For
quite a while now, I have struggled with the thought of writing Noah’s birth
story because, well, I’ve believed a lie that I didn’t do much to bring him
into the world; but the truth is, no matter how he came into the world, his
story is unique and special and I owe it to him to document this special moment
so that it not be forgotten. So here I am, almost a year later, trying to
remember every little detail.
Let me
back up to around 34 weeks when I found out that there was a possibility that I
wouldn’t be able to have a traditional delivery. I was chosen to be a part of a
study at my hospital and as a result was able to have ultrasounds of our sweet
baby more frequently than most people do, free of charge. The study itself was
not very pleasant and I will spare you the details, but getting to see our
beautiful little boy made it so easy to agree to do. Anyway, around 34 weeks I
had an ultrasound and the tech told me that Noah was frank breech, meaning he
was in a V shape with his head and feet up and his butt down. She was not
particularly concerned, but suggested that I bring this up to my doctor at the
next appointment. The tech told me not to worry, as this is not uncommon, and
the baby still has plenty of time to flip. My next appointment with my doctor was
later that week and when I mentioned it to her; she didn’t seem to concerned
either. She did tell me that if for some reason he did not flip, there was a
possibility of having to have a cesarean. I remember thinking, ‘There is no way
I am doing that. I have seen a C-section before in nursing school, and that is
not happening to me.’ Apparently the doctor could see my thoughts by look on my
face, she told me that many women opt to have C-sections over vaginal
deliveries and there is nothing to be worried about. It really wasn’t the
surgery that bothered me; it was more the fact that I had always pictured
myself experiencing labor, and delivering a baby on my own. I would feel like a
stronger woman for being able to do it. It was a pride thing. Well, God had His
way of working on that in my heart.
So, for
the next two weeks I did everything, and I mean EVERYTHING, that I could think
of to try to get Noah to turn. My poor husband would come into the bedroom to
find his 34 week pregnant wife doing a headstand against the wall. I made him
stand above me holding two ends of a sheet that was wrapped around my belly and
in a sifting motion move the sheet back and forth. Essential oils, floating in
the bath, hanging upside down (which I do not recommend trying when you are
that prego). Seriously, I tried it all! I was consumed with the thought of
possibly having to have a cesarean and was determined to not let that happen.
36 weeks came, and time for another appointment, no change. At this point the
doctor talked more seriously about the possibility of a C-section. My stubborn
attitude quickly made it apparent that I was going to do everything possible to
keep that from happening. She suggested that we try a procedure called an
external aversion (where that manually try to maneuver the baby by pushing on
my stomach). She said there was no guarantee that he would flip, but if I was
that determined then it was worth a shot. So we scheduled it to happen later
that week. I didn’t know much about the procedure, so I did some research
online and only found mixed reviews, I asked around, and not many people had
much to say about the procedure. Well, little did I know, things were about to
get rough.
Daniel
and I checked in for the procedure and after waiting for what seemed like
FOREVER, we were taken back to the room where I changed and was prepped. My
doctor came in with a consent form and stated that by pushing on my belly there
is a possibility of my water breaking resulting in an emergency C-section. My
determination looked past all the risks and I quickly signed. The nurse hooked
me up to a monitor that measured my contractions, and because I was having
Braxton hicks every 8-10 minutes, they gave me some medication to relax my
uterus. Well, one of the side effects of the medication was an increase in
heart rate. It was the weirdest feeling sitting completely still and my heart
beating 120 bpm. After about 10 minutes of letting the medication work, it was
time to try and flip the baby. They lubricated my belly and the doctor and
resident started pushing. I quickly came to realize that this was not going to
be easy. As they pushed, I could see my
heart rate rapidly increasing on the monitor. 145…. 160…. 172…. 180. Everything
in me telling me to keep my composure was gone. I lost it. Between yelling and
crying and gasping for breath and thinking I was going to pass out, I glanced over at my husband who had a look of horror, knowing that there was nothing he
could do to help me, trying to stay out of the way, but wanting to hold me. He
had never seen me like this. I finally was able to yell for them to stop, but
still could not breath. The nurse put a mask with oxygen flowing on my face and
the doctor asked if I wanted to try again. I took a few minutes to regain composure
and the staff gave us a second to talk about it. I told him that I wanted to try one more time (I seriously don’t know what I was thinking).
