And so, on a gorgeous, sunny fall day in October, Morgan Brynn Hall made her entrance into the world. October 1st, to be specific, at 6:51 in the morning.
This is the birth story of my beautiful little girl.
Morgan Brynn Hall
9 lbs, 6 oz
21 inches
Born October 1st, 2014
6:51 a.m.
Tuesday, September 30th
3 a.m. - I woke up with what I immediately knew was a contraction. It hurt! But was very manageable. Was I concerned about what was to come? Absolutely. I silently cheered about the prospect of having the baby in the next 48 hours and put myself back to bed.
4 a.m. - Second contraction. Needless to say, this was going to be slow. Over the next few hours, the went from 1 hour apart to 40 minutes to 30 minutes to 20 minutes, at which point I got up and had a shower. I'd read that showers can often stop false labour - but it didn't stop. I though this might be it!
6 to 7 a.m. - They started to get pretty close together, about 5 minutes apart and increasingly painful - though still manageable. As this went on for about an hour, I decided to follow my doctor's 5-1-1 rule: they were 5 minutes apart, lasting at least 1 minute, for at least an hour. So we grabbed everything and went to the hospital.
8 a.m. - In triage being monitored, and sadly discovered that I was still only at a 1. ONE! So they sent me home for more fun labour.
9 to 2 p.m - My sense of time gets a little fuzzy here. I was at home, labouring, watching Walking Dead. Some people may find it weird to watch zombie stuff on TV while labouring on the living room floor and walking around, but it worked for me. I think I did pretty good, breathing through the contractions and following my main goal - Do Not Lose Control. But the contractions were getting pretty tough and were about 3 minutes apart so, off we went to the hospital again.
At this point, I was in some pain. I was sure that I'd progressed. Hopefully to a 3 but I'd settle for a 2! Surely I hadn't laboured for the last several hours in vain!
Checked. One. ONE!!! I was tired, and opted for the morphine shot. The doctors wanted me to walk around to help progress, but as that was what I had been doing for the last few hours, I figured my best bet was to sleep and let my body progress without me stressing about the pain.
3 - 7 p.m. - Pure bliss. I was out the moment my head hit the pillow and suddenly it was 5 p.m. The doctors wanted to see me at 5 but mentioned that if I was still tired I could continue to sleep, so, 2 hours later we went back.
And that's what did the trick - 3 centimeters. I was officially in active labour! I was admitted (finally!) and pretty quickly, I got the lovely epidural!
Wednesday, October 1st
Sometime between 8 p.m. and 5 a.m. I was blissfully drifting in and out of a beautiful epidural dream. It was exactly the labour I wanted. I was rested and calm and prepared.
I think it was around 5 a.m. that I started to feel some labour pains again and the nurse had me turn over a few times to distribute the epidural. It wasn't working though, and I was feeling pressure to push. They checked me and I was at an 8 but I felt much more than I thought I should be, pain wise. I was starting to get concerned, and then suddenly a wave of immense pain washed over me and all at once I shot up, yelled for a puke bucket and at that moment, Jared noticed that my pillow was wet. Wet with glorious, wasted epidural juice.
The epidural had become disconnected.
THE EPIDURAL HAD BECOME DISCONNECTED! I knew I was feeling more pain than I should have. Thankfully, they tracked down the anesthetist and they fixed it, but the problem was that I was in transition labour and it was time to push. I hoped that it would start to kick in before pushing commenced.
It didn't.
I can't recall if I had tried a push or two at this point or if they just checked me, but the dreaded forceps came up. She was big, and her chest and belly and not to mention her head was big. They were concerned about her getting stuck and were sure that forceps would be needed.
I had a good long cry at this point. I didn't want any forceps or vacuum or anything in delivering her, and was terrified. I was also STILL IN PAIN! I accepted that I might have to allow for some interventions, got over myself, and tried to get back in control.
And then, it was time to push. Come what may.
Pushing hurt. It was a different kind of pain than the contractions, and I can't decide if it was worse or not. I just know that once she started coming out, I couldn't handle lolly gagging. I also knew that I was not going to go through this only to have forceps used as well!
"Can you see her head?" I asked at one point.
"Yes, but pushing will take a few hours, especially as you are a first time mom." Not very encouraging!
A few hours? I knew this going in, sure. But hearing them saying it while in the middle of pushing her out made that seem absolutely impossible. So, I pushed. I pushed so hard that I thought my head was going to explode. I envisioned holding my baby. I reminded myself that the pain would only go away once she was out. I remembered everything I had learned about pushing down and not into your chest. I worked hard. Damn hard. Time blurred and sped up and stood still all at the same time.
6:51 a.m. - A wriggling, screaming, huge baby girl was placed on my stomach. Pushing took twenty minutes. I'm impressed at what you can be motivated to do with a little pain.
And she was PERFECT. In every single way. She was big and strong, scored a 9 and a 9.5 on her apgar, was screaming and loud and perfect. Even her head was a perfect shape - so perfect you'd think she was a cesarean baby.
I'm a little emotional looking back on it now (and sore - I tore and had an episiotomy but it was worth it.) I had a baby. A daughter. I HAVE a daughter, this perfect little being snoozing peacefully in her bassinet beside me, a sweet little baby girl, who I can't believe how much I love.
It's true that you'll never know a love like this until it happens to you. It's the most amazing, life-altering, exhilarating experience in the entire world. I would lay my life on the line without a second thought for her, go through hours of torture for her, do anything for her. And she's only 13 days old!
I am excited to watch Morgan grow up. I can't wait to watch her achieve all her milestones and learn and grow and become a person of her own. I am so, so lucky to be her mother.
I have to say thank you here to Jared, who has stumbled along with me as we learn to be parents. It's not always easy but together we're working out a routine and a system. For the first time in both of our lives, we have someone besides each other to look after, and it's daunting. Also, wonderful.
I also want to thank my mom and dad, especially mom for putting up with the incessant phone calls both during the pregnancy and after the birth, as well as being there for me when Morgan arrived. I love my family so much and they've all welcomed Morgan in as though she's always been there - I am so happy that she's already so adored.
Welcome to the world, Baby Morgan!
