Everett's Birth Story

Baby G (dubbed so as we opted to keep baby's gender a surprise; the G stands for Gibson) was supposed to come out and greet the world on January 5th, 2015. With the full moon way up in the sky and contractions making sleep impossible on Sunday, January 4th I thought "Here we go! Show time!"

We had had our bags packed for a couple weeks by this point which made for a pretty snappy trip to the hospital. It was cold and blowing snow but we live right down the street! Just had to dodge a couple of snow trucks! We got there after midnight and I was seen by a resident. Contractions kept coming and going and were right on schedule (lasting at least one minute, every five minutes for an hour) so it was pretty disheartening to hear her tell me I was still closed for business. Cervix was "in the back" and "closed tight".

I was hurting pretty badly through noon that day and tried my best to rest in our recliner. I don't know whether or not this happens to everyone at the end of their pregnancy but I could NOT lay down. It was too painful. I had to do everything in an upright position and even at that the days went by with nightly cramps and contractions getting progressively worse.

They say "you'll know" when it's time...

Wednesday, January 7th I had an ultrasound appointment. I really don't think anyone expected me to have to follow through with that! My mom came with me and the look on her face when the tech told us the baby was "approximately 8lbs14oz" had me pretty worried. Baby G had gone from the 77th percentile on one scan to the 49th, and ultimately back up to the 86th! People told me not to worry, ultrasound guesstimations aren't a certainty. They can be off by a pound! As it turns out, the “49th percentile" was later proven to be the scan that was "off".

"You were not meant to birth a ten pound baby..."

Thursday, January 8th - 40 weeks and 2 days pregnant. I had an appointment with my OB to discuss yesterday's ultrasound results and to figure out our next move. Babies go past their due date all the time. With Baby G's growth climbing and my discomfort level on the climactic rise into unbearable territory the good doctor booked us an induction date for Monday, January 12th. According to tests and scans and my overall health Baby G's induction would NOT be considered priority and there was a possibility we could be bumped to a later date.

When we asked about a vaginal delivery it seemed like that was still the primary course of action. I simply wasn't meant to birth a ten pound baby. This photo was taken December 17th - 37 weeks and 2 days pregnant.

During my appointment my OB performed an internal exam and gave us some good news! My cervix was opening up! 2 centimetres was just enough for her to execute a "membrane sweep". While sweeps can kickstart labour they can take weeks to really get the ball rolling. I guess my body was primed and ready though because...

"I don't think anything's going to happen tonight but I could be wrong..."

I was wrong.

Thursday, January 8th (PM). The membrane sweep produced results almost instantly. I won't go into detail here but there is a "plug" for us pregnant types that tends to weaken and fall out pre labour (not the same thing as having your waters break). This happening is a good sign that actual labour is about to happen. That being said, some women lose their plug and don't go into actual labour for weeks. Pregnancy... What a trip, eh?

Ryan and I had dinner and I took a shower to try and relieve my cramps. I went to bed early that night. As I hunkered down with my extra strength tylenol in the recliner for the evening I really thought it was going to be the same old painful song and dance I'd been experiencing since last weekend. Ryan kept offering to take me in (to labour & delivery) but I couldn't really differentiate the severity or urgency between tonight's aches and pains versus all the nights leading up to now.

*GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION ALERT* I tried to tough it out with contractions coming in sporadic bursts. Generally if you cannot time contractions it's a strong indicator that you are NOT in real labour. I was having flashbacks to Sunday night in labour & delivery - all that fuss for nothing! I didn't want to be sent home again. It was only when I was on the toilet almost screaming from the pain I thought everything was going to explode from all orifices that I told Ryan he was right. It was totally time to go! At the very least should this still be false labour I could ask the doctor for some drugs! I needed relief! I hadn't slept in a week.

The Real Deal

I was wheeled up into labour and delivery as walking was unbearable when the contractions came. I still couldn't time them. When I spoke with a nurse at triage I told her very honestly "I can't time them. I have no idea how frequently they're coming. I'm sorry." She could see how much pain I was in and took me to a private exam room. I was hooked up to a machine (this was new) that monitored two different areas of my bulging belly. It looked like a lie detector test with all these squiggly lines bumping up and down. Numbers would show up on the bottom screen but it didn't really mean much to me. I was trying to not go cross eyed from the pain!

