So I started these posts back in May. Some have been painful to write and so it has taken me a long time. These stories are really for my own record, but I thought they might be of interest to others. My feelings are raw and honest and I'm sorry in advance for any offense by those who read them.
My journey to motherhood was somewhat sudden and unexpected. I became pregnant at the ripe age of 21, before any of my close friends and I had no idea at all what I was getting into. These were the days before Pinterest and all of the mommy articles that have come to flood Facebook feeds and blogs. I did manage to start my blog before pregnancy but I failed to document much of it. I think the reason I shied away from sharing was the fact that I was scared out of my mind. I had so many negative thoughts and feelings of guilt that I didn't feel it appropriate to share. But lately, I have come to realize that these stories etched in my soul might be better when written. If nothing else, my children will know that though the journey may be difficult, it yields so much joy. There are 6 stories here, some are sweet and simple, some are heartbreaking and more complicated. So here goes nothing, story #1
Mackenzie.
The first inkling I had that a new life was forming itself inside of me was on a cold winter day. Keith and I had married December 15 and we were living in a tiny studio apartment in Rexburg, ID. We were both full time students and I had a job in the archives department in the library where I edited and transcribed devotionals. I had a second job as a TA for my previous microbiology professor. Keith was also working as a TA. We didn't see much of each other and when we did, we were tired and cranky.
Our marriage had gotten off to a bit of a rocky start. I had started birth control back in October and felt like a crazy person on it. I distinctly remember a conversation I had with my old roommate Amber sometime near the end of January. She encouraged me to get off of the pills and see if it made any difference. Thankfully, I took her advice that very day and immediately felt more like myself. Our marriage eased into newlywed bliss for a couple of weeks and then...one day at the end of February, I got home before Keith.
It was getting late and I needed to prepare something for dinner. I used the restroom first and my heart about stopped when I saw the dark brown on my underwear. In that moment a word popped into my head that I hadn't before been aware of- "spotting." Hadn't the doctor warned that I might have spotting on birth control? My palms broke out in a sweat and I couldn't get to my Johns Hopkins medical dictionary fast enough. I quickly found "spotting" in the dictionary only to find that it was usually associated with pregnancy. I was immediately in panic mode and called up Keith. I don't remember the exact conversation but it went along the lines of, "Hey Keith I'm spotting and I think there's a chance I might be pregnant." He was pretty calm and cool about the whole thing. We told ourselves there wasn't a chance I could be pregnant and it must be a side effect of getting off of the pill.
I let myself think this way for days until I woke in the middle of the night with overwhelming nausea. I found myself parked in the bathroom, moaning in pain but unable to find relief. I could not vomit. I had no other symptoms but this lingering, awful nausea that seized my body and rarely gave me a moment of peace. After a couple nights of this, I begged the Lord to take it away. I prayed that if I was pregnant, I would have the strength to make it through the pregnancy. The next day, I woke up feeling fine and I told myself all was well, false alarm.
I have always had really regular cycles and when I was about a week late, Keith and I were on our way home late from a friends one night and we decided to run into the Albertsons to buy a pregnancy test so we could finally get an answer. I opened it up, read the directions, and decided to wait until morning. I didn't sleep well that night and got up around 4 or 5 AM to use the bathroom. I was so nervous as I watched that little pink line immediately pop up to announce what my heart already knew. What now? I wish I could say I was elated. Instead, I was racked with guilt for not being excited. I was overcome with fear and the feeling that my life was spinning out of control. A few minutes later, I poked Keith awake and told him the news. I got an "Oh, cool" or something along those lines and then he rolled over and fell asleep. I couldn't believe it. I had just found out that our lives were forever changed and that was all he could muster up.
In his defense, it was early. I didn't see it that way and our marriage continued to be tumultuous and frustrating. I had too many new emotions and I was really good at bottling those up and exploding. Keith didn't know how to talk to me. I was always on the defense. The nausea came back good and strong around week 7 and saltines became my best friend. We went to the doctor at week 8. It felt early and I had continued to spot a bit. I'm ashamed to admit it, but there was a part of me that hoped I was losing the baby. I didn't feel ready for this motherhood thing.
Dr. Lovell greeted us with an "I didn't think I'd see you back here so soon." I had gone to him for a pre-marriage exam just a few months prior and we told him we were surprised to see him too. I'm happy to say that my feelings changed dramatically the moment that ultrasound revealed a little bean kicking and moving inside of me. There was life inside of me. It was absolutely mind blowing and my heart grew a few sizes. I was happy for this baby. I wanted this baby. I still felt unprepared, inadequate, emotional and scared but I also felt something that trumped those- Love.
The pregnancy continued to be difficult. Despite what everyone told me, the "morning" sickness did not ease up after the first trimester and it lingered with me all day long. Despite the fact that I was hardly eating, I was packing on the weight at an alarming rate. My chest grew two sizes in a matter of a few weeks and my body that had never known more than 125ish pounds was already in the 150's by 20 weeks. My body was changing so quickly, I was gaining bright purple scars to prove it and buying a new wardrobe because nothing fit. I was having a hard time accepting my changing body and shied away from pictures- something I regret very much.
At 17 weeks, we got a sneak peek ultrasound at the doctors and they told us to think pink. I was ecstatic. I always thought I wanted a little boy first but when I found out I was pregnant, I had a change of heart. My spirit already knew that a little girl would come first and my heart had been prepared to accept her. That summer, Keith decided to sell pest control in St. George to help support us for the coming year. I had to stay behind for school and an internship. The break turned out to be good for us and the absence really did make our hearts grow fonder. When Keith returned from St. George, we moved into a two bedroom apartment and started to prepare for a baby.