So, a few minutes later, they tried again. This time Daniel held my hand. I
closed my eyes and tried to drain out everything that is going on, but all I could think about were the doctor’s nails digging into my skin. Why are her nails
digging into me? Aren’t long nails against hospital policy? It made me angry
that her nails were so long! Physically
and emotionally drained, I finally told them I was done. I couldn’t take any
more pain. Daniel took me home and stayed with me until he knew I was alright.
That afternoon I felt so defeated. My stomach was covered in bruises and I was
mentally exhausted. I cried out to God and asked Him to do something so that I
didn’t have to have a C-section. It was that afternoon that I felt like the
Lord shifted something in my heart. He showed me that my prideful and stubborn
heart was overpowering a beautiful thing that was taking place. I had a healthy
baby boy growing inside of me, my first born child, a little boy that would
forever change my life and teach me what it truly meant to love, and I was
consumed with how he was going to enter the world. I was missing out on the
last few precious weeks of it being just me with my husband. It was that
afternoon that I knew how I was going to meet my sweet baby boy, and I was
finally at peace with it.
A week
later, I had another checkup and also scheduled the C-section. Due to insurance
issues and it being so close to Christmas and New Year’s, she had limited dates
available. After long discussion and LOTS of persuasions, she finally agreed
for me to come in on December 21st, a Sunday. She typically didn’t
do scheduled C-sections on weekends or before 38 weeks (I was 37 weeks and 6
days), but due to the circumstances, she made an exception. As soon as the date
was set, I called all our family and they marked their calendars to be here.
Suddenly there was so much to do, and so little time! It was an odd feeling
knowing Noah’s birthday, before he was actually born.
Well the
day FINALLY came. Family was here, the bags were packed, car seat installed,
nursery ready, we just needed a baby! We woke up early Sunday morning and
loaded up the car. My doctor had told us that we kind of had to be secretive
about coming in. She said that on her on call days, she is not supposed to have
scheduled surgeries. She told us to come into triage saying that I was having
decreased fetal movement. Funny thing is, that morning Noah was moving like
crazy. We told our family to hang back at the house and we would call them
before I went back for surgery, because we didn’t know how long the wait would
be and didn’t want them to have to wait around at the hospital all morning. The
whole ride to the hospital I was feeling contractions and lots of movement. We
got to triage and the nurse hooked me up to the monitor. She looked rather
confused as she read the strip that printed out with the results of what the
monitor was reading. She told me that everything looked great and that he must
have just woken right up. She said she would get the doctor to sign off on the
paperwork and then we could go home. Daniel and I looked at each other in
panic. I asked the nurse which doctor would be signing off, and it in fact was
not my doctor. My doctor was in another wing of the building, busy at the
moment. More panic! As the nurse left the room, Daniel and I were freaking out.
What do we do? Are we not going to have a baby today? What are we going to tell
our parents who drove 7 hours expecting to meet their grandson? OH NO!!! What
seemed like an eternity later, the nurse walked back in stating that she had
spoken to my doctor and was aware of what was going on. Moments later, a
resident walked in with an ultrasound machine. She checked the baby and
reported that I had a low amount of amniotic fluid and it looked like we were
going to have a baby today! She said even if we were to wait, my contractions
were 5 minutes apart so it was just a matter of time anyway. What a sigh of
relief!
