When you were born.

My sweet boy, you entered this world in a whirlwind that has yet to let up. I became your mother the moment you were conceived, but your entrance to the outer womb world will forever be etched in my memory.

For several weeks leading up to your birth, I was dealing with horrible itching all over my body. The roof of my mouth even itched. I would scratch until I was bleeding. I had no rash, and the doctor chalked it up to allergies. I felt uneasy and intuition told me that something might be wrong.

Dr. Google (who you should generally never consult but in this case may have saved your life, literally) suggested a pregnancy condition called cholestasis. The more I read, the more I just KNEW that’s what I had. The scary part was reading that cholestasis is often not diagnosed until too late, and can cause stillbirth in healthy full term pregnancy. Because of this, mothers with cholestasis are recommended to be induced by no later than 38 weeks, as the risk of infant death greatly increases during those last few weeks.

By the time I found out about cholestasis, I was almost 37 weeks. I immediately called the doctor’s office and talked to an unsympathetic nurse who told me I would need to wait for my weekly checkup on Monday (it was Friday). I remember being so terrified that weekend that something bad would happen to you.

That Monday, I had a blood test and everything looked normal, but I was still worried.

The next Monday, I was 38 1/2 weeks pregnant. The doctor was surprised that my itching hadn’t gone away. I begged her to run more labs. She admitted that she didn’t have much knowledge in dealing with cholestasis and took the time to research it with me as she could see how scared I was. She realized that they didn’t order the correct tests last time, so I had more blood drawn.

The next day at work, on November 17th, my cell phone rang. It was the doctor’s office – not a nurse, but my actual doctor calling me. My heart raced when I heard her voice.

“Kristen, I just got your labs back and your liver enzymes actually are pretty elevated. It does look like cholestasis and to be safe, I want you to check into the hospital tonight for an induction.”

Wait, what? I wasn’t ready! I was terrified of being induced and of giving birth. We hadn’t even installed your car seat yet. I still had a long list to work through before going on my maternity leave at work. I started shaking and after I hung up, I told my boss. Everyone in my department started popping up over cubicle walls excitedly and offering reassurance. I hadn’t told your dad yet, so I sent him a text. My boss had me update her on my current to-do list and then sent me home a little early so I could pack my hospital bag.

Your dad got home at 5:30 and since I was instructed to eat something light, we had nachos at Fuzzy’s for our last pre-baby meal. I was crying and shaking and terrified. Your dad was practically floating and couldn’t have been more excited.

It was cold and raining that night. I tried to keep calm as I took a shower, packed my bag, and tried not to yell at your dad as he waited until the very last minute to install your car seat. Once it was installed, we realized how very compact our Ford Fiestas were going to be with a baby. My knees were on the dashboard as we rushed off to the hospital.

We checked in and shared nervous laughter with the nurse. She explained the induction process to us and had me change into a hospital gown. She administered the first dose of medicine to start my labor. She told me that it usually doesn’t work on the first dose and that I should try to sleep through the night. I tried to sleep but I was too nervous and excited.

I had constant contractions through the night, but they didn’t hurt. Every time the nurse checked me, I wasn’t progressing even though I was contracting. They decided to start Pitocin early in the morning (around 7 AM). My contractions immediately started getting much stronger. By 8 or 8:30, my water broke (EVERY.WHERE.). For the next few hours, I labored through intense contractions as I progressed from 0 cm dilated to 10 cm by lunchtime. Your dad was amazing and so supportive. He held my hand, talked me through the contractions, and did the silly breathing with me (breathing that we had previously laughed about in birth class).

I declined an epidural and said I wanted to do this as naturally as possible (aside from the induction). I had gotten through the transition phase and felt like I could handle the pain. It honestly wasn’t as awful as I was expecting… until all of a sudden, it really really was.

I started pushing around 12:30. 5 other women were in labor at that time and the floor was short-staffed, so your dad ended up being nurse #2 to hold my legs while I pushed.

Pushing was a horrible experience. I knew you weren’t coming out, I could feel that you weren’t lowering. The contractions were coming on much quicker because of the Pitocin and they were horribly intense at that point. I felt like my back might actually break. I won’t elaborate more on this part, because I truly never want to relive it.

Your dad was trying to stay calm for me, but he was very stressed that it was taking so long. After 2 1/2 hours of pushing, the nurse told me to stop and wait for my doctor to come assess the situation. I couldn’t stop, so I cried and screamed and tensed up as every contraction forced me to push with no progress.
My doctor came in, took one look at your head wedged up behind my pelvic bone and said “c-section, now.” The next half hour was a blur as the staff prepped for the surgery. I cried and begged for this to be over with, please.

The first attempt at an epidural didn’t work and they discussed putting me under general anesthesia. I wanted so badly to be awake when you were born and asked them to please try the epidural one more time. I prayed for it to work, and it did. (And thank the Lord above, those awful contractions finally stopped).

I laid under a pile of blankets, behind a big blue paper curtain, and felt nothing but tugging and pulling as they opened my stomach. I was smiling and joking with your dad and the nurses while the doctor worked. The anesthesiologist made your dad stand up and peek over the curtain (he remarked, “it was a bloodbath.”)

Sadly, I was so exhausted and loopy that I didn’t even realize they had you out at first. Your head was all banged up from being stuck under my pelvis, and you weren’t breathing for a few scary moments. I peeked backwards to the corner where they held you up for us, and I remember thinking how squishy your little newborn face was and how long and skinny your body looked. Much of this day was a blur, but I distinctly remember the first time I saw you. I said to your dad, “Jordan look! It’s a REAL BABY! There really was a baby in there” (as if you were going to be anything else). I listened to your cry and I couldn’t wait to hold you and see you up close.

While they stitched me up, your dad got to stand in the corner with you and take pictures. They measured your head: “14.75 inches!” My doctor reassured me that your gigantic head would not have fit no matter how I pushed. They called me a rockstar for trying. They weighed you: “8 pounds, 4 ounces!” My sweet, big, healthy boy.

At long last, 40 minutes later I was almost all stitched up and finally got to hold you. Your dad brought you over to me and carefully laid you next to me since I had to lay still. I tried to wrap my arms around you and kiss your face as best I could. I was so in love. You were crying and I wanted to comfort you but I couldn’t do much. We got through it. We have gotten through it all.

At 3:37 PM on November 18th, 2015, you made your grand entrance to this world. It wasn’t ideal and wasn’t the birth experience I had imagined and hoped for, but the end result was a healthy, beautiful son in my arms, so… it really doesn’t matter how you got here. I would do it all over again.