You Really Can't Stay Pregnant Forever

My daughter, Cameran Joelle McKinney, was born Wednesday, May 4th, at 10:17am--after much, much, much waiting and anticipation. I can hear my mother now: "Amanda, she wasn't really THAT overdue." But Mom's part in this Birth Story Blog Post will reveal she was awfully excited herself!

True, Cami Jo came in her own “perfect time,” as all babies do. But, this is a story with a pretty steep narrative arc. The night before her arrival didn't feel like we were gearing up for "perfection."

(Reader, beware! I worked on this post all morning, between feedings and cuddlings. It is a shamelessly-long, detail-oriented account. I tried not to use embarassing biological terminology--but I didn't censor in length! Grab a cup of coffee before you try to tackle it.)  :)
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On Monday morning, my doctor told me to prepare for an induction on Wednesday night, if nothing happened on its own sooner. I really hadn't wanted interventions unless necessary, but my impatience and all the things looming on our calendar were tempting me with the idea. (An out-of-state friend's visit and a wedding were the big things approaching too quickly for comfort, if Baby wanted to be two or even THREE weeks late...) I'm not a fan of over-planning every one of life's events, and yet I was ready to have my baby!

Unfortunately, if I let Doc induce me on Wednesday, three out of four grandparents were going to be gone for different reasons and wouldn't be back all weekend! In other words, I needed to have the baby naturally before Wednesday, or go through with the induction and celebrate the birthday without my own Mom and Dad, OR just sit around anxiously for four or five more days hoping baby DIDN'T come until Sunday--all while we inched closer and closer to those big calendar events. Only the first option appealed to me, and I prayed hard my stubborn one wouldn't be stubborn a day longer...

I was absolutely thrilled when contractions started around 2:30am on Tuesday. In fact, I was too happy to fall back asleep, and I spent all day tracking the time between pains and keeping friends/family updated on Facebook. Obviously, I became increasingly uncomfortable, but I couldn't stop cracking jokes and singing to God--who had clearly answered my prayers for miracle timing. When contractions were 5-6 minutes apart and the most intense they’d been all day, we went to the hospital.

These days, I thought the medical community pretty much reduced labor/delivery to a convenience-centered science, for which they have different levers and buttons for different situations and almost ALWAYS provide you with a baby by dinner time. That is to say--I thought sending people away for "false labor" and instructing them to try more natural remedies was basically a thing of the past, particularly since THIS pregnant lady was scheduled for induction 24 hours later anyway. But, apparently it's a different story if your personal OBGYN is off-duty for the day. In that case, they'd rather do what they can to slow the process...

When the nurse examined me, she discovered I was only dilated 1.5 centimeters and 80% effaced. That was exactly what I measured at the doctor's office Monday, before 19 hours worth of contractions! I was devastated my body had done all that work with no external results. AND, I was going on 36 hours with only 2 hours of sleep. The on-call doctor instructed that Luke and I try walking the hospital halls for an hour, to see if I made physical progress. But otherwise they would call it "Braxton Hicks" and send me away.

People, these were not Braxton Hicks, and I knew it. I realize that young, first-time mothers like me have the potential to become over-excited and jump the gun. Or that those with less pain tolerance may be sure they’re dying long before things really get going. But, when I tell the nurse the pain level is at a 5 or 6 (and had been growing all day) I’m not just looking for drugs!

Luke and I decided to oblige with the hall-walking attempt, but I was pretty skeptical an hour would do much good after all day of no progress. We stopped every couple of minutes so I could grab the wall and breath through a contraction, AND we prayed some more… only to have the nurse announce “no change” at the end of the hour.

I was frustrated because the biggest pains I felt were LOW, in my pelvic area, and the monitors weren’t registering that far down. I explained to the nurse where all the pressure was, and she said, “We monitor up higher, because contractions start at the top of the uterus.” Then she declared, “Yours just aren’t hard enough to cause dilation yet.” This brought me to tears. They think I’m just a can’t-hack-it, I thought to myself. And—because I was mentally and physically exhausted, and because I was starving, and because I was in pain, and because I knew I wasn’t going to sleep again that night (yet would be expected to find energy to labor and deliver the next day), I cried. The whole way home, I blubbered to my very sweet, also-tired, also-disappointed husband.