After a few minutes the nurse came back to check on me and told me my contractions were pretty intense and about two minutes apart. Oh! There! The machine produces results! Now to see if this is the real deal or just another elaborate show of nature "preparing me" for labour.

Enter the doctor... Literally. Cervix was open. 4 centimetres. Show time.

I cannot tell you how vindicating it is to finally have your body in full cooperation. The week leading up to this moment was exhausting and for some reason now that labour was ACTUALLY HAPPENING, I felt like anyone who didn't believe me would HAVE to now! Not that people didn't believe me but those are just thoughts that come through your mind. When a doctor can prove that labour is happening - it just makes it more real. Hard to explain.

We were taken into a birthing room and they asked me what my thoughts were RE: pain management. Having contracted for A BLOODY WEEK I said "Epidural". In my "Birth Plan" book the hospital gives you I had written something about 'wanting to go about the labour process in as natural a way as possible' but that I 'wasn't opposed to medicine'. Well, that "natural" sh_t went out the window real fast. If I could have jumped on the needle tray and given myself that epi to speed things up, I would have. That's not really how it goes though.

Luckily my anesthetist was really quick and I had the epidural a'flowin' by 2am. I also had an IV put in, a catheter inserted (which was actually a relief - I could have used one of these in the final months of my pregnancy), some blood drawn, was attached to a sphygmomanometer for constant readings and went through a few nurses. Jean Anne was my first care taker. followed by Margot. Margot was a rockstar but we'll get into that later.

Shortly after the epidural was put in my water broke in a gush! *MORE GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS COMING* They say that only 10% of women experience their water breaking. Usually it's done during delivery. Ryan was down in the ER filing some paperwork with the admissions people (their after hours office is in the ER area) to ensure I'd have a semi-private room. When we had preregistered months before I had selected the ward as I lost my medical coverage when I lost my job. I had two or three nurses in my room when my water broke so I just said "My water broke!" and they came to inspect the action. One of them told me that there was meconium (baby poop) in the water and that wasn't anything to get worried about. I was warned that when baby comes out they may NOT stimulate it to cry in case he or she had a mouthful of feces. If that was the case the doctors would take baby away and suction their lungs before we'd hear the first wail.

Active Labour - Alllllright!

This is my ‘Epidural Face’. Photo taken by Mr. Ryan Gibson.

Four centimetres dilated. Water's broken. Steady contractions. Let's go! Called my parents and wound up leaving a message saying "I'm about to have a baby" or something similar and Ryan returned just after I'd hung up. He'd called them too (and also left a message). This was at 2:02AM on Friday, January 9th. Regardless of visiting hours being from 3PM-8PM, my parents insisted on being notified as soon as the ball started rolling so they'd have lots of time to drive in to the city.

We didn't know how much time we'd have before Baby G's arrival as I really felt as though I'd been in labour all week & things only got "REAL" within the last couple of hours. Who knows how fast this will all go? I had a few nurse changes and they were all really keen on making sure my epidural was working properly in all the right places. They shifted bags of ice around my bod and we could tell if I needed to "up the juice" if I could feel the cold past certain points. I got worried after a few hours when I was BEYOND exhausted and unable to sleep (my heart kept racing and I'd sweat horribly during most contractions) and started to feel the epidural wearing off. I'd be pressing the "self medicate" button but it wasn't really doing the trick. I took this as a sign that my contractions were simply getting stronger and I'd probably be pushing soon!

No Dice.

After complaining about the epidural waning I was examined by a resident. Still only four centimetres dilated. A nurse hung some Pitocin to help my body progress with the labour, ie: OPEN UP! Ryan and I tried to get some sleep but it wasn't happening. He hooked me up with a bite of cheese but I wasn't as hungry as I thought I might be. Yes, I needed energy for the big push (which would be happening within hours - right?) and if I wasn't getting it from sleep I'd have to get it from food. Well, literally a BITE out of one of those Cracker Barrel cheese slices you'd get in a grocery store or coffee shop's "protein pack" and put it away. This was probably around 4 or 5AM... and several hours later after attempting sleep... I was informed that I had a fever and that the baby's heart rate was rising which could mean he or she might be in distress. No kidding! They wanted out. I wanted them out. We all wanted this to be HAPPENING!

