Conor's Birth Story

So it's a Sunday, and my parents took the boys for the weekend, and when Peter asked me how I wanted to spend the day, I just said I need space to just sit down and write about all that has happened these past two weeks. I need time and space to write about Conor's birth story, to feel the trauma and pain of it, to shed the tears, to feel the heavy sense of grief that it didn't quite go as I had hoped and the joy that he is alive! I need to fully lean into it and set it all free so it has no hold on me anymore.

And as I sit here trying to piece together just what happened two weeks ago, I'm realizing my memory is already blurry with the details of it all, with the trauma of it all. 

The truth is, I don't quite know where his birth story begins and ends? Does it begin with my intuition that something just wasn't right? Does it begin at Northwest with the ultrasound? Does it end as soon as they cut him out of my tummy? Does it end when I am discharged? Does it end when he's discharged? What's the end of this story going to be? 

And for the sake of length and time, it more or less begins with the ultrasound on Saturday and ends when I finally leave the hospital, but let's be real, I haven't really left the hospital because I'm there more or less every single day. 

And I am warning you now, it is long, very long. I considered breaking it into two parts but I couldn't bring myself to do that. 

I'm going to try my best to put myself back to two weeks ago when I had no idea just what awaited us as I attempt to relive the day and the hours leading up to Conor's arrival. 

This is Conor's birth story. 

***

Let's just start off by saying my name is Malia and I have high blood pressure. The Drs don't really understand why I have high blood pressure at my age, but it normally averages around 128/85 or something? It's never 120/80 or below, it always hovers above the normal numbers, and pregnancy really does wonders for it! So with all my babes the Drs watch me closely and at some stage in the pregnancy, they start me on blood pressure medication. With Jack they started me on medication super early on, like 16 weeks, and with Ryan I had a different Dr. and she started me on medication at like 30 weeks or something? 

Now remember, Jack was my c-section, premature, NICU stay baby I brought home from the hospital 20 days after he was born (Jack's birth story Part one and Part two) and Ryan was my v-bac, 38 week, full term baby I brought home from the hospital literally 24 hours after he was born (Ryan's birth story). So we were really hoping for a repeat of Ryan's birth story!

However, as we know, anything is possible, and just days before Conor's birth I sent my Dr. an email with some questions like how do I know I'm not experiencing real contractions, how do I know I'm not leaking fluid, how do I know he's okay if I don't feel him moving much? And she replied back, we'll know more in two days at his growth ultrasound and then we can take things from there. 

And looking back, my mama intuition was already kicking in. Something just felt different, or off? I have no idea. But I wasn't nearly as settled with this pregnancy as I was with the ones prior, even though my blood pressures at all my previous Drs appointments had been really good, fairly normal to be honest, and my Dr and I had even talked about the possibility of them being normal my entire pregnancy and carrying this baby to 40 weeks and not even being induced like I was with Ryan. 

And ironically when I picked Jack up from school on Thursday, April 12th, his teachers looked at me and said oh you are still pregnant! Jack was saying his baby brother had been born, and we thought, well isn't that really early? And I said yes, WAY TOO EARLY - hopefully we won't be meeting him for a few more months. 

You guys, I tell you, that Jack Emmet is so intuitive and God has used him in so many ways to speak truth and certainty into my life. Never underestimate the wise words that come out of the mouth of babes! You never know just who God might use to speak truth to you.

I never would have written this story for Conor's birth! However for some strange reason, I had held this pregnancy and this baby so loosely as I just felt like something was going to happen to him, and I wrote about these feelings just weeks prior to having him. Pregnancy after a loss is the strangest thing, and during my entire pregnancy with Conor, I was constantly reminded that this babe (and all my babes) belong to the Lord. They are His children first, He has created them and knit them together in my womb, and Peter and I have the privilege of raising them. But ultimately, He is the one writing their stories, and it's up to us as parents as to how we carry those stories out, how we tell them, how we retell them, how we use them to shape us and our perspective and the faith of our family.

Anyhow, all that to say, on Saturday, April 14th, I went into Northwest Hospital for a growth ultrasound, which is normal protocol for me and my babes at this stage in the pregnancy game as they just want to assess that they are growing appropriately. And since I have high blood pressure, they want to ensure that it's not compromising the growth of the baby. 

The appointment was at 1 pm. And it had been scheduled for weeks. And the ultrasound tech did all the usual measurements and he was measuring small, which I wasn't surprised by as all my babies measure small and they just are small. Jack was 4 lbs 2 oz at 33 weeks 6 days and Ryan was 5 lbs 11 oz at 38 weeks. 

But Conor was measuring really small. At his 20 week ultrasound he was in the 6th percentile, which I didn't realize until the ultrasound at 28 weeks when the tech informed us that his pattern of growth had decreased from the 6th percentile to the 1st percentile. And she checked the blood flow in his umbilical cord and there was reverse flow, meaning he was giving blood back to me, which isn't good because that impacts his growth. 

So she stepped out of the room to run her findings by the radiologist, and she came back in and said we're going to walk you over to the Childbirth Center and you're going to be admitted! I was like okay?? 

I figured they'd monitor the baby, check my blood pressure, etc., and send me home. Who knew what all it would entail, but never did I imagine that I'd be having this baby anytime soon! That thought hadn't even crossed my mind to be honest.

