Oakland’s Birth Story

Before we start, I want to say there is no judgment or condemnation on how you choose to deliver your baby! If you’re a mom because of birth in any form or adoption, you’re a superwoman!

I also want to say, please give yourself grace if you had a ridiculously hard labor and birth. You didn’t do anything wrong, and there is nothing wrong with your body! And in the opposite, if you had a really great birth and it was the most amazing thing, give other mamas grace as they share their really hard stories and trauma they experienced.

Overall, Oakland’s birth was not the most amazing thing ever for me. I will share how I really felt and the hard parts. Please understand this is not easy, and I hope you can be kind and gentle with my vulnerability. If you are pregnant, know this is not how it goes for everyone! Birth IS amazing because you get a tiny treasure to keep for the rest of your life!

the start

Ian and I had talked about a baby a few times the last couple of years but didn’t feel it was quite the right time until last fall. I am still not sure we felt it was the “right time” even then, but here we are! Thanksgiving came and we decided to have it just the two of us. We had just moved out of state without any family near us. It was SUCH a wonderful day just the two of us cooking and eating our meal together. I didn’t know I was pregnant at the time. But looking back on my overflow of emotions as we sat down to eat and I WEPT with gratitude definitely confirms it.

Come December, I knew I was pregnant before I was late and I took the test. Something in me just wanted a few more days before I knew for sure so I took my time. December 17th I peed on that little pink stick and eagerly waited to see what it would say. When I saw the ‘YES’ my stomach dropped and I just stared at it thinking “is it right? Of course, it’s right. I KNEW IT! How am I going to tell Ian?!”

I didn’t want to wait to make a cute box with hints or get a sweet and sentimental card that said Dad at the bottom. So, I hung out in the kitchen when he got home with the test on the counter (desperately trying to be cool and act normal) and waited for him to see it. He walked in, and I could barely speak! He even asked if I was ok because I was acting so weird. When he saw the test lying on the countertop, he asked if I was pregnant and we both cried and held each other for a while in awe and disbelief. I couldn’t speak!

We didn’t have any complications during pregnancy, thank you, Jesus! Although with COVID, Ian only got to come to one appointment and ultrasound, which was really hard for both of us. I felt like a fish out of water trying to figure everything out, plan, and decide how I wanted everything for Oakland’s birth. It was incredibly overwhelming. To say the least.

We couldn’t decide what would work best for both of us as I wanted a home birth and Ian wanted me in the hospital. The birth centers around us didn’t work with our insurance, so we FINALLY fully decided on a midwife at the hospital around 32 weeks.

and so it began

Fast forward to Monday, August 17th. I decided to go for another long walk. I had been walking, eating a million dates, bouncing on the exercise ball, squatting, and sleeping. For what felt like all day, every day for the last week! Oakland was due on the 12th. I listened to SO many birth stories from A Heavenly Welcome (I highly recommend it if you’re pregnant!) that morning. Spent time journaling and praying over our baby and time together. It’s incredibly emotional to look back on that journal entry. I went to the chiropractor that afternoon and decided to stop to get myself a tea and some grapes for a snack for labor.

10:30 pm rolled around, and right as I laid down for bed, the first contraction came. I knew it was a contraction because of the lasting intensity. I always heard I would know when they came and it wasn’t Braxton Hicks, and sure enough, I knew!

Ian had just fallen asleep. I squeezed him and said
“babe babe babe, whew, I think this is a contraction”
“Are you sure?”
“umm, yeah pretty sure”

We waited about 10-15 minutes to make sure they were going to keep coming before calling anyone or getting our hopes up. Ian started timing them, and they were 8 minutes apart. We were a little surprised because we thought they would be 20 minutes apart for a few hours. Then we were really surprised when contractions were just 3 minutes apart an hour later.

Our doula arrived and helped me pack our bags (I waited to pack them so I had something to do while I was in labor), I cleaned the bathroom and tried to tidy our room as best as possible. I didn’t want to come home to a messy house as I knew it would drive me nuts. We called the hospital to let them know I was in labor but planning to stay home another while. Then, right before 3 am, and almost forgetting his car seat we were on our way!

Once we got to the hospital, I told the nurse not to tell me how dilated I was. Looking back, we think I was about 4 or 5. We expected to have our midwife there when we arrived (because we called hours ago) or at least shortly after. But before getting to our room, she said they hadn’t called her yet. This was very disheartening and frustrating!

Because of COVID, only Ian and I were allowed. Ian has a VERY hard time with anything medical, even being in the hospital makes him nauseous, not to mention me being in a hospital gown with an IV in. This was much more difficult for me than I had anticipated. I felt like I had very little mental and emotional help and to be honest, it was extremely lonely. We did hire a doula and had her on the phone for a bit, but at some point hung up and in the chaos didn’t get her called back. It seems dumb we forgot, but at the moment it was an easy mistake. And possibly the biggest.

We got checked into our room, and Ian set up my diffuser and turned on the playlist I made. I had frankincense and Idaho Blue Spruce diffusing… I haven’t smelled the two together again yet, but I know when I do, it will take me back to that room, and I’m not sure if I am ready for that. This is something I LOVE about oils and smells. They take you back in time and tell a story.

Anyways, I imagined laboring in the shower, in a tub, on a birth ball, with music playing and having people (my midwife and doula) surrounding me with a loving touch and encouraging words. As well as Ian there to keep me calm and just enjoy the process together. But that didn’t quite happen.

I did most of my laboring leaning over the bed in my own zone with Ian squeezing my hips together to help provide some relief. I could barely talk except “barf bag” now and then. It was intense and scary, to say the least. It was hard to imagine what pushing would be like if contractions were this intense already. I needed so much support mentally and physically but didn’t know what exactly I needed or how to get the words to come out.

