This is going to be long…..

My husband Noah and I got married in June 2011.  As part of our wedding preparation in the Catholic Church, we participated in a workshop about Natural Family Planning.  The whole idea behind keeping track of your fertility without hormonal birth control intrigued me so my husband and I worked with a certified NFP  person (looking back, I really don’t know what made her an NFP expert).  Our goal was to avoid a pregnancy.  Noah and I never really decided on a specific time when  we wanted to start our family, but after months trying to avoid pregnancy, we stopped caring if we got pregnant or not.  That same month, we got pregnant.

We were shocked and thrilled at the same time.  Could we really have gotten pregnant the first month without really trying?? Ummm yes.  I have several friends that struggle with fertility.  Knowing that their struggle is real has given me a totally new appreciation of getting pregnant naturally.  We told our families immediately… like three and four days after we got our BFP (big fat positive).  I knew the odds of miscarriage, but if I were to go through a miscarriage I knew I wanted my parents and my mother-in-law to be involved with that as well.  I quickly found an OB/GYN (Prairie Point in Sycamore, IL; they were phenomenal) and began having regular prenatal appointments.  I had a fairly normal pregnancy with mild nausea for the first three months and then everything was fine after that.  In fact, I didn’t tell my coworkers I was pregnant until twelve weeks when I quit my job because I accepted a new job in my hometown.  They were absolutely shocked to hear I was pregnant and said that they noticed zero changes in me.

I started a new job when I was around six months pregnant and soon after had my glucose tolerance test.  I failed.  Like, I really failed.  The nurse left me a voicemail saying I needed to call her back.  I knew it was going to be bad news.  She proceeded to tell me that my numbers were so high that they did not want me to take the three hour test.  They wanted to go straight to a diagnosis of gestational diabetes.  Keep in mind that I’m writing this 2.5 years after  the fact.  I remember getting off the phone during my lunch break in my classroom and  crying. crying. crying.  At that time, I thought my world was over; and I still had a class to teach.  I gathered myself and called my mom.  She vowed to pack my lunch every day according to whatever dietary restrictions were given to me. (side note: I work less than a mile from my parents’ home so it wasn’t a big deal for my mom to drop off my lunch in my car).

With gestational diabetes, I was monitored a little more closely.  I reported my glucose numbers and had an extra ultrasound.  My doctor and I agreed that I would be induced on my due date.  I was measuring pretty average, but there was still the concern that with gestational diabetes, I would have a large baby.  I worked right up until the day before my due date (November 15, 2012).  I was driving 1 hour 15 minutes each way to work every day and at the time had no complaints.

November 15 arrived and the plan was for me to arrive at the hospital at noon.  My husband and I went for an hour long walk before leaving for the hospital in an attempt to get labor moving on its own.  No chance.  I got to the hospital at noon and walked up to the second floor to labor and delivery.  At this time, we were living in north-central Illinois and the hospital was located about five minutes from our home.  This was my first real hospital experience and I really didn’t know what to expect.  This was a mid-sized hospital that was a mix between rural/suburban.  The staff was great and got me all set pretty much immediately upon our arrival.  With this being an induction and my first baby, I had no clue what to expect.  My parents arrived shortly and then my mother-in-law arrive a bit after them.  I had an IV with poticon and  it took a little bit to start to feel any contractions.

 

My goal was to deliver before midnight (12 hours after my induction began).  Looking back, that was definitely wishful thinking.  Seven hours into the induction (7pm), I was experiencing some severe back labor.  My nurse said that was happening because my baby was probably sunny side up.  I knew I was going to get an epidural at some point, so I decided to request it then.  I started to feel some relieve, but it didn’t totally mask the pain.  As night progressed, my nurses noticed that the baby wasn’t liking the epidural so they lowered the dose of poticon.

In the morning, my doctor checked me out and told me to order a hearty breakfast.  I knew right then that it was going to be a long day.  At noon, he came back and checked me again.  Not much progress.  He decided to break my water.  That was quite an interesting sensation.  Slight meconium was present, but he wasn’t too worried.  After breaking my water, I  started to progress regularly.  At 4pm, I was having severe pain on my right pelvic bone.  I called for my nurse, and she agreed to increase my medication but ultimately felt that it was my baby’s nose rubbing against my pelvic bone and that the epidural just wouldn’t cover it.  She was right.

Somewhere between 5 and 6pm, I knew it was time to push.  I remember that “Everyone Loves Raymond” and “Friends” were both on.  Pushing took 90 minutes.  It wasn’t horribly bad and I’ve been told that 90 minutes was pretty good considering it was my first baby, I had an epidural, and it was sunny side up.  At some point, all of my nurses were called next door.  Apparently, there was a mom having a home birth who went into distress.  That left me with my husband and my mom alone pushing for probably 15-30 minutes just the three of us.  I originally wanted my mom in the room so she could take pictures, but after all the nurses left, I really needed her.  Remember, we didn’t know the gender.  At 7:05, Madeline Anne was born weighing around 8.5 lbs.