Looks like I’m doing about a week’s worth of blogging on Lazaboo. Seems fair. So, today, here’s his birth story… (That’s a thing a mommy blogger would do, right?)
I guess we’ll just jump right into it: I started having contractions on April 10th, a Sunday, right when I woke up. They would get somewhat strong, then go away for a while, then come back; generally, not seeming like much but I was pretty sure I was going to be in real, true labor within the next 24 hours. We stayed home from church, and I mostly just tried to nap and relax. Joe played with Zoe extra since she was going to get shipped off to her Gigi’s (my mom) house soon for the couple of days we’d be in the hospital. I probably called my doula (who was awesome, btw) at some point pretty early on just to let her know that I was contracting some and might be going into the real deal soonish.
We sent Zoe to my mom’s in the early afternoon because we just weren’t sure when things would really kick in. Joe and I went on a walk (and it was hot that day, if I recall), got some treats (iced tea and ice cream) and came home. By the evening, I was still not really contracting regularly, and I still wasn’t sure when I’d be in labor for real and for keeps. So I had to talk to my mom about the logistics of Zoe staying with her… which was really frustrating… and made me mad. ANYWAY…
Finally, around 8pm or so, I was actually having contractions regularly and they were getting a bit more serious as time went on. I started to feel panicky around 11pm, so my doula (Jen) came over to help me gauge when we should head to the hospital. We stayed at home until around 1am, when I wanted to go to the hospital in hopes of getting into the birthing tub to help get through the contractions.
We get to the hospital; I got checked and was at 4cm. But, because I hadn’t been checked at my last prenatal visit, they couldn’t be sure if I was in active labor (like, I could’ve been at a 4 since forever so it wouldn’t mean much); so I walked around the hospital’s maternity wing for an hour or so, came back, had to wait around for a while longer, got checked and was at a 7.5! Oh, yeah. I was pretty happy about that because I had made it to about a 7 and got stock for a while when in labor with Zoe, and ended up getting an epidural (which was just fine! Epidurals! OKAY!). Did I mention I was trying to have a labor without any pain meds? I was.
Okay, so, back to the story: I was at a 7.5 so they admitted me. And, like we had hoped, the room with a tub was free! Yay! They filled up the tub, and I hopped right in. Very awkwardly hopped, because I was 9 months pregnant. This was probably about 4am or so Monday morning. And it’s also where I lost all track or feeling of time. I know not long after we got in the room, maybe an hour or so?, I BELIEVE I started to go into transition (which is like becoming the girl from The Exercist— puking, head spinning, crawling on the ceiling). It was RUFF.
But I somehow managed to let go during each contraction enough to let them do their job moving the baby and readying my body. Jen was great at just telling me to relax in between contractions, and I was somehow able to just keep my eyes closed and stay very, very relaxed. My nurse even thought we were doing hypnosis that was how relaxed I was able to get! It was very strange because, although no one was really talking much anyway, I stopped noticing anyone else around me or anything else going on in the room. I was able to pray through each contraction and felt like God was really able to help me let go of the physical pain (and there was plenty) and just concentrate on praying through the contractions.
I did that for along time it seemed. I’m not sure exactly how long, but after a while I was at 9 and a lip; and that little lip left of cervix would not go away. (Sometime in there the nurse midwife had come in and broken my water.) So Jen and the nurse suggested I try getting out of the tub for a bit and maybe laying on my side on the bed. I felt like I needed to pee, so I went and sat on the toilet; had a contraction and felt like giving up on the no epidural thing.
By the time I got in the bed, I was still telling Jen I couldn’t do it anymore and I wanted to quit. She simply told me I needed to hear the truth and that was by the time someone got in there, placed the epidural, and got it started, Lazarus would already be there. And, by God’s grace, next thing I knew I felt a huge pressure at my bottom and kind of freaked out. (TMI– I had a giant poop. Deal with that info however you can manage.) After that shining moment, Lazarus was ready to come out! I pushed a couple of times, the nurses tried to coach me to slow down to prevent tearing, I said eff that, and pushed him right out.
I have no idea how long I pushed, but it definitely didn’t seem long. So, at about 10:13 am Monday morning, I had given birth to Lazarus James. They put him right on my chest, and I just remember saying, “I did it! I really did it!” Laz was much noisier than Zoe was when she was born. He was wigglier too. He was tiny and wonderful and covered in blood and vernix and other miscellaneous junk. Disgusting and sweet.
Lazarus means, “God is my help.” Before my labor experience with him, we just thought that was a nice name and had a nice little meaning to it; but, afterwards, it was so beautiful to see how God had helped me through this labor and given our son a name to commemorate that experience. Lazarus is like those little pile of rocks that people would make in the Old Testament of the bible and name it such and such as a reminder of what God had done at that place; he reminds me of God’s goodness and strength.
That was the longest thing I’ve written since I was in college. If you stuck it through, thank you!
Hello, Hernandez 