On Friday the 28th, at 6:39 PM, Grayson Conall Bailey came into the world. As most of you know, we'd intended a 100% natural childbirth at a birthing center with midwives in attendance. On Wednesday afternoon, I had my 40 week appointment with the midwives, and was told it could happen "anytime, but probably not tonight."
On Wednesday night, the 26th, my water broke on its own, changing the rules a bit, as the rupture did not accompany contractions. That was a rough night; Searching every twinge and sensation for the signs of oncoming labor, while leaking what must have been gallons of amniotic fluid all night. Pads were laughable, and the only way I got through the night was by making creative use of face towels..many, many face towels.

 Thursday morning, Gary and I went back to the birthing center to be monitored and I spent a lot of time taking a non-stress test to make sure baby was OK. After a LOT of thought and consideration, and to be sure that the baby would be born before any danger of infection set it; we decided to put ourselves in the hands of a doctor whom the
midwives greatly respect; one who is known for minimal interventions- and be prepared to take a more "medical" route for the safety of the baby and myself. He agreed to take us on, with the foreknowledge that he was not going to let the pregancy continue much longer with the ruptured membranes. There will be those who will disagree with this attitude, but in our hearts, we also knew this birth needed to be somewhat imminent for the safety of this baby. It was the right thing to do. We went to the hospital; and checked ourselves in for what would end up being a very long journey to parenthood.

I was put on Pitocin on Thursday afternoon, to start and regulate contractions, so that we could hopefully still have the vaginal birth we'd intended, if not an entirely "natural" one anymore. I stayed on the pit all of Thursday, certainly feeling contractions, but not of the frequency or intensity to make the changes needed before we could be assured a vaginal birth was a possibilty. Thursday night @ 10 PM, I was given the first of the three doses of Cytotec I'd receive during the night. I would only recommend this procedure to your absolute worst enemy. It was a bit excruciating. At six am Friday morning, somewhat more effaced and a bit more dilated, we resumed Pitocin.  After a very frank meeting with my primary doctor and my attending doctor on Friday morning, we decided that although it was looking more and more like a c-section *might* be in my future, we needed to devote ourselves a final time to seeing if this birth could be accomplished vaginally. The doctor said "if you were to ask me point blank to section you now, I'm not sure what my answer would be, because you do not, right now, fit any of the three criteria for which I'd authorize an immediate c-section." As it turned out, I am very grateful that we took his advice, as I was able to experience a great deal of my labor and contractions, which was something I really wanted, for myself. I had really, really, really intense contractions for the majority of Friday. I was given an IV pain medication, which unfortunately triggered my Restless Leg Syndrome so badly that in addition to working hard with each contraction, I was unable to stop writhing around with the horrible sensations in my legs. Sadly, although these contractions were very intense, they were not effective in making my body dilate or efface. Even in the presence of
powerful synthetic hormones, my body remained resistant. It was very unusual, especially considering my water had ruptured on its own. I believe in retrospect that my water breaking was my body's way of protecting this child from going way overdue, and forcing us to make decisions about getting him here quickly, as if we were to have waited and
waited for labor to start 'natually' it may not have, and by then, he may have been in danger.

By this point, it had been over 36 hours since my water ruptured, and we were coming down to the wire as to what needed to be done. Either major labor needed to kick in soon, or we would have to start talking about alternate ways of bringing this baby into the world, not only for the sake of avoiding infection, but because I had started to pass green-tinted amniotic fluid, indicating meconium and possible distress on his part. Heart rate was fine, and so we decided to stay with this game plan until 4 PM Friday, a full 44 hours since my water broke, and when I thought I'd move smoothly and naturally into labor. There was really no way of knowing in advance whether that would come to pass; and so each change in plan we had to make was based on the reality of the situation as it stood at that time, rather than because of any pre-conceived idea of what kind of interventions I'd be willing to accept. When it came to making .sure this baby was healthy and stayed that way, my idea of an "ideal" birth meant less than nothing to me. I was given an epidural at about 1:30 on Friday, not even so much to help with the contraction pains, but to help relax my body, both my restless legs and even perhaps facilitate making greater progress in dilation, since the head seemed determined to stay stuck at a -2 station. The added benefit of the epidural was that I was able to slip into two hours of the most effortless and delicious nap I've ever had. After not sleeping for the last 50 hours or so, this was an unbelievable gift. Four o'clock came and so did the repeated conferences and meetings with my two doctors and nurses about what we'd do next. After examinations and repeated perception checks it was concluded that the baby wasn't going to come down any further. His head was already starting to mould itself to the birth canal, something which is usually characterized by a much lower position and later stage of labor. This again suggested an inordinately large baby, something which had of course been on my mind, since my 37 weeks ultrasound when it was estimated that he was 9.25 pounds, a full month prior to this time.

There was never a moment where I felt the doctors just took over and made this decision "for me." Up until the very last moment when I visited with the doctors, we were still discussing options, and what allowances were still deemed acceptable risks. But, by this time, my desire to see this baby, to bring him into the world, to know he was healthy, had reached a fever pitch, and I was resolute. My husband and my family and I made the decision together to move ahead with the c-section.