Our nurse, Brittany, checked me again. It felt impossible to get in that bed, let alone back out… I didn’t know at the time but I was at a 10. My midwife STILL was not there and I was sooo frustrated and wishing I did a better job saying what needed to happen (telling them to call her as soon as we got there) vs letting them just ‘do their job’. But I didn’t know what I needed until after it happened.

I felt the urge to push and panicked because I didn’t feel ready, and my midwife still wasn’t there. As I laid on my back (bad idea), I continually told Ian to keep praying over me during each contraction. I swear, from the start, contractions were easier when we prayed than when we didn’t! I hadn’t thought about how I wanted to deliver Oakland because I figured I’d talk about it with my midwife during, not right when she showed up.

At one point, I needed something that was right behind Ian, probably a barf bag, and I panicked when he went to let go of my hand telling him ‘don’t leave me!’.

Finally, my midwife came in, helped me decide how I wanted to push and deliver Oakland. I got on my knees and leaned up against the top of the bed. Ian stood at the top of the bed with me and held my hand.

Poor guy was so nauseous he could barely look at me or talk to me. The nurses pushed up a chair for him with some crackers! This was a big reason we wanted our doula, but as I said before, because of COVID, she wasn’t allowed in. Again, I see how we should have called her but I literally could only think about getting to the end of each contraction, and that’s it.

It was so unbelievably hard to do so much mentally on my own. Ian was there and he was helpful. But when you’re giving birth, you need many people helping, holding both hands, looking you in the eye, reminding you it will be over soon and you’re working towards a baby, over and over again. When I think back over that whole time it felt so lonely. Ian did the best he could, and I am so grateful, but the truth is, it was lonely and ridiculously hard.

the final stretch

It was really important to me to only push when I felt the urge with a contraction and felt mentally ready. Now my midwife was there, I was in position and felt like I was allowed to get this over with. I pushed two times with the next contractions and felt Oakland descend each time. The third push I felt a tear and it was like I could hear it. Like the sound of a broken bone or piece of paper being torn right in my ear. I can still hear it. In my head, it was six inches long (it wasn’t but I was convinced it was), nauseous even more than before, horrified and honestly traumatized. The thought of pushing AGAIN scared the hell out of me.

At this point, I was shaking uncontrollably and Ian had zero blood flow to his right hand. I remember a nurse coming up to me, putting her hand on my shoulder, and telling me I needed to slow my breathing and calm down. I was hyperventilating. I wish she stayed.

Sure enough, another contraction came, and I pushed again, feeling even more tearing. I yelled at the staff twice to ‘just get him out, just get him out’ and ‘just pull him out’. I was convinced I would never do this again haha. The last two contractions came, and when I heard my midwife say, “look at that hair!” it was just enough encouragement to push one last time. Ian looked at me with tears, pride, and joy in his eyes when she said this. It’s a moment I will never forget!

At 7:24 AM on August 18th, and nine hours of labor later, Oakland James Havens was born! When they handed Oakland to me, his little hand was holding onto the umbilical cord! After I pried his little hand off, I turned over and laid him on my chest and said sweet things to him I’m sure, but I don’t remember. The main thing on my mind was that tear and getting it fixed… I had imagined this moment going so differently.

I pictured my baby laying on my chest while I wept with my husband in awe and disbelief of the little miracle we created. I pictured being so in love nothing else mattered. I pictured being high on natural birth hormones I would be willing to do it all over again for the precious little being on my chest. But it wasn’t like that at all. In fact, I didn’t cry until hours later telling Ian what an emotional toll that was on me.

I loved the tiny baby laying with me, but it was really hard to bond with him while I was in so much emotional and physical pain. His jaw was recessed some, which I didn’t know at the time but is totally normal after birth, and I was so self-conscious people would think he was ugly because of an overbite. It was the first thing I noticed when they handed him to me. My heart just aches that I felt like this in my first moments with him and it was so different than I had dreamed it would be. This moment has its own set of loss and grief.

A few minutes went by, and it was time to cut the cord. Ian was still too sick, so I cut it with excessively shakey hands!

Then, my midwife said, “this is going to be uncomfortable, okay?”. The umbilical cord broke before the placenta was delivered so she had to reach in and pull it out, otherwise known as a sweep, but it came out in pieces so it took FIVE flipping times for her to get it all out. It was completely horrible, but not worse than what had happened 5 minutes ago!

About 45 minutes later, with six stitches and clean bedding, I was finally able to enjoy my baby. The ‘golden hour’ wasn’t golden at all. The next 24 hours held a lot of new beginnings, challenges, joys, and tears. I had never felt closer to Ian or more sure that I married the right man than when we left the hospital. Seeing him change ALL of Oakland’s diapers, swaddle him for the first time, get me everything I needed and sit with me in awe of our new baby is one of the sweetest memories I have about this whole experience.

Lastly, we brought Oakland home in the same outfit Ian wore home from the hospital! And they were both the same weight, 7lbs 11oz!

And then there were three.

the end

There is so much I would go back and change if I could, but it’s over now. Some may say, “but now you can connect with other moms who have hard birth stories, too” yes, that may be true. But if it were up to me, it wouldn’t be how our story went.

Part of my fear in sharing our story is using the word trauma and someone thinking it isn’t worthy of such an intense and dramatic word. But to me, this was a traumatic experience. I couldn’t sleep for the next 24 hours because of the sound of tearing and screaming at the nurses, “just get him out!” replaying over and over in my head.

I just told Ian, laying in bed next to me, “I’m sorry his birth was such a hard experience. I wouldn’t do it again for a million dollars. Not even two million“. I am talking about the experience, of course, not Oakland! We wouldn’t trade him!

Lastly, to Ian: I love you, baby. I love seeing you become a daddy. I am so grateful to have you by my side.