Lizzie's Birth Story

I figured I had better take advantage of my sweet baby girl's nap time to finally (6 weeks later!) document her birth before I forget absolutely everything. Most of that day is already such a blur, but I want to be sure and write down as much as I can remember. I don't know how many times I will be blessed with the amazing experience of giving birth, and I always want my children to know how special and empowering and wonderful the whole experience was and is. We found out we were pregnant with Lizzie on December 4th, 2013. That was still a good week before my period was expected, but I had been feeling nauseous and "different" since before Thanksgiving. In fact, I threw up Thanksgiving morning and I remember thinking how bummed I would be if I was sick on my favorite day to be gluttonous. I had taken two or three tests that had showed negative before I got that first positive test. I wasn't at all surprised, deep down I knew I was pregnant. We were just 4, almost 5 months out from losing Hunter, and just a few days past his due date. Emotions were running high, and I can't even describe the wave of emotions that swept over me when I saw the confirmation that we were indeed pregnant. Joy, fear, sadness, anxiety, hope, despair...such a wide range. I remember getting in the shower afterwards and just sobbing. I cried for my Hunter. I cried for fear that my body would fail us again. I cried in thankfulness, that we were being given another chance. I just cried and cried. For the longest time I felt guilty that I wasn't immediately overcome with joy at the thought of this new arrival. That's one thing that we lost when we lost Hunter. Fear replaced joy, and it took a long time to allow joy and hope and excitement to fill us during this pregnancy. It became even harder when at one of our appointments at 19 weeks, 4 days (one day further along then when we had Hunter), when my doctor put his hand on my shoulder and told us there was something wrong with the baby. We had been planning on doing a gender reveal party that evening, and didn't want the doctor to tell us the gender. After he said there was something wrong, he basically told us we might want to find out now what the baby was because what he thought was wrong, would be a fatal diagnosis. After we found out we were having a girl, I just lost it. I immediately thought "This cannot be happening! I am not strong enough to say goodbye to another baby!" It was the longest walk and wait down to the other office for another ultrasound. We were sitting in the waiting area, me, my mom, and my husband, all in tears. People walking by, probably wondering what was wrong. It was absolutely horrible. Thankfully, we were told my doctor's original diagnosis was wrong and our baby would live. This extra complication however, meant more frequent ultrasounds and did not help to ease our anxiety that came along with pregnancy after loss. I took all the extra steps I could to ensure Lizzie would get here safe and sound and to prevent an incompetent cervix from taking another of my babies. I had a cerclage placed at 13 and a half weeks, which is a procedure that involves essentially sewing your cervix shut. I began weekly progesterone injections at 18 weeks, and did so up until 35 weeks. Part of the pregnancy was spent on modified bed rest, with the remainder spent being very careful and cautious not to overdo things. Finally, at 36 weeks, my cerclage was removed (and OUCH, it was seriously more painful than would have thought). At my appointment at 37 weeks, my doctor decided that we would go ahead and induce because my blood pressure had been gradually going up. Normal BP for me is usually a perfect 115/60 and I was up to about 140/80. We were to go into the hospital sometime on Thursday night, July 31st. I definitely made a valiant effort to induce myself naturally, from bouncing on my exercise ball to busting out the breast pump to taking walks. Unfortunately, none of that worked. Thursday night rolled around and my husband and I spent the night attached to our cell phone, waiting for the call to come in and begin the process of induction. We were told they would call between 7 and 9 pm, and then 9:30 rolled around and still no call. Turns out it was a popular night to have a baby! Labor and delivery was full so we were told to continue keeping our phone close by. Finally around 2:30 am we got the call! We got to the hospital around 3 and by almost 4 am the process began with a lovely little device known as a foley bulb. By about 10:50 am I was dilated to a 6 and thought for sure this little girl was going to arrive within the next two hours. My goal for this birth was to go natural, which I knew would be hard considering pitocin would be involved. Tay and I had taken lamaze classes, which were such a big help, and I had my amazing doula by my side as well. I could not have been more proud of my husband! He was incredibly helpful and he and my doula were the best team! With their help, I made it to 7 cm without an epidural. Unfortunately, my labor stalled. I think I was at a 7 for nearly 2 hours, though it could have just felt that way. My pitocin dose kept increasing, and I swear, after each time it was turned up, the next contraction would feel so much stronger. Labor was such an amazing experience. Of course it was painful, but honestly, it was amazing for me to feel my body working to birth my baby. I had lost a baby because my body had failed me before. I have a weakness that I cannot repair, I can only essentially put a band aid on it. I have had a distrust of my body and it's capabilities since we lost our son, and there I was, laboring without pain meds, with my pitocin at a 15 or 16 (20 is usually the highest dosage, I believe). I felt empowered, and strong, yet weak all at once. Each time I felt the rise of a contraction I could imagine my baby getting closer and closer to her arrival. It was around this time, waiting and waiting for my body to continue to progress, that I started to get really emotional. I missed my boy with such fierceness, yet I felt him so close. I asked him for help with each wave of pain that overcame my body, to help me get his sister here safely. There is something so magical and spiritual about going through labor and giving birth. It's like the veil that separates our world from the other side is parted ever so slightly. This overwhelming rush of emotions, combined with my stalled labor and knowing the pitocin would be turned up yet again, led me to decide to get an epidural. I admit, I felt like I had failed. Especially when the anesthesiologist repeatedly poked me and would say things like "Whoops!" "That's not right!" etc. I really questioned my decision. When the epidural finally began taking effect however, I of course was grateful to have the pain relief, but it also allowed me to clear my mind and get my emotions in check. As well as try and take a little nap and rest up for the actual birth. After waiting and waiting, and coming too close for comfort to a c-section, we were finally fully dilated and baby was finally in position for me to start pushing. We had a whole team there, including this med student who we had met that morning when we first came in. He had told us that he hoped we were still there when he came back for his next shift, and he was so excited to find us still there. He joined in on the delivery, along with my doctor and another doctor. Before I knew it, baby was crowning and I was asked if I'd like a mirror brought in so I could see. I never thought in a million years I'd be one to say "yes", but I did and I am SO glad. It was surreal to me to watch as I was pushing. It felt like I was watching it happen to somebody else, but before I knew it my beautiful baby girl was here and on my chest. I have no words to describe that moment, because there are no words that are adequate. I think all parents must feel that way, but I think those of us who have previously lost a child experience it in such a different way. I immediately started to cry and so did Tay. Even our favorite med student had some tears. It was such an incredibly beautiful moment. And then Lizzie looked at us for the first time and it was like she suddenly became the anchor to Earth. It wasn't gravity anymore that held us here, it was her. And it we were tethered by this overpowering love. We had felt that love before with our Hunter, but that love was laced with the pain and anguish of having to say goodbye. Lizzie was born with a birth mark on her face that they call an angel kiss. When they told me that, I just smiled. Of course she would have an angel kiss. Her big brother had to give her one last kiss before he sent her off to us. Now here we are, a month and half later, and we all could not be happier. Lizzie is such a sweet, happy, easy going baby. We are so blessed to have her. We miss our boy maybe a little bit more now that we are raising another baby. We have a much better idea of what we are missing out on with him, and some days it's like the loss just happened. But the little broken pieces of our hearts have begun to heal a little more. We look forward to the future again, to holidays and birthdays. We will always miss our boy, but are thankful for the opportunity to fill a little of that void with his baby sister. There's no better way to make a bad day better than by snuggling up with a sweet little baby. And hopefully, God willing, we will go on to have a few more.