After his intense and insane birth, I was on the bed at the birthing center with my sweet Liam, just nursing him and talking with Bryce. The hard part was over! Now we could take a breath and enjoy our new little one. After a couple of minutes, the midwives came back in to do Liam’s newborn examination. They handed us a menu of lunch options and I think I settled on a teriyaki chicken bowl. The menus were soon forgotten, however, as we watched the midwives examine Liam at the foot of the bed. He was bleeding a bit from his umbilical cord (they ended up clamping it three different times) and his heart rate and oxygen levels weren’t where they should be. I could tell that the midwives were getting a little concerned. They must have checked his heart rate a dozen times–checking and double checking the numbers they were getting. They got out a tiny oxygen mask and held it up to his sweet face. He was right there at the foot of our bed, but I felt like he was miles away and I was completely helpless. Then a midwife came in and asked me what hospital was covered by our insurance and I knew this meant that we were probably going to need to transfer my sweet baby. Cue first cry session since the birth (and I’d already done a lot of crying during the birth). This was not what was supposed to happen. Tears ran down my face as I got him into his going home outfit that we had packed. Except he wasn’t going home at all.

One of the student midwives, not LDS but very compassionate and aware of our beliefs, asked if we’d like to give him a blessing. We did and then Bryce left with my baby and two midwives–one on oxygen duty, one on heart rate duty. And here’s where I became really grateful that I had chosen an unmedicated birth, even if it was the hardest thing I’d ever done. Because I wasn’t numbed, and because I hadn’t torn at all during the birth, I was able to get some clothes on and ride to the hospital with another midwife (and my placenta riding in the backseat). Less than two hours after the birth and I was up and about and, physically, feeling all right. But emotionally I was totally empty. Something was wrong with my baby and I didn’t know what it was and he wasn’t in my arms and I was heart broken.

We got to the NICU, got checked in (with lots of nurses shocked that I had just given birth and was standing there doing the mandatory 5 minute hand washing that you have to do when you enter the NICU), and I joined Bryce and the baby in an isolation room. They drew lots of blood from his poor feet, preparing for every test under the sun to be done. I was so exhausted–in body and mind–but Liam seemed to be doing all right. His oxygen levels were okay and his heart rate, though a bit irregular, wasn’t too worrisome. After several hours, we were told that he seemed fine, but that they’d like to keep him at the hospital for the usual 2 days (like most other babies born in a hospital) just to make sure. Luckily, we could room-in with him in a room set a bit apart from the rest of the NICU. The room had a big bed, a bathroom with a shower, and Liam could be in there and still be monitored by the nurses (he had leads on his body to monitor heart rate, oxygen levels, and breathing rate) and we were happy to have that option. It felt like everything was going to be fine and I was happy.

Just a couple hours after his birth, after they were done pricking his heels twenty too many times.

My little sweetheart.

Over the course of the next two days, we watched news coverage of the Boston Marathon bombing and ensuing man-hunt and of the explosion at the Texas fertilizer plant–chaos seemed to dominate the news, but it was peaceful and quiet in our little room in the corner of the NICU. And then Liam’s heart rate started worrying the hospital staff. It would fall really low (for a newborn) and then go back up. He seemed fine, but the concern was that there was something wrong with his heart. Cue crying session number two. What if something was wrong with his heart? What if this tiny little love ended up needing surgery? We were on a roller coaster of emotional highs and lows and we had just dived down again.

Bryce feeding Liam in our room. We nursed from the start, but they wanted to supplement with formula until my milk came in because his blood sugar levels were low.

They performed a 12 lead EKG on the baby and sent the results up to a pediatric cardiologist at Primary Children’s Hospital in Salt Lake City. While we waited to hear back from her, we watched as they did an ultrasound of Liam’s heart. The technician was very nice and took the time to explain what we were seeing–all the little nooks and crannies of the heart. So many places where the tiniest defect could mean big trouble. But at the end of the exam, the technician told us that he hadn’t seen anything to worry about. Of course, his wasn’t the official word, but he was experienced and we trusted his opinion. As it turns out, he was right. Liam’s heart looked structurally sound and the cardiologist sent back her analysis saying that she wasn’t worried about the electrical side of his heart, either. So, he was okay. And I was okay. And we could go home on Friday.

Stay tuned for the final installment…

Liam has a pretty fantastic pout. Wonder who he gets it from…

I have to say, Easton has far exceeded my expectations of how he would react to having a new baby in the house. I was sure he would be very jealous and always want me to hold him whenever I was holding Liam. But he has been great! He doesn’t seem bothered at all by the baby. Most of the time he kind of ignores Liam, but sometimes he talks in a sweet baby voice to him and tells us all how cute the baby is. He pronounces it “buhbee”. “Oh, buhbee. No cry, buhbee.” It’s really darling. Here are a couple nice shots that my friend took when she was testing the lighting for Liam’s 2-week photo shoot.

I promise I’ll finish the story of Liam’s birth and first week, but my neighbor just gave me a disk with the pictures she took of Liam when he was just about 2 weeks old and I had to post them. I’m so lucky to be surrounded by such talented friends!

Thank you so much, Brekke, for the gift of these pictures! I sure do love this little one.

What a crazy couple of weeks! Since I’ve written down the birth stories of our other children, I figure I need to do the same for Liam’s birth, though it certainly won’t be a very fun story to share. Spoiler alert! It all works out in the end. Cue very long story.

For those who don’t want all the details, here’s the basic information. Liam Mark Haymond joined our family at 9:02 am on Wednesday, April 17th weighing in at 7 pounds 5 ounces and measuring 20 inches long.

