The Birth of Milo Bennett: Part III

  I had promised myself I would do whatever it took, whatever I was told to do, to get this baby out of me. So when I was told to sit on the corner of my bed, I did it. After a little bit of laboring like that, though, I started to feel....not great. I finally had to tell the midwives I felt like I was going to pass out. Lisa noticed my legs were "white as sheets" and I was told to lie down. It helped.

  When I tried to sit back up, after I finally recovered, we ran into a problem: every time I sat up, I would start to faint. When I couldn't sit on the edge of the bed anymore, couldn't sit on the bed at all, they suggested I try to sit on the toilet. While I had been so horrified of the prospect of having Sam on a toilet, I was willing to do it this time, if it meant ending my labor. But once I was sitting there, and the first contraction hit, I had to have David help me lie down on the ground, immediately. I almost blacked out sitting there. This would be one of two setbacks that would almost defeat me mentally. I had been so determined to follow advice, so sure I could do whatever it took this time to make the baby come faster. It was a tremendous blow. Lying there, on the cool tile floor, I was defeated. 

  When I was able, David helped me back to the bed, under my midwives' watchful eyes, where I had to remain lying down for a while. After a bit more labor, Kathleen asked me if I thought I could labor up on my knees, on the bed, propped up with pillows. I didn't think I could, but I was still hell-bent on doing whatever it took to get Milo out. It was difficult, but with pillows stacked just so and David helping to support me, it wasn't impossible. 

  

  In all of this time, Kathleen had asked me several times if I wanted my water broken. I kept declining, knowing that breaking my water meant I lost a precious cushion that helped me to feel "less pain." She asked me again, though, while I was propped up on my knees, and I finally desperately asked her, "Will it make it hurt more?" Kathleen answered that she honestly didn't think I could feel more pain at this time. 

  I conceded. 

  I braced myself, she reached up, and pop. Relief. "Oh, that feels good." For a sweet, blessed moment, that offered me such a glorious reprieve from the pain. 

  And then Milo turned again. Please, come out, little boy. Deep breaths. This pain will end. Moaning. David stroking my arm. Kathleen behind me. This pain will end. 

  

  Kathleen decided she should try to turn Milo's head. I conceded. Pain. So much pain. Please, stop spinning, little boy. Come out. Kathleen's hand still inside me. She gave me options for something, I couldn't focus on what, asked me what I wanted. "Whatever gets your hand out of me." I can do this. Deep breaths. Next contraction. He turned again. 

  Milo spun with nearly every single contraction. Kathleen told me when it was nearly done that I kept going from 9cms to 7cms, and then 9, 7, 9, 7, with every turn. She would rotate him, the next contraction would hurt less, he would turn again. Over and over. 

  At some point I couldn't labor like that anymore, and I had to lie back down. It was better and worse. So frustrated that I couldn't move freely, the advice I give every other mama. Move around, do what you need to to progress your labor. Trapped in my bed, again. 

  And then Milo did something very weird. Kathleen would later tell me that they thought he did a complete turn on his head, and hit a nerve in me. I immediately started vomiting, violently. This was almost my undoing. This was the other item on my self-made Labor Agenda: Eat and drink. I had done such a poor job of eating and drinking with Sam's labor, had thrown up three times (once in early labor, in transition, and right before pushing), that I had been so set on making sure I was hydrated and had food in my belly this time. I'd had two pieces of toast right before Kathleen had arrived, had been drinking water, Vitamin Water, even a Coke when I started to faint to help perk me up. And just like that, it was all gone. "This is good," Kathleen kept chanting. "This is good. This will help the baby descend. This is good. You're doing good, girl." I wanted to cry, but it would require too much effort.

  I didn't have much time to focus on that, though, as Kathleen put the doppler to my belly and searched...and searched...and searched for his heartbeat. After a minute, she finally found it and told me very quietly, calmly and seriously, that the baby was in fetal distress. I needed to be rolled onto my right side and given oxygen, now. 

  I laid there, as the next contraction rolled over me, trying to breathe deeply for the baby. I knew I should be afraid, but I honestly just didn't have the strength. Everything I had left was dealing with the pain. Please be ok. Please, stop spinning. Please, let this end. 

  After a few minutes (1? 5? 10? I have no idea), everything was okay again. Kathleen checked me, and I was finally ready to push. Sam was brought in by my Mom. In what I feel like was about 10 pushes, he was finally out! Just like that - all of that work, all of that pain, all of that effort - and my precious baby boy was delivered into this world. Milo was born at 3:13pm, 7lbs 12ozs, sunny side up and with his fingers in his mouth, and immediately placed on my chest, warm, wet and crying. Ten and a half hours of hard labor for the happiest little boy I have ever known. 

