Melody’s
Birth Story November 30th,
2018
I was timing the contractions. They
started about ten minutes apart, and then progressed to being about seven
minutes apart. I left whatever show it was we were watching and went to the
front room to keep laboring where I could focus better. I sat on the front room
couch, watching my stomach rise with my ‘in breaths’ and holding them through
to the end of contractions. Matthew came out to check on me every few
minutes—once they got to five minutes apart, he started asking if we needed to
go to the hospital. But, honestly, I just felt so calm and in control that I
didn’t feel like we needed to! Haha, but, he did ask a few more times and I
could tell he was starting to feel like we should go. (Totally understandable,
since with every other pregnancy we’ve headed to the hospital immediately after
I’ve started laboring). I actually waited until the contractions were about two
or three minutes apart…which was clearly a little too long. Haha! I realized
this on the way to the hospital when they continued to be two minutes apart and
increasing in intensity.
We got to the hospital around 9:30.
After finding out how close together my contractions were, they didn’t bother
having us fill out paperwork, but got us right into a room. I had the SWEETEST
nurse who had some neat holds she would do with me during my contractions. Good
nurses are underpaid. This sweet, angelic nurse deserves at least a 50% raise
to whatever she is making; its not enough. Also, an OVERLOAD of blessings from
Heavenly Father. After laboring for about forty-five minutes, I let her know I
was ready for an epidural.
The epidural was not an ideal
experience. Albany Med is a teaching hospital—and teach we did. I have a tricky
back, and it took four people trying to successfully place my epidural. I was
shaking, crying, and in significant pain each time. All through this, my sweet
nurse was looking at the screen at the frequency of my contractions asking if I
wanted to push. Haha. My response was, ‘is my epidural in??’ When she said no,
I said then, no. haha! It was SO weird to me that this was even a question,
since my previous labors were all 10+ hours. How was this even a question at
this point? I generally get my epidural and then get to sit and watch my
contraction monitor on a screen painlessly (and blissfully) for a good few
hours before dosing off for an epidural nap before nurses are even talking
about any sort of pushing.
Well, come five minutes later, I had
residents coming trying to get me to let them break my water.. But I was not to
be robbed of my epidural nap. Granted, I was at a 9+ and fully effaced, but I
really felt my body would tell me when it was time! Also, I have a friend who
actually delivered with an unruptured amniotic sack. So, no. Not gunna happen. My
water will break when it will break and all will be fine in the world. What is
the rush? Well, after they came in two more times trying to coerce me into
letting them break my water, I found out what the rush was: “I don’t think you
understand—this baby is about to come out and we are all going to be showered
in amniotic fluid.” What was my response? “Well, you look like you need a
shower.” If that response didn’t make Matthew want to steal a pillow off my bed
and bury his head under it, I don’t know what would. Haha. But seriously! I was
so sick of them hassling me and trying to get me to do things.
In the end, I did let them break my
water. I don’t even remember what it was that made me decide that. I think I
was probably tired of arguing with them. 20/20 I would have been feistier,
believe it or not. This is my body! You are here assisting as part of your job—if
there is no risk to my health, I see no reason for intervening medically. Tyler
would have HATED delivering one of my babies, guaranteed. Lol.
Anywho, it didn’t take long after
them breaking my water for them to come back in telling me I needed to start
pushing. Seriously? My body will tell me when it’s time to push. They came back
twice more. Finally, they convinced me by telling me that they wanted to make
sure someone was there to catch the baby when I delivered. Well, two pushes
later—and sweet Melody was put on my chest.
We always say she came into the
world singing, and it was one of the most tender things I’ve ever heard. It
wasn’t a cry, but this sweet little high-pitched melody. One of the first
things I did while holding her was hum, and any part of her sweet voice that
resembled crying returned to her calmed, continuous sweet noises.
She was one baby we didn’t really
even have any other name contenders for. And yet, we went to the hospital with
a list that the name Melody wasn’t even on. I had met someone at the Round Lake
Library named Melody while pregnant with her, but hadn’t even put it on our
list or held onto it. But, when I looked at her, it was the only name in the
world for her. Any other name I tried to assign her just felt ridiculous—she
was Melody. And all the more because she came into the world singing. Matthew
had never thought of Melody either, but he said it just fit. After fidgeting
around a middle name, we named her Melody Ann—Ann after her great grandmother
Barbara Ann, whom we adore.
Angelic Melody Ann slept through SO
much of our stay in the hospital, and my recovery with her was insanely fast—as
was evidenced by me walking around my hospital room without any pain the next
day. Melody slept for thirteen hours straight in her first twenty-four hours of
life—and it has proven the perfect indicator of her angelic babyhood. Her
amazing sleep habits stuck, and she was just a calm, sweet baby to the core.
I can’t tell you how grateful I am
for sweet Melody Ann. She brings joy every day and is still easy, even as a
toddler. She loves to be with us, but she can hang on her own. She is giggly,
chill, and rolls with any punches that come her way (which mostly come
inadvertently from her tornado of an older sister).
From the moment they handed me Melody, none of the pressures or drama of the delivery room mattered. She was a picture of perfection and exactly the calm, peaceful
influence we so needed in our family. I can’t tell you how truly perfect and
magical that time in the hospital with her was. I am so, so grateful for my
Melody Ann. Today, 20 months later, we enjoy her sweet (surprisgingly
unslobbery) bedtime/goodbye kisses for everyone in the room, her upside down
kisses (always accompanied with smiles and giggles), her love of block building
with anyone, and the sweet way she walks right up to my legs and wraps her arms
around them, looking up at me, until I scoop her up in a hug and just love on
her and include her in whatever I’m doing. Melody Ann, you are sweetness,
goodness, and peace. We love you. I’m so grateful for the day you were born and
everyday following, because you’ve been a part of them.
