dear levi
Your birth was supposed to be a magical event that connected me to my most animalistic instincts and women all over the world and it was supposed to bring me closer to God and your father, and it mostly did, but it was also hard and scary and frustrating and not your fault at all. It took you much longer to show up than I had planned or hoped, because much like wizards, babies are never late or early but arrive precisely when they mean to. Looking back I don't even think I was really in labor until we went to the hospital. Which makes me one of those first timers that didn't really know her body or study enough about what her body was supposed to be doing, which embarrasses me because your grandma was a childbirth instructor.
My pregnancy was a breeze. There was no morning sickness or out of the ordinary symptoms to clue me in that I was pregnant, I just took a test because I had a box of fifty I had bought on Amazon when your daddy said that we didn't have to try for a baby but we could stop trying to not have one. Oh, and I was a week late. I guess my breasts were a little sore, too? If you ever want to see the test I keep it in my jewelry box.
We told your grandparents in person a few days after I found out. Your GranDonna cried and your GranBob raised his eyebrows. Your Grandpa Tim smiled wider than I had ever seen him smile before and your Grammy Lesa laughed a lot, I think. Great Grandmas Kay and Faye were tickled to be great grandmas again, and your Great Grandpa Moore was over the moon. Your father and I waited to tell the church until I was about 15 weeks along, not for any particular reason or worry, but because it just didn't feel right to go shouting around that I was pregnant. The day I told my boss at work was an eventful one... I had just gotten off the phone with a particularly nasty woman and burst into tears. I sat on the couch in her office before going home and shared that I would be having a baby. I apologized, stupidly, because they had just promoted me and I would have to leave in less than a year to be with you for at least three months. I couldn't tell if she was legitimately happy for me or not, but she smiled and consoled me and said that everything was going to be okay.
Spoiler alert... everything is okay.
Besides being more prone to crying than normal and craving too much fried food and Sheetz breakfast burritos and Fruity Pebbles, I didn't experience any troublesome pregnancy symptoms. I became strangely disgusted by red meat early on, but that resolved around 15 weeks. I did throw up a few times and all of them were my fault. The first time was because I ate Burger King for breakfast, which I never did even before I was pregnant, and the second, third, and fourth times were much later in my third trimester when my stomach was too squished to enjoy a bowl of cereal before bed so I ended up overeating and having to vomit it all up.
From looking at the few photos I have of pregnant me, I was a little puffy towards the end and my feet were a bit swollen.
Oh, we also kept everything about you off of social media until after you were born, which was really fun.
The day your daddy and I first heard your heartbeat was so special. I recorded it on my phone and listened to it on repeat. We didn't want to know if you were a boy or a girl, so we closed our eyes during that part of your anatomy scan at 20 weeks. Your father wouldn't have been able to tell, but I think I probably would have. The best part of being pregnant with you was always feeling your left heel in my right side.You were head down from about 25 weeks on, I think, and you liked to lay facing my right side with your knees curled up to your face and your feet stuffed under my right ribs. I was able to cradle that heel with my hand while I was at work, which was so so sweet. You also got the hiccups. Like, more than five times a day. My entire belly would bounce and I have a little video of your violent hiccuping around 37 weeks. The hiccups worried me at first because I remembered reading that persistent hiccups could be a sign of cord issues, but the midwives didn't seem concerned. Most days you were really active and I miss feeling your wiggles.
I worked through my entire pregnancy... I don't think I even called out sick once... but I finally decided to stay home when I hit the 41st week. I went to my midwife appointment that morning and had to have a non-stress test to make sure you were okay, which of course you were. One of the midwives, Nona, suggested that I may just not be giving my body enough time to relax and prepare for birth. On the drive back to work I decided that would be my last day. I clocked in, checked my emails and sent notices to all of the accounts I was responsible for to let them know I was FINALLY going on maternity leave, said my goodbyes, and left. I cried on the way home.
I spent the first day of my leave on the couch watching Netflix.
I spent the second day of my leave walking. And walking. And walking. I applied evening primrose oil to my cervix and chugged red raspberry leaf tea. While I walked I felt what I thought maybe were contractions but maybe they were just muscle cramps because I was 41 weeks pregnant and weighed close to 180 pounds and I was walking up and down trails in the woods. I think I walked close to six or seven miles that day.
When your daddy came home we went to China Capital for dinner. I remember looking at him and thinking, "this could be our last dinner as a couple", but I don't think I said it out loud. The cramps I had been feeling earlier had disappeared, so I wasn't feeling very optimistic about going into labor any time soon. I ate my soup and some potstickers and we left.
