Noah's Birth Story

Welcome to the world Baby Noah! We decided to go with Noah Hullinger Ware. As I mentioned in my last post, Adam has had a much stronger opinion on the name choice this time around, so he got his way with both Noah and Hullinger. You're thinking, "But Hullinger is your name. Why were you against it?" Well, I love it as a last name. And I have loved having it as my middle name since I got married. But assigning it to anyone else just didn't really excite me. And I have been trying to act cool and buck tradition and just go with names that sound interesting to me, hence all the "Sutton" and "Pierce" and "Steele" ideas (although I just realized Steele Ware wouldn't work). We didn't do a family name for Sienna's middle name (McCall) because, again, I just wanted it to sound cool and I've thought it would be nice to let my kids have their own names and not be tied to anyone else. Plus, I'm doing my progeny a favor and infusing the family tree with new, different names for them to use if they want to use family names for their kids. Isn't that thoughtful of me? Well, Adam has really liked having his mom's maiden name "MacKay" because it gives him a tie to that side of the family. I consulted my three brothers who all have my mom's maiden name "Giles" for a middle name and they also really liked their names. So, Hullinger won. And I like it. This kid could be named Mud and I'd like it because he is adorable no matter what.

Naming information aside, here are the other vital stats: Born Friday, May 27, 2011 (3 days early) at 4:48 pm. He was 7 lbs 5 oz and 21 inches. Same weight as Sienna, just 2 inches longer.

And now for the story of the birth! I am going to post ALL of it here. Not like last time when I just did the Reader's Digest version. In case you didn't catch that:

DISCLAIMER: THE REMAINDER OF THIS POST WILL CONTAIN TALK ABOUT MY CROTCH, LOTS OF PAIN, AND ONE SWEAR WORD. DON'T READ AHEAD IF THAT WILL MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE.

Here goes ...

Friday morning I went to yoga and felt totally normal. I was feeling too normal, like this baby would never actually come because I was feeling so good. I took it extra easy because I had imagined many times that my water broke at yoga and I'd played out the whole scenario of yelping, grabbing my mat and running out as water trickled down my hairy legs. Not to worry, yoga class was uneventful. After yoga, I went to Target for some last minute items. I was headed downstairs (it's a double decker Target) via the elevator for 2 more things (diapers a pink sock monkey for Sienna). A friendly Target employee was chatting it up with me in the elevator and we were having a good laugh over this crusty chunk of bread someone had left on her cart when GUSH, GUSH, GUSH. Nothing like the feeling of wetting your pants in public! I couldn't be sure that this was IT. Last time my water broke after several nights of really painful contractions. Could my water have just broken out of the blue like that? With no warning? Once we were out of the elevator, I quickly abandoned my cart and scooted to the bathroom, dragging Sienna by the hand. She yelled out "candy" as we passed the candy aisle. She LOVES anything to do with hanging out at the potty, so she was a good little girl as I checked my undies. Yep, water breakage. Luckily I was wearing loose, dark workout clothes so no one would be able to tell. My brain started going in every direction but I decided to stay focused and finish the task at hand. Get those 2 items and scat! I knew the next time I'd be at Target I would be dragging TWO kids around. No bueno! Diapers, check. Sock monkeys, all out. I grabbed a sleeve of Rolos to quiet Sienna's unceasing "candy" chant. I checked out and almost wished I could tell the nice young gentleman at the register the significance of what was happening right in front of him. Instead, I tried not to let it show that my head was spinning and my brown cut-off velour yoga pants were wet. Not dripping like I'd imagined, thank goodness, just wet. We made it to the car and I put down my trusty reusable grocery sacks to sit on. Go green! It was almost noon.

