For us, so we can remember

It's always interesting when you hit those "year marks". Whether they be for happy things, or hard things, it's always interesting to think, "Has it really been a year?" June 21st was the hardest day, physically, I have had in my entire life. Period. Hands down. It all started on June 20th...

At this point, I was two weeks and five days over due. Yes, over due. We had been on really close observation, and for more reasons than I want to count, our doctor had decided not to induce me at this point. I had been hoping dearly that this would be the day: She would say, "Alright! Let's get this baby out..." Unfortunately, she said, "Well, I'm going off island tonight. If you haven't had this baby by Monday we will induce you when I get back." Break my heart.

I'm not one to get induced, in the first place. I'm not a super-hippie-everything-natural type of person either. However, it gets to a point where that baby just needs to come out. And I had passed that point, both emotionally and physically, about two weeks and five days earlier. Needless to say, I was a very impatient, emotional person when it came to my doctor appointments. Naturally, I left in tears, devastated that it was not going to be until MONDAY that this life infesting my body was going to exit. I really was very upset.

So, what to do? Of course, the only smart thing to do; we went to get some ice cream--the only source of healing at this point. I'm pretty sure I started crying from the point the doctor said after our millionth ultra sound, "...Everything still looks ok. There is still no reason why we should induce...". The water works continued on the whole drive to Angels Ice Cream, the whole time eating the ice cream, and the walk back to the car. However, once I got back into the car I figured, "Suck it up. There's nothing you can do about it." And that was that. We drove back to our TVA land, and I some how came to terms with my eternally pregnant self.

Chris opened the door to our car, and we made the walk, once again, back up to our apartment, defeated. And that's when my water broke.

Since I had really come to terms with the idea that this pregnancy was simply that---a pregnancy, no birth to follow, simply an eternal state of pregnancy--- I talked myself out of thinking that my water had actually broken. Instead, I told myself that I had, indeed, once again (let's face it, it happens), peed my pants. Just another blow to add to this worthless day of information I didn't want to know about. I walked up the stairs to our second floor apartment, and with every step kept thinking, "Give me a break. I really can't even hold it....at all?? I keep right on peeing? Awesome."

It was 5:00 PM once we got into the house. I pouted-ly walk straight to the bathroom to take care of this ridicules, embarrassing situation. I was pretty impressed that my "pee" all over my clothes, running down my legs, was clear, but again, didn't even think that this could be anything other then an unfortunate bladder experience.

It was about 10 minutes later, when the real stuff began. I started having contractions every 3-5 minutes apart. This was still VERY NORMAL for me. I had been having contractions for the last six weeks. I used to get excited about those, and think, "Oh, maybe something is happening," but no. I knew better now. There would be no baby until Monday. All of this was just a painful way of waiting until Monday.

It was maybe an hour later that it all clicked. After I had gone to the bathroom, changed clothes, and realized that I never actually stopped the whole wetting-the-pants thing, was when I realized, "Oh. Maybe my water broke, and these contractions, for real, really are the real thing??" I shared my thoughts with Chris, and he was excited about the idea. Still, we both had really come to terms this baby was coming... MONDAY.

I was so uncomfortable, and in pain the whole time, I didn't really eat or say much: We went to Jackie and Chris' house with the Prices, to eat dinner and watch Harry Potter. I just sort of sat there silent. Every once in a while I would go into the bathroom because I would be in enough pain that I needed to just sit and breathe through them without an audience. I never mentioned once to any of our friends that I thought I possibly was in labor. They just thought I was being pouty still, since I was not really interacting at all.

FINALLY the movie ended. I was so antsy, moving around the house every few minutes, working through these contractions, the idea of finally leaving was never so enticing. I think the very instant the credits started rolling, I jumped off the couch and said, "Let's go!" I was a very rude house guest that night, I'm sure. We went home, where I was dying to get in bed and fall asleep. I figured if this wasn't real labor, it would go away if I went to sleep, like it did all the other times. My main motivation was I didn't want to drive down to Kailua (an hour and half away), just for them to send us home because it was false labor, like they did the week before---I was determined to only go to Castle Hospital one more time; when I was, undoubtedly, in good, solid labor. One last night of rest in my own bed would do me good.

