Our Wonderfully Made

“You MADE it.” I whisper this to my sleeping babe as tears stream down my face, in disbelief, total wonder, and awe. “You are perfect, my love. You are so, so perfect.” I hold him as tight as I can, and sneak in a million kisses. How do you capture the feeling of seeing your baby for the first time, taking him home to start your life together, and realizing that all those years of prayers, heartache, dreams, and yearnings… have all come to this day… and it was all for him, the whole time?

.

It’s simply overwhelming. It’s crazy to think that all those years of praying, of declaring that one day we would meet our baby here on earth – that the entire time it was for him. He was who we were praying for, and we didn’t even know him. Those 9 months I carried and loved him in my womb, wondering “who are you?” “what do you look like?” “who will you become?”. The whole time, it was him inside, listening to our voices tell him how much we love him and couldn’t wait to meet him. We are now a month in, and I am still wrapping my head around the fact that he is ours – a gift God has given Branton and I. Someone completely unique from any other human being on earth, with his own personality, his own strengths, his own thoughts and ideas. Orlo. Our Orlo.

.

It’s taken me a while to get to the point of writing down our Birth Story with Orlo, for a few reasons. 1) Umm… he’s a newborn! Which pretty much means 24/7 attention and care J 2) Simply put, I was too busy admiring him and staring at him every waking hour, to sit down and write, and 3) Maybe I wasn’t quite ready… I’m crying less every day, but still get totally caught off guard by tears that come pouring down just looking at him. I needed some space to adjust to this new life of ours.

.

But, alas, here we are. This is our Birth Story.

.

FRIDAY, JUNE 29^TH – DATE NIGHT

Branton and I decided to go on a little date Friday night, as I told him I had a feeling it would be our last. I was itching to get dressed up and enjoy a beautiful summer evening just the two of us.

.

We headed out to the Exchange District, where there was an Alleyways Market (a market of local artisans popping up in an alleyway downtown) to check out some handmade goods, followed by dinner at one of our favourite cafés. Heading home, we stopped to take a walk along the river (walk the baby out right?? ;), taking a slow evening, enjoying the space with just the two of us. Once we got home, we put on a movie, and finally decided to head to bed around 12:30am.

.

I had a feeling that tonight may be the night things got started. You see, I had written down a number of declarations when we were just 10 weeks pregnant, and had it sitting on my dresser so I could look at these declarations each morning. I wrote these in an effort to push away all the fear that was floating around in my head, and reasons why this pregnancy wouldn’t last. These declarations spoke power over those fears, strengthening my hope and belief that this pregnancy would be different. One of the last declarations written 31 weeks prior, was to welcome this baby home in JUNE. Knowing the power of prayer, and positive affirmations, I truly believed that our boy would meet us in June, so things must be getting started tonight then!

SATURDAY, JUNE 30^TH1:37am – IS THIS A CONTRACTION?

I woke up just an hour after falling asleep, to some cramping pain. I must have been startled, as I woke Branton up with my “ohhhhh that hurts!”. Of course, he right away asked if I was having contractions, as every little tinge was setting us off at 41 weeks pregnant! I told him it could have been, but was probably nothing. I laid my head back to the pillow, and then woke up with a sharper more intense cramping. “Oh, wow!” Branton, again, woke up, “Do you think this is it?” “Maybe… that felt like what everyone describes contractions as…” I replied. Then I recalled reading so many birth stories and how women had noted they took a nap when contractions first began to bottle up their energy for what would be coming. I told Branton this, and said I was just going to go back to sleep…. HA! The next one came on faster and stronger, as I threw off the blankets, jostling Branton one last time awake. “They all lied!” I said to him. “There is no way you can sleep through contractions!”. At this point, I downloaded a contractions timer app on Branton’s phone to keep track of the length of time between contractions. 8 minutes apart.

.

Not being able to sleep, I decided to get in the tub. Branton ran the bath and I made my way to hop in. Another contraction came fast and furious. My back was starting to hurt during the contractions – so much pressure was being pushed on my spine as I already knew from a previous ultrasound that baby was face up, and had been warned back labour would likely be intense. Moments after I got in the tub, another one started. Branton was in the kitchen putting frozen pancakes in the toaster (lol). I yelled at him to come quickly, right before I caught another break. Holding me, Branton looked at me, “You’re doing SO good! It’s really happening, Kayla. We’re going to meet our boy soon.” Surprising myself, as I was in so much pain, a huge smile broke my face. “We’re really going to meet him? Are you sure?” Tears were welling. I was almost laughing. How could this be? We were finally here – labour was officially starting and I knew today would be the first day of the rest of our lives.