After Easton’s birth, I was so eager to share my story. The birth had been so idyllic–a wonderful waterbirth where I felt safe and confident and a perfectly healthy baby boy. Just seconds after Easton was born, I turned to Bryce and said, “I could do that again!” After that experience, I guess I just thought I’d gotten the hang of this birthing thing. I wasn’t able to have the same midwife, but I figured it would work out all right. This was my fourth birthing. Piece of cake by now, right? Wrong.

Tuesday evening, around 5:30, I started having contractions. We called Mark and Brenda and they came and picked up Amelie, Calder, and Easton later that evening. At 2 a.m., I called the midwives since my contractions were about 5 minutes apart. They said to make our way to the birth center and we arrived at 3 a.m. When we got there, one of the midwives checked my dilation and I was 4 cms dilated, but not very effaced yet. Baby’s head was still very high. She was able to manually “stretch” me to 6 cms as she checked me. After that, I labored on a birth ball to try to get his head to descend. The problem with a baby whose head hasn’t dropped down yet is that the contractions aren’t as effective. Things really kick into gear when baby’s head is pressing against the cervix–the pressure helps it to thin out and dilate. I labored like this for several hours. The midwives rubbed clary sage oil on my belly and gave me some oral homeopathics to encourage the contractions to become stronger and closer together. I was not a happy camper. Even the tub didn’t seem to help much. I was exhausted and crying and in a lot of pain. This was not how things were supposed to go! When they checked me again around 6:30, I told Bryce, “If I’m still at a 6, we’re going to the hospital and I’m getting an epidural.” I was at a 7. For some reason, I didn’t press the hospital idea and just kept going.

I got back in the tub, decided I had had enough crying, and tried to get it together. One of the student midwives said, “God got you to it, He can get you through it.” Corny as that sounds, it actually helped and I just kept repeating it to myself. All the while, Bryce was my rock. He held me, pushed on my back to provide counter pressure, placed cold towels on my back when I was in the tub, and kept the encouraging words coming. I don’t know what I would have done without him. I anchored myself to him and didn’t let go.

Finally (finally!) I felt like I needed to push. Now, Amelie took 50 minutes to push out–this was actually really good for a first time mom, an epidural, and a 9 pound baby. Calder took 10 minutes–about 4 pushes. Easton took about 4 pushes. I just assumed that baby 4 would be easy to push out. I mean, my body had already done this 3 times. This should be the easy part! Wrong again.It only took about 9 minutes of pushing to get him out, but it felt like an eternity. I’ve heard a lot of women say that they like the pushing part–that it’s a relief to be able to work with the contractions. I am definitely not one of those women. To be honest, I really didn’t think I was going to be able to get this baby out. I was like a feral animal–completely crazed and out of my mind. It is so much work to push a baby out! With Easton, I felt safe and secure and although this part was hard, I didn’t lose it. This birth was the complete opposite. Finally (finally!) I was in the tub and he was crowning and I had his head out. Relieved, I thought the rest would be easy. Wrong! I heard the midwives saying, “He isn’t coming. He isn’t coming,” and I knew something was wrong. I have read enough to know (maybe a little too much) what this means and what it signaled in my mind was danger. If babies get stuck at this point, their umbilical cords can become so compressed inside the birth canal that they can become oxygen deprived and this can lead to very very serious consequences. And what on earth would I do if I couldn’t figure out how to get this child out? Very quickly, the midwife spoke to me directly. “Raven. You have to get on all fours. Now.” This technique is called the Gaskin Maneauver (named after a famous midwife here in the States) and is used when you have a shoulder dystocia presentation (when baby gets stuck at the shoulders). As it turns out, it wasn’t his shoulders that were the problem, but his short cord. Either way, I knew the midwife was serious, that this was all very serious, and that I had to act NOW. I quickly flipped over onto my hands and knees and just started pushing with everything I had. I felt like I was trying to push aside a mountain, but the room was filled with an urgency that turned on some instinct in my head and I just pushed with all my might.

My sweetheart. All of the pain and craziness was worth it for you, my little man.

Finally (finally!) at 9:02 a.m. he was out. He had a short umbilical cord which is probably why it took so long for his head to descend into birthing position. He seemed too still to me and I was still in panic mode, so I kept saying, “Is he okay? Is he okay?” They assured me that he was, gave him a couple breaths of mouth to mouth, and he started to perk up. Unfortunately, I was still having strong contractions while we waited for my placenta to come, so I had to pass baby off to the midwives. I remember saying, “I just want them to be done!” It seems cruel to continue to experience those kinds of contractions after baby has been born. Shouldn’t the hard work be done? Well, finally (finally!) it was done and I was on the bed and sweet Liam was nursing. Although I told Bryce that I would never ever birth without an epidural again, I was relieved that since I hadn’t had an epidural, when it came time to get Liam out, when he was stuck, I was able to flip over onto my hands and knees. This wouldn’t have been possible if I had had an epidural and the birthing could have been even more traumatic for both me and Liam. We seemed to be past the scary part and I was getting ready to relax and just enjoy our new little one. I was already completely devoted to him and so in love. Bryce told me that he was amazed at my strength and that I had done such a good job, but I felt like I had been weak. That if I had been stronger, I could have managed everything better, done a better job. I felt depleted and sad that this birth had been so different from Easton’s. But it was done and I had done it and he was here and he was precious. As it turns out, we still had a long road of scary ahead. I’ll save that for another post, though, or this might turn out to be the longest blog post in the history of the world.