Around 8 or 9AM a lot of doctors came in to examine me. Let me tell you ladies - if and when you have a baby you just have to be cool with a minimum of 15 people seeing and possibly touching your vagina (and more). By this point I wasn't even experiencing that wincing discomfort of an internal exam. I was not stoked on the news that my labour wasn't progressing even with the Pitocin. I was still only at 4 centimetres and the talk of a C-Section came up. He (the doctor) straight up asked me "How would you feel about a C Section?" and I told him that would be just fine. Yes I was scared but it didn't matter. It was going to be the best thing for Baby G.

Damn the Cheese.

Remember that cheese bite I had like, five hours ago? Well. I told the doctor and his team about that and the anesthetist was pretty upset. Everyone in the room was like "YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO EAT AFTER YOU GET AN EPIDURAL."

a) No one told us that.
b) They did tell Ryan where the kitchen was to get me water and store our snacks which we made pretty obvious we had brought.

I was scheduled to be the first one in for surgery but was told that, because of the cheese, I'd have to wait until almost noon to ensure it was no longer sitting in my stomach in case I had to be intubated and choked to death on my own vomit, blah blah blah. Here's the kicker though: the baby had dystocia which pretty well means "it wasn't going to fit". Because of this - and because I'd been in labour for so long - the poor baby's head was trying to fit through the birth canal and it was "coning".

Oh no! My baby the cone head!

We didn't see this coming as I'd been told all along that a vaginal birth was the plan for me. When I'd ask if a C-Section was in the cards I'd get "things can happen last minute but I don't see why you can't deliver naturally" as a response (from a few doctors).

Dystocia. My temperature. Fearing the epidural was on the wane. It was go time. The anesthetist came back in to check on me around 10AM and essentially said they were gonna weigh the odds of my wee bite of cheese coming back to haunt me vs. the risk of waiting for it to be digested - "choke on vomit and possibly die" or "make this baby wait and suffer" - obviously the choice was clear! I'm really happy they decided to take me in.

WELCOME TO THE TERROR DOME (aka the Operation Room).

I really hate surgery. I am afraid of operations and anesthetics. I think these are healthy fears too, btw, so when I expressed my anxiety to my nurse (shoutout to Marg!) and the surgical team at least three women in the room told me about their C-Sections and how it was a really good experience. There's nothing like someone saying "don't worry" to piss me RIGHT off unless it's someone who's been through the exact same thing so they actually were successful in calming me down.

The radio was playing - tuned to Chez 106 at my request - and the playlist was amazing from start to finish. CLICK HERE to view and listen to it!

The doctors were able to use my pre existing epidural to keep me nice and numb for the procedure and a large blue curtain was placed just below my chin to keep my eyes OFF the miracle that was about to be performed.

Everyone in the room was great - introduced themselves and kept me calm - but one person was missing: Ryan! Where was Daddy G in all this? I asked for him a few times until about 20 minutes had passed and finally Marg went off to get him. The man looks GOOD in scrubs and he says I was all smiles when he walked in. He also later informed me that the docs were elbow deep in my guts when he walked in - those sneaks! I had no idea. I still thought they were cleaning me!

Twas a combination of seeing Ryan in scrubs, the classic rock playlist of solid gold awesomeness and knowing we were about to meet our little Space Invader responsible for my smile when I felt some serious pressure around my ribcage. I started sweating the way you do when the dentist is grappling with your wisdom teeth in what seems to be the struggle of a lifetime (you know the feeling)! The two surgeons must have been jumping on my ribs and really going to town when part way through ACDC's Dirty Deeds we heard a WAIL - Waaaaaaaaahwaaaaaaaaaaah!! That's when I started crying. It was an automatic reaction to hearing our baby cry for the first time.

I remembered the nurse telling us "if baby doesn't cry, don't worry" and warning us all about the possibility of feces clogging the airway - so hearing the cries was a great relief. One doc said "11:11" and another took baby away to be weighed. "9 point 6" he said and then the team brought baby over to Ryan and asked "do you want to know what it is?" I was impatiently awaiting, "Yes! Someone tell me!"

"It's a boy!"

9 pounds 6 ounces - 11:11AM - January 9th, 2015.

World, meet Everett Ryan Gibson:

 Many thanks to the staff at the Civic Hospital including Laurie, Alyssa, Debbie & Nicole. You helped make a memorable experience a very pleasurable one (too). :)