Hi friends! I’ve been missing you!
OKAY, maybe not missing you per se, but missing writing and documenting our little lives. The whole reason I started my blog in the first place was to share all the new and exciting adventures that were going on in my life as a newly wed and a brand new homeowner. And having a new baby in the house is definitely an adventure.
Sharing a birth story seems like so deeply personal. I wanted to wait till I had a couple hours of uninterrupted time to really sit down and beautifully recollect those first moments with my babe… complete with a cup of coffee, a cozy blanket, and my computer. But the past week has taught me that I might never have uninterrupted time everrrr again.
So I’m here today, with chaos all around me, to share Cypress Jean’s birth story! (pardon me while I go pump real quick)
I should start with a confession… I had a scheduled c-section. And I didn’t share the exact date because I still wanted there to be an element of anticipation and excitement that would normally come with spontaneous labor/delivery. Having been SO OPEN about the whole process of becoming pregnant, and every little aspect of my pregnancy, I felt that I could keep this one little thing to myself and my immediate family.
We were scheduled to be at the hospital to be prepped for surgery at 6am on Monday morning. My parents and sister had come the night before to stay and watch the girls, so in the early hours of the morning, we snuck out into the darkness to meet our newest daughter. So many emotions on that cold drive to town.
I was so swollen and uncomfortable and READY for this. They monitored the baby and took my labs while Nick got scrubbed up and ready.
It seemed like an uncomfortable eternity before it was finally time. They had me waddle down the hallway to the operating room to get prepped for my spinal. My anesthesiologist was awesome and walked me through each step. I like to know what’s going on… even if it’s behind me.
As my legs started feeling heavy and tingly, they laid me back on the table and put up the curtain. This is happening!
Nick, being a 6’8” giant, towered over the curtain and got a birds-eye view as they sliced and diced. He doesn’t get queasy with these types of things, and was just happily snapping pictures.
It’s such a bizarre feeling to have half your body numb. I could feel pressure and tugging, but no pain whatsoever. Just patiently waiting for a baby to cry. The culmination of not only 9 months of anticipation (and discomfort), but also the struggle we went through to conceive in the first place.
But… my baby didn’t cry when they pulled her out.
I just heard the concerned murmurs of the doctors and nurses. I had lobbied for skin-to skin with my girl in the OR, but they took her tiny purple body to a small table about 5 feet from my face. All I could do was lay there and watch the horrifying view of doctors hovering over my lifeless purple child. A child I had felt moving inside me just minutes before.
The doctor kept saying ‘stay with me little baby’
I was in my own personal hell. Nobody was telling us anything. Nick and I just helplessly watched, hand-in-hand.
Finally, we were told that she had inhaled a big gulp of amniotic fluid on the way out, and was aspirating. After what felt like a meeellion years, she was still not crying but taking shallow labored breaths, and was stable enough to move from the OR to the high risk nursery for further testing and examination. On their way out, they brought her over to me for a tiny second.
I savored this moment with my little one. I was so scared and didn’t know if this would be the only time I would ever have with her. And then they took her away, along with my husband/support.
I was in a room full of people and sounds and bright lights, but I was utterly ALONE. The anesthesiologist was my new best friend, and he stayed with me and encouraged me. I felt so sick.
Finally, the gaping hole in my abdomen had been stitched and stapled, and I was ready to be transferred to recovery. It was a long couple of hours before the doctor came in to let us know that she would likely be ok. They had done chest x-rays and labs, and had found that the fluid in her lungs had initiated an infection and she would need to start a 48 hour regimen of antibiotics.
But our girl was going to be ok, and it was like a 3 ton load being lifted from my chest. Her oxygen and heart rate would need to be monitored in the nursery until further notice, but after some convincing on Nick’s part, they brought her in to me that afternoon. I was finally holding my girl.
My parents brought the girls to meet their new sister, and it was the most precious thing to see them lay eyes on her for the first time. They had been anticipating this moment for so long. 9 months is an eternity for a 3-year-old!
After 48 hours, Cypress’s labs came back clear, and she was released to us! It felt so good to have a cordless baby, and a clean bill of health!
What a scary and emotional couple days we had. It never felt so good to drive home… even if it was a downright blizzard.
We’ve been treasuring every moment of being home together as a family. The girls are such good big sisters and love Cypress so much!
We were surprised by how much hair she has! And that she looks nothing like Paisley or Adelyn. She does however look a lot like my baby pictures… so we know she’s ours.
So that’s the story of Cypress’s scary introduction to the world. We know how lucky we are… not only with our positive fertility treatments, but that we have a healthy and happy baby to show for it. Things could have gone so much worse. But let’s not speak of those things.
Welcome home Cypress Jean!
PS! To read Paisley and Dell’s birth story, click here! If you have a weak stomach or are eating lunch, feel free to skip.