Everette’s Birth Story

m, Friday the 12th, 2 days past baby’s due date.  Greg took off work to go with me to the doctor’s. So Greg and I went to the appointment I was hoping not to have to go to.  I was hoping I would have a baby by then.  The doctor called us back checked me real fast, stripped my membranes and said I was 3 cm dilated and the baby had dropped and he thought maybe we would have a baby by Monday.  He told me to go home take castor oil, go for an hour long walk, come home take an hour long nap and when I woke up I would either be pooping or I would be in labor.  I cringed my nose and he asked what I was so afraid of,  I replied I was terrified that I would wake up and be in labor AND pooping.  He laughed (I was serious) and told me it worked for his wife every time.  He wanted to hook me up to the monitors because I had not felt the baby all morning so we sat for 20 minutes and he saw contractions and movement but not enough so he gave me a couple candy bars and came back in.  Baby was going crazy so he told us everything was good and sent us home.  In the car ride home I remember telling Greg I felt crampy and how crazy would it be if we had a baby that day.  He gave me a look like not that crazy, after all baby was supposed to come 2 days ago…

 

We got home and I wandered around debating the castor oil.  Finally we decided to try it so I took a shot of castor oil and chased it with a glass of orange juice (pictured below).  We got porter ready and went for a walk.  At this point I felt uncomfortable and stopped to take a few breaths on the street.  I definitely got some frightened looks from passerby’s, Super pregnant holding my belly and breathing, I remember one older guy had his phone out like he was ready to call 911, like I should not be out in public walking.  So we walked, for more than an hour.  We got pinkberry and I ate some but remember thinking my stomach hurt too much to eat the rest.  I asked Greg if he thought I was having contractions, he didn’t seem convinced, but was seriously concerned I had not finished my pinkberry.  We started trying to time the stomach cramps to see if they were contractions but it seemed like there was no pattern.  We walked for over an hour until Porter and I were ready to drop.  Constantly trying to time what seemed like one big stomach cramp with different levels of intensity.  We got home and decided to watch the movie Lincoln.  Well that lasted for about 15 minutes before I got up and said uff, I am just not comfortable and stripped down to my underwear.  Up until this point I had been wearing the dress I wore to my baby shower, my one piece of maternity clothing which was cool enough to wear in the newly warm spring weather.  My sister in law facetimed me to see how the doctor’s appointment went.  I remember her looking at me and saying “are you in labor?!” and I thought, well, I don’t know I am just not comfortable.  She described her contractions starting up high and moving lower and I remember thinking well, I feel nothing like that, just low horrible cramps so I must just have to poop.  Greg and I continued to try timing them using a contraction timer app, but these stomach cramps had no pattern to them.  I gave up on trying to watch the movie and walked around, and around, and around.  Walking felt better, as if I could walk right through the discomfort.  I walked in and out of the bathroom but nothing.  Greg kept trying to time the discomfort but I never knew when it was starting or ending, it just felt like ongoing stomach cramps that sometimes got really bad so instead we tried to time the severity.  He would ask me “is one starting? is it ending? on a scale of 1-10 what are you now, how about now?”  I remember saying 2…nonono 7!  (I guess this is the point I should have realized I was actually in labor, but I still thought maybe it was just the castor oil)  I kept walking, Greg kept asking and eventually I was so uncomfortable that it felt like each of his words and the thought I had to put into answering him made the pain worse.  I told him to just be quiet, play some video games and just let me handle this.  I don’t think I was very nice about it.  The silence helped me.  So he played video games and I walked.  It seemed like there may be a pattern so I called the dr. around 2PM. She told me I could head on in to the hospital, the last thing I wanted was to get to the hospital and for them to tell me I just had to poop So I acted nonchalant on the phone told her it was not that bad and we would call back in a bit.  So I keep walking, Greg kept playing and an hour passed and he said what’s the worst that could happen, we go in and they send us home.  I agreed and told him if we just did our chores then we could go.  I was still nervous that I would get there and just have to poop.  He looked at me like I was crazy for saying we should do our chores but obeyed and we finished the laundry, took out the trash, walked the dog, and I finally went to the bathroom! I was slightly more convinced I was actually in labor.