.

And then another contraction interrupted our moment. “Put pressure on my sacrum please!” Branton pushed as hard as he could on my sacrum while I breathed through the next 90 seconds. The contractions were now 5 minutes apart.

.

I couldn’t handle laying down on my back or side in the tub. The water felt nice, but I needed to get out. So I made my way to the toilet to be in a squatting position. Another contraction – this time it was INTENSE. Branton kept timing each contraction. We were now 4 minutes apart and I was in pain. Branton suggested we get to the hospital, but I told him I wanted to wait a little longer… that is until the next one came on even harder. “Okay, we got to go! Don’t bother tracking them anymore – it’s time!” I yelled. He knew he had 2-3 minutes between contractions to run and grab our hospital bag, freezer snacks, cot, pillows, etc. We played that game for a few more contractions until we were ready to head out the door to meet our baby boy.

4:00am – ADMITTING & TRIAGE

Back labour while driving = not fun. Without Branton pushing on my sacrum during the contractions, I felt everything intensify. Thankfully the drive only took about 10 minutes in the middle of the night with no traffic! We pulled up to the street parking and walked through those same front doors I’ve been walking through for 9 months of appointments to check up on little babe. But this checkup was going to be so different. I couldn’t believe we were walking through these doors, knowing that the next time we walked out, we would be carrying our baby.

Heading to the admitting office, another contraction came on strong and I held myself up against the wall. We walked through to admitting and I was so thankful Branton became my voice, answering all the lady’s questions. Another contraction… at this point I had my breathing technique down pat, thanks to Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth. I kept reading women’s birth stories explaining that Ina May’s suggestion of “horse lip breathing” really helped. Somewhere between waking up with contractions and getting to the hospital, I recalled this, and gave it a try. It really helped with the initial pang of back labour when contractions first came on heavy. So there we were, Branton being my voice as the lady shot out one question after another, with me sitting there, horse lip breathing as loud as I could. I’m not sure how she could even hear Branton over me. Contraction ended, and she ran out of questions. She looked me in the eye, and said “You are having this baby today, girl! You’re going to breathe him out!”

Made it past gatekeeper #1, and off to triage we went. I remember the nurses looking at me like “whoa, this girl is coming in hot and heavy!” lol. They looked over my chart, and noted this was my first birth, likely thinking that I was over-reacting to the contractions this early on. They gave me a hospital gown and asked me to change and then get onto the triage bed. I told Branton I’d rather not wear their gown, as I wanted to feel more comfortable. Understanding, he grabbed one of the robes I had packed in our hospital bag, and helped me change through another contraction in the tiny washroom.

Getting onto the bed, a nurse quickly checked me, and eyes big, said, “Wow! You’re already 7 centimeters dilated. Frist time moms never come in that far along!” I was also shocked – I was hoping to be 4 centimeters, as I knew from an appointment with our doctor that morning I was at 2 centimeters, just no signs of contractions or labour at the time. The nurse hurried off, telling other nurses this news, and to get me into a room right away. Triage didn’t last long, and we were off to our birthing room.

5:00am – BIRTHING ROOM – “NO DRUGS PLEASE”

I was happy being cleared for a private room so quickly, and felt optimistic that labour would go quickly. At this point, the contractions were coming harder and harder, and I was definitely feeling the pain more. I kept focused on my breathing though, and with Branton’s supportive pressure, I felt somewhat in control. Each time a contraction would begin, Branton knew to start the pressure. Barely being able to speak through my vaulted breathing, I would yell one word instructions to Branton, “HARDER!” “HIGHER!” “LOWER!” I was hoping I wasn’t coming across as mean, it was simply all that I could muster, knowing he wanted to help. There was no space for “Please push a little high on my back, love.” That now equated to one word grunts.

.

