Friday night September 8th, Braden and I went to the temple. It was the last thing on my extensive nesting list that I deemed truly important. Usually when you leave the temple the darling little old matrons say, "Thank you for coming to the temple". That night they said, "Thank you for not having your baby in the temple". One of them asked me if it was twins and when I said no she said, "Oh. Just a really big baby?". I told her it was likely a size medium baby and a really big hamburger before I got there. I mentioned to Braden on the way home that the baby could come now and I would feel okay.
The next morning I woke up in a pool of blood. I was immediately worried and had Braden call the hospital. They said that it could just be cervical bleeding and that it was probably fine as long as it wasn't gushing. I could feel him moving and didn't feel that he was in distress. I had the sense that the baby was coming so I went about the house trying to ready it for me to be gone. I packed a bag and tried to think of all the possible pain relieving methods I had prepared over the last few weeks. As the morning went on, the bleeding continued in the same way and then it tapered out a bit. We went to Anabelle's first soccer game of the season, which Braden was coaching. I was having contractions but nothing too intense. At the game I braided all the girls hair, thinking that I wouldn't be around for a few days to do it, and hoping that crimpy hair would help Braden out for church the next day.
Around 4pm I was in the kitchen making dinner and washing dishes with Anabelle. I felt a sudden gush and wondered if my water had broken. I found a blood clot entirely too big to be safe and knew immediately that we needed to leave. I called my visiting teacher, Kathy Shumway, and she said she would come over. I put comfortable clothes on, did my makeup, and went out to finish dinner. Contractions started to pickup but I wasn't focusing on them because I was rushing around trying to gather things and clean up. Anabelle asked me why I put makeup on to go have a baby. I told her it was my war paint and that I needed my game face on. She laughed at me and shook her head the way she does when she doesn't understand me. Kathy showed up before I had a chance to feed the kids. I kissed all of them, feeling a sadness at not taking some of them with me, especially Anabelle. My mind was whirling, and the concern over the blood clot prevented me from thinking through a way that she could come.
In the car, in the absence of things to do, I realized that the contractions were regular- less than five minutes apart, and growing in intensity. I turned on the Mormon Tabernacle Choir CD and told Braden that I only wanted to hear track 8- the Hallelujah choir. This entire year, every time I have driven Braden's car, I have listened to that song and envisioned this birth. I closed my eyes and breathed through contractions and focused on feeling the peace, hope, and glory of that song. I looked at Braden and said, "Wow. Sixth time making this drive together". Even though we aren't particularly chatty on those drives, they are special. The emotional climate is unique. And of course Braden is ecstatic to drive like a Nascar racer even though I find it unnecessary. I considered telling him to slow down at one point and then I thought better of it- this is his last chance to drive like this and feel like he has an excuse valid enough to get him off the hook, I can't take that away from him.
After what is supposed to be a 45 minute drive that Braden has shaved significant time off of, we arrive at the hospital. Now I am walking slowly and I can feel the weight settling in around my hips and back. We get to labor and delivery and I sway back and forth calmly while Braden fills out some paperwork and we tell them briefly about the situation. They take me to a room and start an assessment- fetal monitor, cervical check (3.5-4), IV, health interrogation. She says she will call my Dr. to see what she says about the bleeding. After a few minutes the nurse returns and informs us that my Dr. is coming right now to break my water. This surprises me as I expected her to show up later in labor when things are looking imminent. I told the nurse that I don't want my water broken right now as I know that will catapult me suddenly into the throes of full force hard labor. She tells me that I always have the right to refuse any intervention. Shelby, our photographer, arrives and we all small talk while the nurses try to get a line in my arm. The nurses told us previously that they would likely keep me even though I wasn't a full four yet, which is considered active labor. After their chat with the Dr. they moved me to a labor room with intentions of definitely keeping me there.
Dr. Brunnabend arrived soon and came in to talk with us. She told me that with this level of bleeding they usually go right to a C-section. She suspected a placental abruption, noting the dangers of the situation because it cuts off baby's source of oxygen. She said what makes this situation riskier is a woman who has had a C-section before or a woman who has had a lot of babies- and since I've had both we need to work on getting this baby out soon. She didn't convey to me that she was especially concerned or worried, she was cool as a cucumber and seemed like her normal even keel self. She didn't offer me any other options, she just said she was going to break my water and see what happens. She gave me the option of having internal or external monitoring, explaining that the internal monitor would give me more freedom. I deeply wanted that freedom but the thought of the little hook going in his head was too much. She mentioned giving me some pitocin and I assured her that I wouldn't need it, that my body would go full throttle at the break of my water. I asked her if Braden and I could have a minute alone to pray together before she did and she said, "Absolutely", and cleared the room. He hadn't had a chance to give me a blessing yet. He was about to at home and then Kathy showed up, he began one in triage and then the nurses walked in, and I wasn't going any further down this road that just took a hard turn until I had my labor blessing. I can't recall now a single thing he said, other than that it would be a spiritual experience like I had desired it to be. It gave me the sense that everything was okay. The nurse came in at the end because my sitting down had caused the fetal monitor to stop working. I sat on the edge of the bed and hugged him for a minute and then the room began to fill in again.
