Birth Story: Claire

Claire Marie Trudelle

August 19, 2014

8:33 pm

She was due on August 17th, but I was convinced that this baby girl would be early.  She felt lower than I remember Miles feeling and seemed so heavy.  My sister (who was due in December) came into town, and planned to leave the day after my due date.  To be honest, I wasn't worried that she wouldn't meet the baby. This baby was going to come early!

My first piece of advice to pregnant women is to never count on having your baby early.  Sure, babies do come early, but if you expect this, then by the time your due date arrives, you will feel overdue.  And you aren't.  You are due around that time.  In fact, I read somewhere, that in some countries, women have a "due month," not a date.  If you really think about it, why does it make sense to pin all of our expectations on a particular day?

Even so, when Robin left, I gave her a hug goodbye and almost burst into tears.  Steve's family was also in town, and his parents would be leaving a few days later.  As my due date came and went, I had to keep reminding myself that just because our family members were leaving, this didn't mean that the baby would not be coming!  It sounds silly, but when I remembered this, I felt better.  I had more time to organize, rest, and prepare for what I hoped would be a much "easier" labor and birth.

I had decided that this time I would use some of the ideas in a book called HypnoBirthing: The Mongan Method.  I read the book, a part of me not believing a lot of what it claimed (women could experience an essentially pain-free birth), and another part of me loving the principles and strategies it explained (some degree of relaxation is possible, and practicing breathing and visualizing can help).  One part of the book focused on letting go of past labor experiences, and after Miles's marathon birth, I really needed to read this. In my final weeks of pregnancy, I fell asleep every night, listening to the relaxation track, practicing the different kinds of breathing that were suggested in the book.  I felt ready.

On August 18th, we decided to show Steve's parents around Edmonds, a town outside of Seattle.  My mom met us for dinner, and we ate a restaurant with a special name.  Of course we joked that I would probably go into labor after eating at Claire's Restaurant.  It turns out, we weren't that wrong.

I woke up at around 6:30 on Tuesday morning, August 19th.  Something felt different--my pants were wet!  My water probably broke sometime early that morning, but I wasn't feeling any contractions.  I called the doctor's office and the on-call doctor told me that we should come in within a few hours.  Steve's parents, who were staying at a house nearby, came to watch Miles, I called my mom to let her know what was happening, and we packed our things and told Miles we were going to see the doctor.  I still wonder if he knew what we really meant when he saw us leave early that morning.

It felt so strange to be driving to the hospital without any pain at all, knowing that the baby would be coming that day. In fact, Steve asked if we should stop for coffee.  Sure, why not?

We checked in at the hospital and the nurse confirmed that my water had indeed broken.  But since I wasn't feeling any major contractions, I probably wasn't dilated.  She said that we could go for a walk around the hospital grounds (it was a beautiful day), and that we would meet with the doctor in a few hours to discuss a plan.  We walked around, stopped at the hospital's Starbucks, and did a bunch of stairs in the parking garage.  I was still in awe that nothing was really starting to happen.  We also gave my mom a call to check in (she would be taking over for Steve's parents who needed to leave for the airport).  When she answered, I knew something was wrong.  Her voice was soft and slow, and she sounded like she was in pain.  "Well, I kind of got side-tracked," she said, and proceeded to explain that she was also in the hospital for abdominal pains that had started that morning.  My poor poor mom was experiencing an intense bout of diverticulitis and needed to stay in the hospital.  She said she'd keep us posted.  Steve's mom decided to delay her flight home for a few days to care for Miles and meet her newest granddaughter.  We are still so grateful for that!

Around noon we met with the doctor who was scheduled to work that day.  I was a little disappointed that my own doctor wouldn't be the one there.  But this doctor was very kind, and said that she would recommend getting Pitocin going soon to move things along.  While I never questioned having Pitocin during Miles's birth, I started to wonder if this was really necessary this time.  Wouldn't things just start on their own?  At the same time, I trusted the doctor, and knew that I was far from having this baby with no contractions.  Bring on the IV!

Meanwhile, Steve was perfecting his skills at ordering meals from the hospital cafeteria.  His first piece of advice to fathers-to-be is always about the "secrets" of ordering a free meal.  Call the number on the menu and say the following: "Yes, my wife would like the spaghetti and meatballs, a side salad, and the lasagna with soup.  She'd also like some chocolate cake and a side of fries."

