Royce's Birth Story

It's a boy! Royce Gray Lindsey arrived on May 6, 2016, at 6:50pm. I started using the hashtags #boymom and #twoundertwo just two days later. Here's his birth story, in all its TMI glory.



His story is quite different from how his older brother joined us! I'm not all about talking to my kids when they were fetuses. In fact, I've done it only once that I can recall. (Side note, I just said "my kids"....plural....woah.) A few weeks ago, in the shower, I randomly started thinking how nice it would be if this time labor could begin after a full night of sleep, rather than having to labor all night and lose a night of sleep like I did last time. I started actually telling the baby, out loud, to do that. And I threw in a few things about how nice and fun sleeping through the night would be, because why not?

I can't remember if I mentioned it on here, but I was really really hoping my water would break on it's own. I don't know why but I just really wanted to experience what that was like. Also, it's a nice clear way to know if labor has begun, as opposed to contractions, which can start and stop and be confusing.

Thursday, Dalton and I had a nice morning meeting with some friends at the local library story hour. I dropped him off at daycare for his nap, intending to use the afternoon to get some errands done. Once I dropped him off, I only got one thing done before I started feeling completely like crap, and went home and napped the rest of the day. I even made Eric pick Dalton up, I couldn't even deal.

That night, after dinner, I had about an hour of consistent contractions. I was even timing them. I got in the bath, and it was super comfortable, but once got out the contractions seemed to have stopped, so I just went to bed. I woke up a few times in the middle of the night with contractions, which was new, but they weren't consistent and they were hardly painful.

On Friday, I was officially 39 weeks - full term! Dalton woke up earlier than usual, and Eric brought him up to me to hang out in bed while he got ready for work (I started my maternity leave a little early so I was staying home). Before he left, (TMI ALERT), I lost my mucous plug. I know that doesn't necessarily mean anything, but that was what really ramped up labor with Dalton. I told Eric today could be the day and to keep his phone close by.

After he left, Dalton wanted to play in the basement. Just about the only thing he will sit in my lap for these days, other than food, is to look at his truck book.

Picture from a previous truck book viewing.

About 7:30am, we were just chilling, checking out the trucks, when I felt a big POP, and it was just like all my friends have described their water breaking. Sure enough, there was a small puddle on the blanket I'd been sitting on. After that, the it seemed to stop, so I was a little confused about whether or not it had actually broken. Immediately my mind started racing, trying to figure out who to call first and what my course of action should be to take care of Dalton and get myself to the hospital. Naturally, I turned to snapchat.

My friends will screen shot crucial SC chats because they are devoted to the blog. 

So, Eric's phone was for some reason on vibrate, after like a month of him having it at full volume at all times to be prepared. My friend Kristin, our appointed babysitter for when the time came, was my next call. She only lives a mile away and came right over to take Dalton to daycare. I called my mom, since our plan was that my stepfather would drive down as soon as I went into labor to stay with Dalton (it's about 400 miles so he needed to leave immediately). I also texted daycare since I hadn't planned on bringing him that day. Finally, I called Eric's school and told the secretary to send him home as soon as he arrived. Somewhere in there I did remember to call my doctor as well.

As I was running around trying to get dressed and ready to go with a toddler to care for while continuing to blow up Eric's phone, I started to feel some contractions, but there was no chance of timing them or even paying attention because I was so frantic. Obviously I could still talk through them, and even carry a toddler up and downstairs through them. Dalton could clearly tell something was up and got really upset when Kristin arrived at our house. I couldn't figure out what to do between transferring the car seat, getting Dalton to daycare, and getting myself to the hospital in the opposite direction since Eric wasn't answering. I thought I would just drive myself, but luckily Kristin wouldn't hear of it and said she would just drive all of us there in the van and then go drop Dalton off. 

I started timing contractions in the car, and by the time we got to the hospital (about 15 minutes), they were 2-3 minutes apart and I couldn't talk through them anymore. My confusion over whether or not my water had actually broken was alleviated, my pants were soaked by the time we arrived. \ All along, I'd pictured this emotional goodbye with Dalton when the time came, but having increasingly intense contractions while standing outside the hospital in the rain wasn't it. I couldn't do much but give him a quick kiss and promise that even though Grandpa would be seeing him that night, we would come back, and even though he was upset, the pain was a good distraction and I headed in to labor and delivery.