Dr. B broke my water and as soon as she was done she looked at me and said, "You've got this. You can do it." I nodded and she left me to it. I got up and stood by the side of the bed, swaying gently and breathing through contractions. I had my own gown on, my bag full of labor tools, and a sense that things were about to get real. Not five minutes had passed before the contractions had kicked up a notch. I asked Braden to get my music set up and he pulled my birth play list up and put on my headphones. Within twenty minutes of my water being broken the contractions were roaring fierce and right on top of each other. I had Braden put on my tens unit and by this time I had all but abandoned my play list and was just listening to "Fight Song" by the Piano Guys on repeat. I wrote my own lyrics to their instrumental version of the song and had been rehearsing them in my head for weeks as I did household chores. I never imagined how clutch that music and those words would be for me in carrying me through the intensity of this labor.
As my body was reaching the transition phase of labor, I had gone mentally to that far removed mental state that only happens in this exact circumstance. There is nothing else like it and no way to compare it to any other thing. It is completely unique. I've read that a woman in labor leaves her body, and travels to the stars to collect the soul of her baby, and then they return to this world together. I think that perfectly describes this unearthly experience of approaching the actual birth. Even though I have recently studied all the physiological aspects of this process in great depth, and have done it a handful of times before, it's a place I both dread and love. This time around however, I did not feel dread. I didn't have time. I knew I was ready for what was ahead and I knew that I could do it. I knew that I would do anything to get my son here safely and I was ready for what was coming.
This time was different than all the others. Instead of long hard contractions with small breaks in between, it seemed that it turned into one unending contraction. There didn't seem to be any actual breaks- and then my body started to push involuntarily. I called out to get the doctor and turned around to see a whole staff of nurses readying the room. Braden says they had been there for quite a while but I had been completely oblivious to them. Dr. Brunnabend came in and I asked her if she wanted to check me. In all of my birthing experience this was the point where the Dr. enters and wants to see that you are complete. Then they start instructing you on where and how they want you positioned and then the pushing coaching ensues. I was anticipating this and waiting for it. Dr. B said, "No. I'm just sitting here". She pulled up a chair and just sat. I asked her if I should push. She asked me if I wanted to push. Then she said, "You do what you want. You know what to do". It was so liberating to hear that. I never doubted that I knew what to do, I was just accustomed to being accommodating to the delivering Dr and trying to move through the process to get the baby out. Her words were empowering. They were healing. I knew that I wanted to push in a different position but had never been allowed to before. Having this freedom, I moved to all fours. This seemed to make the pain worse in places and I needed Braden to rub me for the first time in this labor. I stayed in this position for a few minutes, my body pushing the whole time without my concentrated effort. It became clear to me that I needed to push but I wasn't comfortable. I knew I needed to be more open and that position was inadequate. I stood up and started moving around. It didn't seem like standing would be right so I ended up on my back. Someone said something about a birth bar and I said, "You have a birth bar?!? Bring it! Quick!" They hurried and set it up and my intention was to move there when I could. But instead I just started pushing. I didn't push in counts of ten to the instructions of anybodys coaching. I just pushed. I recall that it felt better to push that way and I summoned all my power and just kept pushing. Braden announced that he could see the head. This shocked me as I assumed I had minutes of pushing to go and had intentions of squatting at the bar. When I realized his head was there I wanted Braden to be the one to catch the baby. He was standing to my side and I told him to go deliver him. He was there just in time to pull him out. He handed the baby right to me- wet and warm and wonderful. It was a rush of absolute elation. Joy that is unmatched. Relief that is was over. Nobody came to take the baby from me and I just held him to my chest, kissing his head and feeling so very indescribably happy.
I looked at the clock- 8:30. That was one wild hour.
They decided to keep me for 48 hours. Usually I am itching to get out of there and go home but this time, I liked it. I stayed in bed and snuggled close to his face. As usual I wasn't able to sleep a minute that first night. I laid next to him and drank in his little baby breaths and felt his soft skin. Thinking that I will never get this amazing experience again made me afraid to miss any second of it. Despite all the pain and physical discomforts I was feeling, I was enjoying my maternal oxytocin high. Braden snored on the couch like a bear and Levi purred like a cat in my bed, and I asked the nurses to keep the percocet coming while I drank in every new minute with this little son that I had prayed, hoped and waited for.
