The story of Hope's Birth written by Kristen Keach:
“I have a verse for you!” Scott announced to me outside of
church on Sunday morning, “but it is supposed to encourage you, ok?”
“Ok…” I say back to him, with hesitation on what is about to
come out of his mouth. It sounded as if the verse he was about to give me was
not typically encouraging.
“Well, it’s that verse from Romans… ‘Rejoice in your
sufferings, because suffering produces patience, patience produces
perseverance, and perseverance produces hope, and hope never disappoints.’”
I didn’t know at the time how telling that verse was. I
never in a million years thought that would be the verse to completely
encompass the journey we would be on for the next 3 days. The 60 hours that
started that night at 11pm.
That afternoon I got a text from Jessica (one of my best
friends, and doula) asking me if there was anything I felt Brandon and I should
talk about before Hope was born. You see, I was already 3 days late and she had
experienced with her son’s birth that there were some things her and her
husband Jordan needed to talk through before the baby came. When they did, he
came. That day after church, Brandon and I got in a bit of a “discussion”. So
that night I asked if she and Jordan could pray for us for a little bit and
during our conversation- I started feeling crampy. At the end of our
conversation I told Jessica to sleep lightly because I felt as if I was
starting to have mild contractions, and would be calling her to come over that
night. It was 11pm.
To give you some history, when Brandon and I discussed
having kids we had decided to go the natural route. At first, Brandon had some
hesitations with safety and health risks, but after getting educated on the
natural birthing process (e.g. midwife vs. doctor, birth center vs. hospital,
etc.) we decided a birth center with a midwife was the option for us. During
the 9 ½ months of pregnancy we filled our brains with knowledge from books,
internet resources, and our Bradley class. We felt so prepared for the birth of
this baby, and were completely excited and comfortable with the opportunity to
have her in a safe and calm environment.
Around 11:15 I called our midwife who then told me to ignore
the contractions until I couldn’t ignore them any longer. The thoughts of our
baby being here by tomorrow night were filling my head, as I got into bed
surprisingly calm. I kept thinking ‘she will definitely be here by tomorrow at
11pm because, really, who has a 24 hour labor?!’
That night contractions intensified to 5 minutes apart,
lasting around 45 seconds and strong enough to need Brandon to put counter
pressure on my back from 3 am on. We had learned in our Bradley class that the
magic number was 5-1-1. You call your midwife when your contractions are 5
minutes apart, lasting for a minute, for an hour. Since we had not yet hit
that, we got up Monday morning to go to our last check up that had been
scheduled from the week before. We stopped at Starbucks to grab breakfast, and
I got oatmeal and a decaf mocha. We learned that eating until you couldn’t eat
was the best thing for your body during labor- so I tried to enjoy my breakfast
in between contractions, which were much more difficult to bear in the car.
1-2 centimeters dilated, 90 % effaced +1 station. Things
were looking good, I was just told to go home and rest as much as possible. I
decided a combination of rest, walking, and baths were what made me the most
comfortable. Brandon started taping encouraging bible verses all over the house
so that no matter where I was having a contraction, I could look up and be comforted.
By 8 pm Monday night, not much had changed. The thought of my baby being here
that night, was slowly but surely fading away.
I asked Jessica to come over that evening because I knew
Brandon was going to need rest, and at this point it was difficult (but
possible) to go through my contractions alone. They switched off helping and
massaging my back that night, with 1 hour that I let them both sleep and I
contracted alone while walking around the house from 2-3 am. Around 3 in the
morning I woke Jessica up because contracting alone was no longer bearable. My
contractions were closer together (about 4 minutes apart) and lasting about a
minute long. We were so encouraged early that morning going into the birth
center to get checked. We thought for sure we would be admitted and I can
finally get into that giant bath tub that promised pain relief.
At this point in time, my details get fuzzy. I quote this
text message sent out to friends and family after being sent home from the
birth center again. January 25, 2011 8:02am- “Contractions are steadily 4 min
apart and a minute long. Much more intense. I am 3cm dilated and 90% effaced.