At 3:00 AM I rolled over and woke up Chris. "How long are we waiting for again?" I had been tossing and turning all night, half awake sometimes, wide awake other times, as the contractions stayed very constant. We ate some breakfast, I took a shower (the whole water breaking/leaking the whole night was still going on), and we got all ready to go. We timed the contractions for about half hour, so we would know what to report to our doctor. I was very solidly 3 minutes apart. We called Doctor Shimizu to let her know we thought my water broke the night before, and I was having contractions 3 minutes apart.

Of course, she thought we were idiots. She told us to go straight to Castle, and she would call Doctor Chapman, to let her know we were on our way (remember, Shimizu was off island at this point). We head to the hospital, around the windy roads, and eventually got to the hospital. It was awesome having these hellish contractions the whole time driving, while Chris is trying help in any way he can. Awesome. No, actually not awesome. Not even a little.

When we parked, I had to wait for a contraction to end before I could even move. We eventually made it into the hospital. As we walked in the front door, they said, "ReBecca?" we nodded, they threw a wheel chair our way, and we off, being escorted to the maternity wing. I guess they knew we were coming...

It took probably 1.5 seconds by the time we entered the hospital to the time they had me strapped up to all those machines, and the nurse by my side asking me all sorts of questions. They tested to see if my water broke. I was so worried, because if, indeed, my water had not broken, I feared they would kick us out, and we would have to drive all the way back home, with all those worthless contractions in vain. However, YES! IT HAD! Boo ya. We were so excited. This meant we really weren't leaving without a baby in tow. For me, when my water originally broke, it just slowly (VERY SLOWLY) leaked. There was no Hollywood gush at all. However, when the nurse was checking to see if my water really had broke, she actually moved J's head (he had been a -2 station for the past six weeks...the little jerk), and then there was no questioning that it was broken! There was a huge gush of water. Go figure I didn't know it had broken earlier... J's head was blocking the way, allowing it to just slowly release.

At about 6:00 AM, once all signs were confirmed this was the real deal, they moved us into the actual room we would be delivering in. And I never had another contraction on my own. That's right. Who knew why, but my body just stopped contracting. For the next two hours, they waited, to see if anything would pick up. Nothing. Not even the slightest, wimpiest contraction.

At 8:00 AM, onto Pitocin we go. That stuff was my personal hell in a bottle. I went 2 hours with no epidural, and the contractions doubling over. I had it all under control though, and was breathing through, yadda yadda yadda. Then, in a split second, my heart rate spiked, and that annoying loud beeping sound started piercing my ears. I think it was half a second later 4 doctors/nurses were in my room, and maybe 3 seconds later I had an epidural, and the pitocin got slammed off. These people were QUICK, I'll tell you what.

My body basically was going into shock, and they thought I was going to start convulsing, have a heart attack, or brain seizures. Hmmmmm. It was all so surreal, because actually, I felt great, all things considered. I felt very very hot, and of course the contractions were kicking my butt, but I thought I was fairly under control. Once things were under control, and the epidural had taken effect, they kicked up the pitocin full blast, once again. The epidural calmed down my body, and I was on cloud nine. It was the best 6 hours of my life... painless labor! That's what I'm talking about.

At 4:00 PM those machines started beeping again. Of course, all good things must come to an end. This time, it was the opposite. My body was shutting down, the other way around--my heart rate dropped. So, they immediately stopped the epidural, but kept the pitocin going. To add to the madness, J had turned posterior (the little stinker had been facing the right way since I was about 6 months pregnant--he waited until I was in labor, to switch things up), and back labor was more incredible then I could have imagined. This is where my personal hell began.