 

So we get in the car just after 4 PM, just in time for DC traffic.  Sitting was not fun!  It seemed like the pain intensified a lot while we were stuck in traffic on the key bridge.  All I could do was watch the clock in the car and wriggle in my seat.  Staring at that clock I finally saw a pattern.  I remember thinking uh oh, these are two minutes apart… I was no longer worried about just having to poop and starting telling Greg to get to the hospital I didn’t care if we got a speeding ticket.  Greg walked me in to check in at 6:05PM and the guy behind the desk asks how far apart my contractions are, I say 2 minutes and he and Greg both look at me in shock and ask if I need a wheel chair, no way was I sitting again.  We get up to labor and delivery and they get me in a room and check me.  The nurse, Misty said I was 9 cm dilated and my water broke and there might not be time for an epidural.  My whole plan before going into labor was to try without the epidural and get one if I felt like I needed to, I had released myself from any associated guilt.  At the moment Misty said that I was suddenly terrified of pushing without the epidural and also thinking I made it so far without one, why bother now.  Well, I told her to page him immediately just in case.  Dr. Jackson came in and checked me said I was actually only 7/8 cm and my water was still intact so I decided the epidural sounded good. Misty left which means it must have been 7pm and two nurses came in, heather and Latoya.  They were best friends and hysterical and I felt like I was in an episode of Scrubs. I asked them if the epidural would slow my labor down and they looked at me like I was crazy (I still think it did).  Greg went out to meet my parents, or park the car, I can’t remember, and by the time he walked back in I was sitting comfortably asking when the epidural would start working.  Heather laughed and told me I was having one of the biggest contractions yet and I seemed ok so it seemed to be working. The epidural made my left side feel like it was asleep while my right side still felt pain, but nothing compared to before. They kept rotating me but, it felt like my left side was getting worse and was making me feel sick.  We sat and talked, I texted people, my family came in.  I remember telling my mom I wouldn’t curse, I never curse and her laughing.  I used absolutely nothing from my expertly packed hospital bag. Dr. Jackson broke my water and said there was a small amount of meconium not to be worried, but they would have the NICU doctors there at delivery.  She seemed so confident it was ok so I didn’t worry at all.

 

Around 11:40 PM  I started to feel a ton of pressure and got very cranky, so my family left and just Greg and I were left.  The nurses told me I couldn’t push yet.  I remember being very angry. Once I was ready, there was an emergency C-section next door, so my anger turned into guilt as I waited for Dr. Jackson.  I told them I couldn’t wait any longer and started pushing with Greg holding my left leg, and Latoya on my right.  After a bit Dr. Jackson came in and said this could go one of two ways for a first birth, I could be nervous and hold back and push a long time or I could dive in and meet my baby.  I told her I would choose the latter.  I started pushing.  I was passing in and out from exhaustion and lack of food and cursed exactly twice (you were right, mom).  After 40 minutes total of pushing, at 1:42 AM on April 13, 2013 at 8lbs 5oz, my son was born.  I remember everyone yelling look down, look down I looked down to see a limp baby in Dr. Jackson’s arms completely covered in a sticky black meconium.  He was shoved quickly next my face before being whisked away.  There was panic in the room.  There were four doctors surrounding a small table to the side with my baby laying limp on it.  It was an outer body experience.  I was confused but too tired to worry.  I remember just assuming it would be ok, because you never think something bad is going to happen to you.  I told Greg to go to the baby.  He stood over there scared.  I don’t think anyone talked, I remember later regretting not talking to my baby, not telling him I was there, not telling him his name.  Somewhere during that time I delivered the placenta, I fainted, I was stitched, but I barely remember.  Our baby was taken out of the room and we were not allowed to follow.  Nobody was joking or talking anymore.  I told Greg to tell everyone the name and he was just silent.  I don’t know why but we were both silent, maybe afraid to say it out loud?  Greg finally said Everett; Everett Parker Franklin and I cried, and I caught Latoya crying before she turned out of the room.  We sat quietly until they told Greg he could go see Everett.  He went with my dad and my mom stayed with me.  Greg came back with the head of the NICU, I don’t remember her name.  She had horrible bedside manner and proceeded to tell us that they didn’t know how much meconium there was because I was so small for such a big baby and it was stuck in all the nooks and cranies around him instead of gushing out in the amniotic fluid.  She told us Everett had flooded his lungs with meconium and so they never inflated.  His body was still behaving as though it was in the womb, relying on a placenta that wasn’t there and little, to no oxygen was being transported to his body.  I sat there in silence, in disbelief.  My pregnancy was easy and perfect I never thought something could go wrong.  She asked if I had anyone questions.  I sat and shook my head no before suddenly rattling off about a hundred questions.  I don’t know where they came from, I wasn’t actually thinking and I wasn’t even really listening to her answers.  Unless she was going to tell me everything was going to be ok, I don’t think I wanted to hear it.  I remember she was cold and just giving us the facts; She told us about long term effects this could have and how she had a 14 year old patient who still needed assistance breathing.  She told us Everett would probably be transferred to the Georgetown NICU but I couldn’t go with him.  She left and my mother came over to me and I sat in disbelief with a knot in my throat.  Greg held my hand and we waited.  At 5:00 AM they told me I could go see Everett and Greg wheeled me into the NICU.  We came in at the worst possible moment.  Alarms were going off at Everett’s bedside and every doctor in the NICU was surrounding MY son’s bassinet.  They were taking care of MY son.  Doing things for him that I could not.  They shooed me out of the way, pushing my wheel chair to the side.  I couldn’t see, I couldn’t stand because I was still fainting.  I was the stranger and the outcast.  I spent 9 months preparing to take care of this little boy, preparing to shower him with my love and there was nothing I could do to care for him.  They told me that his oxygen level dropped far too low and we needed to leave.  If I had been more conscious, if I could go back I would fight them and I would stay with him, when I think back if anything had happened and I were not there I would never forgive myself.  But I was scared and confused and when they told us to leave we quietly retreated.  The knot that had been building in my throat since I saw him limp in the doctor’s arms exploded.  I sobbed and sobbed.  Greg took me to our room and I sobbed more.  I called my mother-in law at 6am, 5am her time and asked her how she did it.  Greg was 2 months early and I asked how she survived not holding him, not nursing him and not knowing if he was going to be ok.  We sat on the phone and cried together.

