Daphne: The Arrival

Thursday, August 4, 2011

She's here! She's arrived! Okay, it's been two weeks since we welcomed Daphne Mabel Valentine Pardy to our family - so my writing has been a bit on "baby hiatus" I'll admit. But, first things first, I wanted to type up her birth story to share with the world...or at least you moms out there that love a good birth story like myself.
For those of you who just want to cut to the chase and hear the basics, I'll start with that...

Daphne Mabel Valentine Pardy
(Yes, two middle names. Mabel comes from my side and Valentine comes from Josh's side - so we aren't TOTALLY hippies, we just love a good name that sounds like something you might recall from a childhood storybook.)
Weight: 9lb 5oz
Height: 21" long
Date: July 20, 2011 at 9:13am
Labor: Attempted VBAC, 16 hours total labor, got the epidural after 9 hours of natural labor (she was sunny-side-up), stuck at 5-6cm and she didn't drop and wasn't tolerating labor so we had a repeat c-section.

And...here is the whole story...

Daphne’s Birth Story

Daphne was due July 15, though because I had been measuring ahead and she was seeming big, my midwife (along with nearly anyone else who saw me) warned me that I would most likely go into labor sooner than later, and to be ready by 37 or 38 weeks to have this baby. As my due date came and went, I was beyond discouraged to not be holding a baby in my arms. I couldn’t believe she had yet to make her debut, and I soon began to feel that I would truly be pregnant forever. Since I was staying home with Matilda, it seemed like this was my new norm – giant and uncomfortable and having a harder time walking or moving with each passing hour.
Finally, at 40 weeks 4 days pregnant, I went in for an “added on” appointment to see my midwife. She is an “expert” at sweeping membranes to help the overly pregnant, such as myself, along into labor. I agreed that it was time to go for this last resort of natural induction since they were starting to talk about scheduling a c-section if I didn’t go into labor soon. Since my last birth to Matilda had ended in a c-section, I couldn’t be induced if I wanted to attempt a VBAC delivery. I was considered “favorable” for a VBAC, so if I could just get labor started then we should be good to go. I was 3-4 cm, 70% effaced and probably at station 0, all very promising signs!
Sure enough, I started having contractions on and off as soon as I left the appointment. Lynn, the midwife, had even assured me “if this doesn’t get labor started, then I don’t deserve my paycheck”. Lucky for me, she lived up to her promise! Though, I didn’t believe I was in real labor for several hours. I had been having false labor for nearly every night prior to this. We would time contractions (one night they were 8 min apart for nearly 9 hours and then dwindled down to nothing) and then our hopes would be dashed as I would wake up still pregnant the next morning. I had decided to not time anything until I could absolutely not ignore them any longer.

Josh got home by 4:30pm and at 5 I mentioned we may want to start timing them. By 5:30 I began the timer and soon realized the contractions were consistently 6 minutes apart and slowly gaining frequency and intensity. A few hours go by, we put Matilda to bed and started to “call in the troops” so to speak. Our friend Nicole came over to stay the night with Matilda (one of many who selflessly pitched in to ensure our girl was well taken care of) and by 9pm the contractions were 3 minutes apart or less.
Okay! Time to go to the hospital! We grabbed our things and headed out. I stopped for a contraction at our complex’s pool area and Josh prayed over us one final time before hitting the road. Luckily, at 10pm, the freeways are rather clear, so traffic was not an issue…though every bump in the road felt like I was taking a punch to the stomach as contractions kept coming!
We checked into labor and delivery shortly after 10pm. They sent me right to a room (bypassing triage) since I was already at a 3-4cm that morning and they could see my contractions were intense and consistent. I was GBS +, so they started a penicillin drip right away and said I could get up and walk as soon as that had finished. I met the OB on call, a super nice guy who also found me “favorable” for VBAC and was very supportive, and the midwife on call, who told me that she had actually delivered Lynn’s babies (the midwife I had seen for all my appointments) so I was left reassured that she was exactly the support I needed to make this VBAC a reality. Things were moving along swimmingly.
We started walking around 11:30pm or so, making our rounds in the hallways and corridors of labor and delivery. It was quiet except for a few noisy night nurses sharing stories at their station, and I was thankful to have another labor in the night since it seemed to be a much more relaxed environment. The contractions were intense. My body seemed to remember this pain from before, as I had flashbacks to my labor with Matilda. But then, there was a new pain. It was deep in my back, sort of indescribable and totally unreachable from the comfort I would usually find in walking or changing positions. Daphne was sunny-side-up, I just knew it (this would later be confirmed in delivery).