At home my brain was telling me, "Call your doctor" but my phobia for getting to the hospital and being waited on while I labored overruled and I went about my business and waited for Adam to get home. I got Sienna lunch and put her down for a nap and start packing our bags. Adam came home from class at 1 pm (he has one morning class on Fridays). I told him, "I think my water broke." He smiled and said, "Really?!" He agreed that we should wait to call the hospital and we fixed some lunch and sat down to think about the rest of the day. He said, "I love having babies with you. It is my favorite thing ever," and we both got a little teary eyed. Awww. We waited another hour and I called DeeDee, the neighbor who was planning to take Sienna. She wigged out and said, "Call your doctor!" I told her I was going to wait another half hour. She just laughed. She was 10 days overdue with her daughter and almost died in childbirth so she cannot fathom my stupidity at WAITING to get the baby out. Around 1:45 pm cramps started happening. On and off every 5 - 10 minutes I was getting low cramps, right in my crotch. I was still confused about whether or not it was labor because they weren't contractions, but they were coming off and on like contractions. They didn't hurt that much, either. For 45 minutes they came regularly so I finally called the nurse and she said to come in. Adam took his time packing a bag and cleaning up lunch. He did the same exact thing last time: loaded the dishwasher so we could come home to a clean kitchen. Good, calm man. I was still really confused and getting really nervous about showing up to the hospital too soon. After all, last time I showed up dilated to a 9, and I really wanted it to be the same thing this time. Adam walked Sienna across the street to DeeDee's and then we hopped in the car and said a prayer.

The ride to the hospital wasn't that bad. I was still just having cramps and doing some medium breathing through them. In between, Adam and I were talking and laughing and lamenting the fact that we would be missing the Mariners/Yankees game that night which was the birthday present I gave Adam a month ago. (I'm actually still peeved we missed that. Trying to get over it.) We arrived at UW Hospital at 3:15 pm. The valet asked, "Is it game time? Good luck!" I ignored him and walked like a woman with a purpose. My focus was on getting up to labor/delivery on the 6th floor without making a scene. No problem because my cramps were still only at the slightly uncomfortable stage. At check-in I said, "Hello. I'm here to ... uh ... deliver." Right about that point is when I started breathing deeper and bending and dancing around and showing that I'm more and more uncomfortable. No one seemed in a hurry or worried, and I even spotted my doctor in the waiting room and she asked, "So your bag of waters broke?" like she's asking, "So you got the McGriddle sandwich?" (which, by the way, became quite the crave-food near the end of my pregnancy). I put on the lovely hospital gown and the nurse checked my cervix. Are you ready for this? SEVEN! I put my fist in the air and proclaimed, "I LOVE MY BODY!" After the word is out, the nurses hurried a bit faster and acted a bit more excited. They moved me to a delivery room and provided a green birth ball just as the cramps were replaced by contractions and were getting stronger. Squatting on that birth ball felt really good as far as relieving pressure and I leaned on Adam's leg and held his hand while I labored for awhile there. I told him how good he smelled. He had on his new aftershave and had just washed his hands and I was really relishing it for some reason. Better to labor with a good-smelling husband than a stinky one, I say.

The delivery room had a nice view of UW football stadium. I loved seeing all the cars and people below just going on about their business. It was calming to think that life was carrying on all around even though time was standing still for me. I was trying not to let the stadium remind me of the baseball game I was about to miss. All for the birth of a baby! Come on! (Those tickets are now going in his baby book to remind him forever that HE OWES US.)

Suddenly I was feeling some urges to PUSH. I announced, "I have to push!" The nurses helped me on the bed and measured again. EIGHT. HUH? LAME! However, they told me to stay there because things should go quickly and I'd be able to push soon. I had some really painful contractions and was super annoyed I was stuck in the bed for them. At this point the anesthesiologist came to my bedside to have a chat. Aren't you a little late, mister? I tried to show him I was in control so he wouldn't recommend an epidural. That's another phobia I have - people taking advantage of me during birth. I had this weird daydream that he would see my pain and when I turned my back go, "AH HA! I KNEW YOU'D NEED THE EPIDURAL!" with a swift stab in my back with the needle. Actually he was really nice and gave my knee a squeeze as he left, like, "I'll be here if you need me, but best of luck if you don't." The resident OB had come in about the same time and introduced herself as Anna. I liked her immediately, especially after I made the weird request that she take some pictures of Adam and me during my next contraction. She said, "That's not weird at all. I photographed my sister's entire birth even though she didn't want me to." That's when I knew, "Anna gets it." (Side note: I had wanted a professional photographer to come document my labor and delivery but decided against it in the end because of the cost and the added stress of having a stranger in the room plus coordinating all the details of getting the photographer there while I was trying to focus on laboring. Maybe someday I'll have a friend or family member do it, but I'm glad it was just Adam and me in there. Too many people would stress me out.)