In all seriousness, when Steve wasn't eating (and even while he was!), he was my biggest supporter and encourager.  And, he was about to become even more involved than we both had planned. :)

By the time they came to put in my IV, my mom had called to say that she had convinced the doctor to discharge her from the hospital.  She was armed with medications, tired and still in pain, but determined to be there.  I knew that I couldn't change her mind.  After 3 attempts to put in my IV, I was finally hooked up to the Pitocin around 4 pm.  It was go time!

It didn't take more than an hour or so before the contractions started coming.  I can almost remember the first time I had to really breathe through a contraction.  I was happily chatting with whoever was in the room when suddenly it hit.  To me, contractions feel like a blood pressure cuff tightening around your entire middle, but with take-your-breath-away pain.  I told Steve that he should call our friend, Paige, who was going to come to be my photographer and all-around cheerleader.   

By this time, the day doctor's shift was close to ending, and my doctor's day at the clinic was also over, so she came over to the hospital to help with my labor and delivery.  When Paige also showed up, I can't tell you how happy I was.  I had my dream team there (except for my sister!) and knew that with these people by my side, I could do anything.

I was amazed at how easy it was to move into the breathing exercises I had been practicing.  I also found that closing my eyes helped, as I was able to visualize my baby and my body doing the work it was meant to do.  I sat on a yoga ball, had Steve massage my back, and then decided to get into the tub to relax.  

Lying in the tub felt great until I suddenly started to feel very shaky.  I wasn't sure if it was the water or whether my body was beginning to go into transition, but I felt that I needed to get out.  Once in bed, I had to really focus on not shaking uncontrollably.  The doctor checked me and I was only at 5 cm.  My heart sunk.  With Miles I had been stuck at 7 cm with many hours of labor still to go.  She said she'd come back and check on me in an hour or so.

Around 6:30, I was finally more relaxed, but experiencing very intense contractions very close together.  I remember being so focused on each breath and telling myself over and over to relax my muscles.  I had entered the part of labor where I tuned out almost everything around me.  It was time to focus and get this baby out!

When my doctor returned, sure enough, I had moved from 5 cm to 10 cm, and was ready to push.  I wanted to sit, but each contraction took so much out of me, that I also wanted to lie down in between.  I don't know whose idea it was, but Steve turned into my back pillow.  He sat behind me, with some pillows between us so that I could fall back and rest in between pushes.  He says now that it was a very strange perspective to have at that time.  He felt as if he were the one pushing too, and got to see what I saw--the doctor and nurses moving about, ready to catch a baby.

After about an hour of pushing, Claire entered the world.  She was a little blue and didn't cry, so the nurses jostled her around, and quickly suctioned her nose again and again.  I was scared, but noticed that my doctor was calm.  I knew everything would be ok.  They put her on my chest and she was so warm and perfect.  And then she cried.  A perfect, loud cry.  It's was a feeling unlike anything else.

Immediately, I felt so much love for this little baby, and so much relief to have her in my arms.  I felt proud, tired, and invigorated, all at the same time.  With Miles's birth, I had been too exhausted to really soak in the joy of those first moments.  But here, I felt every bit of it.

Baby Claire had a tuft of light brown hair and was chubbier than I had imagined she would be.  We made predictions about her weight and were shocked when the scale read 8 pounds 15 ounces.    

That evening, we ordered pizza and replayed the day's events, marveling at how different one birth story can be from the next.  

The next morning, Steve's mom brought Miles in to meet his baby sister.  As we expected, he was cautious and quickly distracted by the novelty of the hospital.  To this day, he isn't the most adoring brother, but I am sure this will change.  He'll be her biggest fan someday.

We left the hospital the next day, already tired, but so incredibly grateful.  I thank God every day for this little family and am richly blessed by these gifts: my husband and two children.

I can't thank my friend Paige enough for the time she spent with us at the hospital. Many of these photos are hers, and she even videotaped while she was there.  For those who would like to see, here's Claire's birth story on video:

Pregnancy This Time

Sometimes I wonder how I haven't yet documented this pregnancy, but then I see photos like this. This little guy keeps me busy.  But, wow, I'm really at 32 weeks already!

