Recently, a friend of mine started a
blog and wrote about her experiences of being pregnant and giving birth to her little girl, and it inspired me to do the same thing. I didn't start this blog until a few months after I'd had Rylee, so I don't have any of my pregnancy or birth experiences documented here. That's about to change. I can tell you right now that this will most definitely be my longest post to date, but I want to make sure I don't leave anything out (none of the important stuff, anyway). Also, be warned that some of this may be a little "TMI" for some of you. Of course I'm not going to post anything that is flat-out inappropriate, but just keep in mind that this post is about me getting/being pregnant and giving birth. So, here we go... this is Rylee's story.
It all started back in September 2009. Jordan and I had been married for three short months, and one day, sometime in early to mid September, I noticed I wasn't feeling too well. I didn't really think anything of it at first, but after feeling yucky for a few days, I started to wonder in the back of my mind if I was pregnant. I was late to start my cycle, but at the same time, that is very normal for me, because I have
PCOS. My cycle has always been irregular, and sometimes I'll skip a month or two of it before it decides to show up again. However, I also knew that it was POSSIBLE that I could be pregnant since Jordan and I were not using any forms of birth control at the time. I'm sure a lot of people disagreed with our decision on that, but we wanted to leave it in God's hands, and to be quite honest, we really didn't think I actually would get pregnant because of my
PCOS. I had always been told that I would be LUCKY if I EVER had a child. I thought I had "built in" birth control, as I liked to say. After a few days of feeling nauseous (no vomiting, though) and no sign of my period, I decided I should take a pregnancy test. I picked up a cheap test from the Dollar Tree (sorry, but I'm not paying $20 for a stick to pee on), and waited until the next morning to take it, "for best results", as the instructions said. I was SO nervous as I sat on the toilet that morning. I had never taken a pregnancy test before, and the thought that I might ACTUALLY be pregnant was almost too much to bear. I waited a few minutes for the result to show, and when I finally convinced myself to look at the test, it was very clearly NEGATIVE. I started crying. I don't know if any of the tears were tears of relief, but at that moment, all I thought was that everyone was right - I was never going to have a baby. I know that sounds silly now, because I was so young (19 at the time) and had only been married for a few months, and it's not that I actually wanted to be pregnant that early in our marriage (ideally, I hoped we would have at least a year to ourselves before I got pregnant). But for whatever reason, when I saw that one lonely line on that pregnancy test, it devastated me. I was SO sure I was pregnant. And I was so wrong. Sure enough, just a few days later (mid to late September), my period "graced" me with its presence. A day or two after I came off my period, I went to the OB/GYN for a pap smear, and they gave me a pregnancy test while I was there. It, too, was negative, which was no surprise to me.
On October 24, around the time my period was supposed to start again (if it was going to at all, that is), I started feeling nauseous again. I never threw up, but I felt yucky pretty much all day. This time, however, I was SURE I had a stomach virus or something. I had been wrong about thinking I was pregnant the month before, and I wasn't going to make that mistake again. However, after a few days of constantly feeling nauseous, I reluctantly decided to take a pregnancy test to reassure myself that I wasn't pregnant and that the "bug" I had would pass soon. I picked up another test from the Dollar Tree and left it in the bathroom to deal with the next morning. That morning, October 27, I was NOT nervous when I sat down on the toilet to take the test. I thought to myself, "This is so pointless. This is a waste of a dollar. I know it's gonna be negative." I took the test and set it down on the bathroom counter to wait for the result to show up. Almost IMMEDIATELY, this is what I saw:
TWO very dark, very clear pink lines. For those of you not familiar with pregnancy tests, that is what a very POSITIVE pregnancy test looks like. I was SHOCKED. I don't remember if I started crying right away or not, but I'm pretty sure I repeated, "Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh." over and over and over to myself. And I'm pretty sure I started shaking. Inside, I was absolutely freaking out. The month before, I REALLY thought I was pregnant, and I wasn't. This time, I really DIDN'T think I was pregnant, and I was. I just couldn't believe it. I left the test in the bathroom and shakily made my way back to my bedroom where Jordan was asleep in our bed. At that time, he was still working a midnight shift at UPS, and he had just gotten home a few hours earlier. I knew he was exhausted, but he knew that I was going to be taking a pregnancy test that morning, and he had told me to wake him up and let him know what the result was. I carefully crawled back into bed next to him and whispered, "Jordan...". I don't remember how many times I had to say his name, and I might have had to shake him a bit before he woke up, but he finally did, and I said, "It's positive." I might have been crying by that time, or I might have still been too shocked to cry - so much of that morning is a blur to me now. Jordan, still half asleep, smiled at me and wrapped his arms around me, giving me a hug and a kiss. I think he asked me if I was excited, and I think I told him I was scared. He, however, was happy. He hugged on me for a few more seconds, and then he started praying - for me, and for us, and for our new baby. Then he kissed me and asked me if he could go back to sleep. And that was it. I knew he was tired and needed to get some rest, so I left him in the bed and went into the living room. I sat down on the couch and immediately called my mom. It was still pretty early in the morning, but I knew she'd be up because she had to make sure my sister was getting ready for school. My mom also knew that I was going to be taking a test that morning. In a shaky voice, I told her the test was positive, and she said, "Oh boy." I told her I didn't know what to do, and she told me I should probably start by calling the doctor to schedule an appointment. So, that's what I did. I went to the doctor later that afternoon, and a nurse drew my blood to do a blood pregnancy test for confirmation. The next day, three years to the day after my grandpa Parker passed away, I got a call from one of the nurses at my OB/GYN with the result of the blood test. I was definitely pregnant.
