My Birthing Story

Growing up, I never really dreamed of having kids. That was my mom's dream, and she did it (...eleven times!). I had the joy of witnessing and being a part of seven younger siblings growing up. I remember always celebrating life and welcoming with open arms a new baby into the home. I really did enjoy cuddling the newborn, burping him/her after feeding, and being proud at times I was the sibling able to rock them to sleep. It was fun in the moment, but I was happily ready to hand him/her off when they started to cry. I did my fair share of babysitting through high school and some in college, but I never really got too attached and was usually kind of relieved when the parents came home so I could leave. I was much more interested in pursuing career, travel, and missions, and I thought marriage and babies would slow me down (obviously still had a lot to learn, but that's a story for another blog).

All that being said, the fact that I am now (33 years old) a mom myself sharing my birth story makes me marvel at the distance the Lord has taken me. I wouldn't change my life for anything (it has been an absolutely incredible adventure), and I continue to pursue career and travel and missions as a wife and now mother. My life and ministry has only been enhanced, and I am so thankful for the way the Lord has changed my heart along the way. About two years ago I was reading the story of Leah, Jacob's first wife, in the Bible. As you may know, she wasn't Jacob's preferred wife, and as a result she strives to please her husband by giving him children. Son after son, she looks for affirmation and love from her husband. Finally, on her fourth son, it seems like she stops striving and just praises the Lord. She names her son "Judah" which means "praise God." I remember being convicted in my heart about my attitude toward children, and in that moment I promised the Lord I would praise Him the first time on my first child. God said it would be a son, and I perceived in my spirit his name would be Judah. We claimed that word from day one of finding out we were pregnant, and I really can't image my life without our little Judah. I remember at our sonogram the nurse asking if we were excited to find out the gender, and my husband and I looked at each other and laughed (we already knew). I share our story with the hopes that you will be inspired to praise God with me for this life. So, before this turns into an ridiculously long epic saga, here's how the little guy came into the world: 

I was 39 weeks and 6 days into pregnancy when I had my last doctor's appointment. They were a little concerned about my blood pressure and some proteins they found in my urine (something about preeclampsia). So the doctor strongly recommended inducing me that night. Hadn't really mentally prepared to meet my child yet (...not sure what I was waiting on, as his due date was the next day after all), but after living in a marshmallow body for the previous month the thought of bodily relief in that department was extremely inviting. I looked at my husband for some direction, and he gave the go ahead. OK! Let's do this! We're going to have a baby! 

[Let me just say something real quick about my husband...he literally told me "I will cancel everything to be available for you and whatever you need." He made some phone calls, sent some texts, called into work, cancelled his meetings, cancelled his men's group...literally everything, then he proceeded to stand by my side through the whole process. I felt so valued and important to him. I couldn't have asked for a better support by my side. My husband is literally THE. BEST. ...that is all.]

Now back to my story you see...we went home to pack our bags, eat our "last supper" (my husband said I was being dramatic), and was admitted into the hospital around 8pm that night. 24 hours later...at 8:05pm we welcomed our sweet little boy into the world weighing 6lb 12oz. They pulled him out and laid him on my still swollen belly (fun fact: you still look pregnant after the baby comes out). Little Judah lifted his head, looked at me to make sure I was the right one, then smacked that head contently right back down on my bed of blubber (I guessed I passed the test). Wanting to hold him to my chest, I attempted to lift him higher to which the doctor said, "Uhm, he's still attached." (Duh...eye rolls...#newbies). I had to wait until the next contraction, for the placenta to come out, daddy to cut the chord, and THEN...I could lift him to my chest. His tiny little frame so contently nestled next to my heart, his little fingers gripped around my finger, my husband proudly hovering over us...at last there was peace. Sounds sweet right? You know how John writes in the Bible about a woman in labor pains and how when her child is born, her anguish gives way to joy because she has brought a new baby into the world? Well, clearly John was a male writer who had never given birth before, because let me just tell you...after Judah came out it wasn't just "sunshine and roses" in my mind. That labor pain was real fresh (like the sweat on my brow and my still racing heart rate), not to mention they were attempting to stitch me up before the local anesthesia had really kicked in (ouch!). Still a little traumatized about that, and speaking of trauma...if you're not interested in all the juicy details, you can stop here and just praise the Lord for a new little life. If you're interested in the most epic 24 hours of my life to date, keep reading...

