Seeing as my boys are all asleep, including the big one, I thought I’d hop on here to finally announce that we are proud parents of a precious little boy, Spencer Randall Drew. He arrived Wednesday, Jan 17th @ 12:47am weighing 6lbs 9oz and 19 1/4 inches long. Allow me to share my birth story with you (readers who are sensitive to hearing about the female anatomy, you have been warned)
The journey to this point has not been easy, as you probably have read in my previous posts. Lots of emotions through the 24 days we were admitted. I’d like to think I have a natural ability to understand circumstances when they come up, especially at a hospital, but when we were nearing the end of our journey, that part of me started to change. I started to become a different person. I started to feel like I was failing as a mom to Simon, a wife to Andrew and all the other things I took pride in outside those hospital walls. This was something I was afraid of from the beginning and it was becoming a quick reality.
Induction date came. No more countdowns (the nurses created one on my wall as motivation to get to 37 weeks), no more same hospital food everyday, no more staring at The Forks outside my window (which at times I really didn’t mind). The day was here. We were told we weren’t a priority right off the bat because of our non-high risk situation. My sack had not broken yet, but boy was I feeling pressure. More than I ever did when I got there. This little boy wanted out, and I wanted to meet him so badly. We kept on our day as usual (well, as usual as it gets in a hospital). I was allowed a day pass to run some last minute errands before we get called to the 3rd floor. Supper came and we were told it very well would not be happening that evening but things could change over night. So Andrew decided to stay the night. They were nice enough to provide him a pull-out couch to sleep on that night (which was surprisingly comfortable).
Sunday came. Good news, we were number 4! No way were we leaving the hospital today without our baby! So we waited in anticipation. We had a great nurse that would check on ‘the list’ to check if we moved. Afternoon came, and sure enough, we were number 3! We started to pack and start making arrangements for Simon. Evening came and we were told once again, we would not be having our baby that night.
Monday rolled around. By this point, my sister had already made arrangements she’d be off work till Wednesday so she took Simon home for a few days which was so helpful. We waited, and was told once again we were number 3 and they didn’t know whether we would be giving birth that day. I broke down. The fears I had emotionally were all coming through, and my motivation was slipping away. The nurse I had that day was a nurse I had since day one and knew how hard I tried to get to 37 weeks without giving up and signing myself out of hospital. Her words to me were “You didn’t hear this from me, but as the saying goes, “the squeeky wheel gets the oil”. You need to go further, there’s no reason for them to keep you here. You made their ‘deadline’, and they now need to induce you.” My doctor was on holidays, so I demanded to speak with the current attending on call that day. Unfortunately, she was not able to speak with me as she was in some high-risk labours, so I was able to be forwarded to the doctor who is overseeing my doctor’s patients while he was gone. I knew her, and she knew me as she was one of the many doctors who came to remind me every morning why I was still there. She couldn’t believe I still hadn’t had my baby. She said she called down to the labour and delivery floor, and spoke with the charge nurse. There was no reason why I was needing to stay any longer. I met their deadline, and I was ok to be induced. She said that she was, along side us, concerned about depression, and didn’t want that to be the start of this new parenthood journey. She said she would follow up with us the next day to let us know what the plan was. We asked to go home that night, but they didn’t want me to suddenly give birth at home, and they knew Steinbach wouldn’t take me as I was diabetic, but if I did, we were to be back in the hospital by 8am so we knew what was going on.
Finally, someone on our side. The morning came, and the routine was as it always was. I had a resident come in and ask the same vital questions as they did the last 23 days. This resident was a bit more chatty, and asked how we are doing. We explained how we felt at this point and we were to the point where we wanted answers, and we were waiting to get them. I don’t think I’ll ever forget his words when replied, “We would ideally like to see you go a few more weeks, perhaps to 40 if possible.” After he left I broke again. Deeper. I was now angry. I was no longer frustrated at the situation. I had visualized everyday coming home to my family. Feeling the normalcy I longed for so much. I then got a text from a good friend saying she was in the hospital for a doc appointment and would love to come up and see us. At first, I didn’t want anyone. I was tired of explaining how I felt about being there, and visitors staring at me feeling sorry for me, but I felt the need to see her. She came up and chatted for a bit, and then she offered to pray. If anyone knows me, they know I thrive off of prayer. I prayed everyday while sitting in that hospital, and I loved when other wanted to pray with me. She prayed for everything I was struggling with, especially my need for Simon. She prayed that I could look at finding relief, and they could find me a bed and I would be able to give birth. This meant everything to me.
People under estimate the proud of prayer, especially when it’s the only emotional gateway out. I knew needed someone to pray with me that day, and I truly feel that Candace was lead to me. Exactly one hour after Candace left, our doctor came in. She said she made a few calls, and there will be a bed ready for us in the next couple hours. We were having this baby. Tears fled, and she was so happy for us. She said enough was enough, and there was no reason to keep me there anymore. If the baby checks out, we will be able to go home within 24 hours of having him. No NICU visit, no 72 hour mandatory stay, nothing that was explained to us when we first got there. Finally.
The induction started, and we along with the medical staff expected my water to break quickly seeing as I was 6cm dilated with a bulged amniotic sack for 3 1/2 weeks. 6 hours onto the drip, and nothing so they decided to break my water for me. What was anticipated to be a “poke and a gush” landed up being a battle between what looked like knitting needle and my sack for a good minute. 1 1/2 hour later, my baby was thrown on me and I was a new mom again.
What may sound like a pretty uneventful labour, it actually wasn’t. I decided I wanted a epidural, however the first one they applied failed, and the second one almost worked ‘too fast too far’. The block landed up going up to my chest and past my heart. This truck concern because the heart could stop due to the block, but the were able to fix it by lowering the amount I was getting. Once my water broke, the nurse explained that the epidural couldn’t keep up with the intense contractions I was having and they didn’t want to increase due to the risk of the block going past my heart again, so I had to fight through the pain. Pain I never thought existed in the real world.
I came out with 1st degree tears with only a couple of stitches. My placenta wouldn’t pass so they virtually had to fish it out by hand, and scrape the remainder. Needless to say that process felt like labour all over.
We hadn’t decided on a name prior but when we looked at him, we both agreed he would be named Spencer. Spencer Randall Drew. Incase some of you don’t know the origin of his name, let me explain. Spencer has no significant meaning, not like Simon was. It was just a name we liked. Randall was my mom’s brother who passed away at a very early age. He drowned accidentally in a creek that ran throughout their village they resided in. Drew is Andrew’s name shortened.
It’s amazing what God designed our bodies to endure, and to think there are people that give birth at home, cars, bathrooms, and other very random places. I was blessed through this journey to have a great team of nurses and doctors that supported me, even though the odd ones seem to know which button struck my hormonal emotions.
The transition home was interesting. We planned to surprise Simon at his day care with Spencer. He was thrilled that his brother was there to pick him up and bring him home. We fully expect this transition to not go smoothly. I noticed very quickly how his behavor has changed since I initially left a month ago, but we have to remember that he’s adjusting to this new life as well. This new baby we brought home whom has to share all the attention Simon was getting. We just pray that each day gets easier and we can look back and remember this process as if it was a memory.
I know I’ve said it many times, but we are so thankful for all the support we got during that time. Words can never be enough gratitude.