Around 10 pm on Friday, December 15, I felt what I thought was a real contraction. I tried to sleep, I took a bath, and still they came. I felt my water break a little and called the midwife to see how long they wanted me to wait to come in. I was Group B Strep positive, which meant that you could potentially pick up a dangerous bacteria traveling through the birth canal, so if my water broke I had to go in for IV antibiotics.
Your father and I arrived at the birth center around 5 am on Saturday, December 16. While I waited for the antibiotics to filter into my system, my contractions stopped altogether. We knew it was going to be a while before anything exciting happened, so we headed home to wait until I needed another round of antibiotics. On the way home I started feeling nauseous and your dad pulled over so I could dry heave. Not my proudest moment. I sat on the couch for a couple of hours, dry heaving the entire time, and your dad tried to get me to eat or drink, which I refused because I thought it would just make the nausea worse. We went back to the birth center around 9 am and I received another dose of antibiotics. My contractions had picked up before we left the house but they stopped, again, after I got in the bed for the IV.
At this point we finally called our families to let everyone know that you were going to be born, eventually.
After the second round of antibiotics your father and I walked around the mall for hours. I would walk until I felt a contraction come on. Your father timed each one and we didn't go back to the birth center until my contractions were about 45 seconds long with 15 seconds in between. One more dose of antibiotics later and my contractions had stopped, again.
The birth center gave us the option to go home or stay and we opted to go home, me feeling defeated and your father bewildered. Contractions started up strong at about 5pm and we headed back to the birth center around 7pm, hoping to have a baby when we left.
Laboring at the birth center was slow. I bounced on the ball, got in the tub, crouched on the floor and in the bed, and even sat on the toilet hoping to speed you along. At 11 pm, nearly 24 hours after my contractions first started and more than 24 hours since my last bite of food, I looked at your father and said that we may end up going to the hospital. I hadn't slept since Thursday night and was exhausted from lack of food and all the driving and the contractions, which had mostly been in my back. Shortly after my midwife checked my cervix. I was at a disappointing 2 cm. After all of that work I had nothing to show for it except an empty stomach and a lousy undilated cervix. My midwife, Elke, looked at me and said that it could be another 8 to 10 hours of labor before I was dilated enough to start pushing, and there was no guarantee it wouldn't take longer. She and I decided that it would be best to head to the hospital for an epidural and pitocin.
Your daddy did the right thing by trying to remind me how badly I wanted to have an all natural birth, but we really had reached a point where it could have become dangerous to continue naturally. I quickly grieved the loss of my perfect natural birth and we grabbed our essentials and headed out the door, leaving the rest of our things to be collected and transported by our family. My sister drove us to the hospital so we wouldn't have to worry about parking and I remember yelling at your father to get his hand off my IV port as we entered the hospital.
We trudged our way to the elevator between contractions but despite the midwife calling ahead and me being the only laboring woman requesting entry into the delivery unit, the nurses at the front desk took their SWEET time admitting me, asking me to sign all kinds of paperwork and answer stupid questions like "did you bring a weapon with you". Really?
We finally got to our room and the hospital nurses tethered me to a plethora of machines that administered various liquids and monitored everything from your heart rate to the number of times I blinked in a minute. The anesthesiologist came in and gave me an epidural... something I did not under any circumstances want but needed so I could get some rest and be pumped full of pitocin to get my uterus working. This was the only time I saw your dad get worried but he gave me every bit of support I needed. After the epidural kicked in your heart rate dropped a little and one of the hospital nurses began to panic. I swear I heard the tinkling of surgical instruments in the background and I looked at my midwife and told her that they were NOT going to give me a C-section. She assured the nurse that you were fine, you just didn't like when I laid on my left side. I turned over and your heart rate jumped back up and the C-section-happy nurse sauntered off to do paperwork or something.
Finally, I was able to get some sleep. That is, I was able to sleep between every machine going off, loudly, to proclaim that SOMETHING MUST BE WRONG. Nothing was ever wrong, the IV in my arm just got bent up and the machine couldn't do its job properly. I slept on and off for about four hours and then began to feel pressure in my bum. My midwife checked my cervix and HALLELUJAH I was dilated to nine glorious centimeters! But then the epidural began to wear off.
Pitocin is a drug that mimics oxytocin, which is the natural hormone that is supposed to cause a woman's uterus to contract when she's ready to give birth. Women don't necessarily need pitocin, but it can be useful when labor stalls out, or if a woman requires an induction. A pitocin drip causes the uterus to go into overdrive and contract almost constantly, which is why I was able to fully dilate in four hours. That's also why I immediately felt when my epidural began to wear off... my overworked uterus was sending a million pain signals to my brain and I requested an additional dose of anesthetic.
