Forty weeks, four days and twelve hours of labor. This was the birth story vol. i and vol. ii. in a nutshell. Forty weeks, four days, twelve hours of labor is what I was expecting when I prepared to give birth for the third time. Once you have done something a few times you think you have the hang of it. You think you are prepared. You think that things are predictable. In case you didn’t already know, childbirth isn’t exactly predictable.

The morning of September 11, 2018 started like any other day when you’re 40 weeks pregnant…slow. It was my due date but I knew our baby girl wouldn’t be arriving for another 4 days. 40 weeks, 4 days, 12 hours of labor….predictable. I had already started maternity leave to wrap up preparations for the baby. I dropped the kids off at school, took care of some things around the house and decided to pick up my daughter (my 2nd child) early from daycare and spend the afternoon with her. One last afternoon of quality time before the baby arrived. She was having a hard time with the idea of becoming a big sister so I thought an afternoon of shopping and ice cream might be in order. Plus I thought it would be a nice distraction from the Braxton Hicks contractions I had been experiencing all day.

We headed to Avalon, an outdoor shopping center just about 20 minutes drive from the daycare. Our first stop was Gap Kids. My daughter picked out a few things she loved. A polka dot shirt, a bright pink tutu skirt, a knit hat with big fur pompoms and a furry backpack with bunny ears. As we checked out I started to suspect that the Braxton Hicks contractions I had been experiencing all day were not actually Braxton Hicks but legit contractions. The sweet girl at the Gap checkout asked me when I was due and I told her “Today, and I’m pretty sure I’m in labor”. She wished me luck and we headed to get some ice cream.

My daughter and I started to walk to Jenni’s Ice Cream. If you are familiar with the layout of Avalon you know that Gap Kids and Jenni’s Ice Cream are at opposite ends of the shopping center. We weren’t even halfway there when I had to stop and rest on a bench. At this point it was clear that this was not a false alarm and I was in fact in full blown labor. How could this be? I had 4 more days?! We hadn’t even picked out a name yet!

At this point I had to determine the best course of action. I had promised my daughter ice cream and I wanted to deliver on that promise. But Jenni’s was too far a walk and I knew once we got there we would have to wait in a long line. Delivering a baby on the floor of Jenni’s Ice Cream may have awarded us at least a year’s worth of free ice cream but it was not how I wanted things to go down. I decided a drive through Chick-Fil-A for a cone would be just as exciting for a 3 year old. It was now around 4pm and traffic was picking up. What would usually be a 30 minute drive home would easily be an hour at this point. If I drove home to get my husband we would have to drive another 45 minutes with traffic to get to the hospital. I wasn’t sure I could even drive safely with the contractions I was having but I called my husband and told him meet me at my parent’s house. They lived just 5 minutes from the hospital and 20 minutes from the shopping center.

My husband got our son off the bus and met me and our daughter at my parents house. After a snack my husband and I headed to the hospital.

My third time being in labor it was a little easier to manage the pain. When contractions came I relaxed my body and was able to breathe through them. I really wanted to deliver a baby without the help of pain meds and I thought this was going to be my moment to prove to myself that I am, in fact, supermom. We checked into the hospital and settled into a labor and delivery room. I got changed into my fabulous hospital issued gown and continued to breath through intensifying contractions. When the pain was getting too much for me to handle I asked the nurse if they could give me a little something to take the edge off. Not a full epidural but maybe something a little stronger than Tylenol.

“Yes,” the nurse said, “we can give you something.”

“Will it affect the baby?” I asked.

“It is going to make you really tired and it will make the baby really sleepy too.”

Hmmm. I contemplated this for a second. I wanted some relief but wasn’t sure this was a great option.

“What is it?” my husband asked.

“Fentanyl” replied the nurse.

Our eyes turned to saucers.

Fentanyl is a powerful synthetic opioid that is similar to morphine but is 50 to 100 times more potent. Fentanyl is linked to thousands of overdose deaths in the United States every year. Of course the Fentanyl given by hospitals is different than the dangerous lab created variety sold illegally for its heroin-like effect. Since my husband had spent so many years working in narcotics as a police officer just hearing the name totally freaked us out and I declined.

Without anything to dull the pain and my breathing techniques useless I gave in and decided to get the epidural. I was so relieved when the anesthesiologist arrived in my room. Getting an epidural is unpleasant but I had been down this road before, I was prepared…or so I thought. When the needle went into my back something did not feel right and I said so. The anesthesiologist had to insert the needle a second time to get the proper placement but the second time was not successful either. Each time the needle was inserted the anesthesiologist would move his fingers up my back as if feeling for something. Although I was numb I could feel the pressure and was confused by this maneuver as I did not recall this ever happening before. Finally, after no less than 6 “sticks” of the needle the epidural was successful and the pain was gone.