We got back to the room and after switching positions, using the birth ball, getting on my hands and knees, it was time to be monitored again. The contractions were 1-2 minutes apart and very strong. Daphne would move like crazy with each contraction, and I finally told Josh that I thought there was no way I could continue much longer this way. He was exactly the coach I needed him to be – sensitive to my needs, but also encouraging to keep going. As he continued to see me suffer through each movement, we both knew that this was a long labor with little relief ahead of us. I couldn’t take it any longer. At 2am I asked the nurse about my pain management options, and we hesitantly decided to opt for the epidural.

Mind you, this was not an easy decision. With Matilda’s labor we finally got an epidural, and it was one of the most awful parts of labor – having to be stuck 3 times with the needle and Josh nearly fainting and needing juice and oxygen by the time it was over – so, we truly hoped this round would go much more smoothly! It did. The anesthesiologist was incredible – totally encouraging and professional, and he very quickly (with only one stick!) eased me into tremendous relief. I could still feel the pressure of the contractions, I could still feel her moving, but the intense pain had subsided. This was a good decision. Whew. Josh finally got to fall asleep on the nearby couch for a while, and I got a chance to relax and hope and pray as the contractions continued.

By 4:30am the contractions had not picked up like we had hoped. In fact, they had slowed down (we knew this could happen with an epidural, though sometimes the opposite is true, which is what we had hoped for) and I was still only at nearly 5cm. This was incredibly discouraging. I was so glad to have gotten the epidural, since I was seemingly stuck at 5cm again and was able to avoid the pain of the last two hours that had not progressed me at all.

They broke my water and inserted an internal monitor to measure my contractions more closely. Usually breaking the water helps the baby descend, helping progress the labor, etc. Not in this case. Daphne decided to only go higher – back up to station -2 and now cramming herself up into my ribs. This was excruciating, even with the epidural. I couldn’t take any deep breaths and I had to keep switching sides so that she would “float” down and try to get her out of my ribs – but she only went side to side, so I either had horrible pain on my left side or my right. Ugh! Go down little girl! To no avail.

By 7am there was no change. By 8am I was still at 5-6cm and she was still very high. This was the point when a repeat c-section was first mentioned. The OB examined me and was absolutely puzzled. He said “Your pelvis is totally adequate to deliver this baby, but there is something in your anatomy that is hanging her up – not allowing her to drop down. I think it is something in your back, in your spine, but this baby is not coming down. It’s not your fault, it’s just how you’re made, just how your structure is.” This was discouraging, though I took peace in the fact that there was nothing more I could have or should have done in order to progress the labor myself.

Daphne’s heart rate had been up and down over the last hour and it was starting to appear that she wasn’t tolerating labor very well. The OB said he would like to see how she did in the next hour. Only about 20 minutes later he came back in, looked at the monitors, and said “I’m not ecstatic at how she is tolerating labor.” There was a seriousness to his voice. I felt like, while his calm vocabulary said one thing, his body language said another. I felt like he was trying to keep me calm by being so straightforward. And most of all, I felt a sudden urge that this baby needed to be on the outside of my body, safe, where I could hold and protect her. It was time to meet this girl!

Just like with Matilda, as soon as we gave the green light to have the c-section about 10 people came in our room, springing to action! It was crazy. One lady had me signing papers, another was putting a surgical hat on my head, another was handing me some anti-nausea medicine telling me to down it “like a shot of tequila”. I actually had to stop and say “Hold on, we need to call our family and let them know this is happening!” It was a little manic – though, as they wheeled me into the OR just minutes later I realized how glad I was to not have any time to stop and worry about it all. I said a prayer, gave it to God, kissed my husband, and was under the bright lights within minutes.

Josh came by my side just as they began the c-section. I think there is a misconception out there that “c-sections aren’t painful” because you are numbed and not having to push out a child…but, let me put this claim to rest as totally untrue…c-sections still hurt! You can ask my husband how hard I squeezed his hand as they yanked and tugged on my insides while all I could do was stare at the blue surgical curtain in front of my face and speculate that they were, indeed, getting a baby out of me and not forcing a hippopotamus into my small intestine – which is kinda what it felt like.

But, sure enough, soon I felt an overwhelming release of pressure – that baby was no longer crammed against my ribs – she was out! Blessed assurance! To hear that first baby cry, my heart skipped a beat and my eyes involuntarily spilled over with joyous tears. Daphne was here! Hallelujah.

I caught a quick glimpse of her through my tear soaked eyes that were starting to steam up my glasses. Gorgeous! Red and chubby and a little brown hair! How magical. Then I remember hearing “9-4-7” and thinking that must be what time she was born. Nope – I would learn later that she was born at 9:13 am…but weighed 9lb 4.7oz …whoa baby!

At this point, in reality, the anesthesiologist told Josh that he was going to really knock me out as they began to sew me up. I don’t remember this at all. I was out. Well, apparently while I was in lala land I immediately started “sawing logs” as my husband puts it. That is, I started snoring like a grizzly in hibernation – so loud, in fact, that the entire OR erupted in giggles. Bah! How embarrassing. I was only out for a couple short minutes, but when I came to I could have sworn I was out for hours. “Did I miss it? Did I really see her?” I had to make sure that I didn’t dream what had just happened.