 

Greg and I sat in our room, not knowing what to do.  They put a sign outside the room that says the baby is in the NICU so the nurses are aware when they come in.  Everyone walked in with a sad look on their face and talked to me with pity and sympathy.  Part of me feels like it added to the gloom of the room but I know had someone come in happy I would probably have thougt what is wrong with you?! It felt like there was nothing right to say and nothing right to do.  Around 9 AM on the 13th we were allowed to go see Everett.  They had switched him to forced oxygen and said he was responding and they were impressed with his turnaround he was not ok but they did not expect to be transferring him.  It was amazing how wonderful that small turnaround made us feel.  They said we could probably hold him that afternoon.  When we went back they said that his breathing was not stable and maybe we could hold him later.  I felt sick.  It felt like forever but we finally got to hold our baby boy that evening it was nothing like how I pictured holding my baby for the first time.  I had never been scared to hold a baby and I was terrified to hold mine.  The nurses told me whatever I did not to move the arterial cords that I could really hurt him and that he was noise sensitive and it would cause his breath rates to go too high so I gingerly held him in silence and smiled at him.  Nothing like what I imagined but nothing felt sweeter at that moment.

 

We asked for no visitors at the hospital.  Greg was the most amazing husband, friend and father I could ever ask for.  I never knew he was capable of the emotional strength and support he showed me in those days.  I was in a very dark place and couldn’t imagine anyone coming to visit and not being able to hand them a pink little baby to hold.  Greg knew what I needed even when I had no idea what to do.  He invited 3 of my close girlfriends to come see Everett to come sit with me, hold my hand ask me how I was doing.  Up until these 3 friends came I did not feel like a mother.  Nobody asked me what I thought my son needed, He was fed by tube so I couldn’t feed him, and the nurses gave us disdainful looks when we talked to him because his breath rates went up.  It felt like I didn’t know my own baby, like there was literally nothing I could do for him.  Everett may have made me a mother but Betsy, Heather and Julia, the day you came to the hospital to visit and meet my son and love him and let me tell you about him is the day I finally felt like a mother.  I can never thank Greg enough for having you visit, or you three enough for the support you showed me that day.

