I’ve officially decided it is easier to blog when I’m not working. It is definitely the farthest thing from my mind the majority of the time. And then I have some time on my hands and decide maybe I could do something like write a post. So here I am once again with a bit of time on my hands, but also a lot on my mind and in my heart that I’d like to record in some way.
If you haven’t been living under a rock for the last 9 months or so you’ll know that our family was blessed with a little miracle, our son Eli on April 20th at 12:51 p.m. Tonight I want to tell his story. I figure it's way past time that I even mention him on here, but it is what it is.
Almost exactly a year ago Jake and I decided we were ready to start trying to have kids. We knew there was more materially we should and could do to prepare, but emotionally we reached the point where we knew it was time to start what we anticipated to be a long process.
I got more serious about my health, determined not to let my weight be a barrier to starting our family. I read articles and found apps to help guide us through the process. I faithfully took my body temperature and tracked my ovulation like a hawk tracking its prey before the kill. If you know me, once I set my mind to something, I am all in. I don’t like to mess around, to take chances. I like to be in control as much as humanly possible. I wanted to be sure I was doing absolutely everything I possibly could to help us realize our dream.
After being unsuccessful the first month, I experienced a whole wave of emotions. To be perfectly honest, I was devastated. The amount of waiting time involved in the process of trying to conceive was driving me insane. You have to wait for the right few days for even the possibility of fertilizing an egg. Then you have to wait some days, maybe a week or so, dreading the possible signs of failure. Of course that isn’t an exact science, so each day that passes brings more and more anticipation and anxiety. The weight of the anxiety was so much to bear. I completely melted down on the couch one night, Hollywood style: stretched out, arm thrown over my face, violent sobs filling the room as I complained to Jake how hard it was waiting. I wailed on and on about how emotionally I couldn’t handle a year of trying before we could get medical help. To this day, I do not know how women who struggle with fertility carry on each day. My empathy grew for them by leaps and bounds from that experience. Not that I know exactly how they feel, but I think I got a small taste of what it might be like.
To our surprise (and admittedly my relief) we received the happy news that our efforts paid off the following month! I was in hopeful disbelief, scared to take more than two tests for fear that results would be negative. I wanted to get tested by a medical professional before I felt secure that this was real, but I was surprised when the doctor’s office didn't want to see me for 10 weeks! They did tell me that the home tests are generally 99% accurate, so I think it was that point that I decided to let myself accept it and start to get excited.
To be safe, Jake and I decided to wait to share our news until we were out of the woods for an early miscarriage, the 12 week mark. I was bursting with excitement, it was so hard not to blab the news to everyone within hearing distance! But the time finally came where we could let our family and friends in on our little secret. I took this picture to share with everyone:
We did a video call with each set of parents, slyly telling them we wanted their opinion on a picture I took. Naturally they were all ecstatic that another grand baby was coming to the family.
For the gender reveal, we were fortunate enough to be visiting Jake's family for Thanksgiving, so we took advantage of the opportunity and made cupcakes stuffed with blue frosting for a family dinner dessert. After they all bit into (or broke in half) the treats, we had a video call with my parents so they could open a box of balloons they popped to find blue confetti. Overall, I was so touched by the amount of excitement and love our families showed in these early stages. I am so grateful that Jake and I have such an amazing, supportive family.
I was truly blessed with an easy, uncomplicated pregnancy from the start. Nausea in my first trimester was limited and usually controlled if I snacked every couple of hours. My second and third trimesters had their general discomforts, but I wouldn't have ever classified my physical state as utterly miserable, like I think a lot of pregnant women are. I never felt desperate for the baby to come, begging it to leave. I tried to just cherish the opportunity I had to even be pregnant, to have this baby, and I strived to exert patience and be understanding that he would come in his own time.
The real curveball for me came when I was about 5 months along. I think there are two general schools of thought about how childbirth should be done: non-medicated aka “natural” birth and then the medicated variety. I personally am all about drugs. I had zero desire to feel any pain in childbirth whatsoever. There are women out there that choose to do it without drugs and I say more power to them. But I was not one of those women. Thus the curveball.
When I was 12 I was diagnosed with a platelet dysfunction where my blood doesn't clot properly. We met with a Hematologist and a High Risk Maternal and Fetal medicine doctor at the U of U to determine how my condition was going to impact the birth process. It was decided that an epidural was not advisable, as the risk of causing a bleed was too high. Such a bleed could lead to serious problems, including neurological damage, so the epidural was thrown out the window. YIKES.
