Baby Jedi’s Birth Story – Part 2

gareth csection

When we got to the hospital, I felt pretty sure we needed to go to the ER so that I could get admitted.  Daddy Jedi dropped me off at the front door.  While most would want a wheelchair, I knew walking and staying on my feet would help me cope with the contractions.  I walked down to admitting while Austin ran ahead to find someone that would have some idea of what we needed to do.  It was around 5 am, so, needless to say, there were few people around.

I was approaching the ER, I heard my husband getting irate.  Apparently, someone in the ER was not being very nice.  I walked in and the man started asking me questions slowly, while I continued to moan and scream, depending on where I was in the non-stop contractions.  I think I would have happily punched the man repeatedly, except I think he quickly realized that I needed help immediately.  He got a nurse, who insisted I sit in the wheelchair.  She wheeled me up to L & D.

We arrived at the nurse’s station, and an older grey-haired woman was standing there.  She explained they would have to triage me to verify that I was, in fact, in labor and that my water had broken.  There was the snarky part of my brain that had to wonder how many pregnant women they get, screaming, who were, in fact, not in labor.  It’s like the warning on Preparation H not to take it internally.  It wouldn’t be necessary unless someone had actually done it before.

I was to the point of screaming and stomping very hard during the peak of every contraction.  The grey-haired lady was named Maggie, and she was Scottish.  For me, that was a blessing from God.  Considering my Scottish and Irish ancestry, it was like having a wonderful friend in a time of pain and torment.  She was firm but kind, allowing me to stand and stomp and scream when I needed to.  She paged a Resident, who would need to do a pelvic exam to confirm everything.  My midwife ensured I was in good hands and that they had a copy of my medical records before saying good-bye. When he arrived, he kindly got everything ready before I laid down so that the pain wouldn’t be intense for long.  

And guess what?!  I was in labor.  It wasn’t Maggie or the resident’s fault.  Policy sucks.  Anyway, they paged anesthesia and got an IV placed, despite my dancing around screaming.  They took me to a room, which I felt was back away from everyone else due to my screaming.  Maggie left to find out about the epidural, which meant poor Daddy Jedi was left alone with his crazed screaming wife.  I couldn’t lay down so I instead gripped the IV pole for dear life and screamed and stomped my right foot as hard as I could. It seemed like hours before Maggie came back to let us know that anesthesia had an emergency intubation in ICU which meant I had to wait.  I wanted to cry.  

I begged her for something, and she said she could give me an injection of Stadol to take the edge off until anesthesia could get there.  Never in my life have I been that eager for drugs.  After the injection, I was loopy and felt great.  I could lay down, relax, and stop trying to stomp my way to China.  

I honestly don’t know how long it was before the anesthesia nurse came.  I was in a happy place, though the Stadol was wearing off when she did arrive.  She was another blessing.  Her name was Sharon and she was amazing through my whole hospital stay. She was getting me setup for the epidural when the anesthesiologist arrived. I honestly can’t remember his name, but he actually put me before his other pages and got the line placed in just a few seconds.  

After he left, Sharon stayed to make sure the epidural was working well and to explain the button to give myself more if I needed it.  Daddy Jedi was immensely relieved. He had his wife back. He suggested calling and having my mom come down since I was no longer at home and screaming.  And I actually wanted her.  He called her and let her know.  She told him she would get ready and head down immediately.  I asked for something to eat and enjoyed munching on orange Popsicles and being able to carry on multi-word conversations with my husband for the first time in hours.

Stay tuned for part 3 . . .

Baby Jedi’s Birth Story – Part 1

Sorry for the long absence, but I am happy to say that Baby Jedi has finally entered the world.  After a couple of weeks of recovery, I have decided it is finally time to start blogging again.  And his birth story seems like a good place to start.


My due date was April 27.  And I knew that he wouldn’t come on that day.  I mean, almost no babies come on their due date and I was OK with that.  Because of my girth and the fatigue that was really affecting me, I went on maternity leave the Thursday before my due date.  And that same day, I started noticing tightening in my abdomen.  Not painful, but I began to get hopeful.  I was having nesting energy.  I was needing to go to the bathroom a lot.  I started to expect that I could finally have my baby.

And the days went by.  And nothing.