 

Leaving Everett at the hospital is to date the hardest thing I have ever had to go through in my entire life.  The next few weeks were full of lots of good news and a few setbacks which felt like the end of the world.  Walking around public like a zombie wondering how everyone can go about their lives like everything is normal while I felt like my world had been ripped apart.  We spent all this time preparing to become parents and came home with no baby.  I was depressed and scared.  I was exhausted from constantly going back and forth from the hospital and pumping around the clock and was on less sleep than when Everett finally came home. 

 

Everett Parker Franklin was born at 1:42 AM on the 13^th at 8lbs 5oz and 21 inches.  We held him for the first time on the 14^th, we left the hospital on the 15^th, he came off his c-pap onto just oxygen on the 16^th then just air then no feeding tube, on the 20^th I was allowed to nurse him for the first time and on the 23rd we got to bring our baby boy home. 

Birth Story

Reading the birth stories of other women greatly prepared me for the birth of our daughter.  Therefore, I took the time to record our story in hopes that it may provide insight for women who are about to venture through the amazing labyrinth of  birth.

It’s difficult to tell when labor officially started.  Perhaps it began when I started having back pains that kept me up all night or after the midwife swept my membranes at 41 weeks.  I found out during that appointment I was already 4 centimeters dilated and 80% effaced.  It was amazing that I had no idea, most people are checking into a hospital by then.

After reading countless birthing books, taking 15 hours of birthing classes, and watching youtube videos of women giving birth, I felt ready to take on labor, naturally and unmedicated.

My husband, Matt, began timing my contractions around 2pm on August 8^th.  It was his birthday and he was thrilled at the thought that our baby may arrive on the day he was born. Contractions were 6-7 minutes apart.  I insisted we keep our evening plans with friends and made a batch of cookies and a birthday cake, pausing briefly to cope with each contraction and then carrying on. We consulted with our Doula, Maura, and she told us to call her when my contractions were 5 minutes apart or when we felt we needed more support.

9 hours later the contractions were irregular but stronger, ranging from 10 minutes to 4 minutes apart.   Matt was still timing them as we waited for them to get closer.

As night progressed into morning, I focused on resting and staying hydrated.  I labored in the bathtub for relief.  I needed my husband to be closer and closer as the intensity of each contraction escalated.  He changed out my bath water frequently and held my hand during contractions, even when I was on the toilet.  Eventually he fell asleep on the bathroom floor as I attempted to get some rest.  I knew I had a long night of hard work ahead.

Bloody show, frequent diarrhea, contractions that wouldn’t go away, yes, I felt confident that this was labor.  Matt called the midwife and Maura to prepare for our trip to the hospital.  Once Maura arrived we headed to the car at 2:30am.  She thought it was strange that my contractions weren’t getting any closer together just more intense, and that the pain was centralized in my lower back.  These were possible signs that the baby was Occiput Posterior (OP).

We arrived at the hospital at 3:00am. Because of the pain I could barely sign the forms required.  I didn’t feel scared and used low, deep vocalizations to help me stay focused and relaxed. I was in good spirits, excited to be settling in and to continue laboring with the support of the midwife and the Alternative Birthing Center (ABC Room).  And I was looking forward to soaking in the giant tub I’ve bragged to my friends about.

While in triage Maura could hardly believe I was laughing and making jokes while in transition.  I told anyone who would listen “I am so tired of pooping!”  I also informed the triage nurse, “I brought cookies!”

I found out from my midwife Gale that I was 8 centimeters.  This baby should be born within four hours!  She directed me to labor in certain positions to try to get the baby to rotate into the optimal position for birth.  Once I entered the ABC room, to my dismay, I was not allowed to sit in the tub because it would slow labor down and now was the time to keep things moving. I wasn’t going to be bathing in luxury during this labor.

As the pain increased I struggled to try the tricks suggested and slipped back into Laborland.  I progressed to 9.5cm where my labor stalled out, in transition.  I let my inner animal out as suggested in the birthing books and held nothing back, which included peeing on the floor.  I expressed concern about soiling my husband’s shoes.  Both he and the nurses reassured me that they were washable.  I howled like a wolf and used visualizations such as “open like a flower” and repeated “down baby down” to encourage my cervix to open and the baby to move downward.  I was trembling uncontrollably and my knees buckled with the pain of each contraction.  Gayle, our midwife empathized by saying, “Yes, I know, transition really sucks.”

