Molly's birth story, a retelling :)

I’ve had God remind me in several ways in the past few weeks just how incredibly blessed I am. I tend to take things for granted; it’s a trait I’m desperately trying to change. God, I think, agrees. The most powerful means He’s used recently to remind me of how blessed I am is through a blog that I frequent. It’s the story of a mother who lost her little girl. I found it only a couple of weeks before Molly was born. I think the timing was perfect. I don’t know how many people have heard about our labor experience – it wasn’t the ideal situation that we hoped for. 

We went into our ob/gyn’s office on Tuesday morning for our bi-weekly biophysical profile of Molly. I had been on bed rest for about five weeks by this point and was going cabin (or as I called it, couch) crazy. I wasn’t allowed to finish shopping for Molly’s things, clean house, cook dinner, or even take a long, hot shower. It was really frustrating and I cried a lot. A lot of thanks went unsaid to Joseph during that time as he constantly reminded me with loving words that Molly was the reason for all it.

We went in for her BPP and everything looked perfect with our little angel, but my blood tests confirmed that I did, in fact, have pre-eclampsia at this point. Dr. Behan told us to be at the hospital at 8 that evening so that we could begin inducing labor. Unfortunately, I was only 2cm dilated and needed 8 more to go.

I lay in the hospital bed on Tuesday night, hooked up to an IV and with medicine in a place that no medicine should ever be, and I remembered Angie’s blog. Joseph was sleeping, as was anyone else that I could have talked to. I think it was about 12:30 in the morning. I kept thinking of poor Angie, her husband and daughters and especially of her little angel, Audrey, who she would never again get to hold or see or cuddle or kiss. I was really scared of what the next few hours (or what I thought would only be hours) would hold – labor is scary in general, and induced labor even scarier, but knowing that you are about to undergo an induced labor in the next few hours is one of the most daunting anticipations I have ever dealt with.  

But then I began to re-read Angie’s story. I stayed awake for hours just reading her words and crying. A good friend of mine stumbled upon the same story today [this is a really old draft, so this actually happened a couple of months ago!] and emailed me about her reaction to it. She wrote that Audrey and Angie’s story “brought her to her knees.” It did me, too. Here I was feeling sorry for myself because I wouldn’t have a natural labor. Because I was being induced two weeks early so that my baby would be born healthy; so that I would be healthy enough to hold her and love on her. Because my doctor cared enough about me to give me a chance at a vaginal delivery rather than taking me straight into a c-section which he thought might be best.

And there was Angie. Burying her 3-hour old daughter.

I thanked God for the first time with my heart in about five weeks that night. I thanked Him for the Pitocin that I had disdainfully looked down upon for months; I thanked Him for the contractions that piled up on top of one another; I thanked Him for the medical bills that, too, had piled up on top of one another for months. The Pitocin meant that a vaginal delivery was possible; contractions meant that Molly was, indeed, coming for us to hold and kiss; and the bills meant that we would both be there for it.

The next could of days were a blur. I was given some medicine to help me rest and it affected me a lot. After a couple dozen hours in labor, I finally asked for an epidural. I remember getting it (what a memory to actually remember…geez!). Not as bad as you’d think, for the record. I was so scared that the nurse, April, who reminded me a lot of my sister-in-law, Dejah, cradled me as I cried through a contraction. I was mostly crying out of frustration that all my plans of having an unmedicated labor were quickly going down the drain. I didn’t want an epidural – I wanted to fully experience the joy of giving birth. I felt like a failure as a mother already. I felt like this was one step closer to getting a c-section and missing the birth of our baby girl entirely.

God has His plans for everything, as I would find out in just a couple dozen more hours.

Finally, the time to push came! It was after noon on Thursday. I only pushed for a couple of hours. We ended up having to use a suction cup as well as the forceps to help Molly come out. She was born at 3:29 on Thursday, April 24. It was a really hard labor, but she was finally here! I remember the look on Joseph’s face whenever she came out. He looked exhausted; I bet he was – he’d been standing next to the bed for hours helping me push! I remember watching the nurse take Molly to get cleaned up. I think I remember asking to hold her right away, but I was told I couldn’t. I wanted to nurse her so that we would have our bonding moment that I had waited months for. I remember thinking, “gee, the hard part is over, why is it hurting even more now?”

I asked Dr. Behan to stop trying to deliver the placenta for just a little bit so I could hold Molly. Actually, I said, “Ow, that hurts. Can you wait a minute to do that?”

He didn’t answer me.

“Can you just wait a little bit? It really hurts.”

I was looking at Molly this whole time, so I didn’t see the doctor until right then. I looked over at him and I remember how determined he looked. Focused, maybe. Then I looked at the nurse, because, really, are placentas that hard to deliver?

“If I stop now, you’ll bleed out.”

