The Story of Jack

I watched from the side lines. We were dating, and Jon was playing point guard, I believe, for the Carolina (Tar Heels). He ran down the court, scored a layup, and everyone went crazy. The team went up to my grandma’s Sitting Room for a celebratory get together with Coach Roy. I walked up the many stairs to this secret room, celebrated for a brief moment, then looked to see a giant blue elephant above me.

It had only been a dream, but the weird back pain that woke me up at 3am was REAL life. Something felt a little different than the past 9 months of aches and pains. Baby was already 6 days late, so this could very well be the beginning of his arrival. I tried to go back to sleep, but I continued waking up to a weird tightness in addition to being extremely hot. I decided to take a shower and find a comfy spot on the couch down stairs.

At some point in the early hours of the morning, I texted my doula to give her a heads up. She said it wouldn’t hurt to start tracking contractions, so I used a tracking app she recommended. Jon and I had breakfast and quiet time, while I bounced on my birthing (yoga) ball. I was very distracted during quiet time, just wondering if this really was the beginning of Jack’s arrival. Around 10am, we had some friends come to visit that were in town for the weekend. The contractions weren’t too painful at this point. I would hold my breath during the tightness, then smile with the release, feeling some sense of pride that my body was making progress toward Jack’s arrival. After our visit, we texted our doula again. She recommended at this point to put on the Tens Unit for pain management. JennDoula said it worked better if you started using it before labor got intense. Jon helped me put it on. The shock was weird at first, but I was quite thankful for this interesting piece of equipment come 9pm. We went for a walk near Lincoln Park to spurr labor on. I would squeeze Jon’s hand through each contraction. We saw some church friends out walking as well. When we got home, I decided going to church might be risky. It also didn’t sound very comfortable. Jon made us some kind of chicken soup, and we tried to watch a movie about Winston Churchill.

The contractions continued getting more intense. By 9’o clock Jenn told us to head to the hospital, and she would meet us there. On the way to the hospital, I started texting everyone I could think of to let them know. I had a list of people. I knew I would need a squad of people praying and encouraging me. When we got to the hospital, we missed the labor entrance by a few minutes, so we had to walk around the building to a different entrance with all our labor tools in hand (haha, we didn’t use any of it!). We got in and went to triage. The nurse couldn’t believe I was going to try without an epidural. She did not believe I could do it. I could sense this and was slightly frustrated. By the end of the night, though, I was holding the same nurse’s hand hopeful that she would see me through to the birth of Jack.

As I went through the triage process, I could feel my patience slowly fading away. I was a little more stern with my words, so Jon took over with the communication. He was so good at being my advocate and trying to get everyone to stick to my birth plan. Once they hooked me up to the monitor and did the first check I was 6 centimeters and 80% effaced. Nurse Tuma said that I would have this baby by morning. I wasn’t in there long before they admitted me.

I had found out mid-pregnancy that there was a good chance I would not have the same OB I had been seeing for all of my check-ups during my actual labor, since the practice is so big. I was bummed, but I had been holding out hope that at least I might get a female OB for my delivery. Once they completed triage and placed me in a delivery room, I found out the OB on the floor was a male I had not met before. But, he ended up being the perfect doctor for us. I was very thankful for him. He honored my birth plan and never pushed his opinion of my care.

Jenn came at 11:18pm. I know the exact time because my amazing doula took minute by minute notes. I was in some tough pain by this point and taking a shower sounded so perfect. With some help from Jon, we were able to labor in the shower for a bit. During the week leading up to Jack’s due date, I made a whole contraction schedule. Everything from songs I would listen to, positions I would transition to, family I would FaceTime for encouragement. And when the time came, I never even got that list out of the bag. Laying on my back was not comfortable when I was pregnant, but it was all I wanted to do during labor. But, my doula was pretty persistent about getting me to move positions frequently throughout the night.

Close to midnight, she had me standing beside my bed swaying through each contraction. It was during this time that my water broke, and almost immediately, I felt very nauseous. Honestly, this part was awful. I feared throwing up, so I didn’t want to drink anything else. (BIG MISTAKE.) I also didn’t want to have an IV initially, so I wasn’t really getting any fluids besides a few ice chips here and there, which meant I wasn’t very hydrated. By 12:20, Nurse Tuma started the penicillin drip. I had to have it because they found I had Strep B early in pregnancy. Thankfully, Jenn was paying super close attention and noticed that the drip never started going through the IV. She brought it to the nurse’s attention, and the issue was resolved. One of many reasons why Jon and I are thankful we had a doula.