Midwife says it looks like she will be here by tonight :) Going back home to
rest since sleeping has been difficult. What an unpredictable labor! We will be
checking back with the midwife at noon. I’ll let you know if there is any
change.” A day of walking, bathing, and leaning over the couch during
contractions, I clung to the verses that decorated our house to encourage me through
this unpredictable process.
Another day went by walking and trying so hard to get my
labor going. The next text sent out was at 5:06 pm that night: “Ok peeps it’s
Brandon. Slowly but surely. Midwife just came over. Baby is good, Mommy is
good, it’s just a slow labor. Still totally normal and our midwife is very
happy with heart rate/position etc . we are just waiting for dilation. She is
completely effaced, just needs to dilate. She said rest is best.” Actually what
she told me is to stop walking and have a beer and relax. See, my contractions
would space out to be further apart when I was lying down and would be much
more difficult to get through when horizontal so I thought walking was what I
should do to speed things up. But boy did she say the magic word- beer! The one
craving I did not fulfill during my pregnancy I just got the go ahead to enjoy!
Of course I crack one open, lay down, and boom—contractions hit 3 minutes apart
lasting longer than a minute and I could tell things were getting moving…cheers!
2 hours later our midwife came back over and I had dilated
to 4 cm. Yay finally things seemed to be progressing! We headed off to the
birth center filled with renewed excitement and yes, renewed hope. The transfer
to the birth center was grueling, but the thought of entering that giant tub
was so exciting I didn’t seem to care.
At 9 pm I was checked
again and at 5cm dilated. Almost 48 hours into labor- still no baby. But at
this point labor should get predictable. You hit 5cm and supposedly are going
to dilate ½ a cm per hour. My midwife went to rest- preparing for our
encroaching delivery. Now came the fun part (insert sarcasm here)! The two days
I was in labor at home had gotten me into a groove. A sort of, labor routine,
you could call it. I knew where to go, my people (Brandon and Jess) knew where
to massage and you could say we had it down to a good rhythm. But getting into
that coveted spa tub? Pshh I had NO IDEA what to do in there!! It was so
uncomfortable to be that far into labor and have to figure everything out all
over again! Needless to say, I got in a groove and was able to withstand my
contractions. I should mention that, by 2am, my body was working overtime. I
was having 2 (minute long) contractions every 3 minutes. So that means 2 minutes
of contractions, 1 minute rest.
Its 4 am Wednesday morning. I had been in labor since 11pm
Sunday night. I had no concept of time, but knew I only had a few more hours in
me. All I could think of when my midwife walked into my bathroom was that if I am
at least dilated to 7cm, I can make it. I knew that if I was at 7, I was
approaching transition and the end would be near. I would get my beautiful
delivery in the calm, peaceful environment of our beloved birth center.
4am. 5cm dilated. Completely crushed.
Our options were to break my bag of waters at the birth
center to see if that jump starts things, or go to the hospital and get Pitocin
to increase the productivity of my contractions. Are you kidding? The moment I
heard I was still at 5 I knew we were going to the hospital and I was getting
an epidural. I had done as much as I possibly could, and my body was working
too hard with no result.
Driving to the hospital was the hardest part. Every
contraction was a reminder that my body was failing me, and I felt that they
were powerless, and that made them completely unbearable. We checked into the
hospital feeling so sad and discouraged. Not to mention we were all completely
exhausted.
Our midwife stayed with us the entire time. When I got into
my hospital bed and got the run down on the epidural I became afraid again.
“If you happen to have a contraction while the
anesthesiologist is giving you the epidural, you have to stay completely still”
said the nurse to the woman in labor.
I looked at BJ (my midwife) completely astonished. “What if
I have a contraction? I’m not going to be able to do this!”
“Kristen, you were just in labor for almost 3 days. This?
This you can do!” It was just the encouragement I needed. 5 minutes later I got
my epidural while holding my sweet, shell-shocked, exhausted husband’s hands,
and having a contraction.