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| The morning of delivery |
Two
nurses came in and help me change, hook up my IV, and draw some labs; then they
wheeled me to the surgery floor and passed me off to another nurse. We called
her Nurse Cratchet. She was this older lady who had no respect for modesty and
was rude to my family after Noah was born. She finished prepping me, and again,
did not allow for any modesty. Ugh! I mean I know I was about to deliver a
baby, but at least draw the curtains when you expose a person! Anyway, she gave
Daniel some scrubs to wear also so that he could be in the delivery room next
to me.
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| While he waited for me to get the epidural. |
Daniel
spoke a quick prayer over me, Noah, and the delivery and then the nurse wheeled
me back. She told Daniel she would come get him after I had my epidural and was
ready to go. He claims it was the longest 15 minutes of his life. I didn’t
really realize how comforting it was to have him with me until they took me
back alone. I could feel my heart racing as I felt a burning sensation in my
back from the lidocaine. Just don’t move. Breathe. Don’t move. The nurse laid
me back, and all the sudden I couldn’t move the lower part of my body. Crazy! I
tried so hard to move my toes. I couldn’t do it. Apparently the epidural was
working. They brought Daniel in and had him stand by my head. I was so worried
that he was going to pass out at some point and remember mentioning it to one
of the nurses. She made sure to stay close to him throughout the gory parts of
the delivery.
Before I
knew it, they had started. I tried not to think about them cutting me, but
couldn’t keep from thinking about it as I saw the clear suction tube fill with
blood. I just tried to keep my eyes on Daniel. Not even 5 minutes into it the
doctor says she sees him and reached in to grab him. Moments later I hear a
gasp followed by a loud cry. Tears filled my eyes as I heard my little boy take
his first breathe. They immediately placed him on my chest as I continued to
sob. I had never experienced such a deep love before that moment. Everything
else in the room faded and it was just me and my beautiful son. My heart was
overflowing. Daniel had the proudest look on his face as tears began to swell
in his eyes. The nurse came over to take him so that she could weigh and
measure him, but I didn’t want to let him go. He was so fragile and I knew that
he would always be safe in my arms and if she took him he wasn’t guaranteed to
be protected.
Noah
James Gonzales, born Sunday, December 21, 2014 at 10:36 a.m. weighing 8 lbs 1
oz and measuring 19.5 inches long. He had a head full of beautiful, dark hair
like his daddy and big eyes like his mommy. He was perfect in every way.
We were in
the delivery room for another 45 minutes or so as they finished, but I didn’t care.
I was so consumed in that moment with my precious baby. The doctor told me (as
she was sewing my uterus… weird and crazy thought!) that I had a membrane that
instead of my uterus being round, it was more of a heart shape which is what
was causing Noah to be frank breech and was keeping him from turning. She said
that I had a higher risk of all my future babies having the same issue, but it wasn’t
guaranteed.
Our
family was already asking the front desk the status, but they weren’t giving
them any info. I could just picture them asking every 5 minutes, like a little
kid on a long road trip asking how much longer. I knew they were just so
excited and could hardly wait to meet their new grandchild. A nurse came in to
ask my consent to share information, but recommended that we wait an hour or so
before they come to recovery just to give our new little family a chance to
bond.
As they
finished, they had to transfer me from the OR bed to the recovery room bed. I
seriously had a mini panic attack when they moved me. I had no control over the
lower half of my body and just knew they were going to drop me… but they didn’t.