  Milo was the perfect addition for our beautiful family. He instantly quieted down, nursed like a champ, and looked, wide-eyed, at his new world. We snuggled together, he and I, skin to skin, for an hour. Then he was cleaned up, weighed, measured, examined, and we were both given a bath and then dressed. 

  While Kathleen was cleaning up, I believe after our bath, Kathleen asked me if I wanted to see the placenta. This struck me as a very odd question; she hadn't asked that when I had Sam, so I said no. Why? "I didn't tell you," she asked me. No.. 

  I had a velamentous cord insertion. She explained that this meant that instead of the cord attaching in the middle of the placenta, like it's supposed to, the umbilical cord attaches and implants on the side of the placenta. This meant that at any given moment, Milo could have kicked his cord loose and bled out - and we'd have never known until it was too late. We could have lost him with a kick. She told me that any time they have babies born with this, they call them "miracle babies." I did research on it on my own, later, and learned that when these are detected they are made to have the babies in a hospital, and if the cord is lying over the cervix, the babies are always taken by C-section at 36 weeks, because they will die in labor. And again God told us your babies are a gift. Never take them for granted. 

  We thought we were losing Milo at 7 weeks pregnant. We thought we were losing Milo at 12 weeks. And we could have lost our precious, very active in my womb, little boy at any moment in the pregnancy. We could have lost him in delivery. Milo Bennett. Our little soldier, my little trooper. Our second precious gift from God. 

Big brother meets little brother for the first time

Me and my amazing midwife, Kathleen 

The Birth of Milo Bennett: Part II

  Kathleen arrived around midnight, and let me go through a couple of contractions while she unpacked her equipment. She monitored Milo's heart rate, which was great, and then checked me during a break. I was dilated to 3cms, but still had a little lip and my cervix was still hard, too hard for her to even try to force me open any more. She drew a bath for me and had me labor in the bathtub for a half hour to an hour, hoping I might dilate more while relaxed in the tub. While the temperature of the bath was nice, not being able to move around during contractions was not my favorite. I got out of the tub, she let me have a few more contractions and checked me again....No progress. By this time it was around 2am. Kathleen said I had a couple options: she could give me an injection with a strong herbal pain killer to help me sleep for a while or I could take some phenergan to help me sleep. While taking anything wasn't ideal - I had gone the entire pregnancy without taking anything but three other phenergans - I had been through all of this before, and the thought of being awake for hours before "real" labor kicked in was totally unappealing. And at this point the back labor was in full force, and I knew that when it really kicked into gear I would be needing all the rest I could get. I had phenergan but, of course, couldn't find it at the time, so we ended up opting for the injection of wolf's...something. I know I should remember what it was, but I was already in enough pain to not remember well.
  So I got the shot and laid down. I wasn't convinced that it would work, but it was the best chance I had at sleep. Contractions sucked at this point, but were still manageable. Kathleen packed back up her equipment and gave me the now well-known "call me if your contractions get stronger, if your water breaks" or if I hit 4cms. She had been convinced the whole pregnancy that once I hit 4cms, that baby would basically come shooting out. (See: Sam's birth story for explanation.) She left and at 3am David and I closed our eyes and fell asleep.

  Two and a half hours later I was woken from a dead sleep to wide awake with a crazy contraction. This was the real thing. When it abated, I woke David and told him it was definitely Go Time. We waited through one more contraction to be sure, I got up and peed and checked myself. 3.5cms. Progress. I need progress. David called my parents and told them it was time to come and Mom and Dad Franklin were put on high alert. Sam woke around 6:30 and found Daddy cleaning the kitchen and Mommy on all fours draped over a yoga ball. My folks arrived around 8am and found me sitting on the yoga ball bouncing and swaying between contractions, trying to get that little sucker's head all the way down and out. I checked myself again. 3.5cms. I need progress. Please.
  It was decided a walk was in order. David, my dad, Sam and I went for a walk around the apartment complex. With each contraction, now coming about 3 minutes apart steadily, I would squat down, and David would push his fists into my lower back to help the pain. I would take a deep breath, moan softly through the pain, and then take another deep breath to signal to David that the contraction was over. He, or my dad, would help me up and we would walk for another couple minutes. We paused after a while at the tiny playground so that I could rest on the bench. I was able to soak up a very sweet moment: Sammy running around with his Daddy and Papa, climbing steps and going down the slide. These were the last hours of my firstborn being my only baby. It was precious to see and be in that moment.
  We walked some more, squatted some more, sat some more. After a while - an hour? Five? - we went back inside, where I promptly draped myself over the yoga ball again for a couple contractions.
  I think it's very important to mention at this point that Milo was spinning on his head this whole time. I mean this whole time. Spinning on his head. Hence the back labor. The crazy intense back labor at this point. Spinning.
  Contractions were intense, gaining speed and strength, and I took a deep breath and checked myself again. 4cms! Hallelujah, praise the Lord! Time to call Kathleen. I told her it was time to come, that the contractions were stronger, longer, and I was finally really dilating. She asked if I was sure. I was actually exaggerating slightly the amount of pain I was in, willing it to be the truth, willing myself to be in transition even though I wasn't wanting to cry yet. She said she was on her way, and we hung up. And then, oh, then! The willing worked. Labor kicked in. Transition hit me, immediately. Like a freight train.
  All of a sudden, I had to lie down and just breathe, just breathe through the contractions. I moaned to let David know when to shove his fists as hard as he could into my low back because, oh! the pain was intense. I told David to call Natalie, our dear sweet friend who was going to photograph the birth. Time to call the Franklins.