We took a couple of classes to help us prepare to face birth without medication and read a couple books. But I was still scared out of my mind about the impending pain. I had Jake, my Dad and a few of my brothers give me a blessing a couple weeks before my due date to help calm my nerves. During the blessing I felt this overwhelming peace and comfort, knowing my Savior would be there beside me, knowing the pain I was enduring and helping me through. I am so grateful for the gift of Priesthood blessings.
The day before my 41 week mark we had our weekly check up with my OB. I had finally dilated to a 1 so we decided to go ahead and induce labor. I was so excited and terrified at the same time! The doctor had said he wanted to do it the following night but after talking to the hospital, we were told to come that very night! This was a little comical as we had about 4 hours to make the 1 hour drive home, make the last few preparations, load up the car and dog and drive the hour back to the hospital.
Flash forward to arriving at the hospital around 8:00 pm Tuesday night. We checked in and they had us sit for a few minutes in the waiting room. Suddenly my nerves started to kick in. But I took a few deep breaths and I was whisked away to my room. The nurse had Jake wait for a few minutes while she got me settled in, which we both found a little peculiar. But when she asked me if I felt safe at home, it clicked. Not everyone having a baby is bringing them into a safe part of the world. There may be domestic violence involved. I was instantly struck with an immense sense of gratitude that I had a loving man at my side, someone that makes me feel safe, to not only help me through birth but to also raise this little boy with.
Around 10:00 pm my OB rolled into the room to place the Foley Bulb and start me on Pitocin. The procedure was quick and easy, all done within a matter of minutes. We talked about what to expect of the progression of labor and planned not to see the doc again until the morning. Luckily he had a contingency plan for the on call doc.
Within an hour or less I started to feel contractions. I was able to manage the waves of discomfort on my own through imagery but found myself needing massage to help relax fairly quickly. It had been explained to me that I would feel the bulb come out once I was dilated to a 4 or so, but I honestly didn't notice. After using the bathroom at one point I noticed a bloody fluid run down my leg. Around 2:00 am the nurse checked me and I was dilated to a 5!
Shortly thereafter the on call doc walked in saying my OB had called and wanted him to break my water. I had expected that to be such a bigger deal than it actually was. Although the nurse had definitely made me nervous beforehand, saying contractions were going to be suddenly more intense. I honestly thought things progressed in a very natural way.
I ended up stalling at a 6 for several hours. At one point a nurse offered to turn down the Pitocin to give me a bit of a break, but I didn't see any point in stalling the inevitable. I did decide to take a dose of IV Fentanyl to try and take the edge off. I was able to rest for around 20 minutes but it seemed to wear off as quickly as relief came. I tried a second dose about 2 hours later but got no relief.
The pain became incredibly intense as I progressed to a 7 and beyond. An inspired nurse showed us how to do counter pressure, which did make the pain slightly more manageable. But what really got me through was my amazing husband Jake.
I had been nervous before getting to that point how Jake would be and if I would be able to rely on him. I was surprised at how quickly and easily he supported me and how encouraged I felt. He stood by my side through every contraction, locking my gaze and breathing with me. He was so attentive, patient and dedicated to my needs. He seemed to know just what I needed to hear in the moment I needed it, telling me I could do it or talking about things that would take my mind off the pain.
Having Jake cheer me on through the birth of our son was the most amazing thing I think our relationship has ever experienced. There were moments of intense pain I could see tears well up in his eyes, but he never wavered in helping me through. Despite being on his feet constantly for easily 13 hours, he never showed signs of fatigue. His focus was so solid, he never thought about his own needs. He was so purely selfless, it was astounding.
My need for his presence surprised me. I had a moment of pure panic where my head was buried in the bed railing, my breathing erratic and my mind completely out of control. I was consumed by the immense, unending pain I was in. The nurse was trying to help me get back in control but her efforts were in vain. Jake recounted the experience later to me of being on the opposite side of the bed and suddenly realizing I wasn’t going to listen to anyone but him. He literally had to dodge the millions of carts of medical equipment scattered throughout the room and climb over his bed to get in my face and calm me down. I remember him calling my name in a commanding but loving way and saying, “I’m here. Focus on me.” I literally could not have done it without him. My love and appreciation for my husband deepened more than I ever thought possible from this experience.
The urge to push started as early as I was dilated to a 7, I think around 8:00 am. Tears poured down my face, blurring my vision as I focused on Jake and breathed through each and every contraction. I’m not clear on exactly when the complete exhaustion set in, but by this point I was passing out between contractions. I vaguely remember Jake and the nurses commenting on my pattern but I literally couldn't help myself. Our two angels, I mean nurses, patiently worked with us trying to help find more comfortable positions. One ended up being in charge of the counter pressure on my knees and the other let me vice grip her hand to death through each contraction.
