Knowing When to Let Go of Your Plan

I disappeared on you again, and for good reason. I was busy prepping for my son's arrival into this world. Almost a Fairy Tale was released with less fanfare than I would normally have given it. (For those wondering what this book is, it's the one I had formerly titled Happily Ever After). I totally fell off the grid with my writing challenge. I promise, I will write those missing short stories. But they won't go up on the blog, sorry. My attention in February was almost exclusively getting ready for Baby to come. And really, that's where it needed to be.

Baby did come and here's the story. Now, before I start, if you are pregnant and freak out reading/hearing other people's labor experiences, come back post-baby. I don't want you to worry that my story will be yours. Honestly, your story will more than likely be different. In fact, I hope it is!

At my last OB appointment I told my doctor that I could no longer walk without pain. My hips were shifting and it was becoming unbearable. He checked to see how I was doing and said the words every pregnant woman longs to hear, "Well, you're progressing right along. This baby could come any day now." He also said that if Baby didn't want come beforehand, he could schedule an induction for the next Thursday. I agreed because that sounded fine to me. "Being pregnant is great, but constant pain just isn't," I told him. But something was nagging the back of my mind as I walked out to my car, hope renewed that I'd be carrying my little bundle in my arms instead of my belly at any moment. I sat down, started the engine and then it hit me:

Thursday. That's my husband's birthday!

Oops. But I shrugged it off, remembering my doctor cheerfully saying, "I'll see you next Thursday, if not sooner!"

I know some women are terrified of the idea of being induced, but it holds no horrors for me. Having been induced with my first two, I already knew what to expect from it. Or at least, that's what I thought.

The week passed with only occasional contractions and Wednesday night we took our two children to a sitter so we wouldn't have to get them up at 4:30am to head to the hospital for my induction. I was sure that they would only be there the one night and Thursday evening they'd get to meet their new sibling. Boy was I wrong.

At 5:45am, I checked in at the hospital. My first labor had been 25 hours. My second 10 1/2. I was confident I could continue the trend and this baby would come in 5-6 hours. For the first time in my life, the nurse had trouble finding my vein and the IV took a while to get going. They started the pitocin at 6ish and then hooked me up to all the monitors. They brought me crackers and ice water, which was wonderful since I hadn't eaten much that morning. Then the waiting began. Around 10 my doctor came to break my water. "I'm surprised I didn't see you earlier," he said. "I was sure this baby would come before now."

I shrugged. "Elliott babies are just stubborn I guess."

The contractions started to become harder and more regular. I was getting excited because maybe I could have the baby in time to get some real lunch! And yes, I was excited to just have the baby too. Then without warning at around noon they stopped. They didn't just peter out, they stopped entirely. Disappointed and confused, I took advantage of the break to take a little nap. I figured maybe my body was just tired and would pick back up with some rest. So I got as comfortable as I could (maternity hospital beds are the worst!) and dozed for about an hour. My nurse said when I woke up, "It's probably me. Babies on my watch tend to come just before the end of my shift. So your baby will probably come between 2:30 and 3:00 if we can get those contractions going again."

Sure enough, they started again, but it was clear Baby wasn't coming before three. As she got ready to go and told me she'd be back in the morning, I smiled, "Then I'll have a baby to show you."

That didn't happen. All day Thursday, my labor would start and stop. I only dilated another half-centimeter (and I think my nurse may have said that out of pity). My doctor was called at 8 and they decided to turn off the IV for the night and let me get some real sleep before starting it again at 6 the next morning. When he checked on me he asked, "What happened? I've never seen a woman's labor do this."

Great, I was hoping he could give me some answers. "I don't know," was the only response I could give.

The night passed quietly and at 6 my morning nurse came in to start the IV, As she woke me up, she teased, "You weren't supposed to be pregnant anymore when I got back."

I was still cheerful enough to say, "I guess Baby just didn't want to share a birthday with Daddy."

"Must be a girl. That sounds like a girl attitude."

During the night, the tube in my IV had gotten bent badly enough that she had to take it out and start a new one. Another first for me, and not a pleasant one. The pit was started and slowly through the day my labor progressed, it occasionally slowed, but never stopped. But I was getting restless and very tired. My legs were jumpy from being in bed for two days. My sweet husband valiantly tried rubbing them to help them relax, but after a while, that wasn't helping either. In the afternoon, they asked if I wanted an epidural and I told them I really wanted to avoid that. So they tried an IV medication to help me relax which knocked me for a loop and did help me relax for a while, but not enough. My poor morning nurse ended her shift with still no baby and the afternoon nurses came in. The one finally asked, "Why don't you want the epidural?"

I explained to her that I had felt out of control with my first labor. I couldn't work with a labor I couldn't feel. And, I hated not being able to get up and care for my baby while waiting for it to wear off.

Then she said gently, "I understand that. But you're not rested enough for your body to do what it needs to in order to have this baby. You've already had two natural deliveries, so you know your body can do this. With an epidural we can let you sleep while your body finishes progressing and we can avoid a c-section."

Tearfully I agreed and the anesthesiologist was called. While waiting for him to come (he was busy doing another case), I cried and cried. My birth plan was shot to pieces. My hope for doing this naturally was gone. My husband knew nothing he could say would help and called one of the two people he knew could help me through: my mommy. I heard her voice through the phone in that soothing voice I'd heard from infancy, "Jessica, I want you to listen very carefully. You are not a failure. You do what's right for your baby. You haven't done anything wrong and however this baby comes, you have not failed. Do you understand?"

Tears of fear and dejection turned to tears of gratitude and hope as I tried to tell her yes. A realization came to me that I should have already understood. I am not my mother. I will probably never have the short, "easy" labors my mother had. (And I know, Mom, that no labor is truly easy.) My labors are long and they're hard. And sometimes, I just can't do it completely on my own.

When the anesthesiologist came, I was feeling emotionally better, though the pain certainly had not decreased. He went through the list of risks, confirmed that I understood and still wanted to do it. Then he did his thing, all the while gently talking to me and explaining what he was doing. As soon as the medication kicked in, I was out. I don't even remember him leaving the room. That was at around 9pm. At about 11:15, the nurse woke me up and said, "I'm going to check you, but I'm pretty sure you're ready now." They called the doctor and finally, at 11:37pm, nearly 38 hours since my water had been broken, my beautiful baby boy came into the world with just 2 pushes.

Benoni (Beh-NO-nigh) Thomas was perfect in every way, especially considering how long the labor was. My husband and I got to explain our reasons for choosing such an unusual name. It's a rather common name on one line of my family history and since we'd chosen to use family names for our children, that was one of the ones that made the list. The name Benoni actually has two possible meanings, though most only know of one. In the Bible, Ben-Oni was the name Rachel gave her second son as she was dying after his birth. Most remember that it means "son of my sorrow." But in doing a little research (mostly to help others know how to pronounce the name), my husband found a second meaning: "son of my strength." Truly, both meanings capture this labor. This was undoubtedly my hardest labor and I was left often feeling sorrowful and low. But I also found my strength in this labor. I found the strength to let go of my plan and I found the strength to persevere through the challenges to labor presented. There were many times, I was ready to give up. But I'm grateful that I didn't. As I sit here with Ben in my arms, I'm glad that in my sorrow, I found strength and he came into the world healthy, beautiful and strong.