It seems things moved ahead very fast here, and I actually don't remember everything from the surgery itself. My nurse prepped me for the surgery, Gary got in some scrubs (he looked really cute in those), and the reality of what would finally have come to pass in just a short time began to sink in. I wasn't anxious at all as I was wheeled down to the OR room, or when the epidural was removed and I was instead given a complete spinal block. I felt extremely "other worldly," as though this were all a dream. Truthfully, after I was given the block, and I laid back on the table, there is a large gap in my memory. I don't know if I slept, or whether things actually went faster than I recall, but I don't remember the surgery starting at all. I don't remember Gary coming and sitting at my head, I don't remember the doctor, Dr. Ryan coming into the room to begin. The next thing I recall, was sort of "coming to," with Gary sitting at my head, and the anaethesiologist wanting to put an oxygen mask on me, to which I told him I was starting to feel clausterphobic with that on my face. From that point on, and for the next five minutes or so, I was definitely not at my best. My mind started to play tricks on me. I had no sensation of even HAVING a body below my neck, and so I couldn't FEEL myself breathing. I couldn't feel my lungs expanding..it felt as though the air going into my body wasn't going anywhere at all. Because of this, I started to say over and over that I wasn't breathing. I was firmly reminded that I was breathing fine, especially because I was talking. I was shown the computer that had my oxygenation at 99%, but my mind was really stubborn. He told me that I had been given a REALLY strong spinal, because he wanted me to be comfortable and not feel anything, not even the tugging and pulling of the surgeon. I remember turning to see Gary filming me and I got irate and terrified and pleaded "don't film me, don't film me." He did turn the camera off, but now, I still have the momento of a few minute's of my "freaking out" on tape for posterity. It's really strange to watch it now, knowing how pragmatic I am, I'm just perplexed that I let myself freak out like that. I didn't know what to expect from a total spinal, and it really caught me off guard. I finally made myself calm down when I had the additionally irrational thought that if I didn't calm down, they might stop the c-section and I wouldn't see my baby. Little did I know they were about two seconds from bringing him into the world.

I heard a chorus of about seven people saying "Oh my god, Oh my God..." I didn't know if the baby was in danger or not, but clearly he wasn't as everyone was laughing and animated as they said this. I heard Dr. Ryan say "this baby is 3 months old!" I heard a nurse say "he's huge!" And then Dr. Ryan say "this is probably a record for me." Gary was standing and saying "Oh baby, oh baby...." I had calmed down enough at this point to turn my head in time to see my son being carried to the warming table where the nurse started drying and checking him out. He had taken in some meconium, and so their first priority was to suction him completely. I remember asking Gary, "Is he huge? Is he a freak?" Because I couldn't imagine, that with the combined labor and delivery experience of everyone in the room, that his size could have been THAT much of a surprise to everyone. Well, the reality is that I doubt that hospitals DO see many babies of Grayson's size, because most pregnancies wouldn't have been allowed to go on that long if a large baby were suspected. Being that my pre-natal care had been with midwives, not doctors, the attitude towards size is very different. At our first checkup a few days ago, one of the ladies at the birth center told me that they RARELY have babies under 8 lbs, and do have quite a few babies in the upper ranges of 9 lbs, 10 and occasionally more. She did say, however, that Grayson was "this year's record holder," as their last 12-pounder was a full year ago.

Well, of course the rest is an amazing blur. Gary and Grayson went to the nursery, I went to recovery. My mother came in soon to tell me how beautiful her grandson was and about the literal crowd which had gathered to watch him outside the nursery window. I guess compared to the 6 lb. and the 5 lb. preemie in the nursery, he must have looked astounding. After what seemed like ages, Gary joined us in recovery and finally, oh..finally...they brought Grayson to me. I'm so grateful to my step-dad for taking pictures of all of this, especially of the time when Grayson was in the nursery, for I never would have been able to see my husband's first glowing moments as a Dad.

I could go on forever in this narrative. I think every new mother feels every detail of her story as keenly as if it were yesterday. I spent the next few days starting to recover; rooming in with my baby, getting to know him, feeling overwhelmed by the enormity of it all, wondering if I'd ever be able to walk comfortably again and feeling like the entire world ceased to exist outside of the room where I stayed with my new baby. I stayed only two days in the hospital; as I knew I needed to be home before my real healing could begin. I needed sleep, I needed some autonomy, I needed the freedom to make some big decisions about feeding my son, I needed the familiarity of my own bed. So, we came home Sunday evening; a married couple, transformed into a family of three.

Tonight is the one-week anniversary of my son's birth. I am still overwhelmed by emotion, by the reality of this change in our lives, and most of all, by a love so consuming that it almost feels painful at times. There are some changes in life that take a great leap of faith. I guess one could live life "safely," risking nothing. . . never letting in something so beautiful that the thought of losing it rends your heart in two. I guess one could avoid those monumental moments in life that truly do separate the "you" you were before from the "you" you are now. I guess you could, but I'm glad we didn't. There are moments of unspeakable fear, stemming from the unimaginable love we feel for our son. This is the razor's edge, the risk of opening your heart and your life, instead of remaining cloistered and the same as you were yesterday. 

Thank you for sharing this with me. I wish I could find a way to truly express the impact of this experience. . .but for all of you who've taken this journey yourself, I know you understand how unequal words are to that task, and you understand.