The last ten days have revolved around Adelaide doing one of three things: eating, sleeping or pooping.  Up until a couple of days ago Jon had never changed a diaper.  I guess Adelaide wanted to give him a memorable first diaper change because it looked a little something like this:

Jon takes the dirty diaper off and throws it out.  Adelaide immediately started pooping all over her clothes.  And then kept pooping.  And then a little more.  It was glorious.

Other memorable first week poops include:

At Adelaide’s one week check up we had to strip her down to get weighed.  Girlfriend projectile poops all over the table and floor.  It missed getting on my shoes by centimeters.

After dinner one night Jon was holding her while she slept and we hear the loudest noise coming from her bottom.  And then again, and one more time.  Jon takes her over to the changing table to discover that she’s managed to poop through both of her layers of clothes and onto his shirt.

I like to think she’s just got an awesome sense of humor.

 

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I have been debating whether or not I wanted to share Adelaide’s birth story.  It’s private and intimate.  It’s a love story.  It’s a story between a husband, a wife and their perfect daughter.  It’s ours.

Ultimately I decided to share because I hope it serves as encouragement.  I get so sad when other women tell me that their doctors forced interventions on them for this reason or for that.  I hope my story proves that our bodies know exactly what they’re doing, that they made these incredible and perfect lives and that they should be given the chance to birth them.

I should also add that going into labor it was my intention to have a natural and drug free birth.  Jon and I had taken eight weeks of classes to prepare, and they were with every single cent.

Friday, March 8th:

It was my last day of work before maternity leave.  I had finished training my replacement and completed some last minute projects before heading home at 6pm.  I had been having light contractions all week, and they were getting more intense as Friday went on.  I started getting my hopes up that maybe labor would be starting soon.

Jon and I went out to dinner and then came home to get ready for bed.  My water broke at 11:30pm.  Contractions picked up to about 10 minutes apart.  I slept on the couch so that I could easily get up and walk through each contraction.

Saturday, March 9th:

I called our doula to let her know my water had broken.  She told me I needed to call my doctor and let her know.  Honestly, I had been avoiding calling my doctor because I knew the earlier she had me come in the less chance I would have of a natural delivery.

My doctor said I needed to be at the hospital within 12 hours of my water breaking, so I should get there no later than noon.

Jon and I decided to take a walk to pick up some bagels, with the hopes that walking would help my contractions pick up.  After we ate we finished packing our bags and called a car to take us to the hospital.

Once we got to the hospital they hooked me up to monitors and my labor had all but stopped.  In the 40 minutes that I was hooked up I had only two very light contractions.  My doctor came in to explain that she wanted to start me on pitocin to get labor to pick up.

I immediately broke down in sobs.  Pitocin was the intervention I wanted to avoid the most.  I knew my body could have this baby if we just gave it a shot.  And the very first thing the doctor wants to do was start pitocin?  I felt like I wasn’t even being given a chance.

I should mention that up until this point no one had done any checks to see if my water had in fact broken.  They sent in an intern to confirm, and once she began the exam she had the biggest look of confusion on her face.  Not exactly the expression you want to see from your medical provider…

She confirmed that my water had in fact broken and I was already dilated to 5cm.  Needless to say, we were all in shock.  My doctor came back in and agreed to give me 6 hours before talking to me again about starting pitocin.

At this point I felt like I had a shot at a natural birth.  I could do this.

We were encouraged to walk the halls to get my contractions to pick up.  They started coming about every ten minutes, so Jon and I just kept walking up and back, up and back.  We looked out the windows, we chatted through my light contractions.

By 5pm my contractions were about 5-6 minutes apart and getting intense.  The nurse came in to remind me that at 7pm the doctor would be back in to talk to me about starting pitocin.

Jon and I continued practicing relaxation techniques that we had learned in class.  An incredibly strong and painful contraction started and I yelled to Jon that I couldn’t keep it up.  I needed the epidural.

He boldly stated that he thought I was in transition.

