If you have been following me on the gram, you’ll know that we welcomed our fourth child into the world on December 18, 2020. He’s such a joy and a cutie pie and it’s basically baby spam 24/7 over on my Instagram if you want to marvel at his squishy cheeks.
Having a baby around Christmas time is busier than I anticipated it to be, plus with living in a global pandemic, work, and school stuffs, I am finally sitting down to type out Luca’s birth story (monthsssss later, fourth kiddo problems). So cozy up with your favorite beverage, your phone, and get ready for a tale.
PER USUAL, I had prodromal labor with this pregnancy just like the others. The Braxton Hicks contractions started around 20 weeks and just did not let up until the little man emerged earth side. I think with work being especially hectic and stressful, my contractions started much earlier in the pregnancy. But knowing it was going to last a while, I just learned to live with it on the daily.
But rewind to November 2020. I decided that I would take a full 3-4 weeks prior to the baby being born to start my maternity leave. With the added stress at work and navigating online school for my daughter, I was especially worn out by 8 months of pregnancy. After the Thanksgiving holiday, I stayed home to prepare for the baby, help with Emma’s schooling, and “rest”.
AIR QUOTES.
Rest? Ha. Any who.
During the first week of December, we took a family trip to Lake Tahoe. We stayed at a little resort and enjoyed some time in the snow. Basically that meant the kids sliding on their butts down a tiny hill and watching lots of TV in front of a fireplace. My contractions were really picking up during our vacation and I was worried I’d go into full-blown labor four hours away from our hospital. I breathed through nightly contractions but had to remind myself to just chill out because I didn’t need to exhaust myself before the baby even came.
Chill out? HA! Any who.
On our way home from the trip, I had strong contractions. I even threw up from them. But by the time we made it home, they had calmed down. We unpacked and settled in for a longer wait.
The days leading up to Luca’s birth were much the same. I dropped the boys off at daycare, helped Emma with the school things, and washed a few baby items. We were all ready to meet our boy, he was just staying put. Emma and Henry had traveled to my mom’s house to spend a week with her. On Monday of that week, my boss called me to ask if I could hop onto the agency-wide board meeting to present what the dental department had been doing the past 6 months. I had given an update presentation to other departments in October and my boss was impressed with it so asked if I could do a repeat presentation for the board. I told her, well, as long as the baby had not come by then, I’d hop on the zoom meeting.
Well that Thursday morning, I took a walk around my neighborhood with Paul. Well he walked, I waddled. And POP, my mucus plug came out. Well, maybe not exactly a pop. More like a plop. **finger guns** HEHE.
Throughout the day, the contractions were picking up, but there was no discernible rhythm to them, no consistent frequency. Plus all THREE of my previous labors had taught me that I tend towards weeks long, prodromal labor so I did not want to jump the gun and head to the hospital too early. At 2 pm that afternoon, I hopped onto the board meeting to give my presentation. I was *literally* having contractions the whole time and had to breathe through them. I’m sure I sounded breathy for the presentation, but I am good at putting on my game face. I answered some questions, muted myself if I had to grunt through a contraction, and I did pretty well, if I do say so myself.
Also, I don’t recommend giving important board meeting presentations when in active labor. Because APPARENTLY I was in active labor.
I suppose when you tend towards prodromal labor, you don’t really believe it when you’re in active labor. I sure didn’t.
I went to bed that night having pretty strong contractions, but I told myself that I would “know” when I was in active labor. Fourth time around, right? RIGHT? …R I G H T.
Well early that morning, I was awoken by my contractions. They were coming frequently and strong. I tried to stay in bed as long as possible but around 6 am, I had to get up and walk around the house. Paul and Theo were still sleeping but I had to nudge him awake to tell him I needed to go to the hospital. We knew we wouldn’t be able to bring Theo with us to the hospital, but the daycare did not open until 8 am. I thought I could wait until we dropped him off but I definitely could not. The contractions were way too strong.
So we loaded up the car and planned to take me to the hospital to get settled in while Paul drove back to take Theo to school when it opened. During the drive there, I was howling. Something about sitting in the car during the contractions make them feel much worse, am I right? They were coming every few minutes and I was yelling/moaning through them. I was trying not to scare Theo by yelling too loudly, but we put on a Paw Patrol DVD in the car and hoped it would distract him.