They broke my bag of waters right after I got my epidural
and I had permission to sleep. I could feel the comforting feeling of pressure
in my lower abdomen, telling me that my body was still working to get my baby
born. As I was sleeping and in and out of awareness there was lots of talk and
commotion. I heard Brandon asking why the heart rate was almost stopping during
contractions, and I heard the words ‘major d-cell variables’. That meant there was a cord compression
somewhere. No Pitocin until her heart-rate stabilized. They started talking
about and internal fetal monitor, until the nurse came in to check me.
10am. 80% effaced, -1 station, 4cm dilated. My body had officially
given up, and started to close.
They told me the unfortunate news of having to have a
C-section, and as my heart sank, apologies were floating around the room. It
was as if everyone were as disappointed of our outcome as we were, and the
feeling was tangible. They called Dr. James for an immediate cesarean.
No more than fifteen
minutes later a calm man walked through my sad, depressing hospital room. I
remember it so vividly- he was wearing a black leather jacket, drinking a
Starbucks coffee, and had a look of slight confusion on his face. “What’s the
matter?” he said, looking around. “Why all the sad faces? We’re having a baby
today!” He looks straight at me and Brandon and says “Sometimes your plans work
out, sometimes they don’t. Today they didn’t. But you’re having a baby! Today…
today is a good day!”
That’s all we needed. A little perspective! After hours of
suffering, of trying to be patient, and of persevering- our hope was coming.
This was it- I had a time that she would be in my arms. That I could look at
her face and my goodness- to finally kiss her! She was coming, and today was
the day.
I always wonder why they do it this way- why is it that they
lay you out on the operating table like you are lying on the cross? Arms out,
legs straight. It was so bizarre! At that moment, I thought to myself how this
whole thing was so unpredictable. This was the last thing I was expecting.
As Brandon held my hand the nurse told him to watch behind
the curtain. He was hesitant, but she convinced him that it would be the best
thing he ever saw. Of course, he pulled out the iPhone camera and practically
narrated the whole thing. I couldn’t see anything behind the blue shield, but
what I did see- watching my husband’s face as he saw his beloved daughter enter
this world, was unforgettable. He was amazed, emotional, in love.
Eight pounds, six ounces. Twenty-one inches long. 11:21 am.
She was here. She came out with her hands in the air and
looking as perfect as could be. They took her to get cleaned up and for the new
daddy to cut the umbilical cord. He described her to me and I could hear the
chatter of the nurses and doctors around us: “big baby!” “Looks like mommy!”
“Beautiful name!” “I guessed she’d be twenty-one inches!” They laid her on my chest after she was all
bundled up and as I spoke to her- she looked for me. She knew my voice just as
much as I knew the feeling of her feet from the inside. I finally gave her
kisses, we took some first family pictures, and I started feeling sick.
I gave her back to my tear filled husband, and waited to be
stitched up. At this moment I was silently scared. I felt that she finally came
out and that something was going to happen to me. I accidently looked up and
saw the reflection of my open body on the light above me and saw an
overabundance of blood pour out of my abdomen. As calm Dr. James called for a
nurse to get him a certain medicine (I don’t remember the name but found out
later it was a blood coagulant) I could hear a sense of urgency in his tone.
The nurse left the room, he stitched me up, and didn’t need it after all. I was
fine. Everything was fine.
As I got taken back to my room, I started to shake
uncontrollably. It’s a typical side effect from the anesthesia, but so
uncomfortable and unnerving. As my midwife helped Hope to latch on and nurse
for the first time- I realized the only thing that stopped my body from shaking
was the only thing my body was missing. As hope lay peacefully nursing at my
side, my body lying still, I got to stare at God’s promise to me and enjoy her
completely.
The weeks that followed were unforgettable. It was like we
were in this bubble, protected from anything that would get in the way of fully
enjoying our newborn baby. Nursing was hard, but rewarding, and I bonded with
her more and more every day. And there has been nothing that has brought
Brandon and I closer than the birth of our daughter. Not only was it the experience
itself- but the bonding we had the first two weeks as a family are
indescribable.
Rejoice in your sufferings, because suffering produces
patience, patience produces perseverance, and perseverance produces hope, and
Hope never disappoints.
It was all worth it. There is nothing disappointing about
her. And I would do it all over again in a heartbeat.