The doctors came in to explain to us that we needed to have an emergency C-section. It had been almost 24 hours since my water broke, and I was pathetically still at a 3...24 hours is their limit after the water breaks, because that is when things get scary. They start to worry about infections with both the mom, and the baby. Actually at that point, I was happily accepting the idea of a c-section. I saw it as, finally, an end to this madness. They explained to us from A to Z the whole procedure, and said they would give us some alone time, and then be back to start the whole process. As quickly as they left, Chris offered me a beautiful priesthood blessing, and we never saw those specific doctors again.

Chris blessed me that my body would know what to do. That I would progress, and naturally be able to give birth. I don't think I had been more disappointed in my life. As soon as the blessing ended, the fury in my eyes pierced through him. I had to use all the energy in my body not to scream at him, "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?? Why would you EVER give me a blessing like that?? That is wishful thinking. You should have blessed me that I would recover well from the c-section, that our baby would be healthy and strong, and that everything would go well with the surgery!" I really felt like it was a kick in the face, and that he was being a wishful thinker. However, that Chris guy is one smart cookie. I never had a c-section.

It was 10 hours later that my first baby boy was born. Those ten hours are very unaccounted for in my brain. They are buried very very very deep in my subconscious. I can't describe to you the pain that I was in. They couldn't take me off the pitocin, because my body was simply not progressing without it, but they could not give me an epidural, because my body was going wack on it. In a very real, and serious manner, I specifically remember thinking, "It's very unfortunate that I'm dying. I really wanted to raise this baby, and now I never will even get to meet him. I hope Chris will be ok..." almost straight for that next 10 hours. I actually mourned to ending of my life. I can't describe the pain emotionally and physically. I'm sure the fact that we had not slept for, going on, 3 days was a factor in all the hell that it was. There was a few more scary moments in the madness of that last 10 hours, things here and there that didn't go as planned in my "Perfect Labor Story" that I had planned out in my brain to happen far before this moment ever happened, but I had already removed myself from the situation. It's a very weird thing to explain. I felt like I just checked out for that time. It was only afterwards, that I had Chris explain to me what even happened during that time.

But, at 1:56 AM, on June 22 2007, thirty three hours after my water broke, my miracle baby boy was in my arms. He was good, and I was good. I cried for a good solid 45 minutes, uncontrollably with Chris, for so many reasons. I really could not comprehend what we just went through as a family. I was alive, and well, when all was said and done. I did it. I really did it..."Wait, how did I not die?? Am I really still here?" were real questions that kept entering into my mind. I couldn't have been more happy with the final product.

Our first labor and delivery experience was the scariest, hardest, most frightening, terrifying, thrilling thing I have ever done in my life. There were times I had never been in more pain, and times I had never been more truthfully, shaken to the core, scared. I was so blessed to have had all the right doctors and nurses there, quick, and knowledgeable, that made it so I safely delivered a healthy baby. There were many, many times that the outcome could have gone the other way, and they continued to tell us how "lucky" we were over the next few days. But, I know there was a lot more than luck with us. We were so blessed. So very very blessed.

The overwhelming feeling we felt when J was born, was simply honor. We felt honored to be his parents. I distinctively remember feeling like he was personally delivered from arms of angles to my arms. They eventually safely placed him into my arms, and I have never received such an overwhelming gift. He finally made it, and he was ours. It was love at first sight.

Dear J,

Happy Birthday! We can't believe you are already one. Oh my goodness. It's hard for us to remember our life without you in it. You have brought such a beautiful spirit into our home; you helped make us a little more complete.

You are a very special baby. Heavenly Father put you into our life at the very precise moment he meant to. We prayed you here, with love I never knew existed. You have been worth the wait, my dear sweet boy.

I can't quite seem to find the words to thank you enough for choosing to be in our family. Every morning I wake up, I am a happy person, because I am your mother. I am honored to a part of your life.

You are my real life miracle. All my love,
Mom