  Kathleen arrived around 11:00, and everyone else shortly after (I'm told). Sam was having a good time being the center of everyone not in my room's attention, eating donuts, and watching Curious George (I'm told). Kathleen checked me and agreed that I was, indeed, finally at 4cms, and we should be having our baby soon. Natalie arrived and my mom tried to convince me to put back on the nightgown I'd been wearing because she was "sure I would want it for pictures." I calmly told her that no, I had specifically chosen the very pretty sports bra I was wearing to be decent for pictures, Natalie and I had discussed angles, and I really, really didn't want to put my nightgown back on. (Oh, the things that stick out in labor.)
  Kathleen watched my progress for a while. Her assistant, Lisa, arrived. Time became a very fluid and fuzzy concept for me. I sat on one corner of the bed, legs apart, hips open, as encouraged by Lisa. I focused on each contraction, on breathing through it, on staying loose, on visualizing my cervix opening like a blossom (something we had been coached to do with Sam and something I completely forgot in the sprint that was Sam's transition). I moaned. I prayed. I tuned in and out of conversation around me. I remember at one point something being joked about between my mom and Kathleen, and one of them said that maybe they shouldn't be talking like that around me. I replied that it was fine, I was tuning them out. Worship music played softly. Bless the Lord, Oh my soul. Oils diffused near me. I reminded myself, over and over, that I would not repeat my mistakes with Sam's labor. I would do whatever the midwives told me to do to progress this labor. You're Beautiful. Daylight streaming in. Milo spinning on his head. Waiting. Please, sweet boy, come out.

The Birth of Milo Bennett: Part I

  It's hard to know where to start in telling the birth story of our little Milo. I guess a good place to start is the beginning.

  At 7 weeks pregnant - just three weeks after we had found out we were expecting our little solider - I began experiencing severe pain around my right ovary. I waited a few hours, and as the pain increased, David and I became increasingly concerned. I finally contacted our midwife, Kathleen, and she recommended going to the ER. I was terrified that this was an ectopic pregnancy and we would never get to meet our little Peanut.

  After a couple of hours of waiting, testing, and a sonogram, we were told I had a subchorionic hematoma (a blood clot in the uterus that is usually not life-threatening for mother or baby) and that I needed to be restricted in activity or I could become worse and lose the baby. We were so relieved. And then I was so frustrated. We had planned on waiting five more weeks to announce to the general public that we were expecting again, with something cute and clever. Instead, we announced right away, wanting, needing the prayer coverage and physical support (which was overwhelming). We had to convert Sam's crib to a toddler bed at 10 months old (he did great). I had to ask for help cleaning and with meals and lifting Sam (we had amazing friends and family who selflessly and immediately came to our aid). I couldn't go to the grocery store on my own with Sam (felt like the end of the world to me, but believe it or not, I lived).

  Then, at 12 weeks, I experienced more cramping and spotting - something I had never had in Sam's pregnancy. Again I talked to Kathleen, and I was referred for an emergency sono. The baby was fine, and it was determined I had just been overdoing it. (That was the week before Sam's first birthday, when he contracted strep throat, which turned into Scarlet Fever. I had been holding him a lot.)

  At 21 weeks – so for literally half of my pregnancy – the false labor started. (In case you’re new to our story, I have very severe Endometriosis – so severe, we were warned we might never have children of our own – and I experienced false labor from week 25 with my first pregnancy. Because it was my first pregnancy, we were constantly concerned, stressed, anxious, terrified that we were going to have a pre-term baby. Because of my Endo, we think my uterus is just way more irritable than most.) Thankfully, having been through that with Sam, we weren't worried this time. In fact, contrary to Sam's pregnancy, I barely even monitored my contractions. I just dealt with them and tried to listen to when my body was telling me I was doing too much.