However, as soon as a Dr. walked in, one of the first things she mentioned was the need to transfer me by ambulance to UW as Northwest doesn't deliver babies at 28 weeks. I was like excuse me? Did you say deliver? Who said anything about having this baby today as I know I sure didn't! And the Dr. was like well it's a possibility, so just in case, we want you to be where you need to be. 

At this stage in the game, Conor's heart rate was great. However, it took them awhile before they checked my blood pressure. I kept saying, you need to check my blood pressure, you need to check my blood pressure, it feels really high. 

And they finally did. And my blood pressure was 171/110. 

My blood pressure has NEVER been that high, but I just knew something was off. I could feel that it was super high and never before have I experienced that. So they started me on an IV of magnesium, and they warned me about the side effects of it all. Peter reminded me that I'd had it before with Jack, and that it made me all loopy, but I don't remember any of this! Probably for the best right? And they may have given me a steroid shot at Northwest for Conor's lung development before they wheeled me away for my ambulance ride to UW.

And then I arrived at UW around 3:30/4, and I just remember thinking, sweet Jesus, not again. I never wanted to deliver here again, never ever - high intervention hospital, so many Drs. coming in and out, and I'll never remember all their names or where they're at in the totem pole, extra monitoring, so little sleep. I wanted to be back at Northwest hospital, delivering this baby with my Dr., and you better believe I told everyone I saw how I felt about it all! 

And I now think, forgive me Lord, I wasn't in a good place.  

And they continued to monitor me and Conor's heartbeat was great, and they said if he keeps looking this great with my blood pressures so high, then chances are good he won't be born today! Their hope was that they could get my blood pressures under control and his heartbeat would remain stable, and I'd be in the antepartum unit for 3.5 weeks until they induced me at 32 weeks! And I could possibly have this baby vaginally, but chances of another c-section were fairly high. 

So I wouldn't be going home until after this baby was born? I remember thinking, this always happens to me, I go in for a routine appointment only to be informed I won't be returning home until after the baby is born. I'm never expecting it, even though you'd think by now maybe I should start expecting it? I never have my hospital bag packed, I'm never fully emotionally, physically or spiritually prepared for that news to hit my heart. And yet, it's happened every single time. 

And I remember thinking, there's no way I can survive 3.5 weeks here. I barely lasted 6 days of baby monitoring and hospitalization with Jack, how in the world was I to do that for 3.5 weeks! And what about my boys? and Peter? And selfishly, I remember thinking, and what about all the events and things I'll miss? 

But all of this was very shortlived as they were having the hardest time getting my blood pressure under control. They kept giving me dose after dose of labetelol and my blood pressure was still really high. I remember asking them, at what stage do you worry about me as it seemed their biggest concern was Conor and his heartbeat. And they just said, there are alot of things we can give you to lower your blood pressure, we're just trying to figure out what's going to work.

And my blood pressure kept creeping up. And I was starving, I hadn't eaten since breakfast, but they didn't want to give me anything to eat and drink until they had sorted out my blood pressure. But they did give me ice chips! 

And then they gave me atenelol, another blood pressure medication that I've taken with my past pregnancies, and a little bit after that I got really hot and I was so uncomfortable and I just felt off. 

The medication had worked. My blood pressure dropped suddenly to like 100/60 or something. 

And then my heart rate dropped. 

And Conor's heart rate dropped, and then they couldn't find his heartbeat. They could only hear mine, and I informed them that I had an anterior placenta which made finding his heartbeat tricky in general. 

So they rolled in the ultrasound Doppler machine and had me get on all fours, and they were still having a hard time finding his heartbeat.

The energy in the room was so tense and the urgency for intervention could be felt so tangibly in the air. 

I knew just what awaited me. 

They said, we're taking you to the Operating room just to prep you. You could end up having an emergency c section if his heartbeat doesn't go back up. So they rolled me into the operating room, and I was still on all fours and just bawling. 

I couldn't believe this was happening, and Peter was once again just left in the room to wait. 

I remember laying there on the table, feeling like I was going to fall off, as they placed an oxygen mask on my face. 

And we waited. And waited to see if his heartbeat went up.

And it went up from 65 to 110, but it didn't go up from there.

I remember asking so many questions, they had to keep taking the oxygen mask off my face to understand me. How long till my husband knows? I've never had general anesthesia before, how does it all work? How long will this all take? When will I see my husband again?

I remember thinking, we could both die. Conor and I could both die, I may not wake up. What image will Peter be left with? 

Now THAT is an incredibly surreal feeling.

And I remember thinking, as they prepared for the c-section, how are they going to put me under so fast? I'm sure to feel them cutting into me at this pace! I counted down to five, and let it be known, I didn't feel anything! And that's surreal in and of itself, to think there is a period of my life that is simply unaccounted for.  

During this time, a Dr. had come in to inform Peter that Conor's heartbeat had gone up, but then 5 minutes later they came in with a bracelet and said congratulations Dad on your baby boy!! Peter said the whole thing took like 20 minutes.

So let it be known world that on Saturday, April 14th at 8:35 PM, our third son, Conor Christopher Drennan was born at 28 weeks and 4 days, weighing in at 1 lb 10 oz. They say he came into the world with the cord wrapped around his neck twice, but that he came out crying! His first Apgar score was a 3 and his second was an 8. 

And after it all happened, they took me to a recovery room while the anesthesia wore off, and I just remember Peter walking into the room. And I loudly declared, Conor Christopher, I want to name him Conor Christopher. Hope that's okay with you? If it's not, we can talk about it, but last night all I could think about was his middle name and how much I'd love to name him after my mom's brother who died way too young. So that's what we landed on.

