Isla's birthday: an honest story

{For memories sake}

I've never read anyone else's "birth story" so I don't blame you if you don't read mine either, but I imagine they all sum up to something like this: "it was one of the hardest things I've ever done (or maybe it was easy for them?) but the best day of my life"

Well I'm just going to start by saying that I honestly did not think it was one my best days, at least not till now. 

Even writing that makes me feel a sense of guilt but it's the truth. Only NOW can I look back on it with a different perspective. 

It was the Tuesday of the last week of July, I was 4 days overdue, when we went in for a checkup to see about possibly getting induced later that week. I was up all night worrying about what the doctor would say and got maybe only a few hours of sleep. Tired, we woke up early to go to the appointment and skipped breakfast to be there on time. Josh took work off so he could come with. 

We got there and went straight to an ultrasound. As the doctor glided the instrument over my stomach we couldn't see much of anything on the screen above. The doctor was quiet and when we asked him questions he'd avoid the question, as doctors seem to always do when something is wrong. I started to feel anxious. I couldn't sit still when we went in to the waiting room to go into the next test. I started to feel light headed which might have also been due to the fact that I hadn't eaten or had in anything to drink in the past twelve hours. I was already exhausted but I just kept thinking, "it's fine everything will be ok. You can go home after this and eat and get some sleep before you'll ever have to give birth."

Then my doctor came in and sent me to do a non stress test. They sat me down and I immediately asked for some water. They hooked me up to the machine and went to go get me something to drink. The monitor tracked my first contraction and so before they even had time to come back, my doctor was in the room sending me to the hospital for delivery. 

Isla's heart rate had plummeted with the first contraction.

What had been a relatively easy breezy pregnancy had now become a chance for emergency c section- which also meant no food or water for me.

As we walked into the hospital I felt nothing but absolute fear. Not even an ounce of excitement. I was breathing heavily and my voice shook as I called my mother to tell her about the news, I felt like crying but told myself to be strong. Josh held my hand as we walked in.

As I got hooked up and poked in a million places I thought about how unprepared I felt both mentally and absolutely physically. I had hoped for this to be so different. I had hoped for warning signs so I could be prepared. But here I was about to have a baby in what seemed like the worst of circumstances. All I could hope is that it would go quickly so I could have at least a little strength- but there was no hope in that.

I started at 4cm dilated but 3 hours later had only dilated half a centimeter more. Each time they checked me was more pain. Which meant every time any nurse or doctor walked in my whole body automatically started shaking with fear of what was to come next. More poking, more needles, more news of nothing, or worst news that I had to push- that scared me more than anything. 

And so I laid there in fear, starving and exhausted- but not sleeping- until 16 hours later, when, at 3am on Wednesday, the doctor came in to tell me it was time.

I had laid there for so long I felt like I needed more of a warning than that but it was like a starting gate at a race- going from zero to one hundred.

Even from the very first push I didn't know how I would have to the strength or energy to push again but it was only the beginning. Isla was turned the wrong direction and had continually flipped back when the doctor tried to turn her. I was starting out with already a pretty bad tear and some bad bleeding but I wish the doctor hadn't have told me that- and I made that known to her haha.
All I could be grateful for was the fact that I had an epidural, Isla's heart rate had steadied, and was only feeling some pain and pressure at this point.

Every push felt like the hardest work out I had ever done in my life. Between them I would lie back and just want to sleep... or die, I couldn't tell which one but I know I've never felt that exhausted before in my entire life. 

And then I would open my eyes and hear the doctor telling me to give more.
To give more than the 150% I was already giving- but I couldn't imagine how. 

I think I even cried out the words, "I can't do this!" several times.

But somehow I kept doing it. 

And kept praying for help. 

Two hours in to what already seemed like endless pushing and pain, with not any progression to motivate me, my doctor told me she was going to turn off the epidural.

I know some women are super tough but that was the one thing I was ALWAYS sure about, I wanted an epidural. Even thinking about her turning it off made me shake with fear even more than I already was. I couldn't imagine how I could endure more of this with that kind of pain. I begged her not to turn it off but she did. It was that or an emergency c section because I needed to feel more to get her out. (C section at that point sounded kind of nice but something so deep inside of me still wanted to do it on my own, even if it meant more pain.)

And so for two MORE hours I pushed, this time screaming with each contraction. All the nurses and doctor kept telling me how strong I was being but I felt SO weak. 

I do not know how I kept going, I still can't understand it today.  

Just when I felt like there was no hope of her ever coming out, my doctor told me to push harder than I ever had before- she was coming. 

She told me one last push. 

So with every inch of my body I gave it one last effort and PUSHED.

As I felt her legs moving down and out of me she suddenly stopped. The pain was unbearable. I was screaming and my eyes were closed, I didn't even see my doctor push the emergency button calling for more nurses to come running in!

Next thing I know they were all on top of me. Four grown women all pushing down on my stomach as hard as they could while the doctor was trying to pull Isla out.

I couldn't even watch what was happening I was just screaming "I can't breathe!" As they pushed down on me. I had no idea what was happening but I knew it wasn't good.

I felt her get tugged out and before I could even catch a glimpse, she was gone. Being thrown around in a corner I couldn't see, trying to get her to breathe.

I was sobbing uncontrollably. I kept asking, "Is it over? where is she?!"
But the pain didn't stop and no one answered.
I started to yell, "where's my baby, where's my baby!" Sobbing trying to get someone to at least acknowledge me and tell me what was going on.

It was like a movie, like I was out of my body looking around trying to find her. I had no shame in screaming and crying, nothing on my mind but her.

And then suddenly I could hear Josh's voice. I remember everything going silent as I looked at him and noticed him kneeling there by my side, holding my hand, trying to talk to me and calm me down. There were tears in his eyes. 

I couldn't hear what he was saying but I remember suddenly having a shift of focus and thinking so clearly,
"I'm so glad I chose you. I would choose you over again and again. I will always choose you."

I was so grateful that it was him, there by my side, at a time I needed him the most.

And then she finally came and was laid on my chest. I don't remember if she was crying or not because I crying too hard myself. I held her and was so grateful for her to be alive and in my arms. I couldn't believe it was actually over, I had actually given birth to her. 

Unfortunately it wasn't exactly over. From that point on comes even more pain. Any women who has given birth knows what I'm talking about. The doctors coming in every hour to push down on your stomach to push the remains out. For me the unbearable exhaustion and pain from a third degree tear since she had come out facing the wrong direction. And now you have to take care of a newborn baby. The pain and exhaustion was beyond miserable. Beyond my wildest of dreams terrible. But somehow I did it.

We were in the hospital for a week as Isla was recovering from a bad case of jaundice. And the next two weeks were hell trying to recover from all of that. I was so depressed, and so tired, and feeling so sick- I couldn't even eat, with no opportunity to sleep.
But I loved her regardless and that seemed like a miracle to me. I never knew I could love so much.

So only now, now that I've spent countless hours holding  her in my arms until she falls asleep, and now because we've studied each others every detail of our faces.
And now because I know what it feels like to see her smile. And now because I finally know it was all worth it.
NOW I can look back on that  day with such gratitude that she is here and that I did it. Now I can say it was the best day of my life because it brought me her. 

It's crazy to be so grateful for such a painful experience. I honestly thought I never would be. But I'm so grateful for her and so grateful to know just how strong I really am. Grateful to understand what a mother would and can do, even for their child they haven't even met yet.