Laboring with an epidural is pretty ineventful. You just kind of lay there being turned from one side to the other every hour. At this point my water hadn’t broken yet. The labor and delivery unit was really busy that night and the nurses suspected if they broke my water the baby would come very quickly. So we waited.

After about 2 hours, just before 8pm I noticed the pain returning. I thought it was maybe time to push or at least getting close. This had been my experience with my first two kids. With my first two kids I thought the epidural was wearing off but it was actually just pressure indicating it was time to push. As it turns out my epidural really was wearing off. From what I understand when an epidural is administered medicine is given to block the pain and then medicine is delivered continuously by a pump. I received the initial medicine with the epidural but the anesthesiologist forgot to hook up the pump so the medicine wasn’t being given and was wearing off. A different anesthesiologist came and told me he could give me a “bump” of medicine. I had a feeling I was getting close to pushing and I wanted to be able to feel the pressure to push effectively. I was given the “bump” and I called my older sister to check in. The time is approximately 8:30pm.

I brought my sister up to speed on the events of the day and suddenly I felt the weirdest sensation. It felt as though a balloon was inflating between my legs with warm water and it filled so much that it burst.

”I think my water just broke” I told my sister.

“Oh that’s crazy when?” she said.

“Literally like right now while we were talking. I think I need to go.”

I asked my husband to look and see what was going on. He confirmed there was water everywhere. I asked if it was clear or dirty (my second child had meconium in the fluid) and he said it was pretty gross. He went out in the hall and called for the nurse. She came in and assessed the situation. It was indeed a situation and she informed me that there was quite a mess and she needed to change the sheets.

By now the “bump” of pain medicine I was given turned me into a full blown walrus from the waste down. I just felt like bloated pile. I could not feel ANYTHING and I could control NOTHING. The sweet nurse started to do the sheet jiujitsu of changing the sheets while a walrus sat on top as only a trained professional could handle while keeping an eye on the screen monitoring the baby. The nurse must have seen something on the monitor that was concerning because before I knew it the room was filled with people. I had two nurses on either side of me holding up my legs and another woman was telling me in a calm but intense voice that it was time to push and I needed to push on the next breath.

Let me stop here and say that if you haven’t read the first two birth stories or have never been in labor this was an unusual series of events. My previous experience informed me that when it was time to push you had to wait for a doctor to come to the room. Stirrups were pulled up and your legs were gently placed in them in preparation for pushing. You receive a little warning and a reminder of how to push. This was not the scene unfolding and it was freaking me out.

I was confused and scared. This was not what I was anticipating. I was trying to ask what was going on and no one was telling me. I was turned to my right side. It felt like the bed was inverted almost like I was upside down.
”I can’t feel anything. I don’t know if I’m pushing. Why am I upside down? What’s going on?”.

“I don’t think this is the time for questions. I think you just need to do what they ask” said my husband. Ever the calm and steady voice in chaos.

An oxygen mask was put on my face. This only sent me into further panic. What in the world was going on?

And then I looked down…and there she was. Our baby girl.

The time was 8:45pm. Just 15 minutes from water breaking to delivery.

“Is she ok? Is she ok?” was all I could say. I needed to know that everything was going to be ok.

After a quick check the nursing team confirmed she was perfect and they gave her to me. The chaos ceased and I held her for the first time. It is a feeling like no other. Unconditional love and gratitude.

We asked a nurse why things were so crazy during delivery. She told us that our baby girl was not facing the right way for delivery. Babies are supposed to come out face down but she was face up. Sunny side up.

The labor and delivery room was now clean, quiet, calm. No evidence remained of the traumatic delivery that we had just been through except for the perfect and sweet baby girl snuggled on my chest. Things had not gone the way I anticipated but she was here and perfect and so nothing else mattered. My husband and I started to talk about what we should name her. Her middle name had already been chosen, Jay. Jay is the nickname my dad calls my mom. Half joking my husband said, “Sunny is kind of a cute name”. Sunny Jay, it did sound pretty cute.

As I held this perfect baby I couldn’t help but reflect on the memories of 17 years before her arrival on September 11, 2001. I was 17 years old and a senior in high school. I will never forget that day or the days that followed. We say “never forget” and I couldn’t if I tried. The emotions are as raw today as they were on that day. If you had told me on 9/11/2001 at 17 years old that 17 years later I would be giving birth to my 3rd child I would not have believed it. But there I was overwhelmed with joy and gratitude knowing that this baby would always be a reminder of God’s goodness. A day that carried so much sadness would now be tied to a memory of happiness and hope. I knew in my heart that our baby girl would be a source of joy for anyone who interacted with her and that is when the name Sunny Jay stuck.

You can’t see her and say her name and not smile. She is our little ray of sunshine.