He's feisty and a fighter the nurses say. I saw him the night I had him - they wheeled my bed into his room. 

But I wasn't able to see him the day after he was born as my blood pressures were still acting up and they didn't want to take me off the floor until they had those under control. And I think I was still on magnesium and who knows what else!! I felt and looked horrible and was thanking Jesus for the invention of catheters as the thought of getting up out of bed terrified me. And I couldn’t stop throwing up, think that had started the night before and continued on through the next day. And I was so hungry and so thirsty, but every single thing I put into my mouth I threw up just moments later. Yuck!

But I did get to see him the day after that. And Conor met his brothers for the first time that day! I had been envisioning and dreaming about this moment and this first meeting for months, and let's just say the reality looked so very different than what I had envisioned in my mind. Oh my heart. 

When I think back to that day two weeks ago, it's truly wild to think about how fast it all was, how so much happened in such little time. I mean I was at Northwest at 1 pm for an ultrasound, and I had him at 8:35 pm at UW.

In total, I spent five nights in the hospital and 6 days, and I actually ended up being diagnosed with HELLP Syndrome (Hemolysis, elevated liver enzymes, low platelet count) which is a serious complication of high blood pressure during pregnancy and let’s just say it’s very rare, fewer than 20,000 cases per year in the US, and I was one of the lucky 20,000. So basically the Drs were worried because my high blood pressure had impacted my liver. So they kept me a few extra days for extra lab work and to monitor my blood pressures. 

And the day before I was discharged they moved me to the post partum unit, which they probably should have done days before. And all I could hear were the babies crying, and my heart just broke as I hadn't heard the cries of my own babe just yet, and it was so hard to be there in that space and in that room with healthy babies surrounding me. And I just cried, and the round of Drs walked in and they asked how I was, and I just cried and cried as I told them through the tears how hard it was to hear the babies cry and how badly I wanted to go home and how I hadn't really processed all that had happened. And I cry now while I'm typing this as it was so hard, that week had been so hard, and being in that space felt so hard. And my heart felt so heavy. And I just cried for the story I had hoped to have while I leaned into the story I was currently living out. 

All that to say, I never would have envisioned this would be Conor’s birth story 28 weeks prior when I saw the positive pregnancy test for the first time, but it is. And I feel like I'm doing my own processing and my own grieving as I cling to the hope and the promises that God sees me. He knows my heart, He knows my pain, He knows my joy, and He's there holding it all for me, begging me to extend grace to myself, to remember Him, to remember who He is, to remember that Conor belongs to Him and He alone is writing His story.

Thank you Jesus for this little life and for his very unique birth story! May Conor bring honor and glory to you by the way he lives his life, and may we never cease to be amazed at the glorious way you have created and uniquely designed each of us. 

And may we look back on his early days in awe at how far this teeny tiny human has come as we're reminded of just how miraculous of a Creator you truly are! 

Jack's birth story Part one and Part two.

Ryan's birth story.

Introducing Conor Christopher Drennan

 

So the newest and littlest member of our family, Conor Christopher Drennan decided to join us this past Saturday night, April 14th, at 8:35 PM, at 28 weeks and 4 days, weighing in at 1 lb 10 oz. 

You're probably thinking what?? Malia had her baby? How did this happen? 

Welp it's true, Drennan Baby no 3 is officially outside of the womb, and I am no longer pregnant. And if I'm honest, every part of me is still in shock and it just feels so incredibly surreal. I can't even believe he's not inside me anymore. I never ever would have written this story for him or for our family, nor would I have ever dreamed I'd have a baby at 28 weeks and 4 days. But things don't always go as we had planned, that's for sure. 

I'll write so much more about his birth story later, but for now, let's just say what began as a routine ultrasound at 1 PM at Northwest Hospital on Saturday, soon led to an ambulance ride to UW and an emergency c-section only hours later. He weighed in at 1 lb 10 ounces, and I don't even know if they measured his length! I thought Jack was small weighing in at 4 lbs 2 ounces, and even Ryan seemed tiny at 5 lbs 11 ounces, but Conor is definitely the tiniest human I have ever laid my eyes and hands on. 

After Ryan's birth story, I dreamed my preemie days were over, and I just figured Jack would be my only, but little did I know just what and who awaited us. My Dr. and I had even talked about the possibility of carrying Conor to my due date or even past my due date, and I remember thinking, I have no idea what that's like! 

But let's just say I have no idea what this is like, to have a baby so early, to have a micropreemie. Yes, I am a preemie mom, and I have had a baby in this very same NICU but a baby born at 33 weeks and 6 days like Jack and one born at 28 weeks and 4 days like Conor is so incredibly different. And I'm only beginning to scratch the surface of that difference. 

And I'm on day 6 in the hospital myself, but I officially signed my discharge forms today (Thursday), and I will be going home in a few hours. However, Conor's road to home will be a longer one than mine. 

He's so tiny and I'm not able to hold him yet, and as the nurse showed me how to place my hands on his head and on his feet, I just talked to him. Told him how much we loved him and how proud I was of him! Just poured out my heart and fully leaned in to the emotions.

And as I stood there touching him, my NICU memories came flooding back. I remembered just how long the days felt, just how hard it was to drive home in my car without a baby in my arms or in my home. And I remembered my heavy heart, but I also remembered the milestones, the countless things we celebrated each and every step of the way on Jack's road to coming home, and we're already doing the exact same thing with Conor. And I remember the beautiful way our people, our community, our family celebrated those milestones with us, the way they held us up when we were weak, the way they filled our empty arms with hugs and food and so much love.  