It is also true that pregnancy seems to go by a little faster the second time.  At times I truly forget that I'm pregnant (not as much these days though).  This first bump shot was around 22 weeks, not too long after we found out that we're having a girl. 

We were pretty excited to find out that Miles will have a little sister.  Steve and I both had a feeling she was a girl, but would have also loved the idea of brothers.  Of course, now that we're getting closer, we're all pretty thrilled to have a little girl join our family.

It wasn't until recently that Miles started to seem to understand what we mean when we talk about the baby.  He now points to my belly and says "baby" and sometimes "sister."  We point out other young babies to him, and although he doesn't show a great interest in them, we're hoping that he will find his own little sister more intriguing.

This pregnancy has been different in some ways.  At the beginning, I felt a little sick throughout the day, especially when I had little food in my stomach.  Gatorade and hard candies helped, and thankfully, I never really got sick to my stomach.  It was just a little more "blah" than I had felt with Miles.  I was also very tired.  Those waves of fatigue are tough, especially when watching an energetic toddler.  Frequent bloody noses returned (I had these with my first pregnancy too), and I finally decided to get my nose cauterized (it would be the third time in my life).  Not a fun experience at all, but it's been worth it!

I had pretty vivid dreams and craved ice cream, Asian noodles, and other sweets (Talenti gelato bars are my favorite).  These were the same things that sounded good to me when I was pregnant with Miles, and, if I'm honest, sound good to me pretty much all of the time. :)

Just like they say, the second trimester was the best.  I started to feel better, had more energy, and loved feeling the baby move more.  I noticed that she rolled and kicked the most when I would lie down at night, and I started to look forward to this "time alone" with her.  While lying in bed, I imagine what she'll look like, how she'll be the same or different than Miles, and what it will be like to have a daughter.  

When we went down to Santa Barbara last May, I had Steve snap another bump shot at the beach.  It was fun to compare this one to a very similar shot in Hawaii, about two years ago.  I was around 25 weeks in each of these.

Ah yes, and then there's the third trimester.  This was a few weeks ago, at 30 weeks.  I just look tired.  And that's pretty much how I sum up how I'm feeling when people ask me: good! But tired.  Overall, I have nothing major to complain about, but since this is a chance to document (and I want to be honest, right?), my tailbone and lower back hurt, and it takes a lot more effort to carry myself and the extra weight around.  Now that summer is here, I am looking forward to starting a new plan--one that includes lots of walking, yoga, and massage (hey, my doctor gave me a prescription).  

I'm also hoping to have a little time to rearrange Miles's room, and eventually turn it in to a space that he can share with his sister.  It will be a little while until baby girl sleeps in her own crib, but I'm having fun thinking of ways to keep the room mostly neutral, with a little bit of pink thrown in.   I'd call my inspiration "geometric." :) 

dip-dyed stool  // acid etched letter (M for Miles + another)  // black plus sheet //  pink chevron sheet // Love X type print //  artecnica themis prism mobile // colette the cat // crib (for baby) // mur mini triangles decals // cushion // crib/toddler bed (for Miles) // quilt made by katie // mint kaleido tray

So, the countdown is on.  A little less than 2 months to go.  On my to-do list: packing up the kitchen for a remodel in a week or so, and beginning to organize/store baby clothes.  Here's to a productive, fun, hopefully-relaxing-at-times summer!

Birth Story: Miles

This is the long story of baby Miles's birth.  Feel free to scroll down to the photos. :)

Baby boy Trudelle was due on August 1st, but I always suspected he would arrive late.  My doctor, whether using medical knowledge or just plain psychology also told me "prepare yourself to be a week late."  So when August 1st came and went, I wasn't too surprised.

That didn't stop me from doing lots of walking, yoga, eating spicy foods, and enjoying a meal of my mom's sloppy joes (apparently my grandma and mom both ate these right before giving birth).  Nothing seemed to work, although I was recognizing Braxton Hicks (finally!) and made my own prediction that he would be born Sunday, August 5th.