My water broke completely just after the bump in anesthetic. I felt and heard the amniotic sac burst and felt the rush of fluid leave me and flood the hospital bed. Not a pleasant experience, but it meant that I was one step closer to holding you in my arms. Unfortunately, the hour or so immediately after my water breaking is a bit hazy, which I think has to do with the amount of anesthetic I had been given. At some point I declared that I did NOT want anyone but my mom and your dad in the room with me, but thankfully, my father urged my best friend to go in and take photos, like I had asked her to do when I was in a better state of mind.
I remember beginning to push. My mother was on the left, helping me hold my leg back to open the birth canal, and your father was on the right doing the same. I was given water and an orange popsicle to replenish the liquids I had lost over the last few days. Your daddy kept encouraging me, but he also kept patting my leg, which was annoying. I could feel you moving down, and I each time I pushed you would move down a little more. Then your head got stuck on my pubic bone. After a few good, hard, pushes your head began to emerge. Your daddy's face lit up and I felt a new rush of energy. We were so close! I rested and pushed, rested and pushed, rested and pushed, each time moving you further away and closer to me at the same time.
And then, at 9:30 am on December 17, 2017, you were born. I don't remember hearing you cry, although I'm sure that you did. My midwife lifted you up on my chest and I cried. I think your daddy may have cried a little too. We both rested while I stared at your beautiful red and squishy and perfect face, which surprisingly lacked vernix! You weighed 8 pounds 7.5 ounces and were 20 inches long.
We spent longer in the hospital than I would have liked (Sunday night and most of Monday). Going to the hospital in general was not something I wanted or really planned for. I mean, I made an "in case of emergency" birth plan, but didn't think I'd really have to use it. I wanted to give birth to you in a tub full of water or in a nice squishy bed that felt like home, maybe even in the shower or the floor, with your daddy being the first to hold you before you were handed over to me. But, as you will grow to learn, life doesn't always go as planned and you have to accept and make the best of what you're given.
I may not have gotten the perfect natural birth I had dreamed of and planned for, but you are every bit of the perfection I was longing to hold close to my heart while I carried you. God used my pregnancy and your birth to teach me to wait on Him. I felt like I would be pregnant forever but really I was just going to be pregnant until I relinquished control and put my delivery in God's hands. I know He will continue to teach me, teach us, and teach you, that He is always sovereign, no matter what happens or what I may desire.
I love you, little boy, and I am so glad that you are mine.
Love,
Mama
My pregnancy was a breeze. There was no morning sickness or out of the ordinary symptoms to clue me in that I was pregnant, I just took a test because I had a box of fifty I had bought on Amazon when your daddy said that we didn't have to try for a baby but we could stop trying to not have one. Oh, and I was a week late. I guess my breasts were a little sore, too? If you ever want to see the test I keep it in my jewelry box.
We told your grandparents in person a few days after I found out. Your GranDonna cried and your GranBob raised his eyebrows. Your Grandpa Tim smiled wider than I had ever seen him smile before and your Grammy Lesa laughed a lot, I think. Great Grandmas Kay and Faye were tickled to be great grandmas again, and your Great Grandpa Moore was over the moon. Your father and I waited to tell the church until I was about 15 weeks along, not for any particular reason or worry, but because it just didn't feel right to go shouting around that I was pregnant. The day I told my boss at work was an eventful one... I had just gotten off the phone with a particularly nasty woman and burst into tears. I sat on the couch in her office before going home and shared that I would be having a baby. I apologized, stupidly, because they had just promoted me and I would have to leave in less than a year to be with you for at least three months. I couldn't tell if she was legitimately happy for me or not, but she smiled and consoled me and said that everything was going to be okay.
Spoiler alert... everything is okay.
Besides being more prone to crying than normal and craving too much fried food and Sheetz breakfast burritos and Fruity Pebbles, I didn't experience any troublesome pregnancy symptoms. I became strangely disgusted by red meat early on, but that resolved around 15 weeks. I did throw up a few times and all of them were my fault. The first time was because I ate Burger King for breakfast, which I never did even before I was pregnant, and the second, third, and fourth times were much later in my third trimester when my stomach was too squished to enjoy a bowl of cereal before bed so I ended up overeating and having to vomit it all up.
From looking at the few photos I have of pregnant me, I was a little puffy towards the end and my feet were a bit swollen.
Oh, we also kept everything about you off of social media until after you were born, which was really fun.