Anna checked me again and said I was close enough to start pushing, that my cervix just had a little lip left so I'd be fine. My OB, Dr. Sarah Waller had arrived by then and it looked like Anna would be in charge with Dr. Waller on the side for assistance when needed. I guess that's how it works at these university hospitals. Sometimes that bugs me, (like when I've gotten a young, male resident OB coming in to see me) but Anna and Dr. Waller were a great team and I really needed them both throughout the next terrible half hour.

It was 4:20 pm and I started to push. The contractions suddenly went GANGBUSTERS! Yes, imagine a gang of really mean dudes with black, bandit-like handkerchiefs around their heads or mouths, beating up your uterus. They are so mean and I hate them and this is the second time they've shown up to beat the trash out of my insides. Except this time around they were meaner! This birth was proving to be different from Sienna's in two ways: getting to the pushing stage had hardly any buildup and then suddenly the pushing contractions were KILLING ME. It was 4:30 and I had done several big pushes and was already hating life and feeling like the past 10 minutes were an eternity. I wanted to rip the clock off the wall because time was NOT passing. At times I was deep breathing my head off and focusing and staying in control, but more often than not I was yelling and sobbing and saying, "I can't do this! I don't want to do this! I can't do this! I can't do this!" At one point I said, "It feels like I'm pushing a giant turd out of my butt!" Resident Anna said, "That's exactly right. You are going to feel like your butthole is turning inside out." Oddly enough, that visualization really helped me figure out how and where to push. I was realizing that with Sienna's birth the local anesthetic the doctor had used must have really numbed a lot down there so I didn't feel as much, plus the episiotomy she gave me made Sienna slip right out. This time around my birth team was respecting my wishes for no episiotomy and I was regretting it! I could feel so much more this time - the feeling that his head was in fact NOT going to fit through my vagina, the feeling of all the fluids gushing out, the feeling of the doctors putting their fingers up there and stretching me out and putting pressure where I needed to push. All of that feeling was messing with my head. I was regretting being so cavalier about not going with the epidural. It became very clear to me why women love their epidurals.

About 15 minutes into it, Dr. Waller said, "Okay, he's going to be here this next contraction." I looked her square in the eye and said, very seriously, "I LOVE YOU." Well. Nope. Nada. Shame on her! It actually took about 3 or 4 more horrible contractions and about 15 more minutes. The last 5 minutes it felt like baby's head was lodged in my crotch, just sitting there. UGH. It was horrible. I kept chanting, "Baby come out. Baby come out. Baby come out! I hate you, baby!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Adam's reaction to this half hour of me flipping out was kind of a blank calmness. He wasn't my happy, positive cheerleader from Sienna's birth. He was my warm hand to hold and when I'd look at him, I'd get a weary, "Good job, honey. You're doing great." But I could tell he was as scared as I was. I focused my attention, when I was able, more on the two doctors. They had some tough talk and sometimes I obeyed and sometimes I gave up. "Martha, breathe. You have to calm down. Get your heart rate down. You're doing great." I whole-heartedly did not believe that I was doing great nor did I believe this baby was going to come out. My arms were numb, I was sweating and feverish and on the verge of throwing up. I yelled, "I'm going to throw up, I'm going to throw up," and they gave me a bag - but thank goodness I never did. I'd only had a small bowl of pasta for lunch and was totally starving and was zapped of energy as it was.