On Saturday the 4th, I woke up with a crampy feeling in my stomach.  When Steve woke up I told him that I thought I may be having contractions, but that we shouldn't get too excited--these things can last days!  Right away, he downloaded a contractions timer on his phone.  Looking back I have to laugh at our attempts to time my early contractions.  I'd be doing something around the house, feel a contraction coming on and say "ok go!" He'd start the timer and then we'd both kind of forget to press stop.  You could say the pain level was pretty minimal. :)  Still, I had a feeling I should take it easy, and when Steve's family (who had come up from California for a vacation in Canada) came over for dinner,  I spent much of the evening on the couch, watching the Olympics.

When I went to bed Saturday night, I was a little worried that I wouldn't be able to sleep.  Suddenly contractions seemed to have more distinct beginning and end points, so around midnight I began timing them myself.  I found that lying in bed wasn't the most comfortable, so throughout the night, I walked around the house, tried to sleep on the couch, all the while timing contractions that were still pretty sporadic (between 6 and 10 minutes apart).  I kept thinking that I just needed to get to 6 am (a time that I thought would be reasonable for waking Steve up and calling the doctor).  Around 5 am I was pretty exhausted (I hadn't slept more than 10 minutes at a time) and figured I should just call.  My doctor was out of town for her own birthday, but the on-call doctor said we could come in if I felt I needed to.  A part of me had a feeling we still had a lot of time (contractions weren't getting much closer) but I had never felt this type of pain, and I had been up all night--this had to be it!

We watched a little bit of the women's Olympic marathon before deciding to put our bags in the car and head to the ER (the childbirth center wasn't open until 8 am).  On our way I called Alyssa, our friend who would be coming in as our doula.  She knew just by talking to me that I was still in early labor, but said she would come to the hospital too.  Around 7 am we were shown to our room and they checked to see how far along I was--2 cm.  I asked the nurse if they were going to send us home, but she didn't think so.  I had rated my pain a "5" and was needing to breathe through contractions now.  I was a little worried that I wasn't very far along, but already feeling a lot of pain.  She did suggest that we walk around for awhile, so Steve and I went outside and walked in the sunny, quiet parking lot.    A bit later my mom and sister arrived, and the nurse checked me one more time.  Still 2 cm.  The doctor on call suggested that I go home and try to get some rest.  They could give me an Ambien, which would help me get some form of sleep.  We decided to give it a shot.

By Sunday afternoon the temperature outside had reached close to 90 degrees so my mom, sister, Steve and Alyssa set up a little "labor room" in our downstairs basement.  As the Ambien started to kick in I suddenly felt very emotional as I drifted between painful contractions and a strange kind of sleep (I had visions of robots and those half-animal-half-human creatures...centaurs I think? It was weird).  I remember my mom running her fingers through my hair as I cried quietly to myself.

Throughout the afternoon I "rested," walked around the neighborhood (I didn't remember doing this until Steve reminded me days later), and breathed rhythmically through contractions.  Around 3 or 4 pm, Alyssa suggested that I use a birthing ball and drape my body over it during contractions.  Not too long afterwards, I felt my water break.  I was suddenly very eager to go back to the hospital.  I was afraid that I wasn't feeling the baby move very much, and just hearing his heartbeat on the monitor would be reassuring to me.

When we returned to the hospital and the nurse checked me again, I was 5-6 centimeters dilated.  Although I was only "halfway" there, and already so exhausted, I remember feeling a sense of relief. I was going to have this baby tonight!  To be honest, I don't really remember how we spent the next few hours.  A lot of breathing and occasional monitoring I guess.  I do remember the pain though.  With my water broken and back labor, I was needing to really focus on breathing through each contraction.  I was encouraged to get into the tub, and taking a bath did ease the pain slightly.

My labor team was amazing.  Alyssa, Steve, my mom and sister joined me in my breathing/chanting through each contraction.  When I felt one coming on, I would take a deep breath in and then breathe out, chanting as deeply as I could.  We sounded like monks as we chanted together, and I'm sure anyone in the hallway had to notice and find it a bit funny.  Things continued like this for hours, and as night came, I started to feel discouraged.  I had made it to 7 centimeters, but wasn't really progressing as I should.  The doctor told me that I had until 1 am, and if things didn't progress, she was going to strongly recommend Pitocin.  Of course I had heard about Pitocin (a hormone that speeds up and strengthens contractions) and knew that the pain would only intensify if I had to go on it.  We decided to give walking one more shot, so Steve and I paced the hospital hallway.  It was around 11:00 pm.