As I entered the hospital, I had a little trip down memory lane as I doubled over a chair in the lobby to get through a contraction - pretty sure I used that same chair while Eric parked the car with Dalton! Good memories. The front desk guy asked me if I was ok...um, I'm hugely pregnant, moaning over a chair on my way to labor and delivery...what do you think?

In L&D, they let me hunch over the desk while they went through my information and then took me to triage. I was seriously struggling with the contractions at this point, but I felt like I was dealing with them mentally better than before. I focused on my breathing for each one, and was able to keep in mind that they were bringing me closer to meeting my baby (something that I did NOT find helpful last time) and just really tried not to tense up and fight the pain. They gave me a hospital gown to change in to, and while I was changing, I heard Eric arrive. He called to me in the bathroom, but I was well beyond talking during contractions and they were so close together I had to use the breaks to get into the hospital gown.

When I came out, they said a midwife was going to check me for progress and to confirm my water had broken. She was able to confirm that immediately as soon as she looked, and saw I had progressed to 3cm. That might not sound like much but I was barely there after over 16 hours of labor with Dalton, and this was less than an hour after my first contraction. They said they were going to admit me (which I'd had no doubt of) and when another nurse came in, they asked her to fill out epidural paperwork. Music to my ears. It was like they knew me, and just kept encouraging me by telling me I'd have the epidural soon. Exactly what I needed to hear.

We got to the room, and the nurse prepared to put my IV in (I needed antibiotics because I was GBS+). I told them last time I was here it took them five tries to get it right, and they clearly heard my desperation because the nurse got it in immediately with no problems. Shockingly, for this needle phobe, watching her do it was a welcome distraction from the contractions. Eric also helped a lot by rubbing my back and showing me pictures of Dalton on my phone and not speaking. I was prepared to wait since I figured the anesthesiologist would be busy first thing in the morning, but he showed up right away and I had the epidural in by 9:30am. That's just two hours after my water broke! I was instantly in heaven and couldn't believe my good luck. I truly cannot express my love of the epidural, the most wonderful invention in this world.

Post epi, obvi.

After less than two hours of painful labor, I was relaxing, watching Kelly and Michael, and texting friends the news that we were in the hospital. Well, my body doesn't know how to let me just relax with the epidural, apparently. The baby's heart rate dropped, and after trying the familiar rolling me and oxygen mask, the nurse pushed the OBERT button, just like last time. I learned that stands for OB Emergency Response Team, so immediately the room fills with people yelling things I don't understand, they all start unplugging me from everything, and the whole party goes down the hall to the operating room. The nurses were being really nice and trying to explain everything to us, and we were just like, don't worry, we got it, not our first rodeo with the OBERT button.

We even had time to snap chat.

They did tell us that they weren't necessarily going to operate, we would wait once we got ready to see if they could get the heart rate back up, which they did, immediately (and that's when we took the above picture, FYI, we aren't totally heartless). We hung out in the OR for a little while longer to make sure things were ok. The heart rate was stabilized, so they brought us back to the delivery room! I was really thankful they were working so hard to both make sure the baby was ok, but also try to get him or her out without surgery, like I wanted.

Then, it was time to wait.

We took more pictures.

Because why not.

They used this "peanut" to put between my legs to encourage the baby to get out.

We watched a How I Met Your Mother marathon, Meet the Parents, and played "Heads Up" to pass the time.

I was awake, I swear.

It gave me a new respect for people who are induced...so. much. waiting. I'm not sure there's anything that makes someone more impatient than waiting to meet their baby after 9 long months. That was true for me, anyway.

Lots of picture taking.

Around noon, I was feeling a lot of pressure, so the nurse checked me and said I was at 8cm. This seemed like great progress - I never even got that far at all last time. Since I wasn't in pain, I was starving, obviously I hadn't had time for any breakfast during our crazy morning. The nurse said my doctor would be in around 4, and I would probably push then, assuming I was at 10cm (which we did).

