Benjamin's Birth Story

Benjamin’s Birth Story

Now that Benjamin is six weeks old, it's time to introduce him the the blogging world... here is the official birth story- all four pages of it. Hold on!

Taken the day before our story begins... yes, I am huge!

Monday, July 23

I had been waiting all weekend for my doctor to return so that we could come up with a plan. When you’re already huge, swollen, and four days overdue, it’s time to talk about eviction, no matter how much you love that baby inside of you. I went to my appointment, only to find that I was still just dilated to two centimeters, and only 70% effaced.  Needless to say, we weren’t any closer to meeting our son than the week before.  Dr. Wilder and I discussed the potential for induction later that week, and she told me she would call me later that day with the official date. After a successful non-stress test to see if the baby was okay, I went home to await the call from the doctor.  When she finally called, the verdict came through; she couldn’t get me in until Thursday July 26, seven days after my due date. I was relieved to have a light at the end of the tunnel, and a plan, but a little disappointed to have to wait to meet my son.

That night, Ken and I resorted to using propaganda. We spoke to my huge belly, telling the baby that the twenty-fourth of July would be the best birthday! He’d always have fireworks to commemorate the day of his birth, there is a parade, and endless barbeques! We told him how much we loved him, how excited we were to meet him! Admittedly, I kind of begged the kid to make his appearance- I was ready for him to come and play.

As if in response to our pleadings, at two am the following morning, (July 24) I awoke as usual to use the restroom (huge baby resting on bladder = frequent trips to the potty). While doing my usual business, there seemed to be a gush of fluids, but I dismissed it.  I went to get back into bed, and another little gush sent me looking for my laptop to research what a rupture of membranes would be like.  As I walked into the living room, there was fluid slowly dripping down my leg.  I never got to the laptop, it was then I decided that my water had broken, and it was go time!

I woke up Ken, which was surprisingly easy compared to previous attempts at rousing him. When I got into the shower, the fluid that was gushing was a tanish-green color, leading me to believe that there was meconium in the fluid. Then we made our way to the hospital.

By 4:30 am, though I was still only dilated to a two, we had earned our ticket into Labor and Delivery and called my mom to come join in the fun.  We spent the morning, Ken, mom and I, watching the Pioneer day parade, taking walks, bouncing on the labor ball, and getting IV antibiotics.  I was in good spirits- my baby was on his way! Labor was bearable and progressing slowly, and I was beginning to get tired.  With Group Beta Strep in the birth canal, the clock was ticking- twenty-four hours after the membranes have ruptured, often there is worry of the infection hurting the baby, and C-section is eminent if the baby is not already close to coming.

At about noon, the residents checked my cervix, and I was dilated to a 4, and 70% effaced.  I had wanted to try to go it unmedicated, fully knowing that drugs might be necessary.  As it turns out, my mother, aunts and grandmother all needed some help to have their labor progress. And at that point, we decided to take some action to make some progress.  After 10 hours of labor, and still not much movement, we decided to ditch the no drugs policy and toss a little pitocin into the mix.

Two long hours later, the pitocin was working its magic- the labor was certainly being augmented.  My contractions were more regular, and a great deal stronger. I was really starting to get tired, and when they evaluated my cervix again, I was still only dilated four centimeters.  I was so tired, that I abandoned my attempt at a pain med free birth.  I got an epidural.  As it turns out, it was the best thing I ever did.

The epidural worked like a charm, for a few hours at least. About five pm, my contractions were going strong, and I was dilated to a six. Unfortunately, my epidural was starting to be less effective on my abdomen. My feet were like cold, hard rocks, but I could feel the pain in my belly. It was around this time that my family came to see me. Nick and Laura came with beautiful flowers, and a gift, and Adam, Jonathan and my dad tagged along.  I was miserable and slightly ornery, and the pain was frustrating.  In fact, Ken, my brothers, and dad gave me a blessing, to help me along in the process. It was a heavensend, and it seemed that everything got a bit more bearable after that.  I’m so grateful for the gospel, and that my Heavenly Father sent His priesthood to help us here on earth.

The time seemed to crawl by, but after several hours of pain, lots of calls to the anesthesiologist and ice chips with snow cone flavoring (my life saver- nothing ever tasted so good), I was still hurting.  My nurse- bless her- decided to rub my lower back.  It was about 9:30 pm or so, and I was convinced that my kid was never coming, well at least he wasn’t coming on Pioneer day.  But, with the rubbing came better pain control.  The more she rubbed, the better I felt.  The epidural was earning its keep again. Ken and my mom both took turns rubbing my back.

By 11:30 pm, it was time to rest.  Admittedly I don’t remember where I was on the dilation scale at this point- I was wasted. I do remember that somewhere along the way we had discovered that the baby wasn’t facing the right way to come out, and once the dilation and effacement processes were complete, we were going to have to turn him.  This might explain why the kiddo wasn’t coming, and why the epidural had a rough time getting the numbing job done.