Slowly but surely I got close enough for the nurse to call the doc to come and catch the baby. He was 10 minutes away and it became apparent that she was nervous he wouldn't make it in time. Each time she called the nursing station she would say, “I do not want to catch this baby!” She even contacted the on call doc to come right away but he asked to stall for a few minutes. Her response was priceless: “Okay, but the minute you hear screaming, you better come running!” (I was struggling not to push and screaming in frustration at my inability to control it.)
Fortunately my OB arrived right about the moment I finally reached a 10. He put on his gown and gloves and instructed me to go ahead and push. I was surprised at how almost instinctive it was. The doc and nurse did have to tell me to wait for the contractions and that my energy would be more productive if I held my breath rather than scream as I tried pushing. With that coaching I was able to push Eli out in a matter of 20 minutes from the second the doc walked in the door.
As they laid him on my stomach, the shock and exhaustion were so pervasive I couldn’t put two words together to even form a thought. I just laid there trembling with one hand on his head and the other on his bum, maybe saying “Oh my Gosh” on repeat. The next several minutes were an exhausted blur of the doctor birthing the placenta, pain from him digging for the fragmented pieces (you read that right), getting stitches and trying to focus on seeing what was going on with my baby.
I remember catching a glimpse of Jake holding Eli at my bedside trying to show him to me, with tears in his eyes. I so desperately wanted to be all in that moment but the pain from what the doc was doing was so intense, I couldn’t block it out. I am so heartbroken I missed those first moments with my husband and son, it wasn't at all what I had pictured or imagined.
The pain finally stopped and Jake placed Eli in my arms. I couldn’t help but cry with disbelief at what we had accomplished. We did it! All those moments of pain where I doubted had been wrong. I pulled through.
It took the help of nurses, pillows, some food and juice for me to have the strength to hold him much longer than a few moments, but I eventually had the mental capacity to fall in love with my son. My long awaited moment came after a short nap while Eli was taken to the nursery for a bath and some blood tests.
The nurse woke me up to tell me that our journey wasn't yet over: Eli needed to be admitted to the NICU due to some abnormal levels on a test that indicated a possible infection. She was able to allow us a few moments to snuggle our baby before she needed to whisk him away and that's when it happened. In that peaceful quiet moment I had to hold him, I looked into his beautiful face and an overwhelming sense of love and joy washed over me. I am so grateful for the nurse’s sensitivity to my personal situation and her thought to offer us that small moment.
The next few days were frought with an endless wave of sadness and longing to be with my baby. It seemed there were countless distractions that required our absence from the NICU, which was so emotionally challenging. I wanted to be there for every feeding, to spend time just holding our little one and being together as a family. But we couldn't seem to manage to get more than an hour at a time to do that. Even the night that I asked them to call for a feeding they never did, as he became hungry in the middle of shift change. My heart ached to be with my baby.
I was an absolute mess the day I was released from the hospital. Knowing we had to leave without Eli was like a slow poison. I felt emotionally despondent, like nothing mattered. It seemed like I lacked the ability to laugh that day, that the world held no excitement. We were blessed to be visited by some friends who had gone through a very similar experience with the birth of their son. It was so helpful to know my feelings were normal and that there were people in our corner that knew exactly what we were going through.
Jump to the following day when Eli was discharged and a flood of emotions starkly opposite to those experienced the day before. We were overjoyed that we were finally going to be able to take our baby home, to be united as a family without interruption. In my eyes, nothing could go wrong that day. Everything went off without a hitch and by noon we were on our way with our sweet baby Eli. I don’t know that I had ever experienced a joy so pure as I did that day.
Here we are a few weeks later, a little sleepless, but loving our baby just as much as we did that day. As hard as some days are, I would take the lack of sleep and occasional feelings of uncertainty about my capacity a thousand times over instead of having to be parted by the NICU. For years I told myself I was ready for a baby but I have realized I don’t think I really was emotionally mature enough for it until now. I am grateful for the Lord's knowledge of my capacity, for His time table and his willingness to entrust Jake and I with one of his precious children. We are truly so blessed and so happy to be a little family.
I absolutely love seeing Jake's deep love for our baby. It has been so apparent to me since the moment he was born (despite my exhausted stupor). I love watching him play with Eli, even though his reciprocation is extremely limited at this point. I always knew Jake was going to be a great Dad, but to see it in action is one of the most beautiful blessings I am grateful to witness first hand.
