deliver faster, and so far, I was in the lead! She swore it was because of the position she put me in. She turned me to my other side, and let us be. It was such a calm labor. The lights were dimmed, and I remember falling in and out of sleep while Zac and Heather talked quietly on the couch. 

An hour later, at around 10:30, I was checked again and to our surprise, I was fully dilated on one side, and had less than a centimeter to go on the other. So Dena turned me onto my other side and let me hang out for half an hour.

Once that half hour was up, just seconds before Dena and Deanna came in to check me, I felt the baby's head move down a significant amount. Dena checked me, and said, "Wow! You're fully dilated and at a +2 station! Time to push!" They got everything set up, put my legs in the stirrups, and told me what to do. 

As we were getting ready, Dena asked what kind of music we liked, and then put "Low" by FloRida on to deliver to, because, as she said, "we want the baby to get  low!" And at that moment, every person in my delivery room was dancing. There was a dance party while I was giving birth to my son. They were having a hard time finding my contractions on the moniter because I was laughing so hard. After a while, I noticed that I could feel the contractions I was having. They weren't painful, but I could feel the pressure of my body pushing the baby down. It was amazing, and right then and there, I silently thanked Bart the anesthesiologist for the wonderful epidural he gave me that let me feel the pressure of when and how to push, but not the pain, which was exactly what I wanted.

So with each contraction I felt, I gave 3 big pushes, each lasting 10 seconds that Zac counted out for me. Dena was a huge help with telling me how hard to push and with what muscles. They were so surprised how well I was doing with my pushing, and vocalized it, and I thought, "Thanks, Bart." Seriously. That man. I will request him next time I have a baby there.

After a little while of pushing, the baby's head was visable, and Dena shouted out, "I can see hair!" That made me so happy, because throughout my whole pregnancy, I kept telling Zac, "I don't care what the baby looks like, I just want it to have hair!" And there was hair! Hair that was long enough for Dena to put it in a mohawk while I was pushing! That made me laugh. She offered me the mirror to see what it looked like. I was hesitant, and then decided not to look, because who wants to see that much of themselves at a time like that? Not me. I was surprised when I looked over to see Zac watching the baby's head come out. We both thought that would make him sick.

With one last push, the baby's head was out, but I only knew because everyone kept saying that. "The baby's head is out!" And with the next contraction, at 11:27 pm, and only half an hour of pushing, his body came out with it, and in that moment, I became a mother to an 8 pound, 7 ounce, 22-inch-long baby boy.

They placed him on my chest with his little bum in face, and they noticed that he wasn't breathing well. They had Zac quickly cut the cord, and whisked him off to be resuscitated. After a few seconds, we heard the loudest, angriest cry, and knew he would be okay. Everyone kept saying how he was such a beautiful baby. They dried him off, put a diaper on, gave him eye drops, weighed and measured him, and wrapped him up in a blanket before he got to me. I remember not being really anxious to hold him right away; I just watched as they took care of him, and that was okay. 

After what seemed like just a few seconds, he was placed on my chest, and I took him out of his blanket and did skin-to-skin, something that I was looking forward to probably more than anything. And with that, he latched right onto the boob and started nursing like it ain't no thang. "You're so good! Look at you nursing," I remember saying, and I was so amazed that this baby who had never nursed before was so good at it. 

After our skin-to-skin time, and after the nurses and doctors left, I asked Zac if he wanted to hold him, and handed him over. That baby with his papa was the sweetest thing I saw that night. We are parents!

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