Daddy Jedi would take me on walks several times a day.  We spent considerable amounts of time in and out of the bedroom to get things going.  Walking would increase the tightening in my abdomen, but then it would slowly decrease.  This went on for 2 weeks.

The roller coaster of emotions left me at times elated that something was working.  At other times, it seemed hopeless.  As the 42 week mark was approaching, I began to wonder what would happen if I reached that point and still had not went into active labor.  I knew that I didn’t want to end up being induced at a hospital.  I also really, really, REALLY did not want to end up taking castor oil.  I just have read way too many yucky stories of the effects of castor oil.

The Friday before I would hit the 42 week mark, I went out to walk by myself.  It was 10 am and it was a beautiful and warm day.  I walked until I was sweating. And the whole time, I kept thinking – “I am going into labor today, no matter what.”  I went back inside and got in the floor on all fours while Daddy Jedi played Skyrim.  I was reading while doing pelvic tilts.

Around 1, I noticed that things have started to change.  I could no longer focus on my book or on what Daddy Jedi was doing on the game.  I had to focus on breathing.  We had already had a couple of chances to practice timing contractions, but I just couldn’t bear to time these and then have them stop again.  So, instead we just looked at how many I was having per hour.  By 4, I could tell they were more intense and more frequent.  I started having Daddy Jedi time them, and they had now settled into a regular 45 second long duration every 5-6 minutes.

I texted my doula, letting her know what was happening.  She suggested we keep timing and if things continued to increase in the same way, to call my midwife. The next couple of hours passed as I continued to experience stronger contractions.  Around 7, I called my midwife to let her know I was now having them every 4-5 minutes lasting a minute long.  She told me she would come check me.  While we waited for her to drive to the house, I continued to breathe through the contractions.  I was to the point of having to groan through the contractions, while Daddy Jedi helped fill the pool and encourage me through each one.

They weren’t necessarily unbearable.  I could work through each contraction and then relax and talk.  Even laugh a little.

My midwife arrived around 9:30 pm and had me lay down on the bed.  That was when I discovered that laying down greatly intensified the contractions, but I was still able to breathe/groan through it.  She said I was 70% effaced but still only 3 cm dilated.  She told me to keep timing and working through them, but that she was going home to get some sleep as it would probably be a long night.  She wanted me to call once they were steadily around 4 min apart and lasting at least a minute and a half.  She also told me I could get into the pool at that point.  So I wandered the house.  I would sit on the exercise ball and rock.  I found the most comfortable was still to be draped over something on all fours.

Around 1 in the morning, I was in the pool.  I found the hot water really helped as long as I stayed off my left side.  I was almost unbearable to lay on that side.  I draped myself over the side of the pool and tried to relax between each contraction.  But I was beginning to notice that the breaks between them I had been having earlier in the day had stopped.  I was starting to hurt even when I wasn’t having a contraction.

At this point, I had Austin call the midwife and ask her to come back.  She arrived around 2:30 and wanted to check me again.  This time, laying down on my back was ridiculous.  I would almost thrash from the pressure and pain until the contraction eased.  She checked me.  I was now 90% effaced, but had only made it to 4 cm.  She also told me my amniotic sac was bulging through my cervix.  This was hopeful, but I admit I was a little disheartened that I was only at 4 cm.  I was to the point that I needed to stay in the pool as much as possible to deal with the contractions.  It definitely required work.  After about an hour, I was checked again.  While she checked me, my water broke.  And the pain amped up to 11.  There was no breaks now, just continuous contractions back to back.

My doula had mentioned to me about a para-cervical block my midwife could give me to numb just my cervix.  At this point, I was desperate to make progress.  I requested the block, and though she encouraged me to try without it, I insisted.  My thoughts were, if I can make progress to 6-7 cm without feeling it and have a break, I can probably make it to pushing.  She had me lay down and gave me the block.   The relief was instant.  I could breathe and laugh.  I got on the birthing stool, leaning forward on a stack of pillows, and tried to rest while letting gravity work on my cervix.

At the end of the hour, when the pain started coming back, I asked if we could check my progress.  And the disappointment was devastating.  I was still at 4 cm.  One hour of pure gravity working on me and I had made what I felt was NO progress.  I started panicking.  How would I make it through transition when this stage of labor was so bad?  I got back in the pool, but felt trapped in there when a contraction hit.  I could no longer keep my moaning low pitched, rather making very high pitched yells.  Standing was the only way to give myself any slack.