The day your daddy and I first heard your heartbeat was so special. I recorded it on my phone and listened to it on repeat. We didn't want to know if you were a boy or a girl, so we closed our eyes during that part of your anatomy scan at 20 weeks. Your father wouldn't have been able to tell, but I think I probably would have. The best part of being pregnant with you was always feeling your left heel in my right side.You were head down from about 25 weeks on, I think, and you liked to lay facing my right side with your knees curled up to your face and your feet stuffed under my right ribs. I was able to cradle that heel with my hand while I was at work, which was so so sweet. You also got the hiccups. Like, more than five times a day. My entire belly would bounce and I have a little video of your violent hiccuping around 37 weeks. The hiccups worried me at first because I remembered reading that persistent hiccups could be a sign of cord issues, but the midwives didn't seem concerned. Most days you were really active and I miss feeling your wiggles.
I worked through my entire pregnancy... I don't think I even called out sick once... but I finally decided to stay home when I hit the 41st week. I went to my midwife appointment that morning and had to have a non-stress test to make sure you were okay, which of course you were. One of the midwives, Nona, suggested that I may just not be giving my body enough time to relax and prepare for birth. On the drive back to work I decided that would be my last day. I clocked in, checked my emails and sent notices to all of the accounts I was responsible for to let them know I was FINALLY going on maternity leave, said my goodbyes, and left. I cried on the way home.
I spent the first day of my leave on the couch watching Netflix.
I spent the second day of my leave walking. And walking. And walking. I applied evening primrose oil to my cervix and chugged red raspberry leaf tea. While I walked I felt what I thought maybe were contractions but maybe they were just muscle cramps because I was 41 weeks pregnant and weighed close to 180 pounds and I was walking up and down trails in the woods. I think I walked close to six or seven miles that day.
When your daddy came home we went to China Capital for dinner. I remember looking at him and thinking, "this could be our last dinner as a couple", but I don't think I said it out loud. The cramps I had been feeling earlier had disappeared, so I wasn't feeling very optimistic about going into labor any time soon. I ate my soup and some potstickers and we left.
Around 10 pm on Friday, December 15, I felt what I thought was a real contraction. I tried to sleep, I took a bath, and still they came. I felt my water break a little and called the midwife to see how long they wanted me to wait to come in. I was Group B Strep positive, which meant that you could potentially pick up a dangerous bacteria traveling through the birth canal, so if my water broke I had to go in for IV antibiotics.
Your father and I arrived at the birth center around 5 am on Saturday, December 16. While I waited for the antibiotics to filter into my system, my contractions stopped altogether. We knew it was going to be a while before anything exciting happened, so we headed home to wait until I needed another round of antibiotics. On the way home I started feeling nauseous and your dad pulled over so I could dry heave. Not my proudest moment. I sat on the couch for a couple of hours, dry heaving the entire time, and your dad tried to get me to eat or drink, which I refused because I thought it would just make the nausea worse. We went back to the birth center around 9 am and I received another dose of antibiotics. My contractions had picked up before we left the house but they stopped, again, after I got in the bed for the IV.
At this point we finally called our families to let everyone know that you were going to be born, eventually.
After the second round of antibiotics your father and I walked around the mall for hours. I would walk until I felt a contraction come on. Your father timed each one and we didn't go back to the birth center until my contractions were about 45 seconds long with 15 seconds in between. One more dose of antibiotics later and my contractions had stopped, again.
The birth center gave us the option to go home or stay and we opted to go home, me feeling defeated and your father bewildered. Contractions started up strong at about 5pm and we headed back to the birth center around 7pm, hoping to have a baby when we left.
Laboring at the birth center was slow. I bounced on the ball, got in the tub, crouched on the floor and in the bed, and even sat on the toilet hoping to speed you along. At 11 pm, nearly 24 hours after my contractions first started and more than 24 hours since my last bite of food, I looked at your father and said that we may end up going to the hospital. I hadn't slept since Thursday night and was exhausted from lack of food and all the driving and the contractions, which had mostly been in my back. Shortly after my midwife checked my cervix. I was at a disappointing 2 cm. After all of that work I had nothing to show for it except an empty stomach and a lousy undilated cervix. My midwife, Elke, looked at me and said that it could be another 8 to 10 hours of labor before I was dilated enough to start pushing, and there was no guarantee it wouldn't take longer. She and I decided that it would be best to head to the hospital for an epidural and pitocin.
Your daddy did the right thing by trying to remind me how badly I wanted to have an all natural birth, but we really had reached a point where it could have become dangerous to continue naturally. I quickly grieved the loss of my perfect natural birth and we grabbed our essentials and headed out the door, leaving the rest of our things to be collected and transported by our family. My sister drove us to the hospital so we wouldn't have to worry about parking and I remember yelling at your father to get his hand off my IV port as we entered the hospital.