I would say that his birth was my best. It was intense and furious. But I never felt for a second that I was miserable. I never had the perception that I was suffering. I never doubted that I could do it or felt fear or panic or wondered how long it would go on. Labor just swept over me with an intense power and I felt like I just let myself go with it. It's that choice to surrender and simultaneously fight that I love about labor. It's extreme humility in the deepest parts of my soul-asking God to give me strength to endure it well, and turning myself over to the process. It's gathering all of my courage and mental fortitude and turning it into an inpenatratable wall of strength. It's the most primal innately feminine thing I do and it is hard work. It requires every bit of me, no exceptions. And then comes the moment when that baby is laid on my chest and all the months of sickness and fatigue and pain melt away and this little soul is all that matters.
I have spent nearly the last twelve years bearing children. Much of my time, life, and body has been consumed in some phase of creating, giving, or sustaining life. In that time, I have come to understand that the way a woman gives birth matters. It is an absolutely transformative event. Not only is a baby born, but a mother as well. Even if it is not a first birth, each baby brings a new season of motherhood. I have traveled into the throes of those labors and come out a different person on the other side. They have been hours of toil and self discovery. I have discovered strength I never knew- both my own as well as divine assistance. Birth is sacred. I think it is the time when a woman can come as close to the love of the Savior as possible- in that you are sacrificing of yourself-giving your body in a way that gives life to another soul that could come in no other way. You are doing something for someone else that they cannot do for themselves.
We intend for Levi to be our last baby. I feel profoundly grateful for the opportunity to have born six children. To have carried them, to have spent years and years of my life wondering about them and waiting for them and then finally giving life to these precious souls that I love more deeply than I could ever hope to express.
The name Levi means "attached, joined, pledged". We had considerable trouble naming him. He left the hospital nameless and remained so for the better part of the week. As I returned to the hospital I sat with the paperwork in a room by myself praying. I wanted a name that was right for him. I thought of the meaning of Levi and realized it was perfect. Thinking back over the course of events that brought him to our family, I do think he was pledged to us. What a perfect way to end our family than with this mighty little son attached and joined, finally.
Levi Connor Reynolds, born September 9, 2017 at 8:30pm, 7 lbs 6 oz, 20 inches long.
Snuggling into the missing piece in my heart and filling it in perfectly.
The next morning I woke up in a pool of blood. I was immediately worried and had Braden call the hospital. They said that it could just be cervical bleeding and that it was probably fine as long as it wasn't gushing. I could feel him moving and didn't feel that he was in distress. I had the sense that the baby was coming so I went about the house trying to ready it for me to be gone. I packed a bag and tried to think of all the possible pain relieving methods I had prepared over the last few weeks. As the morning went on, the bleeding continued in the same way and then it tapered out a bit. We went to Anabelle's first soccer game of the season, which Braden was coaching. I was having contractions but nothing too intense. At the game I braided all the girls hair, thinking that I wouldn't be around for a few days to do it, and hoping that crimpy hair would help Braden out for church the next day.
Around 4pm I was in the kitchen making dinner and washing dishes with Anabelle. I felt a sudden gush and wondered if my water had broken. I found a blood clot entirely too big to be safe and knew immediately that we needed to leave. I called my visiting teacher, Kathy Shumway, and she said she would come over. I put comfortable clothes on, did my makeup, and went out to finish dinner. Contractions started to pickup but I wasn't focusing on them because I was rushing around trying to gather things and clean up. Anabelle asked me why I put makeup on to go have a baby. I told her it was my war paint and that I needed my game face on. She laughed at me and shook her head the way she does when she doesn't understand me. Kathy showed up before I had a chance to feed the kids. I kissed all of them, feeling a sadness at not taking some of them with me, especially Anabelle. My mind was whirling, and the concern over the blood clot prevented me from thinking through a way that she could come.
In the car, in the absence of things to do, I realized that the contractions were regular- less than five minutes apart, and growing in intensity. I turned on the Mormon Tabernacle Choir CD and told Braden that I only wanted to hear track 8- the Hallelujah choir. This entire year, every time I have driven Braden's car, I have listened to that song and envisioned this birth. I closed my eyes and breathed through contractions and focused on feeling the peace, hope, and glory of that song. I looked at Braden and said, "Wow. Sixth time making this drive together". Even though we aren't particularly chatty on those drives, they are special. The emotional climate is unique. And of course Braden is ecstatic to drive like a Nascar racer even though I find it unnecessary. I considered telling him to slow down at one point and then I thought better of it- this is his last chance to drive like this and feel like he has an excuse valid enough to get him off the hook, I can't take that away from him.
