Our sweet Cannon is going to be three weeks old tomorrow and I can hardly believe it has been that long. I have been working on his birth story a little bit at a time, not sure if I would post it here or not. Be aware in reading this that things didn't go perfectly and that sometimes that is ok. I love my little Cannon ball.A baby’s birth is something that is prepared for and anticipated for years. When a woman learns that she is pregnant, those years of preparation are recalled and a real baby begins to insert itself in her plans. When I learned I was pregnant Michael was away on an internship in Culver City, California for the summer. Since we had been trying to get pregnant for over a year, the tears and happiness that I squeezed through the phone could never have been enough to express the amount of joy that I felt at that time.
On March 14th Michael and I laid down for a late nap so that we could get some rest before picking my mom up from the airport. Michael fell instantly to sleep around 10:00pm but for some reason I had an upset stomach and could not rest. I had been having Braxton Hicks contractions regularly for several weeks but this was different. It felt like I was about to give a huge speech and had nervous knots in my stomach that refused to go away. At 11:30 Michael woke up and got ready to leave. I briefly mentioned my upset stomach, knowing subconsciously that I was experiencing something foreign and substantial, but did not want him to worry. Michael left the house at exactly 12 midnight and at 12:04 the first contraction came. It was unlike my Braxton Hicks contractions that were high in my stomach and focused on the surface of my baby bump. This contraction was low in my pelvis, deep in my core, and moderately painful. I sent Michael a quick text asking him to let me know when he found my mom because, unknown to him, I wanted to give him an update as soon as they were together. I did not want Michael worrying about me while he was out looking for my mom. I then decided to track the frequencies of the contractions in a text addressed to both my Mom and Michael so that if they needed to get home quickly I wouldn’t have to explain much. As soon as my mom sent me a message letting me know that they were on their way I sent the text message tracking my contractions. By this time it was 1:31am. My contractions were anywhere from two to six minutes apart and getting stronger all the time. My mom responded to the text letting me know that they were picking up their pace and would be home in 45 mins so I jumped in the shower to prepare myself both physically and mentally for what could be in store in the next several hours. The two of them made it home from JFK Airport in 37 minutes rather than the usual 50 and left the car outside with the hazard lights on, though I assured them there was no emergency. Between contractions I gave directions as to what needed to be done, finished curling my hair, showed my mom around the apartment, then called the doctor. She laughingly told me that I should probably be on my way already and we loaded up in the car.
I don’t remember much of the car ride to the hospital except for Michael taking extra care to avoid bumps and potholes in the road as he drove, causing him to make some sort of remark that the people around us probably thought he was driving under the influence. When we got to the hospital I waited for my current contraction to subside then walked as fast as I could inside to the elevator. Before the door opened to let me in Michael ran up with all of our bags and camera draping off of his limbs and got in the elevator with me, leaving my mom to park the car. The walk down the third floor hall seemed like it kept growing as we went but I eventually found my elbows on top of the appropriate counter as Michael let the nursing staff know my situation. They sat me in a triage room while their doctor made his way up. I had not dilated or effaced at all at my last doctor’s appointment so we knew that if I had progressed at all they would not be turning me away. I measured 2cm dilated and 100% effaced. I had only been on the table for five minutes when I felt a warm wet sensation surround my lower half… like I had accidentally wet my pants. This was my water breaking. The staff quickly moved me into a labor and delivery room and ordered my epidural.
The next several hours were full of needles and new faces. At 3am I was measured again and said be dilated to 3cm. The nurses encouraged me to rest between contractions but 30 seconds of sleep every two minutes didn’t sound particularly feasible to me so I stayed awake and daydreamed of my baby instead. At around 4am a nurse that I didn’t like came in to prepare me for my epidural by placing my IV catheter in my hand. I kindly asked her before the placement if she was good at IV placement and she assured me that she was. After two incredibly painful attempts she decided to call in another nurse to give it a try. The other nurse was very nice but she also placed the IV improperly and after about 3 minutes my wrist had swollen up to the size of a racquetball and the pressure was killing me. I don’t remember who I ordered out of the room to fetch the nearest nurse but IV number three was removed in a matter of a few long minutes after an explanation that the needle hadn't been placed far enough into the vein. At 5:15am the anesthesiologist came in to place my catheter and administer my epidural. Though all IV’s are painful, this one was an absolute cakewalk compared to the previous three. Once it was secure the nurse I didn’t like came back and I asked her when her shift ended. With a goal of not delivering before 7am, I got in position to receive my epidural.