The moments of being in the recovery room are all sort of a blur. I immediately
fed Noah and was in awe of how a baby just instinctively knows what to do. I
loved watching Daniel through the whole process, he was so supportive and helped
me in every way that he could. We had talked about breast feeding beforehand
and if it would be weird for him see that, but it was quite the opposite. He
was amazed! I remember shaking uncontrollably and feeling concerned that
something was wrong with me. The nurse told me that it was all my hormones
going crazy. My face and hands were so itchy too, like to the point where my
face was red from scratching so much. The nurse gave me some Benadryl to help,
but you would have thought she gave me a sedative. I could hardly keep my eyes
open and my words were slurring. I couldn’t even think a straight thought. Our
family was in the room at this point and was asking how I was doing, but I was
unable to get a two word sentence out telling them that I was alright. The
moment that my parents saw their new grandson was one of the most special
moments. I will never forget the look on my dad’s face as he was holding his
first grandson. He looked over at me with the proudest expression. I knew,
without him saying anything that he was so proud of what I had just endured and
so happy that I had brought his first grandchild into the world. My mom cried
as she held him and was beaming with love and excitement. Daniel’s parents were
also so excited and so supportive. I knew that they wanted to let my parents
experience the feeling of being first time grandparents, so they stepped back a
little and took lots of pictures, but I’m so grateful that they were there for
those first few special moments with their new grandson. I saw Daniel’s mom
periodically ask Daniel how he was doing, which I was glad, because I felt as
though he was being forgotten a little, but he too had all these new emotions
stirring inside and was using a lot of energy tending to me all while adjusting
to the idea of being a new dad. The one person that amazed me the most was my
sister. I hadn’t seen or talked to her much over the previous months due to
living far apart from each other, and I wasn’t sure how she was going to be
during this time. She is usually the comical person who makes jokes here and
there to lighten the mood of intense situations, but she was just the opposite.
When she held Noah for the first time, you could see that she had just
experienced a new kind of love. Her eyes were fixed on him the whole time. As
she cradled him, she gently stroked his face and ooed and awed each time he
made a little noise. She was obsessed with him.
I don’t remember
much between the time I left the recovery room and getting to my post-partum room.
I just remember waking up and being ready to change out of that dumb hospital
gown. I hated those things, plus mine had a nasty stain on it. Eeeww! We spent
the rest of the afternoon hanging out with our newest addition, learning what
each of his little noises meant; learning how to feed him and change him and
bathe him. We were on cloud nine.
The next
day was a little crazy. People were constantly coming into the room having us
sign papers and wanting to take pictures and take Noah for labs and procedures.
I also went to an awesome class that was geared toward breast feeding moms. The
lactation consultant told us all about different ways to hold our baby while
nursing and what to do if he had problems latching. It was great.
Throughout the day, I felt like I couldn’t really
rest and there were a few points in the day where I just felt stressed. They
wanted me to get up and walk around, but I just wanted to sleep. When I finally
did get out of bed, I was amazed at how hard it was for my body to remember how
to walk. I pushed Noah in the bassinet down the halls from one end to the other,
each time taking me close to ten minutes. Again, Daniel was by my side the
entire way keeping me company and taking pictures to document each and every moment.
At some point in the day, the nurse came in to remove my catheter, which led to
some problems later that evening. I was not too fond of that nurse. She was
very insensitive and pushy. All my other nurses were great throughout my stay,
but I didn’t like her, and unfortunately I had her more than one night. So she
removed the catheter, but it was like my body forgot what it felt like to have
to pee. I know that’s strange to say, but if you think about it, I had just had
over 8 pounds removed from body, all of which were sitting on my bladder
reminding every two hours that I needed to pee over the previous few months,
plus I didn’t have to think about peeing for the past day because of the
catheter. So, needless to say, I had issues. That evening I ate my celebration
meal with Daniel, which was delicious and enjoyed the company of the various
visitors who came to see us. Up to this point, I hadn’t really had much pain at
all. I was really surprised, but apparently the epidural had lingering effects.
Once that wore of Monday evening, I started feeling every bit of what had just
happened to my body the previous day. My bladder was full, but I couldn’t really
feel it, until I sat up to get up to pee. Oh my word! I felt as though some one
had just punched me in the stomach a bunch of times. Daniel ran to my side to
help me get up, but all I could do was cringe and cry in pain. As tears began
to fill my eyes, all Daniel could think to do was call the nurse. “We, we need
help in here!” Two nurses rushed in to aide, but no amount of people could help
my through this pain. My bladder was so full that it was pushing against my
fresh incision causing it to feel as though it was going to split right open.