So I stand here now, looking over this 1 lb baby, thanking God for this time, for the time that we'll have together just the two of us, for the milestones that he's already surpassed, and for the ones that will come. And I'm just so proud of him, of how much he's already overcome. My heart swells with pride for him now, and he's only been outside of the womb a week, imagine how I'll feel when I finally hold him, or in two weeks time when he's that much older gestationally, or when I come in and see that he weighed in at 2 lbs, or that he passed his brain scan meaning there's no brain damage, or when I'm able to bottle feed him or try breastfeeding him fully knowing he's working so hard to do both of those things! This kid is fighting for his life. And what an honor it is to be right there with him in the journey.

Needless to say, Conor's journey will be a long one, but the nurses and Drs say he is feisty and fierce! And we are in the really early days yet. I can't even wait to witness how his story unfolds, to see how God uses this story to reveal his character and his strength, to see how the Lord molds and shapes all of us through Conor and his life as we watch him grow. May He be glorified through it all!

Thank you Jesus for this baby, for his unique birth story. May he grow to be big and strong and in a few months time, may we look back on his early days in awe at how far this teeny tiny human has come as we're reminded of just how miraculous of a Creator you truly are!

Happy Birthday to my littlest man!

My Dearest Ryan,

Your birthday was days ago, and I'm just now sitting down to reflect on the fact that you truly are a year old! We leave for Ireland tomorrow - your first international flight, and I know that if I don't get my thoughts written down now, then I won't do it. And I can't let another day pass me by.

The reality is, life is busy with two. And I apologize for not taking the time to write and reflect on the eve of your birthday and on your actual birthday as I did with your brother. If I'm honest, I had bible study on the eve of your birthday and we brought you and Jack to a Christmas party on your actual birthday. However, we did celebrate you big time the weekend before with some of our dearest friends and family.

So here I am a week later finally writing. And I want you to know that you my child are so loved and your joy is contagious.

It's truly wild to think you've been outside of the womb for over 365 days now. It feels so surreal.
I can't believe it's been over a year since I was in the hospital waiting on your arrival. This first year goes so fast. And I think it went even faster the second time around.

And all of this (birth story) seems like such a distant memory, yet when I read over my thoughts, the tears stream down my face and the emotions come flooding back.

I remember that night...I remember the days leading up to it. I remember going in for a routine NST only to be told I wouldn't be going home that afternoon...only to be told they were concerned for you and that I may need to be induced sooner than we had planned. The plan was to start the induction process that next Wednesday night, and here we were Saturday afternoon. This wasn't part of the plan. Once again, I didn't even have my hospital bag packed. You would have thought I would have learned from my first experience with your brother, but nope. And I was so incredibly sick with bronchitis but I didn't know that at the time.

They kept me hooked up to the monitor for HOURS and then wheeled me away in a wheelchair for an ultrasound and you weren't moving much...but they said they'd keep me overnight and do another ultrasound in the AM, and that would determine our next steps. Looking back now, I could have started the induction process right then and there, but I was reluctant as I was really hoping for my own Dr. to deliver you and the thought of going into labor as sick as I was...wasn't exactly what I had envisioned. They hoped a night of fluids would help me, but alas it didn't. And we started the induction process Sunday afternoon.

And what a process it was - one filled with so much hope and anticipation. Hope for a different birth story and so much anticipation for what was to come in the next 30 hours! I just remember sitting in the rocking chair on Sunday night once again watching Downton Abbey, just as I had two years before with Jack, sipping hot water and chicken broth in hopes of easing my cough as I was so incredibly sick just as I was two years ago with Jack. I had envisioned such a different story, and it felt surreal to be replaying it all in a way.

But that is where the similarities end my sweet boy.

Your story is such a different one and I can't help but praise God for that. Truly, as hard as labor was and as painful as the contractions were, it was such an honor and a beautiful privilege to experience it all. I remember thinking...this is how it's suppose to be.

And as I reread the words in your birth story, I closed my eyes and remembered where I was over a year ago around the time of your birth (8:59 PM). I was so incredibly emotional and the space felt so sacred and holy as worship music played and as your dad and my dear friend Erin prayed over me. I was so tired and so excited and so incredibly sick. And I was in shock that by the grace of God, we had done it (with the help of an epidural of course) and we were going to meet you in a matter of pushes and in a matter of minutes. And I couldn't even believe you were going to exit my body vaginally! What an incredible experience.

I remember the nurse saying..."We can see his head!!" and I remember asking the nurse if I could touch your head. And I remember the sheer awe and amazement at what was happening! And I remember the tears. And I remember your cry. Oh my goodness, do I remember your cry. You literally slipped out of me and they brought you right up to my chest.

You were so tiny!! You weighed in at 5 lbs 11 ounces and you were 18.5 inches long, and you were just precious right from the start.

The whole experience was just so surreal. I kept waiting for them to take you away from me. I even remember telling the nurse that night, wait so I can just feed him and change his diaper and do whatever I want whenever I want? I remember thinking...what do I do with him? I mean I've never done this before?

And then the next night, literally 25 hours after you were born, we buckled you into your car seat and took you home with us. Now THAT felt incredibly surreal as I had NEVER done that before.

You've grown so much this past year and rather than mourn the loss of my teeny tiny newborn baby, I'm rejoicing in the sweet little independent boy you have become!