Josh was able to take Daphne to recovery and have immediate skin-to-skin as they finished sewing me back up. I was cold and shaky, and trying to stay awake and stay present. I remember literally thinking “This is what time travel is like.” So yeah, I was pretty out of it for a bit.

As soon as I reached recovery, though, I was fully present and totally in love. The little creature stationed next to me was mine – ours – and just lovely. Daphne Mabel Valentine. They washed her up, brought her to me, and she knew me immediately. She latched on as if she wrote the book on breastfeeding herself, and again I was amazed at God’s design. I took a giant sigh of relief and gratitude as I stared at this new child. Welcome, baby, we are so glad you are finally here. Well worth the wait.

Overdue

Saturday, July 16, 2011

The due date has come. The due date has gone. Still pregnant. Yes, I know the statistics - many, many women go past their due date and it's no big deal and how you shouldn't be counting on it in the first place, yadda yadda yadda. Need I remind you how I've been measuring ahead for the last few months? Must I retell the stories of being asked four months ago if I was due to have that baby any day?
Stick a fork in me, people. I'm done.
I am beyond thankful for this healthy baby girl - for her (albeit, now torturous) kicks and jabs and nudges in my belly. I count my blessings daily (granted, it helps pass the time) of how she is miraculously still being woven in my womb by the very hands of God. And yet, let's be honest here, I'm desperate to meet her. People have been joking (myself included) for weeks and weeks how there is absolutely no possible way I will reach my due date. This includes the jests of Midwives, Doulas, other mothers and doctors. And (sounds of crickets chirping...) here I am.
Maybe it is also the fact that each night this week has been a giant tease. I get contractions off and on, get my hopes up, clean the house like a maniac one more time, and then go to bed only to find that I, once again, have to use both my hands to heave my belly up and topple out of bed another day. Last night was the worst yet...a good 9 hours of steady contractions at nearly 10 minutes apart...only to amount to a big heap of disappointment. Sigh. Ok, yes, I am fully complaining at this point. What can I say - it is depressing to get all excited, the adrenaline pumping, the giddyness of the "is this it?!" and the thoughts of how we will finally reveal her name to our family and friends...and again and again be put on hold.
In fact, that's exactly what it's like - being put on hold...times like, a million. You know the feeling - you've called the cable/electric/phone company, get the automated system, and then just sit and wait...only to get tricked by the voice that comes on to say how "valuable" you are to them and that surely you are the next person in line...wait, wait, wait...tricked!...wait, wait, wait...tricked again! Until, when you finally get to an actual person you've either entirely forgotten why you've called, or you've put them on speakerphone and now you are halfway across the room, or your child has started to wake up from her nap and scream and yell as soon as you get a chance to talk. Sigh. Yep - that's how I feel. I JUST WANT MY REAL HUMAN RIGHT NOW!
Ok, deep breaths.
I'm letting this go. No, really, I give up. This is my last strategy to get this kid out of my body. Complete surrender. I'm not vacuuming my carpet tonight. I'm not using the "fancy shampoo" thinking it might be the last shower I have for a while. And I dare not text my friends to remind them to keep their phones by their side so I can be the "girl who cried labor" one more time. No sir-ee. If this girl is coming, she'd better make it plain and obvious. Bring it on. I want some serious signs, sister. We're talking ACTIVE labor here. Let's do this. Until then...I'm praying, chilling, eating frozen yogurt, walking like crazy, and just making sure the house is picked up enough to not stumble over legos in the middle of the night. Fair enough?
God, if you could wrap up this whole "weaving a fearfully and wonderfully made being" thing soon, that would be extra great. We'd sure like to meet her. Thank you.