When baby boy finally did slither out, I yelled, "OH, SHIT!" I am still not sure why I said that at that particular moment; "shit" isn't even my usual swear word of choice and it seems like more swearing would have been appropriate BEFORE he emerged. I think it was a combination of relief and surprise plus my reaction to how purple he was. They put him on my chest and covered him up in blankets. I was so mad at him, I couldn't even smile for at least 10 minutes. I hated that baby so much. Weird, right? I think people are usually mad at their husbands or doctors or nurses or whatever, but I seriously just hated that stupid baby. Plus, for a good 10 minutes or more the doctors were pushing on my belly to get the placenta out as well as sticking me with needles to numb my crotch so they could stitch up a small tear. I think they poked me 8 times, though, and I kept saying, "OW" and they'd say, "Sorry, sorry, sorry, we're just numbing the area for stitches." They must have numbed it in 8 places, or just went ahead and did stitches before it was numb. I don't know, but dude, I was SO ANNOYED. I just wanted everyone to leave. I was totally depleted and weak and in shock and I wanted to be alone. Finally, everybody did leave and there were two very sweet nurses left cleaning up and doing various checks on the little boy. They took off his blankets and nestled him against my bare skin so he could breastfeed and snuggle. They moved me up to a recovery room and I handed the baby to Adam so I could order some FOOD. I was so, so hungry and even after eating a giant hot turkey sandwich (which turned into kind of a Thanksgiving meal because I ordered mashed potatoes and steamed carrots and it came with cranberry sauce, which was kind of all thrown together on one big plate - YUM) plus like 10 sides and cheesecake with berry coulis, I was still feeling weak. I'd never had that feeling before - of maxing out my physical reserves so much that not even a huge tray of delicious food could restore my energy. It wasn't until the next day that I felt like my body had absorbed all those calories and was ready to move about somewhat normally.

I was in shock / on cloud 9 for the next couple days. I didn't sleep much the first night because I was still processing the birth. Same thing the second night. Noah, however, has not woken up since he was born. Good news: I have finally fallen in love with him. After I got my energy back and snapped out of some of my shock, I was swooning. He is a Sienna replica with a little bit less hair. He is doing all those erratic newborn movements that make him look like a miniature spastic gorilla. He is eating like a champion (when I can get him to wake up) and generally very calm. He does wake up during those witching hours in the evening around 9 pm - 12 midnight. He's more fussy then and cluster feeds a lot. I've been sleeping with him every night since he was born. I'm not sure why except I just sleep better when he's snuggled against me instead of across the room.

It's now nearly a week later and my mind has already glossed over a lot of the bad details of that birth. If I hadn't written it all down in my journal right after, I'd have lost some of it. The thing I'm most surprised and curious about is why it was harder than Sienna's birth. Sienna's birth and the months leading up to it were much more of a spiritual quest/journey. It was something I felt destined for and the whole thing became a huge growing and learning and spiritual growth experience. This time around, I planned to have a natural birth because it went so well the first time. I didn't really prepare much except to study the general conference talk The Atonement Covers All Pain by Elder Kent Richards because when I first heard it, I felt like it had a lot to do with the purpose of pain in birth. I went through my breathing exercises every night for about a month prior. Yoga a couple times a week was a great way to stay limber and focused and strong, plus practice breathing for a full hour. Other than that, my prep was minimal. The only thing that makes sense to me so far is a birth story from the blog Birth Faith that my friend Mim told me about when we were talking about my birth the day it happened. I haven't read the story myself (and Lani, if you're reading this, I can't wait to get over there and read it!) but Mim said it sounded similar to hers in that the pain came on so fast at the end that there was no build up or time to get in a state of being we natural birthers call "Laborland" (like la-la land in which you zone out and really focus at the same time). During labor with Sienna, there was a gradual build up of pain over several days. With Noah, my water broke with no warning, I had some pathetic cramps, and then BOOM I had to push. With Sienna I do feel like I got into Laborland and was able to concentrate really well. With Noah, I felt totally out of control and hysterical. I'm wondering what I will do the next time around ... Having a sweet newborn makes me want about 8 more of these. But having a birth like that has shaken my confidence in natural birth. I mean, I do still think laboring and birthing without drugs is a good ideal for me and has produced good results overall (healthy baby, healthy, fast recovering mama) but I will be less afraid of asking for drugs the next time around, I think. That is, if I show up with enough time to get some. ;)