You are such a treasure from the Lord, and it is an honor and a privilege to be your mom. I can't even imagine my life without you in it, and I don't want to.

I had no idea how much my heart would stretch with love for you. You are so deeply loved my sweet son. Not only by your dad and I and Jack of course but also by your Creator. He is the one that knit you together in my womb. He is the one that created you. May I never forget this and may I never take your life for granted.

I will love you forever my sweet, sweet son.

Happy first Birthday Ryan Alexander!

Love,

Your Mama

Ryan's Birth Story.

So I sit here at the hospital yet again. However, this time it's Ryan lying in the hospital bed. Oh how I wish it were the other way around. But this just means I get a chance to sit down and write about Ryan's entrance into this world! And considering the child is over a month old, let's see how much I actually remember.

I'm going to try my best to put myself back into that hospital room as I attempt to relive the days leading up to his arrival.

And I am warning you now, it is long, very long. I considered breaking it into two parts but I couldn't bring myself to do that.

This is Ryan's birth story.

***

On Saturday, December 13th, I went into the hospital for a non-stress test. It was around 1:30 pm. I figured I'd be home in an hour or so. I even posted something on Instagram accompanied by the photo below that said this... "At the hospital for the last non stress test. Can't believe the next time I come back here I'll be leaving with a little person. Eek! Can't wait to meet him. So excited and also slightly terrified."

Little did I know when I wrote that that I wouldn't be leaving the hospital until after our little person arrived.

So after an hour or so of being on the monitor the nurse came in and informed me that they weren't getting as many heart decelerations and accelerations as they would like and they wanted to monitor him for longer. His heartbeat looked steady, but he just wasn't moving a whole lot.

And so it began.

The nurse kept coming in to say ...and it's just going to be a bit longer, and a bit longer, and a bit longer and before I knew it 2 more hours had passed. While lying on that hospital bed, I just kept thinking I'm not going to go home. I'm going to end up staying here until I have a baby. 

And I started thinking about all the things I hadn't done. I had yet to pack my hospital bag. Doh! You would think I would have learned from my first experience right? Nope. I mean I was thinking I still had a few more days. I hadn't even showered that morning let alone the day before! I didn't get a chance to truly enjoy my last night at home without a new baby or a day to just love on Jack as my only. I didn't get a chance to grieve going from a family of three to a family of four. I know it may sound strange, but it's just what I do...I have to have my time to grieve the old stage before I can fully enter into a new stage in my life.

Anyhow, I was right, and eventually they did inform me that I wouldn't be going home. And somewhere in there they also informed me that Ryan had had a few major heart decelerations and they may end up doing an emergency c-section if they continued. WHAT????? Don't you dare drop that C word unless you are serious about it as Peter and I started to panic thinking what happened to our hopes for a vaginal birth? If I have an emergency c-section, will there be time for Peter to be there? What do we do about Jack?  Blah, blah blah...but none of those fears became a reality. Praise the Lord!

Let's just say I never would have envisioned Ryan's birth story would even start off somewhat similar to his brother's with a prolonged hospital stay for mama. But I suppose the similarities truly end there.

They did an ultrasound on me that night to figure out what was going on - to check my fluid levels and his movements, heart rate, etc, and he didn't score as well on the ultrasound as they would have liked him to. The Dr. that was there was inclined to start the induction process that evening. I, on the other hand, was not. I was extremely sick with a cold and a cough that I can finally say after two months I have beaten. So the thought of having a baby through all of that was something I wasn't looking forward to.

I asked the nurse...so at what stage do you consult my own Dr? And before I knew it my phone was ringing and my Dr. was on the other end. She said, you have two options, you can start the induction process now or we can start you on fluids and maybe those fluids will help the both of you seeing as you are really sick.

I figured I had nothing to lose right? So fluids it was, along with constant monitoring, and the next morning at 8 AM we did another ultrasound. During that ultrasound, I found myself willing him to move his hands and to move his bum within the 30 minute time frame, but alas he didn't move his hands. The results were more or less the same, but my fluid levels were even lower this time around.

And with the new day came a new Dr., and this one was just as interested as the first in starting the induction process straight away.

I on the other hand was not, as I knew once we started it there would be no stopping it. And I didn't want to start anything until my parents had arrived at our house to watch Jack, allowing Peter to finally make his debut at the hospital. And I really wanted to take a shower before the whole show began. It was all just a waiting game.

And begin it did at 2 PM on Sunday, after I had showered and once Peter showed up. I was dilated to a 1 to start with and Ryan's head was super low, think I was at a 0 station, and my cervix was really thin, but I can't remember the effacement.

And somewhere in there my own Dr. called to talk with me about how I was feeling with starting the induction process a few days sooner than we had discussed, which simply meant she wouldn't be there for any of it, considering she wasn't on call nor was it her day to be at the hospital.

Anyhow, to start the induction process, the Dr. put a cook balloon catheter in, which you leave in for 12 hours unless it falls out beforehand. The hope is that after 12 hours you would be dilated to a 4. If I'm honest, this Dr. was skeptical about it working on me and even went so far as to inform me of her skepticism. Let's just say, we didn't get started off on the right foot seeing as my Dr. had said the very opposite thing the week before declaring that my cervix was extremely favorable and that this catheter thing would be extremely effective.

The Dr. informed Peter and I of her plan. She would put the catheter in, and then take it out around 2 AM (after 12 hours) and then start me on pitocin around 6 AM if I hadn't progressed on my own from 2-6 AM.

