Jacob Scott Garrison: Labor & Delivery

***warning: birth story ahead.***

For months and months, years even, I've wondered and dreamed about what our little guy was going to look like. I never could get a firm picture in my mind. But the moment my baby came into view it was as if I'd always known that was what he would look like. That he couldn't be any more perfect. That I had known his face forever. (Because I have!)

In the weeks before my due date, Dr. Benezra kept telling me, "You're going to come early. Meet me at the hospital Friday?" He was half-teasing. I think more than anything he was trying to get my mind to tell my body to go into labor. He's so sneaky. But I was already at a 2 and very thinned out. It was so encouraging to know my body was making progress and I fantasized of arriving at the hospital at 8cm and delivering within an hour ;)

I walked and walked and walked on the treadmill every morning while watching the Casey Anthony Trial. I wanted baby to just "fall out" at the hospital. So walking was my obsession.

It's funny how your due date becomes an obsession as well. How you cling to it as THE date, when all it really is, is a guesstimate. But when Dr. Benezra kept telling me over and over how I was coming early, admittedly I panicked a little. No no no no no, I thought. I bet I'm late. It'll be the 27th or later. I just know it. And when I stayed at a 2 for my last two appointments I knew I was right.

I was wrong.

Friday, June 24th: Scott had the day off and we spent the morning running a few errands but overall we were fantastically lazy. We watched the Casey Anthony Trial pretty much all day. We ran a few more errands--a trip to Target for a few supplies since we were too lazy to go actual grocery shopping--and I wore Scott's basketball shorts and a shirt that said, "The Look of Love." I didn't think twice about it--I didn't think at all about my maternity wardrobe actually. But I received several comments and laughs as people pointed out the words over my massive belly. It WAS pretty funny I guess.

One man, after chuckling over my shirt, asked the question I've heard a gazillion times the past few months, "When are you due?" Funny how in the first trimester you beam when answering that question and towards the end you loathe those words. I told him, "Monday." He answered, like he knew, "Oh you're not gonna last that long." Ya, ya, ya. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Thanks for the input.

Once home, I made a chicken sandwich. Ate some BBQ chips. Nibbled on some cookies. Then repeated the meal. Yep, two helpings. I was so satisfied.

5 pm: In the midst of the trial, I had the thought, "I want to look at all of Baby G's clothes hanging in the closet." I got up. Walked into his room and...

BAM! Water broke. What? Really? No. I turned around and headed for our bathroom. As I passed Scott I said warily, "I think...my water just broke."

"...What?"

"I think my water just broke," I repeated. He followed me to the bathroom and just stared anxiously for more information. The look on his face was a little panicked, a little scared, and way nervous. After a few minutes, I knew for sure. My water had broken. Holy crap. I was in labor. Had this moment actually come? I never thought it would. I thought I'd be pregnant forever. I hadn't even had any Braxton Hicks contractions for crying out loud!

Scott begged me to call the nurse. the doctor. someone! I think he wanted some professional guidance on what to do next. He was jumping out of his skin with nerves and anxiety. I think I heard the phrase, "We need to get to the hospital," about 50 times. But surprisingly, I was calm. Me! Calm. Weird. Honestly, I think I wanted to delay getting to the hospital because I was scared and not really mentally prepared. And the fact that contractions hadn't even started helped my denial of the urgency/reality of the situation.

I called the doctor's office, told the nurse my water had broken and that I wasn't having any contractions yet, and asked if I could take a shower. She said, "Sure. Then head to the hospital." I told the news to Scott. He looked at me with terror, "You're going to take a shower?!" Like I said, he was halfway out the door. But I was calm as a summer's eve and gave him a list of things to do while I got cleaned up. I've never seen the man take to chores as earnestly and as quickly as he did then. He even added on some chores for himself like washing dishes. Amazing. He added the last few items to the hospital bags, cleaned the apartment, made the bed, took out the trash, grabbed the electronics, and ran this way and that way.

I took my time, however. Shaved my legs. Then I started to blow-dry my hair. (Another example of my "in labor"-denial: My hair takes at least an hour to blow dry and Scott is very aware of that fact.) "You're blow drying your hair?! We really need to go, sweetheart."



Still no contractions. But Scott sped down the highway with his jaw set and determined. He did not want to deliver our baby in the car. (He was scarred by our friends' story: Cleat and Ida made it as far as the hospital parking lot when Cleat had to deliver their baby. It's a crazy story.) He even used the navigation, which he had told me earlier that week he wouldn't need since he knew how to get there. Another clue that Scott was a wee bit nervous.

7 pm: We got to the hospital, parked, and walked to the maternity elevator. Ironically, it was raining and storming--so all that wasted time doing my hair was further wasted--hence the frizziness/fullness. Oh well. I was admitted. I walked to my room. I changed into the gown. I was checked--my water had broken for sure. I was at a 3.5. I was definitely in labor. Still no contractions. If this is what labor feels like--painless, then wonderful!, I thought. Or maybe I have a really high pain-tolerance that I never knew about? Sweet! 

I survived the IV and all that jazz. They asked what/when I had last eaten: I regretted my choice of two chicken sandwiches and bbq chips. My nurse was wonderful though. Little with long blonde hair and so so kind. She'd check me and chat with me and made the whole laboring experience seem normal, not dramatic. She was calm and comforting and I feel so blessed that she was assigned to me.