After we were admitted into the hospital, they had me strip down to a little hospital gown, hooked me up to the dreaded "machine" (aka: monitor), and we waited in a tiny room (and an extremely uncomfortable bed) for a labor room to open up (I guess it was a popular week to have a baby). That's when I started complaining. My poor gracious husband listened to me carry on about how I wanted to give birth through a midwife clinic to avoid all this mess, but unfortunately my insurance didn't cover the one in our area so I felt stuck with the hospital. Now don't get me wrong, I'm so thankful for doctors (after all my husband is one) and medical personnel, but there's something starch and mechanical about the clinical setting that makes me very uncomfortable. Anyways, here we were, ready or not, about to have a baby. Then it hit me like a emotional wave...everything that my body was about to go through, and I was genuinely terrified. How hard was it going to be? Do I have what it takes to push a baby? Will I faint from the pain? What if something goes wrong? I tried to replay in my mind all the positive birthing stories I'd heard where things went smoothly. I reminded myself that God created our [women] bodies to do this. We were trusting God for a normal vaginal delivery. "Focus on Jesus; trust Him." I was trying my hardest to keep my mind fixed on Jesus...where's that perfect peace that surpasses understanding when I need it? The doctor entered and wanted to know what my tears were for? Pain? Anxiety? I nodded, and admitted I was just anxious. The doctor shrugged, said that was normal, and then proceeded to give me something to help "soften the cervix," and we waited. After the doctor left, I grabbed my husband's hands and he prayed over me. Sweet peace flooded over my soul. Thank you, Jesus.

A labor suite opened so we gathered our little belongings, and I shuffled down the hallway to the open room and settled in for the night. OK, time to sleep while the "softener" does it's thing. Good luck with that! With monitors wrapped around my belly, blood pressure cuff around my arm (taking pressure every 30 minutes), attempting not to hit my pick line (and resisting the urge to scratch it), and nurse's coming in every 2 hours to check on me...let's just say, I slept like a baby (yes a newborn baby that wakes up every one to two hours to feed). 

7am : the rooster didn't crow, but the nurse did. After checking me and finding nothing had moved or changed over night, we decided to try the foley bulb technique. Excited to get the ball rolling on this birthing process, I started doing my fair share of things to help the process along...squats, bouncy ball, pelvic circles, dancing with my husband, etc... And we got to watch the fun educational video on epidurals. 

10am : 4 cm! The foley bulb worked! Up to this point, I felt nothing but a dull, mild period-like-cramp. I still had no idea what a contraction was (or more like no idea what it felt like yet). The nurse kept asking me about my pain and I didn't know what to answer her...because I honestly didn't feel anything really. I remember thinking, if this is labor, shoot! - this is a piece of cake! (Little did I know, what was coming). Since I was now at 4cm, they started the Pitocin. 

11am : Nothing really seemed to be happening, so the doctor broke my water (talk about fire hydrant gush and then warm liquid trickling down my legs for the next 2 hours). The newbie that I was frantically trying to clean myself and the floor. The nurses didn't seemed at all phased, and I'm sure in their mind was "Oh, just wait honey; you're about to have something worth cleaning up in a bit." Then it started...the abrupt diaphragmic explosions causing gastric juices to defy gravity. Yes, one of the fun little side effects of Pitocin (apparently my body wasn't a fan). I crawled back into bed to keep from fainting and let the tossing, turning, and vomiting commence. I think sometime around midday I finally felt a little more, what I'm going to call, "pressure" around my midsection. 

12am : In true Janalee time, I was now hungry so they brought me a smorgasbord of delectable juices, hot broth, hot & cold tea, and a variety of jello options. Oh, yum. Needless to say, I remained hungry.  