The husband stepped in and said, "Uhh aren't there other options we can try first besides pitocin? What about breaking her water?"

And the Dr. said, "Well, I guess that's an option, but it may not be effective and will probably take longer, and once we break her water, we are on a time crunch."

And Peter kindly said, "Well aren't we on a time crunch anyways? I mean this baby is coming out sometime in the next few days regardless of what we do here."

And the Dr., slightly reluctantly, agreed to the plan.

I was so thankful Peter spoke up and so thankful that our OWN Dr. had discussed the induction plan with us at our appointment the week before, which involved the catheter and breaking my water and using pitocin as a last resort. I was trying to avoid having a c-section and one of the risks with pitocin is a higher c-section rate. And my hope was to labor as long as I could without an epidural, and I was worried that I wouldn't be able to handle the pain of pitocin induced contractions. And my Dr. had informed us that she didn't think I would need pitocin and that breaking my water would most likely do the trick!

We felt so very educated going into all of this even though our own Dr. wasn't in charge of our care.

Anyhow, in went the catheter and the contractions began.

For some reason the contractions weren't registering on the monitor, and the nurses and Dr. had to keep asking me if I was having any contractions, and I kept declaring to them, yes, yes I am! I remember being so frustrated that they weren't showing up as I was certain what I was feeling were contractions. I mean if they weren't contractions, then I didn't know what they were!

The pain from those contractions is all relative and unremarkable now when I think back to the pain I experienced later the next day. However, I do recall the nurse asking me about my pain levels sometime over that time period, and I remember declaring that my pain was an 8. I also remember telling her it was all relative and that I was simply basing it off of what I had experienced thus far, and that I was certain my pain scale would change as labor progressed. And it most certainly did.

However, as I listened to worship music, rocked in my chair, drank my hot tea and breathed through the beginning stages of contractions, I just kept thinking, this is only the beginning! The best (worst) has yet to come. 

Let's just say my Dr. was right, and around 1:30 AM I got up to go to the bathroom, and something fell into the toilet. It was the catheter. so we paged the Dr. and she came in to check my cervix and I was actually dilated to a 5. She was extremely surprised, and I know it may sound rude, but I literally thought...TAKE THAT DR! Haha!

The plan was to check me again around 6 AM and at that time she would break my water.

And with 6 AM came the breaking of my water and the arrival of my dear friend Erin, who just so happens to be a trained doula.

And at 6 AM I was still 5 cm.

Erin showed up at the hospital with all sorts of tools and gadgets and so many words of encouragement. She strapped the TENS unit on my back straight away and my love affair with that thing soon began.

What is this tens thing you ask? Well it works by sending stimulating pulses across the surface of the skin and along the nerve strands, and then these stimulating pulses help prevent pain signals from reaching the brain. And when you feel a contraction coming on you push this little button to determine how strong you want the pulses to be. Let's just say I started off strong and never left that place. And I was addicted to this thing. I even got a little anxious about taking a bath/shower because it meant I would have to take that thing off my back. And I wondered how I would handle the contractions without it. More than anything it just served as a distraction from the pain that came with each contraction.

To be honest, everything after this is a bit of a blur. And the sequence of events is all mixed up in my head.

But you better believe I remember the pain.

I tried anything and everything in hopes that I would either forget about the pain or at least be able to manage it.

I tried lying down on the bed.

I took a shower.

And then I took a bath.

I tried sitting on the birthing ball.

I tried kneeling down and having my upper body over the birthing ball.

I tried sitting in the rocking chair.

I tried going for a walk around the childbirth center.

I tried moving around the room.

I tried a hot pack.

I tried a cold pack.

But the only thing that brought some relief was hitting that button on my tens unit and staying close to the bed. I just wanted to stand next to the bed and lean on it for support. I didn't want to venture away from that bed, and you better believe I was hollering at Peter every single time I felt a contraction waiting for his hands to connect with my back. The poor guy couldn't get a break!

 

And the Dr. came in around 10 AM and checked me and I was only 6 cm. I'm pretty sure I had progressed in other areas, maybe at this stage I was at a +2 station, his head was so low the entire course of labor, I can't remember when it fully dropped, but I do know it was early on in the game. And my cervix was really thin, let's say 80% effaced.

And the contractions continued. Erin encouraged me to stay on top of the pain, but I just couldn't. I just wanted it to be over. I wanted to not be in labor anymore. And I couldn't stop the tears from flowing! The contractions hurt so bad.

I remember the pain. I remember just how tired I was from no sleep over the past two nights. I  remember just how sick I was with my terrible cough and congestion. I remember how everyone kept trying to get me to eat and drink, especially my darling nurse Seon. I remember thinking that the last thing I wanted to do was take the time to put anything in my mouth. But somehow they got me to consume some chicken broth and some crackers.

Around 12:30, the Dr. checked me again, and I remember Erin asking if she could check me standing up as I was in alot of pain. I think we had just attempted to have me lie on the bed through a contraction and it was not successful, hence the request. But the Dr simply stated, get on the bed and I'll check you when you're lying down.

Not much had changed, I was at a +2 station, and maybe 90% effaced, but I was still only 6 cm, maybe close to 7 she said, but not quite there.

And by this stage I was done. I was so discouraged after hearing that news. I had been experiencing hardcore contractions now for at least 6 hours and I had only dilated 1 cm in that time frame.

