Birth Story: Part 2

Wow! Blogging twice in one week! It’s almost like I’m getting the hang of this mom of three business… I’m not of course, but it sure looks like it. But anyway, back to the story!


Thanks for this pic Alie… -_-

When we last left our fearless heroine she was sitting around and waiting. Not exactly a cliffhanger but that’s what was happening. My priest friend came by a few hours after I was admitted and sat with us until he had to leave for mass. It really was a blessing to have him there. Sitting around, teasing my frantic husband, cracking jokes and generally shooting the breeze… it made what could have been a stressful time very enjoyable and I’ll always be thankful for that.

By the time he left I was starting to feel some pain and as the contractions came and went I would close my eyes and say a rosary as I offered up my suffering for those who needed the relief more than I. Once he was gone I decided to try to sit up and see if that would hurry the contractions along so I scooted to the end of the bed and nothing happened. Literally nothing. Even though everything I know about birthing stated that gravity would hurry labor along it instead stopped it right in it’s tracks. My nurse helped move me to the armchair so I could sit more comfortably and there I sat. For the next hour I felt no pain, no contractions, nothing. I even stood up and rocked back and forth and I could not get it started again. So we kept watching Say Yes to the Dress and waited. Every so often the nurse would come back to adjust the fetal heart monitor and she told me “you can do whatever you want, just make sure I can hear the baby’s heart every few minutes.” Of course I would forget and she’d come back to fix it but she was a real sweetheart.

Side note: Say Yes to the Dress was on THE ENTIRE TIME I was in labor. I don’t even like the show that much, it was just the only thing that was on. Some kind of marathon or something, I don’t know. I was a little annoyed though.

Just after 12:00 I started to feel some pain again. By 1:00 it was getting pretty bad. Chuck’s plane was supposed to land at 2:45 but it was early; my phone showed that it was now supposed to touchdown at 2:15. The closer the plane got, the worse my contractions were. I was standing up and rocking, trying to alleviate the pain while I focused on the clock, my rosary, anything to distract myself. At 2:00 my nurse came to check on me and my pain got drastically worse. She decided it was time to move me back to the bed and check on me. I was only at a seven but the contractions kept pushing it up to an eight. Or something. I don’t remember too well, I was a little busy.

Everything from that point on was a little bit of a blur. The pain made me want to crawl out of my skin, I was groaning and yelling with each contraction as the nurses calmly instructed me to breathe. During the breaks between I would lie back and almost doze, trying not to think about the next wave and desperately trying to remember what all those birthing books said and remembering none of it.

At some point during all this Chuck’s plane landed, he got in an Uber and made his way to the hospital. The doctor came in to the room and told me it was time to push. She and the nurse encouraged and instructed me while we all waited to see if Chuck would make it.

And he did! At about 2:40 he burst into the room while I was pushing. He came to the bedside, said something encouraging (I think) and went to wash his hands. I had another contraction while he was in the bathroom. When he came out the doctor said the baby’s heartbeat had dropped and they needed me to NOT push during the next contraction. They gave me oxygen and turned me on my side (presumably to make it harder for me to push against their instructions) and when the baby’s heart rate went back up they told me to go at it. At 2:45 little Michael Paul burst into the world with one mighty push. His daddy had made it with mere minutes to spare and he “jokingly” told the room full of women that “that was easy”. If looks could kill he would have been a goner.


Little baby Mikey weighed in at 7 lbs 5 oz, the smallest baby I’ve had so far.  He eats a ton but his latch isn’t great so we’re still working on that. He makes the cutest, goofiest faces we’ve ever seen and he’s completely captured all of our hearts. Chucky loves him and is so incredibly tender with him I feel like my heart could burst. Clara loves him fiercely and doesn’t know her own strength yet so we need to keep an eye on her but all she wants to do is help so it’s still sweet.


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