My friends threw a little shower for me and we bought a few essentials at the only two stores I had to shop at, K-mart and Wal-mart. Thankfully, my sister was living by us and she let me borrow her swing, stroller and bouncy seat. Our parents bought us a pack n' play as the second room wasn't big enough for a real crib. A woman in our ward gave us her old baby seat and tub so we only needed to provide a few clothes and blankets. Our furniture consisted only of old hand me downs. As far as material possessions went, we didn't have much but we felt we had it all and were so grateful for the generosity of family and friends.
My due date altered a bit. We had to rely on ultrasounds and the first one that's considered most reliable said October 30-31. When I went in around 37-38 weeks and the doctor checked me, Mackenzie was so high he couldn't feel her head to tell if she was head down. When I was 40 weeks, he still couldn't tell. She seemed to be stuck. My mom had hard labors with all 6 of her babies and my sister had c-sections so I was prepared to run into some issues. Dr. Lovell told me he thought Mackenzie was stuck by a bony protuberance and my chances of a c-section were very high. We knew we had to induce because she wasn't dropping, I had gained 5 lbs of fluid the last week and my blood pressure was getting scary. We set the date and I started praying for a good birth and healthy baby.
We went in on Sunday November 2, 2008 to start the induction. I had no idea what to expect and was so nervous I had gotten very little rest or food the past 24 hours. They started me out with a foley catheter and cervidil gel which would help my cervix dilate. They also hooked me up to the drug I feared- pitocin. For whatever reason, they started me at night. I started cramping almost immediately and it only intensified through the night. The nurse offered me a sleeping pill which I took but it seemed to have no affect as I ended up awake the whole night with cramping and really bad back pain which no amount of massage seemed to relieve. At 5 AM, they took the catheter out and a lot of the pain was relieved. Around 8 AM, the doctor came in to check me. After being up all night, it was really disheartening to hear I was only dilated to a 4. I had wanted to try for a natural birth but nothing was going like I thought it would and I was so grateful to accept an epidural.
The epidural helped me relax and I finally fell asleep. Things were moving slowly so Keith and I decided he might as well go to his classes. It seems funny now but school was really important and I didn't see the point in him hanging around while I slept. I gave him a call around 2 PM when the nurses came to check me and I was finally at a 6. My mom told me her labors always went slow until she got to a 6, then she delivered within a couple of hours. Campus was a couple of miles away and when he got to me, I was at a 7 and getting excited. That's when everything slowed again. At 5 I was at an 8 and it was 8 PM before the nurse finally felt I could try pushing. Between 5 and 8, we knew the baby was posterior so I was up and moving, contorting my body to try to get her to move. The beauty of my hospital was that they had anesthesiologists who could give walking epidurals. When I mentioned this in my subsequent births back East, they stared at me like I was talking crazy and calmly told me such a thing didn't exist. I lived to tell that they do indeed. The whole time I had my epidural, I felt my legs and could move around with ease, all while feeling some pressure from contractions, but nothing painful.
The problem with all of my moving around was that at some point, the epidural catheter came out, leaking all that was good and wonderful down my back. I started to feel pain around 7 PM. It started as a deep pain in one side, then grew to encompass my stomach and back. The anesthesiologist was called in and because my medicine was low, he figured it was wearing off and hooked up a bolus for me to push so I could have the relief I needed. That didn't work but we all figured I was close enough to delivery, I would be ok.
It felt so good to finally push, the pain was driving my will to want that baby out of me. After 45 minutes of pushing, the nurse checked my cervix because she wasn't seeing any results. Turns out my cervix wasn't effaced enough when I started pushing and now I needed to stop pushing and wait for the swelling to go down. Those 30 minutes of waiting were agonizing. I was at a 10, I had pitocin induced contractions which were really intense and on top of each other, it was back labor, and I hadn't had anything to eat or drink for 24+ hours. It was the perfect storm to bring out the worst in me. I was crying, screaming, begging anyone and everyone to kill me. The doctor came in and he told me they needed to get the baby out. We all wanted a healthy baby and I was a hot mess with a baby that truly seemed stuck in the birth canal. They wanted to do a C-section and he told me how that was all going to go down. I cried through the whole thing and then begged to try to push again. He told me he would let me push but if there was any more distress, they'd go in for a C-section.
Dr. Meredith was the perfect coach for me. He was so encouraging and allowed my baby to come after another hour and fifteen minutes of pushing. When he finally saw her head, he asked if I wanted to touch it. I was too tired to care. When she finally came, they put her on my belly and I asked them to take her off before I was sick. The birth had been so traumatic for both me and Mackenzie. I was exhausted and sick and she had a perfect little face but a head so badly bruised the nurses all thought she had been vacuumed out of me. I begged for food and then I made the slow walk to to the shower to get cleaned up. I had to sit in the shower while the nurse washed me and all I could think was how surreal it all felt. I was a mom but I felt so detached from her. I have a picture holding her in my wheelchair while I was wheeled to recovery around midnight. My face is puffy and bloated and I could barely open my eyes due to the swelling.
Everything is a blur until the next morning when my mom and sister came to visit and I had plenty of drugs in my system but was alert enough to show off my beautiful new baby girl. I was a mom and I was so proud of that. It wasn't necessarily love at first sight for us, and breastfeeding proved to be another traumatic experience that delayed the attachment for my firstborn, but I felt myself falling in love with this perfect creature that God had blessed us with.