I vaguely remember a nurse saying that Molly had to be taken to the nursery because her heart rate was too fast. Then I vaguely remember Dr. Behan calling for an OR team and some extra nurses. I remember asking to hold Molly, but I wasn’t allowed to since my body was undergoing some kind of traumatic stress. I remember my heart hurting so much because I wouldn’t be able to bond with my baby the way every good mother should, so I’d read. The nurse (Alice now…who reminded me of Sarah Webb) laid Molly down next to me. She was so tiny, wrapped in a swaddled blanket. I couldn’t hold her, but I touched her face.  I don’t remember how long she lay next to me, but it really felt like the world stood still. I don’t remember Joseph, the doctor, the nurses, the OR team. No one. I just remember touching my sweet little girl’s face and looking at her for the very first time.

Then they took her away to the nursery. Apparently, Joseph was told to leave the room at some point (maybe that’s why I don’t remember him being there…), so he followed Molly up to the nursery. I remember a flurry of people and feeling a lot of pain. I was given some sort of medicine and I don’t remember anything until several hours later.

When I woke up, Dr. Behan and Joseph were in the room. When I thought that Dr. Behan was delivering the placenta, he was actually fixing a uterine inversion. It’s a rare occurrence in delivery, but it does happen. Dr. Behan, who’s been delivering babies for ten years, had only come across it once before in his career. Once again, I felt like a failure. It was my fault that I couldn’t hold my own baby after she was born. It was my fault I don’t remember the majority of her birth. It was my fault that instead of basking in the joy of new motherhood, I was hooked up to machines and drifting in and out of consciousness. 

I didn’t get to hold Molly and truly meet her until seven hours after she was born. I still don’t remember a lot of it, but I have pictures to help jog my memory. We stayed in the hospital for two more days. It was during those two days that I think I lost all sense of modesty. I had undergone fourth-degree tearing, had an episiotomy, an inverted uterus and lost a lot of blood. There wasn’t a whole lot of things I could do by myself, so nurses helped me do pretty much everything. I was completely dependent. A lot of unsaid thanks, once again, goes to Joseph for his understanding, help and patience during those first few days (and all that he does for our family everyday!), as well as to my sister and mom for coming down to help out after we got out of the hospital.

Once again, I considered myself a failure. I was blessed with being put in charge of this tiny new little life and I couldn’t even stand up. It took several days for me to get back to being somewhat normal. By the time I left the hospital, I could stand and walk. Sitting took a few days and sitting up form a lying down position took several more.

What took the most amount of time to heal was my pride. My whole labor plan was laid out…literally, in writing. I had given it to Dr. Behan weeks earlier. I guess I forgot to give it to God.

I wanted to be at home until the last possible moment during my labor. Uncheck.

I wanted to have a natural, unmedicated labor. Double uncheck.

I did NOT under any circumstances want an epidural. Uncheck.

I didn’t want an episiotomy. Uncheck.

I wanted to nurse Molly within minutes of her birth. Uncheck. 

God showed me a lot in those few days. He showed me how His plan exceeds all that we could ever hope for. If I had not had an induced labor, my pre-eclampsia could have turned into a very dangerous eclampsia where mine and Molly’s lives could have been endangered. If I hadn’t accepted medicine, especially an epidural, the pain of the inverted uterus would have been unbearable. I felt incredible amounts of pain after already having had meds and the epidural. What would it have been like otherwise? I don’t even want to think about it. If I hadn’t had the episiotomy, my tearing would have been much more severe and the consequences could have been worse than merely not being able to stand for a few days.

Ultimately, God showed me, once again, this His plans aren’t meant to hurt us in anyway. Just as a father cares for his child, so He cares for us. I did what was best for our situation, and though it took me months to come to terms with our labor, I finally did. God taught me patience, understanding and I think granted me even a little bit of motherly wisdom during those four days. He definitely taught me humility. But most of all, He taught me thankfulness.

This is where my story winds back to Angie’s. I didn’t have the labor I wanted; my mothering didn’t begin, and still continues, to follow a path I never expected it to follow, but I have the gift of motherhood. Angie, too, shares that gift, but she isn’t able to hold her youngest daughter as I am able to hold Molly. There are moments when motherhood is hard, when I just want to be selfish when I am called to be selfless. I have to remind myself on a daily basis that God has given me a gift that He doesn’t even grant His highest angels – He has blessed me with the privilege of sharing in His creative image and ultimately (hopefully!!!) bringing a new soul into eternal happiness. Angie’s story reminds me of that and helps me to keep my own blessings and trials in perspective. I guess that’s why I shared our story; though it pales next to Angie’s beautiful story, it taught me and still teaches me so much.

I think I’m going to go thank God for each mommy-trial and mommy-tribulation that I had today…just to let Him know I’m thankful for each moment. And then I’ll cuddle with Molly as she sleeps.