As we were driving to the hospital, I told Paul to get into the right lane. We were stuck in morning commute traffic on the freeway but the exit was only a couple miles down from us so I thought I could bare it. But my husband HATES traffic and tends towards changing lanes to “go around” the slow lanes. Yes, he’s that kind of person. And he MISSED THE EXIT. I looked at him like I was going to claw his eyes out but I had to use the navigation to get us from the next exit, through the neighborhoods, back to the hospital. I think it added 10 minutes to the trip but it felt like 14 hours.
Believe me, I will never let him forget it. Moving on.
We pulled up to the hospital and Paul grabbed a wheel chair. He got me to the L&D department and they told him that we couldn’t bring Theo in but I told them he was dropping me off and he’d be back. We said goodbye at the doors and the nurse wheeled me in to the triage room. I gave them my medial record card and they asked me to get undressed to get the dopplers hooked up.
During previous labors, I usually made it to the hospital and was hovering around 3cm dilated. I thought this would be the same as I was still not entirely convinced I was in active labor. The nurse helped me get into a hospital gown, they hooked me up to all the things, and did a quick nasal swab for COVID. And they checked me.
EIGHT CENTIMETERS
WHAT. I think I actually said, “OH MY GOSH, WHAT THE FORK”. Yup, active labor, like really active. The first thing I thought was, “Please God don’t let it be too late to get an epidural.” The nurse told me they were preparing a labor room for me and they wheeled me over. I asked if they could send the anesthesiologist over as soon as possible. They asked me if I had a birth plan. I said, nope, just the drugs please.
The contractions were coming strong at that point. I was feeling very nauseated and dizzy. Praise the Lord, they were able to give me my epidural and it started to work within the hour. Paul had made it back to the hospital by then and had called my mom to start driving up from her house with Emma and Henry so that she could stay with the three kids at our house while we were in the hospital.
Thankfully, the pain subsided and I took a small nap. The nurses helped me switch from side to side to help the baby move down.
But then… something changed. He was not moving down and his heart rate kept dropping during each contraction. It’s that infinitesimal change in the energy of the room that alerted me that something was not right. Several nurses and doctors came into the room at once. I was nervous because I didn’t know what was going on. Paul was to my left and holding my hand. The doctor calmly started to glove up but there was a hustle throughout the room that made me uneasy. The nurses hovered around me and tried to readjust my position. I heard things like, “oxygen” and “heart rate” and “slow down the contractions”. They injected me with something behind my right arm to help slow the contractions and the doctor got into position to help me get the baby out quickly. They said I was at 10 cm but the baby was still too high so I needed to push really hard to move him down and out. I started tearing up and in my small voice said, “I don’t know what is going on, can someone tell me what is going on.” They explained that due to his position, every time I had a contraction, his heart rate would drop. I was scared but thankfully, I had a team of support in the room.
After several big pushes, our sweet Luca James was born. He was put on to my chest and I breathed a sigh of relief. But he was really blue so they kept rubbing his back trying to get him to cry. They had to take him away from me for a few minutes to stimulate his breathing.
But praise the Lord, we heard that magical and miraculous cry, he turned pink and they placed him back on my chest.
This whirlwind experienced probably lasted about 15 minutes, but time stood still in that moment. Maybe that’s one reason it has taken me so long to type this out. But I am grateful that we had a team of doctors and nurses there for us and Luca James is one healthy little boy.
Eventually, my mom made it back to our house with the big kids and they awaited our arrival back home. I did not want to stay in the hospital very long. I wanted to get home to my babies. I think we ended up staying around 30 hours from the time I had him so they could do all their checks on the baby and me.
We drove home with our newest babe and the kids met us in the yard ready to pounce. We let Emma hold Luca first, then Henry, then Theo and they were all immediately smitten. I still cannot believe we have these four precious kids to raise. I am grateful.
Now at 8 months, Luca is still the favorite sibling. He tries to play with the big kids and they still fight over who gets to hold him. God is good.
Fin.