You are four weeks old today. As I sit here typing, listening as you breathe and dream next to me, I'm reminded of a piece of advice that I heard throughout my pregnancy and even in the first weeks of your life: time goes fast, enjoy every moment. The fact that one full month has already gone by since you were born proves just how correct these words of wisdom are.
In the interest of time, I wanted to share with you the story of your birth. It is beautiful and precious, just like you.
You were born on a Tuesday.
This was a surprise, not just to me, but to a good portion of your family.
I felt "ready to pop" the entire week before you were born and I was certain that you would come any day. Much to my surprise, you took your time. I think in many ways you were providing your dad and I with a much needed week of time together, time we got to spend enjoying one another's company, time we got to spend reminding each other of just how happy we were in those moments, time we got to spend anticipating life with you. The week of spring break, free of the stress that often, if not always, accompanies work, was a much appreciated, true vacation. Thank you, Liam, for giving that precious time to your dad and I. However, you didn't skip on tricking the two of us towards the end of the week.
The Friday before you were born I started having contractions early in the morning. I was certain that this was it. It was the day I would become a mom (officially). The contractions were 8-10 minutes apart, nothing that warranted a rush to the hospital, but enough that your dad and I waited anxiously, counting, timing, recording, anticipating the next step, a step that didn't come. Eventually, the contractions got further apart and then stopped altogether. This, of course, did not happen before I told my family about the progress.
Saturday morning rolled around and I got a call from my mom. She very nonchalantly mentioned everyone was in town. Aunt Kathleen and Uncle Tim had driven from Ann Arbor. Aunt Karley had flown in from Columbus. Grandma and grandpa had driven up from Indianapolis. They had all gotten so excited at the word "contractions" and couldn't pass up the opportunity to be here for your birth. Little did all of us know, you had another plan.
The weekend seemed to move at a snail's pace. I kept anxiously waiting and even hoping that you'd join the party.
Slowly, hesitantly, the Olsons started heading to their homes as the weekend drew to a close. It was a great weekend, full of love and laughter. In many ways I think it was a gift from you to me. You gave me a weekend with my family, time that you know is precious to me. You weren't even born yet and you were already bringing me so much joy.
Monday I had an early morning appointment to see my doctor. After a wait that was filled with twiddling thumbs and nerves, we met with the doc, who informed us that given the fact that I was one full week past my due date, I would be induced the next day. We made the appointment, left with smiles, and then reality hit. Within 24 hours, we would be parents. Our lives were about the change, in a BIG way.
THE BIG DAY HAD COME.
We were set to be induced at 9:00 a.m. at St. Anthony's. We arrived about 10 minutes early and were ushered into a room right away. Our nurse, Deb, was wonderfully chatty, taking my mind off of the intimidating journey the day was to bring. She explained everything that would be going on as I was getting set up with an IV and hooked up to the machine that was humming beside me. I found out that my doctor would be coming in to break my water once he finished up helping another doctor with a Caesarean birth of twins (I later found out that each of them weighed over 9 pounds). Until my doctor was available, they were starting me on Pitocin to induce contractions. They started me on a very small dosage of the Pitocin, but I felt contractions almost immediately. This went on for about an hour.
Then, at 9:59 a.m., Dr. Wiess broke my water.
After that, things moved fast. We were introduced to our doula, Joy. I loved the fact that her name embodied everything I would be working for in the next hours. I was ready to feel the joy of holding you, my sweet boy, in my arms, counting your fingers and toes, singing you lullabies that my mom had shared with me.
Joy suggested we take a walk around the floor to help managed some of the pain of the contractions that were starting to increase in intensity. This suggestion made me laugh because it reminded me of my mom. When she was in labor with me she turned to her nurse at one point and asked, "When do we take a walk around the hospital?" She had seen this in movies, etc. The nurse simply responded by saying, "You're already past that point." The way my mom tells the story is that she was so disappointed that she had missed out on this step. I couldn't believe that had been almost exactly 27 years ago, and here I was taking those slow steps, stopping periodically to breathe through each contraction.
We made it around the floor one time.
The pain was getting worse and after I used the restroom, I simply sat on the edge of my hospital bed, held your dad's hand, and worked through the extremely intense contractions.