I asked about having the block one more time, but the only way I could get it was to make progress to 6 cm.  My midwife estimated that that could take another 30 min to an hour.  And I gave up.  I cried and begged Daddy Jedi.  I wanted to go to the hospital.  I wanted an epidural.  I needed the pain to stop.  I have always managed pain well, I thought.  But the mental defeat of no progress stopped me from being able to do anything but crying, punching, and praying for it to stop.  While I could tell my midwife was trying very hard to get me to work through it, I no longer could.  I lost control of my mind, which meant I lost control completely.  So, after several minutes of agonizing deliberation with Daddy Jedi, I quickly got dressed while he grabbed the diaper bag and we headed to the hospital.

Stay tuned for Part 2 to Baby Jedi’s birth story . . .

A History of Lent & Why It Still Matters

Yesterday was Mardi Gras, for those of you that are not in the know.  Fat Tuesday.  Which means today is Ash Wednesday.  For some, this is a given.  But I grew up in a world where the liturgical calendar did not play into church life.  I still go to a church like that.  But that doesn’t mean that I don’t see the point in some of these traditions.

Maybe you were like me, the first time my college friends walked around with ash on their foreheads.  What is Lent?  Why should I care?

By U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 3rd Class Brian May [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

By U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 3rd Class Brian May [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

A Brief History of Lent

Lent, or Lenten, actually simply means “spring” in the original Anglo-Saxon from which the term began.  It is also one of the oldest traditions in the Church.  It began shortly after the Council of Nicea in 325 A.D., the same council that established that Jesus was, indeed, co-equal with God.  This council also separated out the holiday of Easter and also established the first concept of a 40 day fast prior to Easter.  Though not many details exist as to the purpose of the fast, or whether it was meant for everyone, soon the entire Church was observing the fast as a part of their annual calendar.

There was also an absence of any guidelines.  This meant Eastern Christians only observed it on weekdays whereas the Western Christians observed on Saturdays but also had one week less of Lent.  Soon, Lent was moved from starting on a Sunday to a Wednesday, hence the observance of Ash Wednesday.  After the 7th century, Gregory the Great, a leading authority in the church, moved it and also began marking the foreheads of repentant Christians with the ash cross as a sign of their repentance.

By the Providence Lithograph Company [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

By the Providence Lithograph Company [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

So What?

Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.  After fasting forty days and forty nights, he was hungry.  Matthew 4:1-2 NIV

Have you ever been hungry?  Days-without-food-ravenous hungry?  Where your stomach feels like a sinking pit of disgruntled pain.  Spiritually, I think we have all been there.  So desperate for something to fill us that we don’t really care what it is.  And so, we gladly take whatever can stop the emptiness, even if it doesn’t satisfy.  And yet, the Holy Spirit led Jesus into just such a circumstance to be tested.  To show that the Son of God could indeed be the perfect and spotless Lamb.  That He could fulfill His mission on earth.  And it made Him hungry, empty.

I am so guilty of satisfying the hunger with whatever junk is lying around.  Trash and garbage pile up until my own soul reeks.  But, Jesus didn’t do this.  He filled His hunger with the word, and the word, a flashing sword, cut the enemy down to size.

We still need Lent in the church today.  This is about so much more than what you eat or don’t, what you do, what services you attend.  Look past all of that and it comes down to repentance.  Cleansing.  Sweeping clean all the junk that has accumulated in the corners of our souls until it looks like a hoarder lives there.

Forty days of preparation.  Of tilling the hardened soil of our hearts and planting His word over and over and over until it takes root.  Maybe this is why Lent actually means Spring.  Because it is meant to be a time when we can see His word start to bud.  See the dead come to life.

For I will pour water on the thirsty land,
and streams on the dry ground;
I will pour out my Spirit on your offspring,
and my blessing on your descendants.  Isaiah 44: 3-4 NIV


I don’t mean a religious, going-through-the-motions act to attempt to please God.  If that’s all it is, go on and gorge yourself.  I mean a real, deep uncovering of the hidden places.  A laying bare and uncovering the dark so that we can shine as bright as the One we were meant to reflect.  A dirty mirror casts no light.

So, join me.  Join me in this time of preparation and repentance.  I am not necessarily giving up something and grasping onto the One thing I need.  Time with Jesus, deep, personal, and real.  Are you ready?