Nurses and doctors were rustling in and out of the room, but I couldn’t focus on them. I kept my eyes closed most of the time, in my own trance. This helped me focus on breathing through the pain. They asked me questions, and I answered, but felt like someone else was answering for me. They kept offering me pain medications, and when a new doctor came in, I heard the nurse saying, “No, she hasn’t had any pain medication – we’ve asked her!” I felt like they were alarmed due to how LOUD I was. I was no quiet birther (thanks again to reading so many birth stories, and hearing support from Birthing From Within to allow yourself to be LOUD if you want to. I knew I would be loud and outspoken, and likely not a quiet birther). I do recall during one break from the contractions, I noted to Branton how quiet the other rooms seemed to be, and it was the first time I realized just how loud I was. I didn’t care though. Labour was hard work! I was in the thick of it.

.

Time was no longer relevant. I had no idea what time it was, how long I had been labouring, whether it was night or morning. I opened my eyes briefly, and saw Branton, and have never been more thankful for him than in that moment. He was my support. Our doula was unable to attend the birth due to being out of town, and we also were informed at this time that my doctor was not going to make it. Branton was all I had. He encouraged me constantly, “You are doing so great! You got this! You are so strong!” He let me grab and pull his hair, put him in a head lock, and destroy his hand pushing my back with all his might. I looked him in the eyes in this moment and thanked him… before another contraction came on. “HARDER!”.

.

I was losing steam. It was now 9:00am, and contractions were stacking, giving me no reprieve. I remember thinking to myself at one point, Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if they could just cut him out!, but kept the thought to myself, realizing I was becoming delirious from the pain. No, you got this. Keep going. I told myself instead. More horse lips, more shrieking, more pulling on Branton’s hair. The pain was getting worse and worse. My legs, arms – whole body – were shaking. Branton looked concerned. What was happening to my body?

.

The doctor came back in to check me… I was thinking we have to be close… and yet… 8 centimeters… EIGHT CENTIMETERS? That’s it?! I couldn’t believe I had been labouring for close to five hours since being 7 centimeters, only to have progressed one. The doctor asked if I wanted my waters broken, and I agreed. She broke my water, and then realized there was meconium. She told me it looked like I was halted. The doctor asked me again if I wanted any pain meds. I remember her asking me hours ago about an epidural, at which point I declined. “Well, how much longer do I have?” I asked. “If I know it’s an hour more, I can mentally pull through?” The doctor looked at me, and said, “You never know… could be four hours? Six more hours?” I was so let down… How the heck was I supposed to go through six more hours of this back to back labour (no pun intended), and THEN push out a baby, off one hour of sleep??

10:00am – BIRTHING ROOM – “EPIDURAL PLEASE!”

“I need an epidural.” I replied. Branton looked at me, knowing what we talked about before coming in, “Kayla, are you sure that’s what you want?” I know he was doing exactly what I asked him to do weeks prior, should we be in this position. “YES. I can’t handle the pain anymore – there are no breaks. I’m exhausted. I can’t stop shaking.” The doctor then told us that the anesthesiologist was tied up and I may not get an epidural after all. At this point I already mentally accepted the epidural and thought of having some relief, and hearing that now I couldn’t have that relief, was disappointing to say the least. They offered me morphine and I accepted the smallest dose they could give me, now desperate for a break. I knew I never wanted morphine as it passes through to baby, but at this point, set on not being able to have an epidural, and realized I still had hours of labour for the morphine to get out of both our systems.

.

Shortly after they gave me a dose of morphine (that did not help…), in came the anesthesiologist ready for an epidural! I welcomed this news, as my eyes were still closed and didn’t realize what was happening beyond the darkness of my eyelids and deep breathing. The anesthesiologist began his work on my back, while Branton stood in front of me, holding my hands. I was in too much pain to think of all my prior concerns of an epidural (What if they miss and I become paralyzed? What if I need a catheter? What if I can’t move my legs at all?). I could feel tape on my back, poking, and adjusting, when I hear from Branton’s lips, “I think I may pass out, so I’m just going to sit down here”. Thankfully there was a chair behind him and he sat down. Maybe this was good timing, as it distracted me from the gigantic needle going into my back, and shifted my concern to Branton. Immediately I thought back to his episode of blacking out and having seizure-like movements on the plane to Vancouver three years prior. I was now laser focused on him, asking the nurses if he was okay.

.