Shortly after, I declared to Peter and Erin that I wanted the drugs. Give me the epidural. I remember stating that I wanted the next four hours to be enjoyable, and THIS was not enjoyable, as tears streamed down my cheeks. I remember telling them that I would NOT be disappointed in myself or this birth story if I got an epidural, but I would be disappointed if I ended up with a c-section. I remember being in awe of my friends that had done this without drugs and asking the question to my friend Erin, how did you do this? I understand the pain is a little different when your body goes into labor all on it's own accord rather than when you're induced, but still!

I remember my Dr. coming in to visit right around when I started tossing around the idea of an epidural. I think it was about 1 PM. She simply asked me what they had already asked me, "Are you sure you want the epidural?" And I told her everything I had already told Peter and Erin. And she said well, let's check you again, and you can take it from there and I just nodded my head in agreement and hung onto the side of the bed for dear life as I breathed through another contraction. And she just walked over to me, bent down on the ground and checked me while I was hanging onto the side of the bed. Gosh I love that woman!

And I was still only 6 cm.

She said, "I know we talked about your interest in having an unmedicated birth, but I also know that it wasn't something you had your heart set on. I need you to know that it will probably happen fast as you have been hovering at 6/7 cm for hours now, but if you want to get the epidural, then by all means get the epidural."

Going into all of this, I thought I would be one to watch the clock during contractions, but I couldn't even bring myself to look up at the clock let alone open my eyes. Maybe it wouldn't have been a bad idea to have a timer or a stop watch or something? As I wasn't entirely in tune with how far apart my contractions really were or how long they were actually lasting. I just knew that I wanted the pain to stop and I wanted the contractions to end.

However, the only time I watched the clock was when I finally asked for the epidural around 2 PM and they said the anesthesiologist would be there in 20 minutes. Well let me tell you the first thing I thought was okay that's like 5 more contractions because at the time I was thinking my contractions were like 5 minutes apart, I had no idea. I soon realized that they were only 2-3 minutes apart. So it was actually 10 more contractions! I wanted to cry...and I think I did actually, or maybe I already was crying? Anyhow, eventually that 20 minutes turned into 45. And I started to panic.

 And the tears streamed down my cheeks.



When you get to that place where you want the drugs...you want the drugs NOW and you don't want to have to wait. That was the longest wait ever!

The anesthesiologist finally arrived around 3 PM. And I'm sitting on the edge of the bed, and she's telling me to hold still and curve my back like a shrimp, and I'm having contractions and I'm crying. And my nurse is trying to reassure me. And the anesthesiologist is telling me to bend over even further and I'm telling her that there's a baby bump in the way, and she kindly says you're skinny, you can do it, and I'm kindly telling her that I can't. And I remember thinking, once she gets it in then it will be smooth sailing and I will finally experience some relief. And I won't feel a thing. Right?

WRONG!! I was still having to breathe through every single contraction. And the pain on my right side was unbearable. I remember thinking, people are able to rest and fall asleep, how is that even possible? I'm still in so much pain!

So she took everything out and started all over again. I think they may have checked my cervix to see if I had dilated further before she began her second attempt. And she had me bend over again and we went through the same dialogue again of her telling me that I'm skinny, I can bend like a shrimp. However, this time I just remained quiet and bent over at the belly as best I could.

And I could still feel the horrendous pain with each contraction, and I was still crying. And the anesthesiologist said, "Well I'm not doing it a third time! It just might not work on her." Ehh...what?? I never would have envisioned that being part of this birth story, and thank goodness it wasn't! After she cranked up my dose, I began to feel some relief. My left side was completely numb, but I could definitely still feel each contraction on my right side and sleeping was completely out of the question. (Peter said this whole epidural part was the hardest part for him to witness as the anesthesiologist was so flustered and I was in so much pain)

At around 3:30/4 pm, I was finally able to move away from my standing position beside the bed and actually lie down in the bed. It was glorious! And you better believe that the next four hours were way more enjoyable than the previous four! Peter was able to sit down and read a magazine and I was able to have a conversation with Erin. It was glorious - and I think my husband would say the same.

My own Dr. came to visit soon after I got the epidural, and let's just say I was a different person.What do you think? She said she would try to come back to the hospital for the birth if she could. And she was so excited to tell me that the Dr. that would be working that night and delivering baby Ryan just so happened to be one of her dearest friends, Dr. McLean. She gave us some background on her friend, and started off by saying she lives in Tanzania and works for the Lake Tanganyika Floating Health Clinic. She basically works and lives on a boat that provides medical services to those living in villages surrounding Lake Tanganyika. I was confused, and said she lives in Tanzania? But she's here now? Turns out she was just visiting for the holidays and she had picked up a few shifts while she was home! 

You could tell from the praises my Dr. was singing her that she really admired and respected her, and I felt blessed and reassured that she such a dear friend of my Dr.'s would be there for the birth moment, especially if my own Dr. couldn't. I remember my Dr. saying, just tell her you want the Ali Lewis birth experience, she'll know what that means! I had felt so unsettled the past few days in regards to my care by the Drs. that were working, and after talking to Dr. Lewis, I just felt a huge wave of peace wash over me. And I thought, Thank you Jesus!

And I think my nurse or the Dr. checked me soon after around 4 and I was at a 7, and little Ryan's head was as low as it could possibly go. It hurt so bad. Yes, even with the epidural.