(For anyone unfamiliar, transition is the phase just before pushing where contractions are the strongest.  Contractions are generally only 1 minute apart during this phase.  Mind you, mine were still 5-6 minutes apart.)

I told him he was wrong, my contractions were too far apart.  I said I could also think clearly.  I remembered from class that every story we’d heard the women couldn’t form conscious thoughts during transition, and I could still concentrate on what was happening around me.  I asked him to call our doula, who up until this point I had told to hold off.  I didn’t want her to come while my contractions were still so far apart.

Next thing I know the most intense contraction yet started.  I started yelling, “I’m pushing!  I can’t stop!  I don’t know why I’m pushing!”

I knew that my contractions were way too far apart for me to be ready to push, but luckily Jon rang the nurse who came running in.

I told her, “I was pushing.  I don’t know why.  I know it’s too soon.”  I was almost embarrassed that I had pushed, clearly my contractions were far too far apart.

She ran out of the room and came back with the doctor.

Let’s just say I got another look of total shock during my exam, when the doctor announced that I was in fact dilated to 10cm and we were having this baby.

The nurse started shuffling around me, breaking down the bed, grabbing instruments.

My contractions were still 4-5 minutes apart, so I ended up pushing with every contraction.  I would literally lay back and pass out between each push since the contractions were so spaced out.  When a contraction would start I would wake up, push push push and then pass back out.

Our doula arrived with about 10 minutes left to go.  I pushed for about half an hour before Adelaide was born.

It really is everything they say it is.  It’s the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced.  It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever done.  It helped me to appreciate my husband and his incredible support.

It made me a mother.

There’s no way I could have had the birth I wanted without the preparation we put into it.  And furthermore, there’s no way I could have had the birth I wanted without the support from Jon.  He was my strength when I didn’t think I could do it.  He had faith in me and he relied on his instincts when I couldn’t rely on my own.

We are the two most blessed people.

We’re Adelaide’s parents.

Jon and I have been so blessed during this pregnancy with the support of our friends and family.  It was amazing to see our family’s reaction when we told them the news, to have my mom at our ultra sound when we found out we were having a girl, that Jon’s family traveled to Maryland for our baby shower.  My co-workers even threw me the most amazing surprise shower, and keeping a surprise from me is no easy feat.

Over the last eight months Jon and I have purchased almost nothing for the baby, having the most amazing friends and family gift us with all of the “must have” items to take baby home.  Which has given us the opportunity to buy a couple more sentimental things for her.  I’m not sentimental about most things, but the couple of things Jon and I have picked up along the way are really special to us, so I thought I’d share them.

Jon picked out the wooden monkey on his last trip to Denmark, when I was still in my first trimester and we had no idea if baby was a he or a she.  At the time there were only a handful of people that knew we were pregnant, so it was fun to get to have a secret baby toy in the house.  I know how much thought he put into picking it out, and every time I pass it on the bookshelf it makes me smile.

While we were traveling in New Zealand we came across this wooden pull toy in a gift store.  We both looked at it, picked it up and put it back on the shelf.  We aren’t souvenir people at all, so buying something for baby wasn’t on our minds.  After walking around the store a bit more we gravitated back to the baby section and decided to spring for the toy.  How sweet that the little kiwi toy represents our trip to visit my sister, to see my niece, to enjoy our last trip as a family of two.  Now I’m getting all sentimental on you.

The final thing I’ve picked up for baby is this sweet little fox toy.  Looks more like a cat to me, but they called it a fox, so I’m going with it.  Once I saw the toy, I knew I had to have it.  I can just see our little one dragging it around by the arm and it makes me all smiley.  I think I stared at it for twenty minutes straight when it arrived in the mail.  But then Brady kept trying to steal it, so I retired it to baby’s bassinet.

We’re so excited for our little girl and I can’t wait for her to enjoy the little toys her dad and I picked out for her.  That is, if big brother Brady doesn’t get to them first.

Anyone else purchase sentimental gifts for their baby?  I’d love to see what has meaning for everyone else!