And then… we were both okay. The epidural worked. I felt no pain, yet miraculously, was still having contractions. I didn’t need a catheter. I wasn’t paralyzed. I could feel and move my legs. Oh, and Branton came back to action too! 😉

12:00pm – BIRTHING ROOM – EPIDURAL LAND

The next four hours went by slowly, which I was totally fine with. I felt no pain. I had a break. I could relax. I could open my eyes. Horse lip breathing stopped. I regained my energy. I was excited that we were having a baby!! Branton and I could casually chat about what the next hours would bring, what life would be like, and how excited we were for baby to come. Now realizing the silence in the room, I asked Branton to put on my labour playlist, remembering we brought a Bluetooth speaker with us. I will forever remember these songs softly playing over the next hours.

.

Only thing however, I was still halted, now only at 8.5 centimetres. The nurse told me the doctor would like to give my some oxytocin to get labour progressing again. I really did not want to take the drug, so I asked if I could have more time to progress on my own. She said she would give me one more hour, however due to the meconium, and baby’s heart rate not doing as well as before, she would have to put the drip in if I had not progressed by that time.

.

The nurse helped coach me to get on all fours (so thankful I had feeling in my legs even with the epidural!), and I stayed that way for an hour and a half, just rocking back and forth. Baby’s heart rate improved, however still no progression. The doctor came back, and started the drip with the smallest dose she could to get things going. Then, things started moving again. 9 centimeters dilated. 9.5 centimeters… and then 10!

4:00pm – BIRTHING ROOM – LET’S PUSH THIS BABY OUT!

Once we reached 10 centimeters, the nurse casually asked if I would like to start pushing. I was so taken back… she was sitting on the edge of my hospital bed, as if we were having a sleepover. Just like that?? I thought. So, we just decide, “Sure! Let’s push this baby out!”? Seemed so surreal to calmly discuss whether I would like to push – whether I would like to finally meet our baby! I looked at Branton, a little shocked, excited, and apprehensive. “Okay! Let’s do this! Branton – switch up the playlist!” I had also prepared a playlist of upbeat music for this exact moment. (I think I’ve mentioned before how important music is to me!)

The nurse coached me how and when to push every time I felt a contraction coming on. (I could feel the contractions ever so slightly – they weren’t painful, but I knew they were there). At some point, the doctor came in, and just as casually, came to sit on the edge of the bed. They were so lovely, calmly coaching me. “Okay, PUSH!! 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… breathe, and again right away! 10, 9, 8….” The pushing didn’t hurt right away, as I was so focused on holding up my legs, and pushing with everything I had in me. I was now in determination mode, similar to pushing through the last kilometer of an intense run, or focusing on holding for two more breaths in a difficult yoga pose. I was channelling all the times I pushed through in a workout – mind over matter – I got this!

.

Suddenly, I started feeling some pain. Like something was stuck – go figure! The doctor said, “I can see the head! Wow, does he have a lot of hair!” Branton perked up, “Babe, I can see him!! You’re doing so so good! Keep pushing!” I didn’t even realize Branton was watching the show, as he always said he was staying up near my head. I looked at him, “You’re watching this?!” “Yes, it’s amazing, Kayla!” Excitement, pride, and worry came across my face as I made this realization. “But, are you going to pass out? Are you okay with this?” He looked so thrilled and excited, and reassured me he was doing more than okay, which made me that much more excited!

.

The nurse asked me if I wanted to feel his head. Whoa. What a surreal moment! “Yes! Yes, I do!” I felt down, and I could feel his head, ready to come into the world to meet us. Sooo crazy, but then another contraction came on, and it was time to push again. Few more pushes… 10, 9, 8, 7…. Fire started burning… “Holy crap this hurts!” I exclaimed, as I kept pushing. The nurses kept cheering me on, “You’re pushing sooo good! Good job! That’s great! Getting closer!” I recall thinking the nurses were just patronizing me. I couldn’t be close. How in the world was a baby going to come out?? That’s when I heard Branton again, “Oh wow!! Kayla! He’s almost out! I can see him – one more push!” It must be true! With everything I had left in me, I PUSHED. “He’s out!” The doctor exclaimed. Thinking I had to still push his shoulders out, I gave one more push (that likely wasn’t actually needed!).

.

A blur, a rush, and suddenly my baby was on my chest. I remember him crying, and immediately feeling the need to console him. “Sshhhh… it’s okay. You’re here. You’re safe. It’s okay, Orlo. I love you so much. Ssshh… it’s okay. You MADE it.”