The nurse advised that I use a pillow to put pressure on my stomach as I walked
to the bathroom. It literally took everything in me to get up out of that bed,
but as soon as I peed, the pain was gone! That was the worst of all my days of
recovery. I made sure after that to use the restroom every two hours or so,
even if I didn’t think I needed to. The next day was more enjoyable. It was
December 23rd, I was overall feeling good, and now getting excited
that we were going to be able to spend Christmas at home with our family and
new baby. That morning I took some time to myself to shower, do my hair, and
pamper myself while Daniel snuggled Noah. We had pictures taken in the hospital
and enjoyed more company from our family and friends. The doctor advised that
we stay one more night to make sure that I was alright, and I was just happy
that we would be discharged before Christmas. Daniel and I enjoyed the evening
alone together, knowing that we would have company to come home to. We were so
excited that they were there, but also knew that there would be few moments of
just the three of us over the next few weeks.
The next
morning we were ready to go! Daniel was ready to get out of there probably more
so than I was because he had been sleeping on an uncomfortable bench that was
in the room with no blanket. He used one of Noah’s blankets over his legs, why
he never asked for a blanket, I do not know, but he didn’t. We waited around
for the doctor to sign all the discharge papers and didn’t leave until around 2
pm. Were they really about to let us take this little human being home with us?
Just wheel us down and let us go, with no manual of how to take care of him?!
Yep, that’s exactly what they did. He had a security bracelet on that caused an
alarm to go off every time he went to close to an exit, but as soon as those
papers were signed, off came the bracelet and out we were.
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| Comical Daddy giving his helpless son butt hair |
The
drive home was a little scary for both Daniel and I. Daniel drove at least 5
mph under the speed limit the whole way, which I was fine with, because the
last thing I wanted was to be in an accident. We stopped at CVS to get my pain
medication and then pulled up to the driveway. No one came to meet us at the
door, as they knew we wanted to experience this moment, just the three of us.
We walked in the door and everyone’s eyes lit up. The dogs were so happy to see
us, but knew something wasn’t right. They wouldn’t stop sniffing and licking.
We took Noah straight up to the nursery so that I could feed him and show him
his new room. That evening we celebrated Christmas Eve and Noah’s homecoming
with a delicious gueso dinner cooked by Daniel’s mom, and oh was it delicious!
The house was filled with happy spirits and yummy smells and my heart was
overflowing with love and beaming with joy.
Christmas
morning was so special. I loved that we were able to celebrate all together,
even though it was a little crammed in out upstairs living area. My mom made
biscuits and chocolate gravy, as she does every Christmas morning and Daniel’s
parents came over as we opened gifts. They were all great gifts, but none
compared to our new little boy.
Over the
next few weeks, Val, Jason, and Josh came and my mom was back and forth. My mom
was such a huge help! Daniel and I were a little worried having her here for
such a long period of time, but I missed her when she left. She cooked and
cleaned and did whatever she could to help. Plus, when Daniel went back to
work, she kept me company.
The
whole delivery experience through the following weeks of recovering, Daniel and
my relationship grew in a whole new way. He had never had to take care of me
before the way that he was now, and I had never had to rely on him the way I
was. I knew that I trusted him, but in those few weeks, my trust in him grew so
much more than I ever thought it could. I had never been that vulnerable with
anyone before, I had never had to before those moments. It was beautiful and so
special. I know that I would not have been able to go through all that I did
without him by my side. I am so grateful that God gave me such an incredible
husband who would do anything for me and has such a deep love for me. I
remember one of the first few nights, lying in bed crying because I was
frustrated that I couldn’t pull myself up in the bed, it was too painful.
Daniel just held me as I cried and prayed over me. There is something about a
husband praying over his wife that is so sacred. I feel like it isn’t done
enough in marriages, husbands praying over their wives and also wives praying
over their husbands.
The next
few months were great. We had so many visitors come stay with us. I was so
grateful for everyone who came and enjoyed every moment of their company. We
are abundantly blessed!
