10 out of 10 strangers ain’t wrong… IT’S A BOY!
Well, it’s taken me a long time to write this blog. It's amazing how little free time I have these days, and I’ve prioritized the precious little bits I find towards sitting to
eat supper with Chris and trying to
squeeze in little naps whenever possible.
This baby’s birth did NOT go according to
plan, and within the first ten days of his fragile life he had been through
more procedures and stayed more nights in a hospital than I would’ve hoped he
had to in his entire life. I think it’s
taken a long time to write this blog because the fear for his life was too fresh, and my
emotions too jarred to sit and think logically.
All that said, meet our perfect little angel, Braxton Dennis
Schmidt!
He was due March 14th, but we thought for sure
he’d be late. So when my lab results for
obstetric choleostasis (a liver issue that is associated with a higher
incidence in still-birth) came back way too high (explaining the ridiculous
itching I had been struggling with for weeks that everyone said ‘was normal’)
on Friday the 7th I was told I’d be having the baby within the next
48 hours. The midwife did an ultrasound to make sure baby was growing and okay
(he was, and in a good position for birth, his head engaged in my pelvis). I was instructed to go home, pack my bag,
collect my husband, and return in two hours to be induced. WHAT?!
My birth plan involved massage and acupuncture at two weeks post-due to
help my body go into labor naturally. It
also involved the midwife-led unit at the local hospital, no interventions, a
birth pool to help ease pain, and everything ‘granola’ short of having a home
birth. Being induced meant being hooked up to monitors, a higher incidence of
interventions, more pain, etc, etc. No
bueno. But there wasn’t any fighting
this, ‘the baby needs to come out NOW’ said the doctor, ‘We would’ve induced you weeks ago had we
known the state of your liver.’ So,
after almost nine months of prep I felt totally rushed and unprepared to
actually have a baby.
Chris cancelled his last patient of the day and met me at
home where I irrationally ordered him to vacuum the entire house while I ran
around packing my and the baby’s hospital bags.
Our good friend Angela gave us each a huge hug and took a couple photos
of us right before we left for the hospital, both of which I’m so thankful
for! (Three weeks later I look back and
realize that I was going to babysit her kids that evening so she and her hubby
could go out for a nice birthday dinner… )
I’m not sure how the induction process works in the States,
but on the UK system the main goal is to jumpstart your body’s natural labor.
The midwives were inducing four of us that evening for various reasons
(gestational diabetes, 2-weeks late, a very large baby, and me). We were each hooked up to monitors and in our
own little curtain-enclosed cubby of a larger room. The first step of the induction was to apply
up to three rounds of hormone gel to the cervix, each six hours apart to start
contractions and thin the cervix. The
first one was in the evening, and despite pacing the halls of the hospital for
hours, did nothing for me. Chris went
home to get a good nights’ sleep and I stayed in the hospital coming to grips
with the fact that we’d very soon be parents.
Saturday morning the next dose was applied and we were told to walk
around and get things moving. With my
cholesostasis I wasn’t supposed to leave the hospital but since we only live
two miles away, Chris broke me out for an hour so I could take a shower and go
on a little walk at home. We got a
coffee on our way back and made it back to the unit in time for them to tell me
to keep walking for another hour. Did I
feel contractions? Well, I felt new
lumps places, did that count? I thought
maybe that meant certain parts of my uterus were contracting. I was wrong.
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| Hooked up to the monitors. |
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| Pacing the halls for hours! |
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| Looking through a name book. |
When the midwife hooked me back up to the monitor before my
third round of hormones she noted quite regular (every three minutes)
contractions, so decided to try to break my waters. During the process, though, she realized that
she could no longer feel the baby’s head in my pelvis. She went quiet and stepped out for a minute,
returning with a doctor and portable ultrasound. As soon as the doc put the scan on my upper
abdomen I saw a very clear image of baby’s head, meaning baby had flipped from
a head-down, engaged position to a breech position. The doc quietly explained that since I was in
active labor and the baby was now breech, it was in both of our best interest
to get to the operating room quite quickly to do a C-section. I heard, but didn’t. I guess that’s what denial is? I wanted to tell her, no thanks, I’ll just go
to that lovely warm birth pool as planned. The situation felt more real when she
discussed anesthesia options, had me sign the consent paperwork, and told me
she’d see me within the next couple hours. Chris, thank God, was strong for the both of
us. I don’t remember crying until they
told me to get a gown on and we walked to the operating ‘theatre’. Chris could be there with me, since they were
doing a spinal injection instead of general anesthesia. He stayed strong as I literally shook with fear
and adrenaline, then sobbed for the duration of the procedure. “I don’t want to be here! This isn’t what I wanted!” It had all just
happened so fast. The spinal injection
scared me enough, but losing all sensation and ability to move from my
breastbone down was absolutely terrifying. About twenty minutes into the actual procedure
the surgical team went really quiet and a larger screen was quickly raised so
Chris couldn’t see what was going on.
Chris was maybe six inches from my face… I think he could tell I got
infinitely more scared. “’We’re going to
Destin when we get home”, he launched into plans for an extravagant beach
vacation. After a few really hard tugs
the surgeon started talking again and the midwife next to me let out her
breath. Within seconds we heard an
amazingly loud wail and the surgeon held up our baby. “It’s a boy!”
Then he was whisked to the other end of the room for the pediatrician to
look over. Chris stayed with me, inches
from my face, until I insisted he go see the baby. He ran to that side of the room and then came
back to tell me baby was absolutely perfect.
Within ten minutes Baby Boy was on my chest for some skin-to-skin and the midwife was helping him to feed for the first time while the surgeon sewed me back
up.
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| My first cuddle with Baby Boy. |
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| Worth all of it. |
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| Chris' first cuddles in the recovery room. |
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| Ten perfect fingers and ten perfect toes. |
I wish I could say I
handled the whole ordeal with more grace or confidence than I did. Despite my tears, though, I was very grateful
for the entire staff at Hinchingbrooke hospital. Every single person who provided care was
patient, kind, and quietly confident in their abilities. Once I had Baby Boy in my arms joy took the
place of fear. The midwifes on duty that
evening set me up nicely in my bay and were at my side in a moment’s notice
whenever I needed anything. I stayed in
hospital that night and the next and left on Monday morning. By the time we left hospital we had finally
come up with the name Braxton, which beat out the other couple names we tried
to call him at first. (None of them
sounded right!) I was a bit sad to leave
Hinchingbrooke: the food was excellent, the 24-hour breastfeeding support set
me up for success, and the extra bit of sleep the midwives gave me by holding my
( very cranky) little guy for hours at night were invaluable. That said, it was awesome to strap him into
his carseat and head home as a brand new family!
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| Hanging out in the C-Section bay :) |
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| Proud daddy! |
On a lighter note, quite a few people have jokingly asked whether completing an Ironman or being a first-time parent is more difficult. I can honestly say, without any ounce of hesitation, that being a new parent has been infinitely harder than training for and completing an Ironman.To the point that I’m now in awe of every person I see with a child in tow. Ironman training was predictable, and on my own time. I was tired, but physically more than emotionally. And the results were tangible. This parenthood thing is TOUGH!!
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| Angela snapped this photo as Chris and I headed to Bolton for our Ironman triathlon in the summer of 2012 |
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| Angela snapped the same photo on our way to Ironman #2 AKA childbirth. Notice the carseat taking the place of the bikes on top of the car! |