Although I have no concept of time as I look back on the day, I remember that pretty quickly I grew frustrated because I was not getting any relief between contractions. Something else my mom had shared with me was that I just needed to remember that each contraction would end; no matter how painful it was I just needed to push through it and then I would get a break. So, you can imagine my frustration when I was not feeling any sense of relief, but what felt like constant pain. I voiced this to Deb, who suggested we take me off of the Pitocin. I readily agreed, hoping it would solve the problem. It was at this point I remember saying to your dad, as I gripped and pulled at his pant pocket in pain (almost pulling off his pants), "I don't think I can do this." Your dad, of course, was so loving and supportive as he held my hand and told me over and over again, "You can do this." In those moments of pain and frustration, however, I really was not sure how long I could last. I suddenly had such a deep appreciation for the women who spend days in labor. Bravo ladies.
Luckily, taking me off of the Pitocin did the trick. I was getting some relief between contractions which was helping me to manage the pain of the contractions themselves. The pain of the contractions, however, is not something that anyone can prepare you for and it took me by surprise. I struggled through each one, but it helped having both Joy and your dad to remind me to breathe and relax.
Sensing my pain, Joy suggested we run a bath. I was hesitant, but the minute she said it would help with the pain, I agreed.
Needless to say, I never made it to the bath.
Within minutes (I think) I felt "the urge to push". I remember how strange this sounded when we were told in our birthing class that during labor we would all of a sudden feel this overwhelming "urge" to push. It was exactly that. I felt like you were coming that very minute. I voiced this fact and Joy rushed out to get the nurse.
It came back to me later, but when it was just your dad and I in the room as the nurses were being assembled, your dad said to me, "Remember the feather." I was in a state of panic and your dad brought me back to the moment. In our birthing classes we were told that when we felt the urge to push that we couldn't just push, that we needed to make sure it was indeed time to do so before we actually did. In order to manage the urge, we were told to pretend we were trying to keep a feather in the air with our breath. It was a breathing technique that would help us fight the urge while our nurses and/or doctors determined if we were at the point in labor when it was indeed time. The fact that your dad remembered this is quite possibly one of the sweetest moments I remember of the day.
Deb rushed in, followed closely behind by a team of nurses, all of whom are a blur to me. Deb explained that she was going to check to see how dilated I was and that would determine if I could start pushing. The last time I had been checked was by my doctor when he broke my water. I had been at 4 centimeters.
Deb checked. I was fully dilated. Everyone was in awe. I was just ready to push.
I started pushing before my doctor arrived. I was told that he had been paged and they were trying to get him there, but it was time for me to push, so I did. At that point I was not concerned about my doctor's presence, but simply about getting the job done.
He did make it though, apologizing as he entered the room. I remember sensing some surprise in his voice, but at that point, I was too busy to wonder why.
The next minutes were full of pushing, nurses trying to secure my IV which kept coming loose, and your dad providing me with support in every way he could. My eyes remained closed for the majority of this time as I was simply annoyed and frustrated by everything going on around me, I simply needed to shut it out.
I do remember opening my eyes once when I was prompted by Deb, my nurse. She leaned down and was directly in my line of vision when she said, "Kelsey, we can get this baby out in two or three pushes if you relax and avoid tensing up as you push."
It was exactly what I needed to hear. Three pushes? I could do that. And I did.
I pushed for a total of 15 minutes and then I heard you cry for the first time. It was the most beautiful sound in the world.
Time of birth: 12:01 p.m.
The next moments are a blur, but what I remember most is when they first gave you to me. I remember thinking that you felt heavy, little did I know just how right I was.
Length: 20.5 inches
Weight: 8 pounds 15 ounces
That hour, those moments where I just held you and marveled at the fact that I was holding a miracle in my arms, was by far the best hour of my life. You were everything that was missing in my life, something that until that moment I didn't even realize was missing.
Liam, there are many things I want you to know after this first month of your life. The list begins with the fact that I could not sleep the first night after you were born because I was so full of happiness and love, I just wanted to swim in those emotions and in that bliss. What I didn't know is that love and joy didn't end or fade, it has just grown stronger. Every day since April 1st has been a new treasure, a fresh start to a life I knew I always wanted to live. Although they are not always easy, the days with you are so very precious to me. The moments when you look into my eyes and a wide smile covers your tiny face make me so happy it often brings me to tears, and it is in those moments that I find myself aware of just how much you add to my life.
Thank you, Liam, for bringing me more joy in this last month than I ever imagined I was capable of experiencing. I love you with all of my heart.
Love,
Mom