After what is supposed to be a 45 minute drive that Braden has shaved significant time off of, we arrive at the hospital. Now I am walking slowly and I can feel the weight settling in around my hips and back. We get to labor and delivery and I sway back and forth calmly while Braden fills out some paperwork and we tell them briefly about the situation. They take me to a room and start an assessment- fetal monitor, cervical check (3.5-4), IV, health interrogation. She says she will call my Dr. to see what she says about the bleeding. After a few minutes the nurse returns and informs us that my Dr. is coming right now to break my water. This surprises me as I expected her to show up later in labor when things are looking imminent. I told the nurse that I don't want my water broken right now as I know that will catapult me suddenly into the throes of full force hard labor. She tells me that I always have the right to refuse any intervention. Shelby, our photographer, arrives and we all small talk while the nurses try to get a line in my arm. The nurses told us previously that they would likely keep me even though I wasn't a full four yet, which is considered active labor. After their chat with the Dr. they moved me to a labor room with intentions of definitely keeping me there.
Dr. Brunnabend arrived soon and came in to talk with us. She told me that with this level of bleeding they usually go right to a C-section. She suspected a placental abruption, noting the dangers of the situation because it cuts off baby's source of oxygen. She said what makes this situation riskier is a woman who has had a C-section before or a woman who has had a lot of babies- and since I've had both we need to work on getting this baby out soon. She didn't convey to me that she was especially concerned or worried, she was cool as a cucumber and seemed like her normal even keel self. She didn't offer me any other options, she just said she was going to break my water and see what happens. She gave me the option of having internal or external monitoring, explaining that the internal monitor would give me more freedom. I deeply wanted that freedom but the thought of the little hook going in his head was too much. She mentioned giving me some pitocin and I assured her that I wouldn't need it, that my body would go full throttle at the break of my water. I asked her if Braden and I could have a minute alone to pray together before she did and she said, "Absolutely", and cleared the room. He hadn't had a chance to give me a blessing yet. He was about to at home and then Kathy showed up, he began one in triage and then the nurses walked in, and I wasn't going any further down this road that just took a hard turn until I had my labor blessing. I can't recall now a single thing he said, other than that it would be a spiritual experience like I had desired it to be. It gave me the sense that everything was okay. The nurse came in at the end because my sitting down had caused the fetal monitor to stop working. I sat on the edge of the bed and hugged him for a minute and then the room began to fill in again.
Dr. B broke my water and as soon as she was done she looked at me and said, "You've got this. You can do it." I nodded and she left me to it. I got up and stood by the side of the bed, swaying gently and breathing through contractions. I had my own gown on, my bag full of labor tools, and a sense that things were about to get real. Not five minutes had passed before the contractions had kicked up a notch. I asked Braden to get my music set up and he pulled my birth play list up and put on my headphones. Within twenty minutes of my water being broken the contractions were roaring fierce and right on top of each other. I had Braden put on my tens unit and by this time I had all but abandoned my play list and was just listening to "Fight Song" by the Piano Guys on repeat. I wrote my own lyrics to their instrumental version of the song and had been rehearsing them in my head for weeks as I did household chores. I never imagined how clutch that music and those words would be for me in carrying me through the intensity of this labor.
As my body was reaching the transition phase of labor, I had gone mentally to that far removed mental state that only happens in this exact circumstance. There is nothing else like it and no way to compare it to any other thing. It is completely unique. I've read that a woman in labor leaves her body, and travels to the stars to collect the soul of her baby, and then they return to this world together. I think that perfectly describes this unearthly experience of approaching the actual birth. Even though I have recently studied all the physiological aspects of this process in great depth, and have done it a handful of times before, it's a place I both dread and love. This time around however, I did not feel dread. I didn't have time. I knew I was ready for what was ahead and I knew that I could do it. I knew that I would do anything to get my son here safely and I was ready for what was coming.