To help with pain, Jenn taught Jon how to do counter pressure on my back. He really was the ultimate ManDoula. That’s what Jenn called him. She said he was doing everything he was supposed to do. By 1:38, I was 7-8cm dilated and 80% effaced. Nurse Tuma took me off the penicillin, fluids, and monitors. Jenn had me get up and sway some more before laying back down to be on the monitors again. This routine continued for a good portion of the night. Around 3:20, my fear became reality: I threw up. What’s worse than throwing up? Not much, other than throwing up while in labor. Jenn had me get on my knees in bed and hang over the front. Another nurse came in around this time to tell us that Jon’s parents had arrived, anxiously sitting in the waiting room for their grandson to arrive.

By about 4am, the long labor was catching up with me and I was feeling extremely tired. More tired than I have ever felt in my life, I think. In between contractions, I would literally fall asleep. Jon was watching the monitor and could always tell when I was about to wake up for another contraction. Around 5am, they started a second round of penicillin. At 5:17, apparently I said, “”I feel a LOT of pressure! A LOT of pressure!” I wanted to push, but mostly I just wanted to be done laboring. I wanted my body to rest while I held Jackson on my chest. I had been thinking of that moment for months. Alas, it wasn’t quite time…

No one wanted Jackson’s birthday to be June 6. June 6 was the scheduled date of my dad’s HIPEC surgery. His only treatment to kill the awful appendix cancer that had been discovered in February of the same year. Jack being a week late and arriving on June 6 meant that my family was not able to come for the birth and couldn’t meet Jackson for weeks. My mom wouldn’t be able to spend time with me during those early days of recovery. In between this most recent round intense contractions, I was actually able to FaceTime with my dad. He was getting prepped for surgery. I was getting ready to push. Seeing my dad and talking with him was exactly what I needed to keep going. At 5:50, the OB resident came in and checked me: 9 cm dilated, 0 station, and 100% effaced. I couldn’t believe I had only gone up 1 cm. I was worn out. More laboring. More contractions.

At 6:39, doctor came in again, and the check was complete. Finally, 10 cm. I moved to my back, the doctors came in, and we started pushing with my abdomen. At first, Jon was standing beside the head of my bed. He was in charge of counting, but he was going way too fast. Jenn stepped in and reassigned him; she took on the counting, and I was thankful for that. There is an art to counting, and it literally means everything when you’re pushing. Jon was now holding a leg and Jenn was up by my head leading the count. They counted loud and kept yelling for me to push. It was a lot. I was not a two or three push girl. It took a good hour. Jack’s head would come close for what seemed like a few dozen pushes, but never enough. However, I was thankful I could feel myself pushing, having not had numbing meds, because I didn’t have bad tearing. Thankfully, through it all, my strong Jack didn’t get stressed. At 7:19, Nurse Tuma who had been through the whole night with me had to leave. I was so bummed. I wanted her to help me meet Jack. However, Nurse Rachel took her place. I must have told her about my dad or someone else did, because she told me that she was a cancer survivor. I instantly felt more at peace.

After a few more pushes, at 7:36am, our beautiful baby boy came into the world. (I am holding back tears right now.) I will never forget the feeling of this tiny being coming out of me. It was the hardest, most traumatic, most beautiful thing I have ever been a part of. My brave husband cut the cord. He was so proud of me, he told me that, and that he loved me so much. Those words were so sweet that morning, and I often think back to them. Two minutes later, my placenta was delivered. In all of this, I ended up losing more blood than usual, so they started some Pitocin and gave me Cytotec. They put a catheter in to empty my bladder (which I had no idea until I just read that in the notes).

By 8:06, I was FaceTiming my mom and introducing Jackson Paul to his GiGi (my mom), Aunt Cassie (my sister), and Oma (my grandmother). It was about then that I started not feeling well, almost like the world seemed to be fading a little. Jenn held Jack and a whole team of nurses rushed in. My blood pressure was crashing; it had dropped to 57/34. This was probably the scariest moment of all for me. I didn’t research anything about hemorrhages or complications after birth. And I kept telling everyone I didn’t want to die. I must have said it 15 times. Those poor nurses, I just kept talking. I told them about my dad’s cancer, that my sister was going to be a nurse, and who knows what else. But thanks to the nurses quick action, and after juice, fluids, and some rest, my excited in-laws came in, and we all praised God for bringing our precious Jackson Paul into our lives that day – a day on which we all needed to be reminded that God, as Jackson’s name means, has been gracious.



One thought on “The Story of Jack

  1. Reading this in the Paris airport and tearing up. You write elegantly and yet concisely. Bringing life into this world cannot help but be beautiful.

    Also dang you are strong Kristy!! xoxo


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