But, at least I was good and numb.  I think it was about one am on Wednesday, July 25, when they checked me, I was complete (fully dilated and effaced), and they discovered that the little man had turned on his own, and now was time to push. I was twenty-three hours into the labor process, and pushing seemed like the most impossible task that had ever been placed on my little shoulders.  Or maybe on my uterus. Anyway, the pushing journey began.

An hour and a half later, my pushing was pretty lackluster, and I was pooped.  My nurse saw that my efforts had waned, and she made the suggestion of forceps. Now, I was not too excited about forceps, but I was completely exhausted, and I agreed.

I failed to mention that all along, there was some concern about the size of the baby inside me.  Of course, there was no going back now, so they did things to prep for delivery of the massive behemoth in my womb. Things like bring in stools to stand on while they pushed out the baby.  These are the same things that caused the residents to balk at the forceps concept.  I believe the dialog was something like this, “We are concerned that your baby is too big for a forceps delivery.  We could break his collar bone or cause some shoulder dystocia, so we are going to have to take the  forceps off the table. You can either keep pushing, or we can take you to the OR and give you a c-section.”  So that was that, I kept pushing.

In another hour or so (yes about two and a half hours of pushing), we were close. Little guy’s head was right there.  My doctor wasn’t close, though. But, baby was coming anyway. His head came out, and then the doc waltzed in, and quickly donned her gloves and gown, and then out came the rest of the guy, tearing his mommy to the fourth degree.  Apparently this little guy is a ‘go big or go home’ type kiddo right from the start.

The plan had been for Ken to cut the umbilical cord- you know as the father’s privilege.  But our little guy wasn’t breathing when he came out, and the cord was wrapped around his neck.  So my recently arrived doctor cut the cord and handed him off to the team of docs, respiratory therapists and nurses poised and waiting just for this purpose. Ken and my mom immediately crashed toward the bassinet, and I stayed put- the whole rock hard numb legs kept me rather stationery.

Benjamin just minutes after his arrival

I wish that I could say that immediately I was filled with joy and wonder at my son’s entrance to the world, by admittedly, I was really quite out of it.  The teams of doctors were working in tandem, one on me and one on the baby.  It was then that I turned to Ken and somewhat manipulatively said, “Can we name him Benjamin yet?”  Ken finally acquiesced, and our newborn son officially became Benjamin Reed Buley.

Benjamin took his sweet time deciding to breathe, requiring some suction and a few breaths with CPAP.  APGARS were 3 and then 8, and Benjamin eventually (it didn’t take long, but it felt like an eternity to his waiting mom) decided to use his lungs. In the meantime, my doctors were trying to help me deliver my placenta, which did not want to come.

The moment that they placed Benjamin in my arms was emotional.  We captured the tears on film, I was overwhelmed at the beautiful little man in my arms.  He was perfect, and amazing, and mine.  He was remarkably calm, and surprisingly alert, looking around and watching everything as if to take it all in. The raptures, though, had to wait, as I was shaking uncontrollably from the adrenaline of child birth and the drugs in the epidural, and holding my perfect son was rather difficult.

The relief that it was over was palpable in the room, and the aftermath started.  Benjamin had a date with the nursery for observation, and I had a date with the operating room.  The party split up and Daddy Ken went with Benjamin and Grandma Annette went with me to the OR.

I’ll spare you the details of my time under the knife being repaired.  Suffice it to say, I spent a few hours with my stone cold numb legs high in the air and more of that shaking, while skilled doctors put humpty dumpty back together again.  As I lay there, my sweet mom at my side, I remember saying to her, “Mom, I’m not sure I can do that again.”  Her wise reply came, “You don’t have to decide that now.”

At one point, my nurse laughed and asked if I wanted to know how big my baby was… nine pounds, nine point six ounces! Huge baby!!  Ken and I had expected a big boy, but we were shocked by just how big! It was then our little guy was dubbed ‘BIG Ben.’

After I was all back together (at least anatomically), I rejoined Benjamin and Ken.  And it was then that my love affair with my baby started. He is amazing!  My nurse stole him away to show him off, saying, “You gave birth to a three month old!” And soon thereafter we were escorted to the Postpartum unit.

So ends Benjamin’s birth story.   The real fun however, started then!  He is the second best thing I ever did- marrying Ken is the first, of course. I adore Benjamin, and everyday with him is a new adventure.  Sometimes when he is sleeping, I miss him so much, I pick him up just to cuddle him!  I love everything he does, his little cries, his cute lip smacking after he eats, his adorable concerned, grumpy, and happy faces.  I can’t wait for him to get bigger, but I want him to never grow up.  He loves to snuggle with his mommy, and his mommy is completely taken with him.

We love you, Benjamin Bear! All the pain, the exhaustion, the drama, all of it is one hundred percent worth it!  The reward is so much greater than the cost. We love our little Bear so much!

More about our little guy to come…