Once alone and given time to "progress", Scott plopped in a movie and we watched the monitor as my contractions--yes I was having them just couldn't feel them--came and went. I tried to sleep a little and so did Scott. I loved laying there in the dark, my eyes closed, listening to my baby's heartbeat reverberate through the room. It was the sweetest sound. So calming and reassuring. Baby was ok. I was ok. Soon we would see him.

I was making fast progress, thankfully. Soon I felt uncomfortable--my lower back ached but not to the extent that I couldn't get up and walk around. It felt better to stand, to move. I munched on ice and padded around the halls in my hot pink socks with Scott. We marveled at the craziness of the experience, that it was here: the time to meet our baby! We got really excited as we watched the babies through the nursery window--soon our baby would be in there! Surreal.

Back in the bed, it hit me. Ouch. Contractions full force. One minute I was fine, resting peacefully. The next I was moaning in pain, curled on my side clutching the railing of the bed as Scott rubbed my back, held my hand. I lasted about four, maybe five of those intense, close contractions, when I half-cried to Scott, "I want an epidural. I want an epidural." He was up and out the door to get the nurse, bless him.

I'm not sure how long we waited for the anesthesiologist--it was probably only minutes. But it felt like forever. I remember making bargains to Heavenly Father in my head like, "If you end this contraction right now I'll gladly take 20 more IV's." Haha. The nerve! But I was in distress. And if you know how much I hate needles then this thinking was monumental for me. In came the anesthesiologist with his equipment, they got me into position as I panted in pain hugging the pillows...and practically my nurse. She rubbed my arms and I had the overwhelmingly urge to just cry on her shoulder and hug her. :) She was a great comfort. I needed it.  As the anesthesiologist explained what he was doing and what I would feel, I tried my best to stay still--but staying still during a contraction is difficult. But I'm more embarrassed by how vocal I was. My pain definitely was heard through my voice.

But the relief was amazing. No pain in a matter of seconds. Thank heavens for modern medicine. I felt like me again, not some moaning, mental patient. I thanked the doc nearly 20 times. I thanked my nurse for "hugging" me. I thanked Scott for getting me the epidural so quickly. I thanked Heavenly Father for hospitals and doctors and for blessing me with health and comfort and ease. I just felt grateful.

Able to relax again, I rested and dozed. Every time I was checked, I had made progress. It was very heartening. After one of my checks, she looked at the screen monitoring the contractions. "What kind of crazy contraction was that!" she said. The contraction was off the charts and three-and a-half minutes long. I said a silent prayer again. Soooo thankful I didn't have to endure that one. My nurse came in to check me again about an hour later and said, "Wow! You're at a 7.5. I won't wait so long to check you next time. I'll go call Dr. Benezra." I wanted to yell, Good job body! You're doing it!

Then I got the shakes. My whole body trembled as if it were freezing, but I didn't feel cold at all. Scott came a little unglued at this. I could see it in his eyes. He was really worried about me. He rubbed me over and over trying to stop me from shaking. He put three blankets over me and just stared into my face. I know he felt helpless and scared, though I reassured him I was fine and the nurse informed us that I was in transition--Baby G was making his way down the birth canal. Throughout it all, Scott was amazing. I could have never done it without him by my side. His tenderness and loving eyes spoke volumes and meant the world.

Dr. Benezra was on his way. The nurse had me practice pushing and I did my darnedest. I had made it to 10cm. She and the doctor decided to have me wait at a 10 for awhile so baby could make his way down a little on his own. So pushing would not be as strenuous.I trusted them but also thought, So is Baby stuck in there? Can he breathe? Is he getting squished?! haha. Poor babe.

I think I started to really push around 4am. It was here. THE moment. Modesty had long gone out the window and so had any other thought or fear or embarrassment over the birthing process. I was ready to meet my little guy. My nurse was so encouraging. Scott tried his best to avoid any angle that would allow him to watch. He focused on me and would just say, "Push, push, push." :) The nurses and doctor would trip him up every now and then, trying to catch him off-guard by saying things like, "Look dad! He's right there!" He'd instinctively look then come back to my face. When my nurse said, "He has a lot of hair!" I about jumped out of my skin with excitement to see him. I touched the top of his head and it was so...surreal. And soft. And encouraging to push more effectively. When Dr. Benezra exclaimed, "Stop pushing!" I knew I would see him in just mere moments. "Look down," the Dr. said.

And there he was. My sweet boy's face peering up at me, his chubby cheeks and pursed lips were the most amazing thing I'd ever seen. Time almost seemed to have stood still. I was in awe. A baby. He was real. As I felt him leave me and come into the world it strengthened my testimony of the gospel. That I was created for a purpose. That my body was a gift. That mortality was a time for me to fulfill my divine roles as a woman, wife and mother. That I was a daughter of God. That Scott and I had helped bring one of Heavenly Father's children to this earth. And that he was a Son of God.

Saturday, June 25th, 2011, 4:40 am: Baby G was placed on my chest, crying and screaming. His purple little fists shaking. His golden hair glinting. All I could do was stare. And rub those little fists. It was overwhelming. He was placed in the warmer and Scott flashed away the camera. All my attention was focused on that warmer and the piglet-grunt cries that came from my baby. It was adorable. Scott looked to me and his eyes glistened under the soft lights. He smiled his contented, pure-happiness sideways smile. And I was so proud that Baby G had Scott as a father. And that I had him for eternity too. Heavenly Father has blessed me beyond measure.

 Jacob Scott Garrison

7 lbs. 8 oz. 19.75 inches long

more to come :)