Skylar’s Birth Story

It’s been exactly 65 hours since the most excruciating pain of my life; the most joyful day of my life. On Wednesday, November 9 I woke up with period-like cramps. Nothing severe, but something new for pregnancy.

I walked three miles with a friend and her sweet one-month-old baby boy. The cramps persisted, but weren’t crippling. I went about my daily editing and planned on coaching at 5 p.m., but as the afternoon wore on, the cramping intensified. I wanted to make dang sure this was no false alarm. Matt and I were so bummed to have been sent home from the hospital the week prior, I was going to read up and be sure what I was feeling was true labor. Everyone’s descriptions of true labor contractions differ, but many described them as super intense period cramps. Matt casually timed them when he got home from practice. He put on some Bob Ross for me (Yes, the “happy trees” painter- our instant sleeper soundtrack). I tried to nap in the slight case that I really was in labor. MG cooked up mac ‘n cheese and we watched “Poldark” together. I folded laundry and had to stop at some points because my contractions were getting so intense. We packed our bags, thinking if the cramping heightened after going to bed, we’d be ready to jet to the hospital. Whelp, we never made it to bed. I couldn’t walk or talk as I finished packing my bag. MG said “I think we should go”. I concurred.

We walked up to the hospital around 9 p.m. I had to take breaks whenever a contraction hit. I could hardly sign my name as we checked in. In the eval room, a sweet nurse checked my pelvis and instantly said, “well, your cervix is paper thin. It just went from 1 to 5 cm…you’re going to have this baby tonight!” Matt and I celebrated with a smile and a kiss and got ready to make our way to a delivery room. I had to pause and “hold up the wall” (as nurses say) during a contraction en route to room 7. The scenario was looking perfect. We got the penthouse room with a mountain view (8th floor) and my doctor happened to be the resident doctor that night! Thank you, God! Nurse Dona hooked me up to an IV then with my next contraction, my water broke. ‘Twas an odd, messy gush. I rolled over helplessly as the nurse and Matt changed the sheets under me.

Then the nurse went to check my pelvis. It was 9:45 p.m. She looked a little startled and said, “You are 9 cm…well, actually, you’re 10…” She walkee’d the doctors lounge, attempting to stay calm, saying “Room 7 is complete” (meaning fully dilated). At this point, contractions were hurting like hell. I was squirming in pain, gripping the railings on the sides of the hospital bed.  I looked longingly at the door, waiting for the anesthesiologist to walk through like a hero ready to administer my epidural.

It wasn’t happening. Baby was coming. Drugs were not.

I took a moment to digest the truth that I was not going to get to numb any of this pain and our baby was going to be welcomed into the world soon and au naturale. “She’s an inch from my finger” the nurse had said. Matt provided some counter-pressure to my lower back to try to take my mind off the gut-wrenching tightening throughout my abdomen. I tried to slow my breathing…though I really had done no prep for a natural labor. I was full-on primal moaning before I knew it. I was looking at the door as the anesthesiologist walked in. He soon realized he was too late. He came over and introduced himself and apologized. I apparently smiled and said, “maybe next time…” though I don’t recall this kindness. My thoughts were exclaiming other sentiments…

Everyone went to work. Nurses and resident doctors tried to calm me, but I was shaking violently with every contraction. I basically went into shock. Like if you’ve ever been in a car accident and had the involuntary tremors for hours afterward…that type of shock. I squeezed Matt’s hand as he held up my right thigh. The doctor instructed me on how to push…her instructions were too long. I zoned out. I grunted. I dropped an ‘F’ bomb or three. I pushed incorrectly about three times, closing my eyes as I wondered at the gravity of the pressure and the pain down there. Oh the pain. On the fourth push the doctor said, “Annie, when you make a noise you take power from the push. Hold your breath.” I held my breath. This is where some swimming hypoxic work came in. “Push again! Now!” I wasn’t getting enough oxygen. I was going to pass out. So this is why people get drugs, I thought. I still wanted drugs. No time for bitterness…

I survived the push, then the resident doctor said, “Annie, I can see her head. She’s coming on this next push.” It was the rally cry I needed. Let’s do this. I pushed with every muscle fiber in my body and felt the head, shoulder, shoulder and legs emerge. It was the strangest, most satisfying release of my life. They lifted baby Skylar instantly to my chest. She gave us reassuring screams right away. She was perfect! Matt looked relieved and so incredibly proud. She was finally here!!! The time was 10:16 p.m. Skylar sprinted into the world. And apparently the sweet child preferred that mama feel every ounce of her 8 lb. 12 oz. self come out.

They measured her and we laughed as the nurse complained about her long feet not fitting on the printing pad. haha. She was literally “off the charts” as Matt punnily put it. 21.5 inches long. Our girl was big, but not as weighty as her parents at birth! I swore as I was pushing that I’d never forget the pain I was feeling in that moment…but as all mothers will say, the memory of that otherworldly pain fades fast.

The last two days have been a cocktail of bliss and a new form of exhaustion. I wouldn’t want it any other way. Matt and I can’t stop praising God for this miracle of a perfect little human. We feel so honored to get to play mom and dad to this gorgeous creation! But next time, if time allows, I’ll take that epidural.