Just Catching Up?
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I began pushing right around 3PM and initially had no expectations on how long it would take. I was a little embarrassed because I didn’t know how to “push,” but our nurse was very helpful and provided instruction before we got started. She encouraged me not to hold anything back: If I needed to cry, scream, grunt, etc…GO FOR IT. It took me a while to get confident in my abilities. I started out a little reserved but once I was in the throes of it--exhausted, in pain, and ready to meet Ellie--I’m pretty sure modesty went out the window.
Before I went into labor Chad was adamant he would not be going past my waist once I started pushing. I couldn’t say I blamed him. I most definitely did NOT want to see any of the...ahem...damage going on “down there.” But almost immediately after I started pushing Chad was down by the lower half of my body, in absolute awe of the process and life he was so close to meeting. My anatomical body parts were the last thing on his mind; he was so focused on Ellie, captivated by the first glimpses of his baby girl. There was no denying he was one proud daddy excited beyond belief to meet his daughter.
Not long after I started pushing Chad enthusiastically announced he could see her head...and with excitement told me he thought her hair was blonde. This was a surprising discovery for both of us because we’d assumed Ellie would have my dark brown hair color.
“Babe. This is incredible,” He kept saying with a tone of excitement, love and awe. I could tell his heart was already melting and it melted my own to see him so emotional.
I could still move my left leg but my right one was completely numb (and remained so for hours after delivery). While I was pushing, Chad and the nurse each held one of my legs and they both coached and cheer leaded me through each round. They were my number one fans and their job was to keep me motivated. Sometimes this meant giving me false and/or over the top encouragement.
“You’re doing great!”
“Yes. Keep pushing, just like that!”
“That was a great push, she’s making lots of progress!”
“She’s going to be here so soon!”
“You can do this!”
And so on, and so on.
{Chad later confirmed these statements were often lies and/or exaggerations.}
We initially made really good progress. When I first started pushing our nurse praised my strength and told me I was doing so well that I probably wouldn’t have to push too long, maybe only twenty five minutes if I kept it up. That seemed really quick; I was surprised and excited to hear we were THAT close to meeting Ellie. News of this anticipated arrival time gave me a surge of energy and motivated me to push with all my strength through each and every series.
But, well, as it turns out I still had a long ways to go. Twenty five minutes quickly passed (I could see the clock on the wall the entire time, which was both good and bad) and Ellie was nowhere close to making her arrival. I could literally feel progress stalling. I would bear down and push and push with all my might and then collapse back into the bed out of breath and exhausted. But still, hardy any progress.
Our nurse informed me that my cervix was very tight and Ellie kept getting stuck. I knew this meant I needed to be strong and keep working hard. But at just twenty five minutes in I was losing steam.
I was exhausted.
I wanted to drink a pool full of Sprite.
I wanted to be done with labor.
I wanted the pain to go away.
And, more than anything, I wanted to meet Ellie. I wanted to finally hold her in my arms and see what she looked like. I wanted to kiss her and tell her I loved her, face to face. I had dreamed of this moment and this child for so very long. My heart ached to finally hold her in my arms and nothing was going to stop me from doing so. And this, this is what kept me going.
Chad stayed by my side the entire time. To help with the thirst he would feed me one (at my insistence, no more, no less) ice chip between each round of pushing. Sometimes it was just the two of us in the room working together because it was still busy on the labor and delivery floor. As much as I liked the reassurance of having the nurse and/or doctor there, I kind of liked it when it was just him and I. We were working together; a team that had already endured and overcome so much together for this moment and for this little girl.
Ellie’s progress kept taking longer than the doctor and nurse anticipated. They kept giving me new estimates on how much longer I had and I continued to watch the clock hit these marks of time. And still no baby. As I continued with pushing and progress continued to stall the nurse and Chad were doing everything they could to encourage me. They kept asking me if I wanted to reach down and feel Ellie’s head but for some reason I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.
Around 4PM the nurse began to prep materials for Ellie’s arrival. It was so surreal to see them making final preparations for her debut and I just kept thinking I can’t believe she’s going to be here any moment.
Shortly after this my doctor had to leave to perform an emergency c-section on another patient. Both my nurse and doctor thought Ellie would be there soon so I was given the option to hold off on pushing until my doctor returned or instead bring in another on-call doctor. As badly as I wanted Dr. D to be the one to deliver Ellie, I couldn’t fathom hitting the pause button for about twenty minutes so we opted to continue forward.
But wouldn’t you know it, another twenty minutes passed and still no baby. Progress continued to stall thanks to my tight cervix.
When my doctor returned she started massaging mineral oil around my cervix to assist with stretching and help minimize tearing. Oh. This was painful. It burned like crazy and I could feel everything. Everything. I just wanted to scream, but I refrained and held back.
I wasn’t prepared for how painful the pushing stage of labor was. I guess I had assumed the epidural would mostly alleviate the pain and pressure at this point. But I could feel things. A lot of things. I’m sure the pain in no way compares to what I would’ve experienced had I gone without drugs. That said, I could feel Ellie progressing, an enormous amount of pressure, and my cervix stretching. With each good push and round of progression the pain increased. I remember trying to be strong and not cry or scream. But I’m pretty sure there were some tears of pain shed during this process. I kept telling Chad that it REALLY hurt and, almost in an apologetic tone, told him I was trying to be strong.
