My Atty Turning Eight and His Arrival Story: Part One

Today is the last day that my sweet Atticus will ever be seven.   Tomorrow at 8:59 PM he will leave seven behind and become eight.  Eight!  For eight years, I have been his mother.  A whole eight years.  For eight years, he has been here, shrieking, running, growling, jumping, singing, and creating.  He is not at all a quiet child.  He is full on energy and excitement at all times.  He is never still.  Even in his sleep he is in almost constant motion, wrapping himself up in his blankets like a cocoon.  He hated the car seat when he was a baby because he was confined to a still space for far too long.  The world around him was in motion and he could not engage in it.  We spent hours when he was even smaller just walking in the circle that was the layout of our little house that we brought him home to. The motion calmed him.  It was the only way he would be comforted.  And even earlier than that.  When I would prepare myself for bed at night, the moment I climbed into bed and settled into stillness, he would begin kicking and stretching and rolling over and over again.  It was only in his birth that he did not rush and tumble into the world.

My Atty was due to arrive into this world on March 3rd, 2014.  And that day came and went without any little boys joining us.  In what became typical fashion of ours, we moved into our very first house not two weeks before his due date. The house was full of boxes and the detritus that comes with moving.  I had been attempting to make the house we had bought a home as quickly as I could, but it was slower going that I would have liked.   I would waddle around, unpacking random things for short spurts.  Then I would have to sit and rest to offset the “exertion”.  I certainly had not done enough but the time the third rolled around and so, my little boy not showing his face yet was a welcomed development.

Days stretched into a week and by day eight past due date, it was time to make sure my little nugget was still happily and healthily thriving, ensconced in his watery home.  I dragged my very big self to the doctor for a non-stress test.  A non-stress test is a routine test that they do at the end of pregnancy (and other times across the ten months if necessary) to continue to know that the baby is still supported and safe and that there are no problems that would necessitate intervention or induction.  I laid down and let them strap the monitors to my round belly and drifted off to finishing decorating the nursery and unpacking the box I left half done in the middle of the living room.  I expected to be able to go right back to those tasks but after only a few minutes, there was a flurry of people and urgency.  My baby boy was not without stress.  He had failed his non-stress test.  There had been a reduction in the level of the amniotic fluid present in his surroundings and that was making his little world less safe.  They decided that it might be time for him to make his appearance.

I was sent directly to my doctor to be assessed and evaluated.  Because this was intended to be a routine test, Trav had gone to work that morning and was not with me facing this situation.  I sat down, now a massive ball of worry and waited for my doctor’s support and decision.  I definitely was the recipient of her decision, but I’m not sure where along the way the support was lost.  She informed that I would be heading directly from her office to Labor and Delivery and would be having a baby that day.  I has become very attached to a certain idea of the birth I was going to have and being induced was not part of that plan.  I had been taught in my birth class that it was always ok to ask if it was possible to wait.  If there was a window of time that we had to consider decisions and steps and so, I did.  I asked what would happen if we waited until the evening to start this process.

 My doctor replied, “Well, you could have a dead baby,” while staring directly into my hormonal and exhausted eyes.

And, without any chance of being able to hold them back, those eyes filled with tears.  Tears that spilled over my cheeks and splattered onto my belly.  I was shocked.  And terrified. And was in no way prepared or able to stand for this bullying.  She just stared at me.  While I cried in terror.  Stared at this young pregnant woman completely alone in a cold, sterile office. I had spent most of the night pervious unpacking my trinkets in our new living room.  I had wanted so badly to bring my baby home to a beautiful house and so up I was.  I slept very little after my well-intentioned, late-night decorating, on the living room couch and had only rolled off it to drag myself into Kaiser.  I hadn’t even taken a shower.  I didn’t have my bag and more importantly, I didn’t have my husband.  I just wasn’t ready for a cloud of induction doom. And then finally, while all these thoughts raced through my head, she sucked in a reluctant breath and without any warmth at all, she informed that she guessed I could go home, even though she didn’t recommend it.  With that she gave me the number of L and D, told me to call them to let them know I needed to be induced and left me shivering and shaking a sea of anxiety and fear. 

I got myself home, not sure how, and immediately called Trav.  I broke down, sobs wracking my body and without hesitation, he rushed to my side.  He forced me to lay down and close my eyes while he called the hospital and made a plan.  They told him we should stay at home until they called, summoning us back to the hospital.  He let me rest, while he and his parents did their best to tidy the papers and things that had been cast aside in my decorating binge.  When I woke, he shuffled me off to the shower where I washed the pain of my encounter with my doctor away in the steam and soap.  We finished packing our go bag and carefully chose the perfect clothes to head back in and then we waited.  And waited.  We waited until 7 in the evening when the hospital finally called.  They were ready for us, and we were as ready as we were ever going to be.  We were finally going to know our teeny person that only I had felt and experienced all this time.

Here’s where I share, yet again, that making plans in regard to children and parenting and especially in regards to birth is a love thought but, in practice, everything goes out the window.  I had the strongest expectation and idea for the birth of my first child.  I was going to do everything naturally.  It would be smooth and uncomplicated.  I would have my boy in my arms in a snap.  This was not the actuality of the situation.  My body had not yet started to the process of labor, but my Atty needed to come so, my choice was induction and with very high probability, it would be Pitocin to do it. Not only is this not a natural way to jump start the labor process but adding it to your body highly increases the possibility for the need for other medical interventions such as an epidural, and even a c-section.  Now that is not to say that this is guaranteed but it does swing the pendulum that way.  Boy was I not ready for or happy about all of that.  But we checked ourselves into the hospital with high hopes that there would be different way to go with it.   That we might be able to make my beautiful, idyllic birth happen.

Continued in PART TWO