My mom was asked to leave the room and Michael was instructed to stay seated on the couch in front of me so that he would not be able to see what was going on. The nurse then had me swing my legs off of the bed so that I faced her and told me to arch my back as much as I could. The top of my head rested on the nurse’s chest and my hands wrapped around her forearms for support. I felt the first shot as the needle passed between two of the vertebrae in my back and the area immediately felt icy cold and uncomfortable. I leaned further forward to give the doctor more area to work with and gripped the nurse’s arms tightly. The doctor told me that he would then be administering the epidural and that I would probably feel a sharp pain in my back but that I was not to respond physically. I clenched my teeth and tried to calm myself by repeating the word ‘still’ out loud over and over. The pain never came. I felt a very small amount of pressure release from my back, then dressings being applied and I was told to lie back down. It was MUCH easier than I had expected. As I released my grip from the nurse’s arms I realized that I had left dark purple imprints where my fingers had been and suddenly appreciated her help and support. She told me to sleep until they woke me up so I did.
At 9:40am I was measured to be dilated to 4.5cm but the baby still had not dropped. Doctor Davita let me know that they were going to start me on Pitocin and see if that helped me dilate any faster. I was checked periodically until 3pm when I was measured to be fully dilated with the baby descended to a -1 and no further signs of dissension. My Pitocin was increased several times over the next hour or so to try and get the baby to drop but he wouldn’t have it. At this point my sweet mom and husband were in and out of delirium from being awake for so long and I was starting to feel the effects of fatigue. At about 4pm the doctor came back to let me know that it was time to push, no matter the station of the baby, to try and push him into position. My mom went into the waiting room while Michael, the nurses, and I pushed. I tried everything. I listened to everything that the nurses told me to do; I got in several different positions; I adjusted my breathing techniques; everything. I pushed so hard that my body felt like it would collapse. About halfway through the baby’s heart rate dropped really low and the nurse made me stop. She turned me on my side and pushed a red button that called in at least six other clinicians. They had me relax and move to my other side until the baby’s heart rate picked back up and he was out of distress. After 2 hours and 15 minutes of intense pushing Doctor Davita checked to see how far we had come and found that no progress had been made. I had pushed the soft parts of his head further down the birth canal but his cranial bones were stuck in my pelvis. Not only was the baby turned transversely (facing the side instead of facing down) but his head was too big to get through my pelvis at all.
As the doctor explained the situation I listened for cues as to how I could help turn him while I pushed. She talked for a couple of blurry minutes before her first clear statement, “this is a C-section baby”. I don’t know if I’ve ever truly felt my heart break before but I could almost feel someone stepping on my chest. I was trying so hard – it didn’t make sense that there was no possible way. I had done everything right for this baby during pregnancy; why couldn’t I complete his delivery? I have dreamed of that moment that the pressure leaves and somebody can see his face. Dreamed of Michael handing me my baby for the first time and setting him on my chest to keep warm. Dreamed of hearing his first cry and watching the nurses wipe him off. Dreamed of the overwhelming connection I would inevitably feel watching us separate from one body to two.