Anticipatience

Sunday, July 10, 2011

It's six in the morning and I've already been up for a good hour. This is going to be one of those days when the phone is close to your side all day, when you move the kleenex box with you from room to room, and meal times come and go without your stomach even growling. It's a weekend wrought with emotion and eager to keep life moving into a new week that will bring blessings and trials of its own. In the present, however, I'm forced to live minute to minute and embrace the reality that one life I love is nearing its end on this earth, while another is on its way. My grandmother, my sweet Grammy, is in severely failing health. They've "called in the family" so to speak, and we all feel the presence of Christ drawing nearer and nearer. Meanwhile, my baby girl kicks in my belly, her due date only a few days away, and constantly reminding me why I need to be here and not on a plane to Kansas. I never suspected these dramatic life events would coincide, and it seems all too eerie and beautiful to be happening right now.
While we wait in this limbo, I can't help but coin a new term for what I'm feeling: Anticipatience. It doesn't need much definition. It feels like a bit of an oxymoron, being anxious about all things out of your own control. There is a lot of freedom in knowing you can't do anything about either situation, and yet, something so indescribably frustrating, something so natural yet inhuman to just be still and watch life come and go, literally. It gives a whole new light to "hurry up and wait". So, I sit here in anticipatience, trusting God and His perfect calendar.
Life is short. We all know this. We eternal souls in temporal bodies feel it most when confronted with circumstances such as this, (though rarely at the very same time). How do you sum up a person's life in a silly blog post? You don't. I won't even try. And quite frankly, I'm all cried out at the moment and it is all I can bear to just focus on making complete sentences. Let's just say my Grammy is extremely special to me. She makes the most beautiful quilts you've ever seen and absolutely hands down the best most ultimate lemon meringue pie in the universe. Her domestic talents are only exceeded by her spiritual gifts - her love of Jesus and the ability to worship Him through music playing the organ and piano like it is second nature (and truly I think it is). It weighs heavily on my heart to imagine this might be one of the last times I speak about her in the present tense. I love her. And while I know I should be envious of her drawing closer to meeting Jesus, I can't help but feel jealous of Jesus getting to see her before I do. I miss her.
While my heart is in Kansas, however, my ginormously pregnant body remains in California. The anticipatience I feel for my own baby grows steadily with each moment, each waddle, each flicker of a contraction. I want to meet her, I want to know her, and I want to start teaching her how to make the best lemon meringue pie in the universe as soon as possible. God is so good. I know this full well. I'm, once again, pretending to "hand over" what is actually already in His control and allow Him to usher in each minute with new mercies. Thank you, God, for keeping focus on our hearts as our hearts so easily lose focus of You. Thank you for my Grammy. Thank you for my daughter. Thank you for the certainty that no matter what, we celebrate life. If you ask me, that's worth the wait.

Eighth [Month] Wonder of the World

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

So, maybe I'm not the eighth world wonder, but to many, I appear to be the eighth month wonder. Yes indeedy, we are well into the eighth month of pregnancy - which, to many people, lends the encouraging sound of "getting close!" to the due date. However, that all changes when you put it in terms of weeks (about 5 to go) and sounds even more distant when you actually tell them the estimated date of baby's arrival: July 15th. Well, good lord, that's after July 4th - which we all know is the "middle of summer" and since summer is just barely beginning, she still has half the summer to wait for this watermelon of a baby to arrive!
That is at least my theory of what must spring through people's minds when they contemplate their calendar against the sight before them: my ginormous belly. To which they then respond with their gasps, their disbelief, and their downright boisterous predictions of either a) why I am so huge [Surely, I am carrying twins and don't know it.] b) when my baby will actually be born [Certainly this is my last stop before the hospital, right?] or c) continue on in telling me their own blood curdling tale of someone they've known who birthed an 11lb+ baby somewhere in the world [You don't come back from that one].
Let me explain my internal thought, which is almost always the same everytime: "Thank you. Are you serious?" That's about it.
I'm always glad when someone asks me about my pregnancy or baby, it is simply one of my favorite subjects, after all. And, I truly don't mind [or perhaps have become numb to] the "big" comments - I love how I look when I'm pregnant and I had very similar experiences when carrying my first baby and to be honest, pregnancy has done nothing but improve my self-esteem and appreciation for what my body has been created to do! But what continues to shock me, nearly every day, is the absolute lack of filter on what people have to say. (For the record, yes, the story is true that a lady actually pulled her car over and waved me over just to tell me how huge and uncomfortable I look while walking and that there is no way I'll last another five weeks. I mean, that is some EFFORT, lady!)
Pregnancy somehow has this superpower over people that completely eliminates the barrier for tact. It's like the belly creates a force field upon which people have no control over what comes out of their mouths. I'm not sure which is worse - blaming the belly for this "force field" theory I have, or admitting that I'm bringing a child into a world where stupid people abound.
The truth is, they are not all together wrong. In this wondrous eighth month of pregnancy, I have actually "measured ahead" an entire month. That means that my 30 week belly felt like a 34 week belly, and my 34 week belly felt like a 38 week belly and so forth. No wonder my back hurts! But, I am happy to report that as of yesterday, baby girl #2 is nearly back on track - only measuring about 1 week ahead of schedule! So - I hope you got it out of your systems, oh strangers-who-must-comment-on-my-size (I'm not counting on it). I'm nearing the "normal" range! :)
While people are placing their bets on how early I pop, I'm not setting myself up for any early evictions. This girl has a lease on this mama for a good 5 more weeks and come rain or shine or swollen ankles, she is welcome to come whenever she is darn good and ready (though prayers for a less than 11lb baby would be appreciated!)
While there are days I am certain this girl has 8 knees and 10 elbows in there...I know she doesn't have a calendar. We're on the home stretch, baby, let's do this!
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