We trudged our way to the elevator between contractions but despite the midwife calling ahead and me being the only laboring woman requesting entry into the delivery unit, the nurses at the front desk took their SWEET time admitting me, asking me to sign all kinds of paperwork and answer stupid questions like "did you bring a weapon with you". Really?
We finally got to our room and the hospital nurses tethered me to a plethora of machines that administered various liquids and monitored everything from your heart rate to the number of times I blinked in a minute. The anesthesiologist came in and gave me an epidural... something I did not under any circumstances want but needed so I could get some rest and be pumped full of pitocin to get my uterus working. This was the only time I saw your dad get worried but he gave me every bit of support I needed. After the epidural kicked in your heart rate dropped a little and one of the hospital nurses began to panic. I swear I heard the tinkling of surgical instruments in the background and I looked at my midwife and told her that they were NOT going to give me a C-section. She assured the nurse that you were fine, you just didn't like when I laid on my left side. I turned over and your heart rate jumped back up and the C-section-happy nurse sauntered off to do paperwork or something.
Finally, I was able to get some sleep. That is, I was able to sleep between every machine going off, loudly, to proclaim that SOMETHING MUST BE WRONG. Nothing was ever wrong, the IV in my arm just got bent up and the machine couldn't do its job properly. I slept on and off for about four hours and then began to feel pressure in my bum. My midwife checked my cervix and HALLELUJAH I was dilated to nine glorious centimeters! But then the epidural began to wear off.
Pitocin is a drug that mimics oxytocin, which is the natural hormone that is supposed to cause a woman's uterus to contract when she's ready to give birth. Women don't necessarily need pitocin, but it can be useful when labor stalls out, or if a woman requires an induction. A pitocin drip causes the uterus to go into overdrive and contract almost constantly, which is why I was able to fully dilate in four hours. That's also why I immediately felt when my epidural began to wear off... my overworked uterus was sending a million pain signals to my brain and I requested an additional dose of anesthetic.
My water broke completely just after the bump in anesthetic. I felt and heard the amniotic sac burst and felt the rush of fluid leave me and flood the hospital bed. Not a pleasant experience, but it meant that I was one step closer to holding you in my arms. Unfortunately, the hour or so immediately after my water breaking is a bit hazy, which I think has to do with the amount of anesthetic I had been given. At some point I declared that I did NOT want anyone but my mom and your dad in the room with me, but thankfully, my father urged my best friend to go in and take photos, like I had asked her to do when I was in a better state of mind.
I remember beginning to push. My mother was on the left, helping me hold my leg back to open the birth canal, and your father was on the right doing the same. I was given water and an orange popsicle to replenish the liquids I had lost over the last few days. Your daddy kept encouraging me, but he also kept patting my leg, which was annoying. I could feel you moving down, and I each time I pushed you would move down a little more. Then your head got stuck on my pubic bone. After a few good, hard, pushes your head began to emerge. Your daddy's face lit up and I felt a new rush of energy. We were so close! I rested and pushed, rested and pushed, rested and pushed, each time moving you further away and closer to me at the same time.
And then, at 9:30 am on December 17, 2017, you were born. I don't remember hearing you cry, although I'm sure that you did. My midwife lifted you up on my chest and I cried. I think your daddy may have cried a little too. We both rested while I stared at your beautiful red and squishy and perfect face, which surprisingly lacked vernix! You weighed 8 pounds 7.5 ounces and were 20 inches long.
We spent longer in the hospital than I would have liked (Sunday night and most of Monday). Going to the hospital in general was not something I wanted or really planned for. I mean, I made an "in case of emergency" birth plan, but didn't think I'd really have to use it. I wanted to give birth to you in a tub full of water or in a nice squishy bed that felt like home, maybe even in the shower or the floor, with your daddy being the first to hold you before you were handed over to me. But, as you will grow to learn, life doesn't always go as planned and you have to accept and make the best of what you're given.
I may not have gotten the perfect natural birth I had dreamed of and planned for, but you are every bit of the perfection I was longing to hold close to my heart while I carried you. God used my pregnancy and your birth to teach me to wait on Him. I felt like I would be pregnant forever but really I was just going to be pregnant until I relinquished control and put my delivery in God's hands. I know He will continue to teach me, teach us, and teach you, that He is always sovereign, no matter what happens or what I may desire.
I love you, little boy, and I am so glad that you are mine.
Love,
Mama
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