I tried to hold myself together but this was wrong! This was NOT a C-section baby! How is there nothing that can be done? I know I can do this! I started to cry. I know she was probably saying something important but I was so tired and so heartbroken. Michael held me, a nurse handed me tissue, and everyone else left the room as my tears turned into sobs. I sobbed and sobbed inconsolably. When the doctor came back she offered to let me push for 30 more minutes but suggested that it could be harmful to the baby and again confirmed that this would be a C-section in the end. Michael and I asked for a couple more minutes to make our decision. We talked for a long time then Michael left the room to give me a couple of minutes to myself. During those minutes I prayed harder than I have ever prayed before. I don't think that I was completely aware of what I was praying for but I know I didn't pray to have him vaginally; I mostly just needed the Lord's companionship in that room. The prayer was cut short by the doctor re-entering the room and standing at the end of my bed. Michael came back and the three of us talked briefly about my options before I heard myself ask to be taken for the C-section right away. Michael and I had not come to a final decision together so I think he may have been surprised by my request and honestly, so was I. I wanted to give this baby every opportunity to come into this world as naturally as possible. I know now that the Lord placed those words in my mouth.
Just a couple of minutes after making my request Michael was standing beside me in a white jumpsuit, hair cover, and mask. My mom came in crying to offer comfort, I was asked to sign a consent form for the surgery and then my bed began to move. I don’t know where Michael went but I remember passing under the sign that read ‘operating room’ and he was gone. Though I had never stopped crying, his absence emptied my heart and the sobbing began again. The hospital staff laughed and joked with each other as they stood around me and I felt like I was watching myself from another room. I was moved from one table to another and a large black man, the anesthesiologist now on duty, hung a cloth blocking my lower body from my sight. The man placed my arms on planks that came out from the table in right angles and I felt for a moment like I could understand the sadness that the Savior felt through his crucifixion. They injected me with some sort of stronger numbing serum and let Michael back in the room. I buried my face in his neck as he sat by me and I completely submitted to my emotions. I was so tired and so overwhelmed that I was only half aware of the black man’s questions. He asked if I could feel his pinching and where it was. I told him accurately every time as the pinches were strong and obvious. He looked up at someone and said, ‘She isn’t numb yet. Give her another dose,’ then immediately turned his head to the doctor and said, ‘You can go ahead and start your incision.’ The feeling of that blade tracing from one side of my abdomen to the other is something I will never forget. I tried to tell Michael what was happening but I was too exhausted to be clear. It was several minutes before Michael realized that I was feeling the entire surgery and notified the anesthesiologist. The doctor was told to stop what she was doing and asked me what I could feel. I told him that I felt cutting from left to right and he said, ‘No. We’re not doing anything right now,’ and requested another dose of the anesthetic. Logically I knew that they weren't doing anything right at that moment - he had just told them to stop! I had thought he wanted me to tell him the last thing that had been done. Being too tired to argue, I just buried my face back in Michael’s neck and hoped this dose would kick in soon. Luckily it did kick in a couple of minutes before the doctor told me that I might feel a lot of pressure as she pulled the baby out. Seconds later I heard him cry. My body relaxed as Michael and I cried together. I have never felt such a strong connection to anyone as I did to my husband in those minutes. We had created something and we had overcome something that had felt insurmountable. No one else was involved, just he and I. The nurse brought the baby around the curtain upside down and covered in blood. He was crying too and there was something beautiful about that.
Once the baby was cleaned off he was handed to Michael who held him to my face for the first time. He stayed there for a long time, cheek to cheek and I felt an overwhelming sense of joy and wholeness. I knew he was mine and I was sure he knew me. Sometimes the biggest moments of our lives come in unexpected ways. Though it doesn't make things perfect, I am overwhelmingly grateful that he is here healthy and happy. In the recovery room the nurse told me that it was not set in stone anywhere but that I would probably need to have C sections with all of my babies since it was a size issue that had led me to this one. I asked how many times I could have a C section if that was the case and she told me that most doctors don't like to re-open the same incision more than three times. Michael and I have talked about how many kids we want and our number has always been three or four. If we are supposed to have four then God will make it happen but when the nurse told me three, part of me relaxed and felt complete. Maybe it was because I had given birth 30 minutes before but I think hearing that was also a relief in many ways. I have loved Cannon since I found out I was pregnant. Seeing him for the first time brought a feeling of love that I have never felt before. Every new thing I learn about him and every new experience we have together brings me to love him more. I can't wait to watch him grow.
What advice would you give a new wife to stay married for three whole
years? Think of things from your husband's point of view before
reacting to anything. Try and make him feel special every day. 