Bitterly, I thought, “So much for miracle timing, God!”

Seriously, I could barely think straight, and my eyes kept closing spontaneously. But then a sharp pain in my abdomen would jolt me up so I could cry some more. (I kept thinking, “We are driving the wrong direction! You’re not supposed to send a woman in labor AWAY from the hospital!!!) They gave me a pain shot and sleeping pill before discharge, but those only allowed me about 2 hours of very rough sleep at home. At about 4:30am, I couldn’t even pretend to sleep anymore. I woke up Luke and said, “We have to do something.” My plan was to go back to the hospital and demand that they simply start the induction a little earlier than scheduled. There was no need to start contractions! So, they could break my water, administer Pitocin, or whatever—I didn’t care.

At first, Luke was hesitant. (He was still tired and didn’t want to make the drive if they were going to turn us down again.) But, while I was standing at the bathroom sink, I had a contraction that lasted at least a minute, and I felt the baby’s head move down about 2 inches. I marched to where Luke was in the living room and said, “I’m NOT having another contraction like that one in this house! We’re going!”

We checked into the hospital at 7:00am, and (praise the Lord) I had dilated to 5 centimeters. I remember getting this news, but I don’t remember much else except the back of my own eyelids, answering a few registration questions, and breathing through very, very frequent contractions. The pressure in my lower abdomen was intense, and I kept thinking “I NEED AN EPIDURAL!” I still thought we had 6-7 hours to go, at least, and I wanted to be numb enough to take a nap and recoup for pushing.

But, as it turned out, the epidural didn’t work like I’d hoped. It only really took the edge off. (The nurse said it “takes out the sting” but “doesn’t always take away the pressure” which had been the worst part all along!) My emotionally lowest point came while I was trying to hold still as he inserted the needle and I had THREE contractions while sitting on the edge of the bed. I could feel Baby’s head like it was poking out already, but I didn't realize that meant delilvery was close!

By the time the medication “kicked in” 45 minutes later, it was time to push! The pressure never went away, but I finally had a job to do besides “try to relax.” I told the nurse I couldn’t handle a long episode of pushing—I was too tired. But she told me if I worked hard for just a little while longer, I could sleep as a reward! That inspired me. Cameran arrived after 20 minutes of pushing, and only 3 hours after we checked in. In fact, the doctor tried to say “okay, stop pushing” once the head came out, but Cammie literally jumped into her arms after that anyway. I was out-of-my-mind exhausted immediately before hand, but hearing her cry was the adrenaline rush I needed.

Luke had a phone in each hand and was taking pictures/texting as soon as she popped out. (Actually, my dad ratted on him because my parents got a text that said, “I see hair,”—meaning Luke was texting even before she was born. Dad intentionally didn’t reply so as not to get Luke in trouble, but I was way too disoriented to notice!) And, within minutes of Cami’s vitals being taken (while the doctor was still cleaning me up) my mom walked in! She had gotten the call we were in the hospital approximately 2 hours earlier. And the drive to the hospital takes at least 1.75….legally. She even missed her exit and had to drive 18 miles out of the way! I have no idea how she did it.

So, I guess there are two morals to that part of the story. One is: despite what you see in the movies, sometimes people don’t get pulled over while racing to meet a new baby. And, two: God’s perfect timing triumphs, all the time.

Anyway, that’s the full-details version of the McBaby’s arrival. Since then, we have enjoyed a very alert, very strong, very happy little girl. She’s a great host—staying awake to look at EVERYONE who comes to meet her. The nurses say they’ve never seen a newborn’s eyes as much as we see hers.

It may take several days, or even weeks, for me to start blogging regularly again.

But I think Cameran is the best excuse I've ever had...