With Mother’s Day coming up, we’re taking this week to share stories from our own Twin Cities Moms Blog Contributors on how they became mothers. We all have unique stories, and some of our stories are still being written. We hope you enjoy reading about these moms’ experiences![hr]Nothing you read or hear about really prepares for your own experience of having a baby. You live and you learn. Every experience shapes into your own birth story that you will share and remember. I’ve learned that hearing what other moms have been through has helped me shape my own experience and story. And although some parts may be similar, each story is unique to you.
With my first pregnancy, I made it to 38 weeks. I knew I couldn’t have gone further because having a baby in the middle of the hottest summer (in my opinion) was taking its toll on me.
My story starts while I was standing in my manager’s office to discuss a re-organization announcement when I felt a pop. No major leakage but the conversation was ending so I walked out casually into the bathroom to see what was going on. I was leaking, but it wasn’t that infamous “gush” that I had heard about when your water breaks.
My husband was already on his way to pick me up so I walked downstairs to the car and when I got in I told him I thought my water broke. It was a Friday so we called the doctor on call and I told him what happened and how I thought my water had broken and he suggested we go straight to the hospital. I wasn’t feeling any contractions at the time.
When we got to the hospital, they examined me and declared I was checking in. I was still not feeling contractions so I was hooked up to a monitor. The nurse would tell me when I was having a contraction and ask me if I felt it and each time I said no. I remember she was quite surprised that I wasn’t feeling anything. According to the machines, I was having strong contractions. That did not last long though, about an hour later, the contractions were getting painful. I was at the point where I could get the epidural. Thankfully, not too long after that the anesthesiologist and assistant came in and provided me that relief.
By this time, it was after 7pm and it didn’t look like the baby was going anywhere so I started watching some shows and eating my ice chips. Every hour or so a nurse would come in to check where I was at. This continued on into the next day.
The doctor on call checked on me Saturday morning and we continued to monitor. A closer eye was on me since my water had broken and I was high risk at this time with gestational diabetes and preeclampsia.
Finally, around 2pm that Saturday, they came and said I was ready to push, they had realized my water had not broken a little earlier so once that was broken, I was ready to push pretty quickly.
The epidural was still working. I was relying on the doctor and nurses to let me know when I was contracting to push. About 20-25 minutes in, I was tired and I wanted to give up. I was tired and I felt like the baby was going nowhere, but the doctor and nurse told me I was almost there. To motivate me, they helped me sit up. At that moment, I could see the top of my baby’s head. That was all I needed! The next time I was ready to push, I gave it my all and out came my baby boy. I was so overcome with joy that I didn’t even realize they were stitching me up. I was in love as soon as my baby boy was put on my chest. The stress and tiredness of the last 22 hours were washed away.
My second story is a bit different because I was having twins. Even though I had one birth under my experience belt, going from a vaginal to a c-section birth had me being a newbie to this again.
At week 36, I went to my regular weekly visit. My doctor asked me if I had been feeling contractions, to which I responded no I haven’t felt anything. To be safe, she sent me to the hospital to hook me up to the monitors to see if I was contracting, which I was. The nurse was surprised because she mentioned I had just had a pretty strong one and I had not felt a thing (sound familiar? I’ve learned my pain threshold is a bit higher than I thought it was).
Just like the first time, about an hour after I was at the hospital, I started feeling the contractions. Luckily, there was an opening to get me into the operating room with the doctor on call for that day since my doctor was not scheduled to be at the hospital. During the time we waited, my husband and I quickly decided on Baby B’s name. (We had been having a hard time agreeing on one). Within a couple of hours, I had my epidural and was getting ready to be rolled into the operating room. My husband scrubbed in and was with me the whole way. Our oldest was with Grandpa at home as he normally is on a Friday. (Yes, my second delivery happened on the same day of the week as my first).
After a few tests to make sure I wasn’t feeling anything, a curtain was put down in front of me. Next, the doctor came in to start the C- section. Worried I would still feel something, I hung on to my husband’s hand for dear life. I felt movement but no pain. The doctor asked if we wanted Baby A or Baby B out first. My husband and I were both surprised and actually asked “What? We get to pick?”
We went with Baby A since we always thought of him as the oldest and about a minute later came out Baby B. Both had healthy cries but I couldn’t see them from where I was. Soon after, they brought both babies over for me and laid them on my chest. However, it was different from the first time. I was not able to hold them just yet. My husband went with the nurses and twins out of the room to the nursery. I got to meet my sweet little boys not too long after.
No matter the differences in my birth stories, the best parts, and best memories are of the first time I got to hold each of them and see that they were healthy. And that I could call them mine.