1pm :  I was not handling the Pitocin well, and I guess I automatically started breathing the way I knew how (for working out), which was exhaling more than inhaling. My oxygen levels started to drop so they put me on oxygen. The medical staff was picking up a late deceleration of baby's heart beat after contractions through the tocograph (though at this point I still didn't know what a contraction was, but I guess the monitor was picking them up), so the nurse came in, razor in hand to shave my belly and to inform me that doctor wanted to do a c-section. Another medical staff came in and proceeded to inform me about the process of administering an epidural, followed closely by the surgery prep team talking me through where they would be taking me and shoving paperwork in my face to sign. HOLD THE FRONT DOOR! Time out. I told everyone to stop. At this point I hadn't even seen or talked to the doctor yet. I wanted to talk to the doctor and my husband first before we do anything. Everyone shuffled out and the doctor came in. We talked. The doctor left. I talked to my husband. We agreed that since I'd been tossing and turning throwing up, we did not have a very consistent tocograph reading. Also, the fact that I hadn't been breathing right wasn't helping things either. The situation wasn't emergent and the baby's heart rate was stable and normal, so we decided to stop the Pitocin, focus on my breathing, and I would try to lay still so we could get a more accurate monitor reading, there after reassess. 

2:30pm : An hour of monitoring showed baby and momma responding fine to contractions. We would proceed with labor. They started back up the Pitocin.

I finally felt my first contraction! ...which could really be described as an intense period cramp that lasted less than a minute.

3pm : Let the vomiting ensue..

4pm : 6 cm! I got SO EXCITED! We're finally making progress! Contractions started revving up and so did my prayer intensity. The nurse offered an epidural. I declined. 

6pm : Contractions were now taking the majority of my focus. My husband was graciously at my side counting me through each one, helping me pace myself, and handing me water when I needed it. The nurse checked me again - 8cm! She said she could make it 7cm and this would be my last chance for an epidural. Lady, I've made it this far, I'm not about to go that route now, but thank you. I declined. Adrenalin kicked it, and I looked at my husband. "We're about to have a baby!" I exclaimed. He looked at me softly, with the most loving and adoring look. Without saying anything I knew what that look meant: I still had a ways to go. "Ok, I'll just focus on one contraction at a time," "Thank you," he responded. 

To be honest, the next hour and half was the fastest time has even gone in my life. It felt like a workout: pacing, breathing, focusing, and pushing through the discomfort, attempting to chitty chat with the nurse in between contractions. I was fully present, marveling at my body and baby working together, attempting to maintain calm through my breathing, and praying like I've never prayed before. The presence of the Lord was so sweet, and it's hard to describe, but I had never experienced the closeness of the Lord like I did in that delivery room. 

7:25pm : The urge to push hit me. Baby was coming out whether I wanted it or not. Talk about the most intense pressure you can ever feel on your pelvic floor. My hips felt like two people were pulling on each pelvis bone in opposite directions attempting to rip them in half. No big deal. Just another day birthing a baby, right? And, yes, I absolutely made all the sound effects. 

The nurse leaned over, "Do you feel the urge to push?"

Me - "Lady, my body is pushing whether there's an urge or not. I'm having a baby!" 

Nurse checks and feels baby's head. "Ok, I'll go get the doc." 

Me - "Good idea."

The doctor finally came in and got all set up. Seemed like the whole staff seemed to be moving at a very slow pace, while I thought they should be rushing. After all, wasn't the baby's head right there? The way I felt, I thought the baby was about to bust out at any minute, and they didn't seem too ready to catch him. The staff then proceeded to get me set up in position, coached me through how to push, and we started working with each contraction. And another contraction...and another...and another. I thought my eye balls were going to explode. Adrenaline was in full effect, and I think I was feeling better just because they had stopped administering the Pitocin. I enjoyed each reprieve between contractions (though they weren't long) and found the ability to joke with the nursing staff and my husband, telling Judah not to be shy - that this was his moment and we were all waiting on him. Group-fitness-Janalee kicked into full gear, and I found myself cheering myself on as well as the staff, singing a line or two of the best pump up music I could think of (much to the surprise of my husband), and telling myself "you got this." Just when I thought I couldn't push anymore, that my strength had failed me, I finally let a contraction go by resting and opening my hips instead of pushing, and little Judah slid right out. The body is amazing. That is all I can say. 

8:05pm : I met my little man. I half expected a second way of emotions to come over me upon seeing my little boy for the first time, but nothing happened. He was my baby. And I was now a mom. All I could do was praise the Lord. 

One thing I will never forget is the look of my husband...standing over us with his eyes beaming. He looked so proud of me after witnessing what I just went through. And the way he so tenderly and affectionately spoke to baby Judah as he held him in his arms, praying over him and blessing him -it just melted my heart. My husband saw another side of me that day, and I saw another side of him...he was now a father.