Carter's Birth Story.

I started our blogging journey a few months after Carter had already entered our lives, one of the things I missed out on due to this was writing down moments of his pregnancy and birth to look back and relish on. Surprisingly his birth is still so vivid to me, I know it must be written in the books before it starts to fade from our memories.

We had a few scary experiences with preterm labor at 32 and 36 weeks and were able to stop it with the aid of modern medicine but were told to "be on our toes" and "ever ready" for his arrival at any moment. Little did we all know.. everyone was very wrong. 38.. 39.. and 40 weeks passed and I remained as patient as one can as a very large and very pregnant woman. I tried every trick in the book (and I mean every single one no matter how far fetched!) and he just seemed to be content! My husband had his paternity leave dates come and go and we knew it would be difficult for him to get the right time off and stress began to settle in.

My family living over 15 hours away from me were simply awaiting our phone call to hop on a plane and come for the birth, but once we hit 41 weeks we knew it would be best for them to head our way in a car to help save some money because he just HAD to arrive soon.. right? Nope.

It was Sunday, February 9th and I told AJ to head to bed while I bounced away on my ball and focused on what it was that my body was so desperately trying to do. I bounced and talked to my little one and worked hard on breathing through our contractions as they intensified. AJ wanted to know if we should go and be checked but for fear of disappointment I refused to go into the hospital at all costs until I had to be carried in there. I was so tired of going in, having them tell me yet again I was in labor and then after hours of no progression sending me on my way. We were contracting every 3-7 minutes and somewhere deep inside me knew I wasn't making any progress. From sunday to thursday morning I got 8 hours of sleep.. Yes 8 hours in a 120 hour period. I had tried so hard to rest but my body wouldn't allow it, I was stuck and slowly losing sanity over the position that I was in. My family and husband being gracious helped me with all that I needed but no matter their kindness there was no getting me comfortable enough to rest or progress.

Thursday the 13th rolled around and I told my husband he wasn't going to work, we had an appointment that morning and I simply could not drive myself and assured him that without any doubt we would be having this baby. We drove there and awaited our OB who upon walking in just gave me one big long hug. The time had come for induction, we reached 42 weeks and I felt a little defeated that my body wasn't doing what it had been designed to do best. He gave me some medication to make me relax just enough to get home and gather our things (which had been gathered for at least a month by now) and I was told to come into the hospital later that evening.

After checking in I was able to put aside my minor disappointment in my body and get exited to meet our little one, our valentines day baby! I was contracting too much to safely use cervadil (a cervical ripening gel) so we went ahead with the foley bulb and were told that unless it fell out we would be checked again in 12 hours.

Progression: 1.5 cm

The hours came and went and we munched on some hospital grub and played a few games to keep ourselves busy while my husband helped me breath through each contraction. I kept waiting and waiting for the bulb to fall on its own, but yet again I knew my body wasn't progressing as quickly as "it should be". My OB came back the following morning and removed it only to find out that my fears were confirmed and progress was minimal. So here goes the pitocin, the walking, the bouncing and tediously attempting to get our mystery baby out.

Progression: "You are almost at a 3"

My husband massaged every part of my aching body, used tennis balls to relieve pressure, counter pressure techniques, encouraged me to get in the tub and labor and was a big ball of confidence in my hardest moments. My unpaid doula and birth coach, and I couldn't have been more thankful for his presence. Hours came and went again and the contractions were still present but as always I suspected minimal progress. They came to check on me telling me how "encouraged they were by the contraction monitor!" only to wipe the smile from their face.. more pitocin it was.

Progression: "I can stretch you to a 4 if you would like?"

We all knew this baby had to come out, we all knew that it was time and that something needed to be done. I wanted to do this on my own but I couldn't.. I had no clue what was stopping me. They broke my water and contractions picked up as they had hoped and we went strong and steady into a hopeful progression.. more hours ticked away and I was checked again.

Progression: "Let me stretch you to a 5.."

At this point the doctors were dialating my body for me. I was contracting hard and laboring hard and doing nothing for myself. I was broken. Friends and family came to keep smiles on our tired faces and we moved forward, and the doc gave me an ultrasound to see where baby was and about how big he or she was measuring. We were told 7 pounds at most (just to show you that this diagnostic can be wrong easily.. he was over 9 pounds!) It was shortly after this that things start to face from my memory. It is my bodies duty to hide the worst parts of labor from my mind in hopes that someday I will decide to do it all over again and found myself numb.

Progression: "Well probably a stretchy 6."

Now 13 hours after my water had broken and I was laying in bed on another planet. Sleep deprivation at my level was doing me absolutely no good, and I dozed between contractions. The last time I remember dozing off I remember cheering in our room as they told me I was at an 8! I had done something, and that little sense of confidence sent me into the deepest sleep I had ever known. Then that's it.. that's where I remember nothing until hearing my son cry. Therefor the rest of our story is purely from what my husband had shared with me.

I woke up screaming and unable to breathe, I was amidst an asthma attack and was given oxygen and was yelling about my hips.. something had happened to my hips? The nurses were trying to get me to calm myself to get the air that the baby needed while I noticed my husband being taken from our room, of course this only added to my panic. He came back dressed head to toe in scrubs and I knew what was about to happen. My precious little one was suffering, his heart rate was dropping drastically and my blood pressure and temperature went through the roof. It was in this moment that I became a mother. I had never worried so much about the little being inside of me.. I had never though about what I would do without him or her.. I begged them to just cut me then and there as the baby's heart rate went down and down and down, clearly they were not about to preform major surgery on my body in the hallway. My husband held my hand and then had to wait.. he sobbed. This was the only moment he had to spend away form me through the process and this was so far from what we wanted.

He was let into the room and found me asleep on the operating table and tried hard to wake me up, only able to jostle me awake just in time to hear our son. I remember hearing him scream and that was it. My heart left my body never to return. My husband stood up and shared that he was our baby boy! Our first born son, our absolute pride and joy and with that we were a family. I kissed his sweet face as one of the incredible nurses fought hard for us to be able to breastfeed for just a few moments before whisking my son away to the NICU, as AJ kissed me and went to be with our child.

I smiled, said a prayer and dozed back off to sleep while they finished what needed to be done.

After gaining consciousness and sitting in recovery awaiting the moment I could go and hold my son for the first time I was told that my son had severely damaged my pelvis and I would need rehabilitative services in order to correct what had happened. I was told that his placenta appeared to be deteriorated and that he would be in the NICU for a while to evaluate what had gone wrong and to see if he did in fact have an infection.

My son had been slowly losing his chance at life inside of my body without me even knowing. It was at that moment I knew that everything that had happen had happened for a reason. I wouldn't progress because my body wouldn't let him come. He shattered parts of my body trying so hard to come into this world and he had been trying for so long to do so. I hugged every single one of my medical staff and thanked them dearly for how dedicated they were to me during the 49 hours I was under their care. I haven't lived a moment of my life in guilt that I had a csection, I don't despise them, I don't feel like any less of a woman and if history repeats itself than so be it. I have a big beautiful boy to snuggle because of it all.. and permanent hip damage.. and an extreme fear of vaginal checks.

But he is here. He is loved. He is meant to be, and he is what made me a mother. The most important roll I have ever played.

Carter Alexander - Born February 15th, 2014. At 8:51 a.m. At 9 pounds 2 ounces.