This time was different than all the others. Instead of long hard contractions with small breaks in between, it seemed that it turned into one unending contraction. There didn't seem to be any actual breaks- and then my body started to push involuntarily. I called out to get the doctor and turned around to see a whole staff of nurses readying the room. Braden says they had been there for quite a while but I had been completely oblivious to them. Dr. Brunnabend came in and I asked her if she wanted to check me. In all of my birthing experience this was the point where the Dr. enters and wants to see that you are complete. Then they start instructing you on where and how they want you positioned and then the pushing coaching ensues. I was anticipating this and waiting for it. Dr. B said, "No. I'm just sitting here". She pulled up a chair and just sat. I asked her if I should push. She asked me if I wanted to push. Then she said, "You do what you want. You know what to do". It was so liberating to hear that. I never doubted that I knew what to do, I was just accustomed to being accommodating to the delivering Dr and trying to move through the process to get the baby out. Her words were empowering. They were healing. I knew that I wanted to push in a different position but had never been allowed to before. Having this freedom, I moved to all fours. This seemed to make the pain worse in places and I needed Braden to rub me for the first time in this labor. I stayed in this position for a few minutes, my body pushing the whole time without my concentrated effort. It became clear to me that I needed to push but I wasn't comfortable. I knew I needed to be more open and that position was inadequate. I stood up and started moving around. It didn't seem like standing would be right so I ended up on my back. Someone said something about a birth bar and I said, "You have a birth bar?!? Bring it! Quick!" They hurried and set it up and my intention was to move there when I could. But instead I just started pushing. I didn't push in counts of ten to the instructions of anybodys coaching. I just pushed. I recall that it felt better to push that way and I summoned all my power and just kept pushing. Braden announced that he could see the head. This shocked me as I assumed I had minutes of pushing to go and had intentions of squatting at the bar. When I realized his head was there I wanted Braden to be the one to catch the baby. He was standing to my side and I told him to go deliver him. He was there just in time to pull him out. He handed the baby right to me- wet and warm and wonderful. It was a rush of absolute elation. Joy that is unmatched. Relief that is was over. Nobody came to take the baby from me and I just held him to my chest, kissing his head and feeling so very indescribably happy.
I looked at the clock- 8:30. That was one wild hour.
They decided to keep me for 48 hours. Usually I am itching to get out of there and go home but this time, I liked it. I stayed in bed and snuggled close to his face. As usual I wasn't able to sleep a minute that first night. I laid next to him and drank in his little baby breaths and felt his soft skin. Thinking that I will never get this amazing experience again made me afraid to miss any second of it. Despite all the pain and physical discomforts I was feeling, I was enjoying my maternal oxytocin high. Braden snored on the couch like a bear and Levi purred like a cat in my bed, and I asked the nurses to keep the percocet coming while I drank in every new minute with this little son that I had prayed, hoped and waited for.
I would say that his birth was my best. It was intense and furious. But I never felt for a second that I was miserable. I never had the perception that I was suffering. I never doubted that I could do it or felt fear or panic or wondered how long it would go on. Labor just swept over me with an intense power and I felt like I just let myself go with it. It's that choice to surrender and simultaneously fight that I love about labor. It's extreme humility in the deepest parts of my soul-asking God to give me strength to endure it well, and turning myself over to the process. It's gathering all of my courage and mental fortitude and turning it into an inpenatratable wall of strength. It's the most primal innately feminine thing I do and it is hard work. It requires every bit of me, no exceptions. And then comes the moment when that baby is laid on my chest and all the months of sickness and fatigue and pain melt away and this little soul is all that matters.
I have spent nearly the last twelve years bearing children. Much of my time, life, and body has been consumed in some phase of creating, giving, or sustaining life. In that time, I have come to understand that the way a woman gives birth matters. It is an absolutely transformative event. Not only is a baby born, but a mother as well. Even if it is not a first birth, each baby brings a new season of motherhood. I have traveled into the throes of those labors and come out a different person on the other side. They have been hours of toil and self discovery. I have discovered strength I never knew- both my own as well as divine assistance. Birth is sacred. I think it is the time when a woman can come as close to the love of the Savior as possible- in that you are sacrificing of yourself-giving your body in a way that gives life to another soul that could come in no other way. You are doing something for someone else that they cannot do for themselves.
We intend for Levi to be our last baby. I feel profoundly grateful for the opportunity to have born six children. To have carried them, to have spent years and years of my life wondering about them and waiting for them and then finally giving life to these precious souls that I love more deeply than I could ever hope to express.
The name Levi means "attached, joined, pledged". We had considerable trouble naming him. He left the hospital nameless and remained so for the better part of the week. As I returned to the hospital I sat with the paperwork in a room by myself praying. I wanted a name that was right for him. I thought of the meaning of Levi and realized it was perfect. Thinking back over the course of events that brought him to our family, I do think he was pledged to us. What a perfect way to end our family than with this mighty little son attached and joined, finally.
Levi Connor Reynolds, born September 9, 2017 at 8:30pm, 7 lbs 6 oz, 20 inches long.
Snuggling into the missing piece in my heart and filling it in perfectly.
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