And then around 7 or so I had to say bye to my nurse, the one that had been with me for the past 12 hours! Sad times I tell ya! Her name was Seon and turns out she had been a midwife in Korea for 25 years before she came to the states. She was the best, and I just kept thinking, I can't believe she's not going to be there for the best part - the birth! She had seen the worst of me and the best of me that day. And before she left she asked us where we went to church and we talked about our church families and our faith. I turned to Peter later and said how did she know we went to church? And he said, well we have been blasting worship music all day! Bless that woman - she was such a blessing to me. (She even called the next day to check on me and the baby!!) Thank you Jesus for this woman!

And then around 7:30 I said I feel like I have to poop. Little did I know that means you are ready to push, and lo and behold, I was complete. And ready to push, but we were waiting on the Dr. as she was in another room delivering another baby.

But before the next adventure began, I turned to Peter and Erin and asked, "Can we say a prayer?"

And pray we did. I just remember bawling my eyes out. I was just so overwhelmed with thankfulness and gratitude to the Lord for this new experience. What a privilege it is to be pregnant, and what a privilege it is to labor and experience contractions, and what an even greater privilege it is to have a new story. It all just felt so surreal.

I just kept thinking about those mamas out there that labor for so long only to be told that they are going to have a c-section. I just kept thinking about how devastating that news must be! And I think I thought that was going to be me, right up until I started pushing and his head began to exit my body.

Anyhow, I started pushing around 8:15 PM. I think my contractions were about 5 minutes apart at this stage. It's so interesting how they slow down. And they had me push with each contraction, and I think after the first pushing session, the nurses declared, we can see his head! And I cried, and said can I touch it? (Too much information? I'm sorry, but it was the coolest thing ever!!) I just remember being in awe that I was going to push this baby out of me. And shocked that he was going to come out of my vagina! (again too much information? Again, I'm sorry!)

And push I did with all my might, but it was hard. Even with an epidural. Not only was I an emotional mess but I was still so sick. I just remember telling the nurses I'm having a hard time breathing, and I was having coughing fits. Good thing all the nurses and the Dr. were wearing masks or else I would have been coughing right in their faces. They kept apologizing for the fact that I was having to go through all of this as sick as I was. Such is life right?

And through it all, the nurses just kept saying, I'm so excited for you and so proud of you as so many of them already knew our story - that our first was born early and via a c-section and that this new baby was 38 weeks and that we were hoping for a vaginal birth, and they could see for themselves that it was going to be successful! Thank you Jesus for the nurses!

I should mention now that the husband was a full participant. He was up by my head holding on to one leg, while a nurse held onto the other. I think he saw way more than he ever imagined he would. We had no idea what to expect! I mean we had never done this before. They have a sheet up for a c-section! Thank you Jesus for my husband.

Anyhow, I was getting tired and my momentum was slowing down. So Erin gave me this giant piece of fabric (I'm sure it has a fancy name) to grab hold of while she grabbed the other end. And it was just the assistance I needed and provided the right amount of tension to push this baby out. I think I pushed just two more times and he was out. Thank you Jesus for Erin's support and encouragement!

And on Monday, December 15th, at 8:59 PM, after 45 minutes of pushing and after 38 weeks of carrying this little person, I met our second born, Ryan Alexander Drennan.

He was placed immediately on my chest, and I held him while I cried and while the  Dr. stitched me up and while I asked her about life in Tanzania. Everyone started guessing how much he weighed, and I was extremely curious myself. So I passed him off to one of the nurses, and she declared he was 5 lbs 11 oz and 18.5 inches long.

I never would have envisioned this would be his birth story 38 weeks prior, but it is. Thank you Jesus.

Six weeks later, I am shocked at how smooth my recovery has been. The VBAC was definitely more painful and it took longer than the c-section, but for me, it was so much easier to recover from! Everyone kept asking me how I was doing down there. And I felt guilty for saying that I felt great. This recovery felt easy, but I suppose it's all relative. I just remember after the c-section, nearly fainting in the bathroom from the pain as I tried to sit down on the toilet. And I remember the pain every single time I did anything that used my abdominal muscles. It hurt every single time I sat up/sat down and every single time I laughed. This time around my pain killers consisted of Ibuprofen rather than oxycodone - that alone should tell you something about my pain level. I couldn't have imagined going through the c-section recovery again with a toddler. And I'm so thankful that I didn't have to.

When I arrived at the hospital on Saturday for the non-stess test, I honestly had no idea I wasn't going to be leaving, let alone coming home with a baby on Monday! I was not prepared physically, mentally, or emotionally for what was to happen considering I thought we had a few more days. I didn’t get to grieve or get too emotional over the fact that our family was growing from three to four. And I didn't even have a hospital bag packed yet again.

And the thing is none of that mattered.

I do find it slightly amusing and ironic that I landed myself in the hospital days before the birth of both my babies. This birth was definitely less dramatic than the first, but dramatic nonetheless. I thought I had a few more nights in my own bed, and a few more solo moments with Jack, and a few more moments with my baby bump before the induction process was scheduled to begin Wednesday night, but alas, I was wrong.

The lesson God keeps teaching me over and over again, especially when it comes to these babies birth stories, is this: I am not in control, He is.

And even the full term, vaginal delivery baby can land himself in the NICU.

Again, I am not in control, He is.

May I continue to remember this and may I live a life with my palms pointed upward, never forgetting that these children He has blessed me with are truly His.

Here's to a different experience, a different doctor, a different baby, and a different birth story.

But the same God, in the words of my mother-in-law. So very true.