Additionally, I was not prepared for how exhausting the pushing stage of labor was. I knew pushing would be hard, but like so many other parts of labor, I don’t think you can really prepare for it or comprehend how difficult it is going to be until you are in the thick of it.
I had to completely live in the moment. I couldn’t think about how tired I was, what I had already been through, how badly I wanted to be done, or worry about how much longer I had to push. I simply had to focus my thoughts and energy on each breath and each series of pushing.
The last stretch of labor felt like it was dragging out and lasting forever. There were so many “false alarms": Rounds of pushing I assumed and hoped would be my last--she was getting so close--but alas, still no baby. I was giving it my all and calling on every last reserve of energy and strength I had. Adrenaline was running strong by this point.
It felt like we went through several rounds of pushing where everyone was so excited and encouraging that I figured I must be in the middle of THE push that was going to bring Ellie into the world.
“You’re doing great, she’s almost here!”
“That’s it! Keep pushing!"
"Yes, just give me another good push like that."
“So close! Keep pushing!”
But still. No baby.
Over two hours of pushing passed.
And as I pushed for one last set, it’s as though I could feel everything building up to that moment. Thirty six months of aching, longing, hoping, dreaming and praying for this baby girl. Multiple rounds of failed infertility treatments, a myriad of side effects, the painful injections I had to administer myself. Days turned nights turned weeks turned months worrying I would never have a biological child. Countless ultrasounds and appointments. The pregnancy that, according to modern medicine, wasn’t supposed to be. Multiple scares. Countless tears and endless prayers. A hope and longing for this child that we could not, would not shake. All leading to this moment: To meet this beautiful girl and begin a wonderful new journey.
I pushed with all my might for one last time at 5:11 PM and felt the incredible release of Ellie entering this world. My doctor instructed me to reach down and help her place Ellie on my chest.
As my eyes saw Ellie for the first time she took her first breath and started crying. Oh, thank you, God. She was absolutely beautiful and perfect. It was a deeper love than I ever knew possible at first sight. My heart opened up and my world forever changed. And my body flooded with every sort of joyous and beautiful emotion possible.
She was immediately placed on my bare chest. Tears were already streaming down my face.
Her warm body pressed against mine and she looked around and up at me ever so curious.
"Baby Girl, you’re here. You’re finally here."
"We’ve been waiting so long to meet you."
"Daddy and Mommy love you so much. We love you so much."
I just kept repeating a compilation of those words through tears over and over and over.
I looked up at Chad, our eyes met and his face was red from crying. I don’t remember if we said anything to each other yet but I remember the look we exchanged. It said it all: She’s here, she’s finally here. And, oh my God, she’s perfect and beautiful. Can you believe how much you love her already? We did it. We finally did it.
I kept looking down at Ellie and then back up at Chad. So happy, so thankful, so filled with love.
No words can do justice to the release of joy, love, gratitude, beauty and relief that were felt the moment Ellie entered this world. Never in my life have I felt so much love and joy. And never in my life have I been so thankful.
It was absolute bliss.
We both continued to look at her in awe. Everything else stopped. All I could do was stare at her. She was so alert, curious, and beautiful. One look at her and I knew in my heart that she was worth everything. And I mean all of it. I knew with an overwhelming certainty that this was how it was supposed to be. The journey leading up to her happened exactly as it was supposed to. I wouldn’t change a thing.
I would do it all over again--a thousand times--all for you sweet girl. All for you.
Ellie stayed on my chest for skin-to-skin time for almost an hour-and-a-half. No one moved her to weigh or measure her. It was amazing, but many things that happened during that window of time remain a blur: I was just so focused on Ellie--in complete and total awe--and could not stop staring. Chad cut the cord. The nurse wiped Ellie down a little bit and checked her heartbeat. My placenta was delivered and my doctor stitched me up. At one point Chad started singing the song “Jesus Loves Me,” which is something he would sing to Ellie (to my belly) almost every night of the pregnancy when I went to bed. Ellie immediately stopped what she was doing and looked right up at him. It was clear she recognized that voice and those words. Chad started tearing up. Oh, my heart.
Ellie nursed a little bit and we tried to start learning breastfeeding together. Meanwhile, I think poor Chad was overwhelmed, trying to be present and stay by our side while also juggling the logistics of answering several questions from the nurse, coordinating urgent details with a doula (I had my placenta encapsulated) and notifying family and friends of Eliana’s safe arrival. Added to the stress on his end was the fact that his cell phone needed charged and reception in the room was suddenly off and on. About thirty minutes after he sent the “announcement” text to family he realized the message never went through, which resulted in him frantically trying to get out some form of info again.
But amidst all this, he never left Ellie’s side. He stayed with her as they finally took her off my chest to be cleaned, measured and weighed at about 6:40 PM. Clearly a proud daddy, smitten from the start.
And that's our story. The story of how Eliana made her debut into this world and changed our hearts and our family forever. Thank you for following along and allowing me to share.
Eliana Hope, our journey to meeting you was far longer, much more difficult, and filled with more pain and heartbreak than I could’ve imagined. But I wouldn’t trade a thing. Because it brought us to you. And along the way, taught me so many things about life, myself, and (most importantly) faith.
And our adventure has really only just begun.
Dear Lord, thank you for gifting us with this incredible moment and beautiful child. There are simply no words to do this moment justice or to adequately thank you for the blessing of Eliana. I can’t wait to see what you have in store for our family. My heart is forever filled with gratitude.