My husband, my rock, held me strong.  I remembered I wanted to be kind to those around me while in labor, so when I wanted to bite because of the pain, I kissed his hand instead to help keep my jaw loose and made sure I said my please and thank yous.  I was trying to take care of those who were taking care of me.

As the hours slipped by, my contractions were still irregular.  I was put in the shower on a birthing stool to stimulate my nipples in attempt to regulate and increase the effectiveness of my contractions.  My contractions were coupling, 4 in a row then a 5-10 minute break.  The coupling of contractions did not result in dilation, only constant and agonizing pain.

We decided to break my waters and use the breast pump in another attempt to stimulate stronger and more regular contractions.  I was trying to remain strong so I could do what was needed to progress my labor and to be brave for my baby.  Finally, when I couldn’t take it anymore, I said, “No!” when the pump came near me for another round.  I watched as the pump slowly back away.

As of now, I had coped for 20 hours and up until this point I didn’t feel frustrated, scared or even thought of using pain medication.  Laborland and my support team had really served me well.  But I could tell things were changing and I was now at the end of my rope.

Pain crossed over into suffering and I remember saying, “don’t make me do this anymore…I can’t I can’t.”  Instead of vocalizing in a way that was productive, I just wanted to scream louder than the pain. I ripped the pad I was lying on.  I felt hopeless and began begging my support staff for relief.  I had been in the transition phase for 14 hours and I could no longer focus on my baby being born or accept that this was natural and normal labor.   My cervix was checked one more time…still only 9.5 centimeters.  By this time Gayle’s shift came to an end and Bridgette had taken over.

Through it all, the room was full of strong and confident women, waiting with me, comforting me and kept me coping for as long as I did.  They were ready to support me without judgment as I began to move into the next chapter of my labor.

Second intervention was the narcotic.  It helped me cope in a drug induced Laborland haze.  During a brief moment of dream-like clarity I was irritated at my husband, who dozed off, was snoring.  It’s as if we were sleeping at home. I woke up at each contraction screaming.  The narcotic provided me rest between contractions but did not lessen the pain.  I was too tired to continue and nothing had changed in the past 14 hours.  Our midwife said, “Pitocin” and I said, “Epidural.”  She responded, “I think that would be a good idea.”

Sitting still through the epidural was the first time I felt truly afraid and vulnerable.  If I moved at the wrong time I could do some damage.  If I couldn’t’ sit still during a contraction they wouldn’t be able to administer the epidural, leaving me to continue laboring in complete exhaustion and without relief. Bridgette held my shoulders and encouraged me.  I whimpered, “I’m so scared.” over and over again.  With her help I had a successful epidural and in 20 minutes my husband, Maura and myself were sound asleep.  After laboring for now over 20 hours the pain relief and nap gave me the energy I needed to continue on.  2 hours later Bridgette checked and smiled.  She said I was 10 centimeters!  Finally!  The Pitocin did its job!   Thank you modern medicine for stepping in when I needed you!

We decided to turn off the epidural so I could feel to push to speed up the process.  At that point, I was afraid to feel any more pain because I felt truly maxed out!  However, I wanted to avoid a cesarean birth and needed every advantage I could to birth our baby vaginally.  I agreed to turn the epidural off.

I was so excited to finally be pushing but underestimated the amount of work it would require.  I didn’t realize pushing could go on for hours and required brute effort to move a baby through the birth canal.  In my case I was pushing for 4 hours and the baby was still rotating. Both Maura and Bridgette described what was happening physiologically so I could visualize the baby moving through my body.  The epidural was turned back on to take the edge off when the pain was more distracting than helpful.  At one point during the pushing phase I gave a shout out to a legendary midwife that who’s books were an inspiration for me during pregnancy by yelling,

“Fuck you Ina May Gaskin!”

Despite the wild ride thus far, the baby’s heart rate remained steady and strong. Four hours later, the head crowned, then out came these chubby cheeks!   The baby began kicking my uterus and was still rotating! The rest of the body was supposed to slide out like a wet seal, however her arms were folded up so the body did not slip out like in almost every birthing video I’ve ever watched.  I had to keep pushing.