At one point on our walk I heard the cry of a newborn baby in a room nearby.  I suddenly felt great envy that I still did not have a baby in my arms.  At the same time, I felt determined to bring our baby into the world as soon as possible, no matter how much it was going to hurt.  When 1 am finally came and I was still at 7 cm, we decided to try Pitocin.

Throughout the night I remained hooked up to the IV, although Alyssa encouraged me to try various positions on the bed with the birthing ball and birthing stool.  I hardly talked (except for one time when I snapped at Steve to quit eating a Cliff bar in my face...sorry Steve!) but narrowed my focus, despite the pain.  Each time the doctor checked me (about every hour or two) I was progressing only about a half centimeter, sometimes not at all.  At the same time, the baby's head was dropping lower and lower, and the pressure was pretty intense.  I remember looking at the faces of my mom and sister and wondering what they could be thinking.  Later my mom admitted that she hoped I would ask for some kind of pain medication--it was hard to watch!  Steve's parents, sister, and my grandparents had been waiting in the waiting room all evening, but finally decided to head home to get some sleep.

At around 3 am, I was finally fully dilated.  However, there was a little lip around my cervix, and I couldn't start pushing, even though I was starting to feel the urge.  At this point I was exhausted, shaking, and hardly able to breathe through contractions.  When the doctor said, "we'll check back in about an hour," my heart sank.  Another hour seemed like a lifetime.  Sure enough, when she returned, the lip was gone, and the nurse said that they were going to call my doctor, who was now back in town (it was Monday morning).  While I was glad that she'd be the one to deliver the baby, waiting for her to arrive felt like another eternity.  Days later, Steve and I agreed that the entire night felt like one long race in which we thought we'd arrived at the finish line, only to be told that we had to keep going, over and over again.

Still, I held on to the words that I had heard from our childbirth instructor, "Labor does not last forever.  It will end," and I knew I was getting close.  When my doctor arrived at around 4:30 am, I was relieved to finally start pushing.  With my entire labor team there cheering me on, I pushed at each contraction.  And while it was painful, I welcomed the change of pace and feeling of progress that had been lacking in my labor thus far.  In the room next door, a woman was pushing at the same time, and she screamed wildly with each push.  When I heard the cry of her new baby I once again felt determined to finally meet mine.

The moment my baby came into the world was surreal.  I know that I was still in a daze of pain and exhaustion because I didn't cry or become emotional, as I expected I would.  Instead, I remember the mix of darkness and bright lights, the voices and cries of my family, and the warmth of a little body being placed on my chest.  He was wet and so so warm, and he let out a beautiful cry before calming down and resting in my arms.  I remember thinking that he looked like me, as his eyes met mine, and I know it couldn't have been possible, but it felt as if morning suddenly came and the light from the sun filled the room.

The doctor finished up my delivery and Steve cut the umbilical cord of our little son.  His head was bruised and cone shaped from being stuck so low for so long, but everyone assured us that the swelling would go down quickly (it only took a day).  We also noticed that our little baby had a red mark in the middle of his neck and we asked what it was.  While our doctor couldn't be sure, she believed it was a little defect, a neck cleft, that was probably harmless.  It turned out that she was right--our baby would be just fine, but will need surgery to repair the cleft in the next few months.

When I attempted to nurse him for the first time, our little guy latched right on.  The nurses weighed and measured him, and then my family took turns holding the baby.  I remember my sister crying and my mom remarking how this little baby already had her wrapped around his finger.  Watching Steve hold him was my favorite part.  It would be the beginning of many moments like it, and my heart swells with love for these two people--my husband and my little son.

It took us until the next morning to name Baby Trudelle, but after the first night of holding him and waking up to feed him, I felt pretty certain that we should name our calm baby Miles.  His middle name would be Joseph, which is a family tradition on Steve's side.  Miles, meaning "peaceful" and Joseph, meaning "God shall increase."

We left the hospital the next day, Steve's 31st birthday.  I told him that I was sorry I didn't get him a present, but I got him a baby, and that should be enough. :) I think we both agree that Miles is the best gift God could have ever given us.  We are blessed and so very thankful.