  Around 36 weeks, just as with Sam’s pregnancy, the contractions started to pick up in frequency and intensity. I figured I should probably start keeping track of them now. While they were getting stronger day by day, they weren’t quite at “real” labor yet. I knew Milo would come any day, though, and every day, David would ask me, “Is he coming today? Or am I going to work?” Every day, it was the same answer: “I don’t know. He could come today. But he’s not coming right now. Go to work, I guess.” I began to dread the time of day when David would go to work, because I hated being asked. Every day it was the same: They were stronger, more frequent, I was more frustrated and exhausted by my body. I lived for my weekly checkups, wanting, hoping, praying for progress.

  I had Kathleen check me at week 37. I was dilated 1cm, and about 80% effaced. Kathleen agreed to let me start taking an herbal labor prep supplement at 38 weeks if Milo was “somehow” still in there. At 38 weeks, Tuesday, April 8^th, I started taking the labor prep. I was dying to get the child out of me. I had tried everything short of castor oil. I ate a whole pineapple (and got nothing but mouth ulcers); I walked – a lot – and got more contractions, even some back pain, but no labor; I did squats, I ate spicy food…You name it, I tried it. I was ready, David was ready, but Milo wasn’t.

  On Wednesday, I started to feel even stronger contractions. I saw Kathleen in the morning, had her check me again. I was dilated to almost 2cms now, and around 90% effaced. Milo was in an ideal position for labor, but as the little toot spun on his head all day long, every day, I didn’t see how that was relevant. She was sure that Milo would come before my next week’s appointment.  David was at work, and I suddenly realized at 8pm that I didn’t have any diapers for a newborn. I panicked. My baby could be born tonight, and his butt won’t have anything to cover it!! (Oh, the crazy thoughts of a pregnant lady.) So Sam and I made a trek to Target by ourselves, very tired, very pregnant, and very much suffering through “real” contractions. Every few minutes I would have to stop pushing the cart, bend over and lean against it, focusing on my breathing. We made it home, eventually, both of us exhausted, and…nothing happened. No baby.

  Thursday, I decided to rest. I resolved to take it easy, stay off my feet as much as possible, let the stubborn little boy come when he was ready. (Novel idea, no?) The contractions were still coming hard and heavy, but experience told me that this was still not the real thing.

  Friday, with the contractions coming stronger and more frequently still, I decided to go ahead and go to Target again and stock up on food around 1pm, since I didn’t think this little boy would be baking much longer. I could barely make it through the store. Again, I went with Sam, while David was at work, but, OH, the contractions! I was stopping, squatting in the middle of aisles, inhaling and exhaling, making moans and grunts I think, as I was finally experiencing back labor, about every two minutes. A contraction would hit, I would drop into a squat, clinging to the cart handle for support and balance, it would pass, I would struggle back to my feet and waddle a few more yards before the next one hit. I was finally in very early labor. It was by far the most miserable shopping experience I have ever had. Would you be shopping for 12-packs of soda in this condition? I was. (Oh, the crazy actions of a pregnant lady.)

  After about an hour, we checked out and went home. David got off work at QuikTrip around that time, came home between jobs; he was scheduled to work at Pizza Hut from 5pm-10pm.  Again, the question: Do I go to work tonight? I didn’t know. I could tell we were so close to real labor, but I didn’t know the answer for him. So he went to Pizza Hut. Around 7:00 I texted him that the contractions were getting stronger. At 8:00 I called him and told him to come home. It was still early labor, but it was definitely labor and it was too much for me on my own with Sam. Some time between 8:30 and 9:00, he got home. He bathed Sam and put him in (unmatching) pajamas (which would bug me to no end), and we decided to put him down for the night. Nothing was happening in the immediate future, and we knew it would best for him to have as much rest as possible. I really wanted him in the room when Milo was born, David was more of the “if he’s awake, he’s awake, if he’s asleep, let him sleep” mentality.

  By now, we definitely knew this was the real thing, so David started tidying the apartment and I sat on my yoga ball and bounced, trying to progress without exerting too much precious energy. It was déjà vu “all over again.” I was texting Kathleen and keeping her updated. There was no regularity to the contractions, just like the last time, they would come two minutes, then five minutes, then one and a half minutes apart, and last anywhere from a minute to three minutes. The back labor was increasing in intensity, and (with Kathleen’s permission) I checked myself and discovered I was at 3cms now. At around 11:00 we decided that Kathleen should come. She had said so many times that she was pretty sure that once I hit 4cms, the baby would come very quickly, so nobody wanted to repeat what had happened last time and get down to the wire, so to speak.