When the baby was delivered, Bridgette hurried to cut the cord.  I said, “you’re cutting the chord already!?”

 I’m supposed to get a wet slippery baby on my chest!  Matt and I are supposed to marvel at our little one’s fingers and toes!  The cord was supposed to stop pulsing first!

She brought the baby over to a table and doctors came flooding in to help revive.  The baby was slow to breath and did not cry or move.  I stared at Maura because I could not look at Matt in fear of loosing it.  The reports from Maura included, the baby is breathing, she is pink and her heart rate is good.  They whisked her away before I had a chance to see her.  Maura and I insisted hat Matt follow the baby to keep her company as they proceeded in another room to hook her up to machines, IVs and antibiotics.  I said, “Go!  Be with her! Talk to her!”  At first he was hesitant to leave my side and then he ran out of the room to be with our baby.  I refocused long enough to birth the placenta and then allowed myself to cry.  I was terrified, exhausted, and worst-case scenarios were running through my head.  Death…brain damage…we’ve lost our baby…

After receiving a couple of stitches, Bridgette checked on our baby.  I was reassured that the baby was doing well and was just in shock from the long hard labor.  The nurses and Bridgette advocated that she stay in our room tonight because she was showing no signs of infections.

Matt came back, leaned over me, paused, then smiled and said, “It’s a…girl!”  My first words were, “Can we call her Eleanor?” Matt shook his head yes.  The nurse brought me photographs of Eleanor.  She was crying and hooked up to machines and IVs. I did not imagine that I would see pictures of her before I would get to hold, comfort and nurse her. It was all very surreal and torturous knowing that Eleanor was lying under a heat lamp in a bright room with loud machines, alone.  When I was physically able, they brought me to the nursery to meet her for the first time.

Matt and I approached Eleanor with both worry and relief.  She was crying as we untangled her cords so I could finally hold her in my arms. I began talking to her. I said, “Hi Eleanor, I’m your mom and you are our baby. I’m so happy to meet you.”  She stopped crying.  It was such a beautiful moment.  The nurse said, “She recognizes your voice.”  I could hardly believe that she was my daughter and that it was possible that the sound of my voice was familiar to her and maybe even comforting.  The second hardest part was leaving her in the nursery for a night for continued observation.

My exhaustion from the labor set in and being reminded that Eleanor would need me in a couple of hours felt almost impossible.  However, in 3 hours a very optimistic and kind young nurse, who acted as if taking care of me was her most favorite thing to do, wheeled me in the nursery to try to nurse Eleanor.

At noon the next day, Eleanor was released from the nursery and could sleep in our room.  My husband and I enjoyed skin-to-skin time, talking to her, helping her cope through all the follow-up blood tests, and quizzed every procedure that was suggested.  With a heavy heart filled with both love and fear, we were officially parents.

Nursing was a challenge and the IV fluids made her less motivaed.  The lactation consultants were encouraging, knowledgeable and helped me begin to understand the foundations of breastfeeding.  They never once made me doubt that I wouldn’t be able to feed and nourish Eleanor.  They recommended skin-to-skin to establish the initial bond and trust that we didn’t establish at delivery.

While in the hospital, Eleanor yelled and cried every time she was moved or a diaper was changed.  It broke our hearts knowing that her entrance into this world was traumatic for her.  Her antibiotic IV would scratch her skin when she moved making her more upset.  However, when we arrived home after a couple of days, Eleanor was motivated to breastfeed and began to settle.

Now that we were at home, my husband and I waited until it was just the three of us to read Eleanor her first book, “The Night You Were Born.” Eleanor was alert during the story while my husband and I cried with relief that she was healthy, at home, and we could spend the next couple of weeks healing as a family.

Even though we did not have the natural birth I imagined, the natural birth I read about in books and on websites, the natural birth I’ve heard mothers reflect on with nostalgia…We had a birth that unfolded to include moments of humor, strength, and determination in addition to blood, sweat and tears…we had a birth that resulted in a strong, beautiful and resilient new daughter.  A birth that brought out the heroic qualities in my husband and illuminated the power and compassion of the women who supported us as our labor took on an unpredictable life of its own.

In the end we had the perfect birth because it brought us our Eleanor.