My doctor came in around 3:30, checked me, and said I was at...8cm, 100% effaced, and baby at -1 station. However, she indicated that she didn't believe I was really at 8cm at my noon check, so I was able to still convince myself I had made progress. She wasn't concerned, and we just hunkered down to wait some more. 

Around 4, the baby's heart rate dropped again. They did the usual measures to increase it, and prepped the OR for me...again. This time, they got the heart rate back up in the delivery room, and I was instructed to stay in one exact position without moving, since it was the only way the baby seemed happy. I was happy to oblige since I REALLY wanted to to avoid that OR.

Around 6pm, my doctor came in to check me again, and I was at...8cm. Based on their expressions, I was getting the idea that this was a bit of a problem. I'd made no progress since 3:30, and probably really not since noon. I was contracting regularly and strongly, so that wasn't the issue, the contractions just weren't finishing the job. My doctor said that the shape and size of my pelvis was most likely just preventing the baby from descending all the way. She said we could just do a c-section, or wait and give the baby more time and see what happened. I asked if she actually thought that would make a difference, and she said no. I trust her completely, so we said to go ahead and get ready for another c-section.

When she left, I shed a few tears. Of course, the first and foremost goal was to have a healthy baby, but I'd really wanted to avoid surgery and get the experience of pushing the baby out, the "natural" birthing experience (with the epidural, I'm not crazy). Plus, my doctor had already told me before that two c-sections means that any subsequent births will need to be c-sections, so this meant I would never get another try at a VBAC. Eric helped cheer me up, mainly by focusing on the fact that we were finally about to meet our baby! The fact that our day of waiting was about to be over went a long way in turning my frown upside down. It was also nice to know that since this was a non-emergency situation, everyone could take their time and I could still have a relaxed, enjoyable delivery.

Once I got past my brief pity party, it was time to get ready for delivery!

Surgery prep - again.

Round 2.

The nurse came in and told me she was going to shave me before taking me to the OR and I was like...WUT. That certainly never happened last time. Apparently it's a common practice in a non emergency situation. Ok then. 

They wheeled me back to the OR, lifted me on to the table, and the anesthesiologist worked on getting me completely numb. I'd been starting to feel contractions again on and off all day. They give you a little button with the epidural to push if you want another dose of the magic numbing juice, and I'd been pushing it. A lot. Obviously you don't want to feel like you need to push it during surgery. Once I was completely numb, they allowed Eric back in. The meds made me feel like I couldn't catch my breath, so they gave me an oxygen mask, which helped a lot. The anesthesiologist asked me if I was nervous, and I was honestly able to say no. I was really relieved it would be my doctor performing the surgery this time (when Dalton was born there was no time to wait for her so they had to grab any doctor that was available). While a c-section wasn't what I wanted, it was familiar and I felt like I knew what to expect. I even told Eric he could go ahead and watch this time (he's talked about doing that since Dalton was born) since I didn't need him to comfort me. 

He said he wasn't going to, so we just held hands. I was pretty woozy from the meds, and also the oxygen mask made it tough for him to understand anything I was saying. We were both expecting the surgery to take 3 minutes, like last time (literally, they did the first incision at 11:13 and Dalton was born at 11:16). However, apparently normal c-sections take a little longer. The whole time, I just felt like a kid in the backseat going "are we there yet, are we there yet?". I was so excited to find out if it was a boy or girl, and had a huge smile on my face under the oxygen mask the entire time. While she was in the middle of things, my doctor told me that the baby would never have been able to come out vaginally, which made me feel better about our decision, although annoyed with my stupid pelvis. 

After what seemed like forever, we heard a baby cry! They called Eric back behind the curtain, and he announced "It's a boy!". Of course I was immediately crying, and after another long wait, the nurse brought our second beautiful son, Royce, over to meet me. Like I suspected all along, it turns out I can love another child as much as my first born. 

Perfection.

Look at my poor little coneheaded boy!

I have a lot more I want to talk about, but since this is already very long and supposed to be just a birth story, and my percocet is kicking in, I'll cut things off for now. It's about time to go snuggle my sweet little baby anyway. I usually proof read but right now I'm just going to blame any errors on the pain meds and sleep deprivation. Give me grace #twoundertwo