I scheduled my first official appointment with Dr. Dupre on November 4, and he determined I was approximately 8 weeks along, with a due date around June 16, 2010. The next day, Jordan and I went in for my first ultrasound. As soon as the technician pulled up the first black and white image of the little "blob" of a baby that was growing in my stomach, I started crying. Even as small as it was, I could immediately see the rapid movement of a beating heart. I squeezed Jordan's hand, and kept looking back and forth from his smiling face to the ultrasound screen. Then, the technician flipped a switch, and all of a sudden, I heard the most beautiful sound that had ever reached my ears thus far. The loud swooshing of my baby's heartbeat, which was strong at 145 beats per minute, filled the room, and my tears continued to flow. It was such a surreal but perfect moment. This was the very first image we received of our precious little miracle:
I decided to take belly pictures to document my growth. (I will include a few of them in this post.) I took my first picture on Monday, November 9, and decided to take pictures after every doctor appointment I had. Here is the first picture (I weighed approximately 107 pounds at the time):
As the days passed, my shock began to wear off, and it slowly but surely sank in that I REALLY WAS pregnant. I was going to be a mommy. My first trimester wasn't too bad overall, compared to most other women's experiences in their first trimesters. I did a lot of crying those first few weeks, because I was SO scared that I was going to have a miscarriage. Although it wasn't in my "plan" to get pregnant that early in my marriage, I certainly didn't want to lose my baby now that I was pregnant. I was nauseous pretty much all day every day, which certainly wasn't fun, but I never actually threw up once throughout my entire pregnancy (although I came really close once or twice in those first few weeks), which was a MAJOR blessing, because I absolutely HATE throwing up. Despite my nausea, there were no smells or foods or anything that made me sick (well... except for tacos. They didn't actually make me sick, but the thought of eating them made me feel sick, so I couldn't eat them, which was weird, since I LOVE tacos), and I was usually able to eat; in fact, I had to try to keep food on my stomach during the day to help control my nausea. I carried saltine crackers with me EVERYWHERE I went (work... church... everywhere) during my first trimester. Needless to say, I got REALLY tired of eating saltine crackers. My first trimester was also a very exhausting time for me. I was only working part-time, but every day when I got home from work, I HAD to take a nap. On days when I would try to go without one, I would still usually end up falling asleep somewhere at some point. Finally, when I was about 12 or 13 weeks along, it seemed as if I woke up one morning, and I felt great. My nausea was gone, and I felt a new "wave" of energy, paving the way for a wonderful second trimester.
On February 1, 2010, when I was in my 20th week of my pregnancy, it was finally time for me to go to the doctor for my second ultrasound to find out if I was having a boy or a girl. From basically day one of finding out I was pregnant, I had a strong feeling that the baby was going to be a girl. I don't know why I had this feeling; in fact, I had always thought it would be nice to have a boy first so he could help protect his younger siblings. But for whatever reason, I just KNEW it was going to be a girl. Jordan, however, refused to accept that. He wanted a boy first, too. My mom and dad went with us to my appointment, and we were all so anxious as the technician began the ultrasound. I couldn't wait to see my baby - it had been 12 long weeks since my first ultrasound, and I knew it would look a LOT different than the "blob" we had seen back in November. The first image of our baby appeared on the screen, and I stared back in amazement. It had grown and changed so much... my baby actually looked like a baby. The technician took a few minutes to check the baby's heart rate (157 beats per minute), take measurements of the baby, and make sure everything (the organs, etc.) looked good, and then she was ready to check the gender. She finally got a shot between the baby's legs, and I knew right away what it was. I am certainly no expert, but I had seen enough ultrasounds on TV shows like
A Baby Story to have a general idea of what I was looking at, and I knew that I did not see anything sticking out between the legs. I was right. It was a girl. I knew it. We had already decided that if it was a girl, her name would be Rylee Lauryn. I couldn't have been happier. Here are two of the ultrasound pictures we got of our precious baby girl that day, followed by the belly picture I took that day (I weighed 109.5 pounds that day):
I don't remember what the date was the first time I felt Rylee move (partly due to the fact that I didn't realize at first that the "bubbles" I was feeling in my stomach was actually fetal movement), but three days after finding out we were having a girl, Jordan got to feel her kick for the first time. I was sitting on the couch, and she started moving/kicking. I didn't think too much about it at first, because I had been feeling the movement for a couple of weeks by that time, but suddenly, as I sat there watching my stomach, I saw a small area of it pop out really quick. I thought to myself, "Surely if I just saw it, Jordan should be able to feel it!", so I quickly called him over to me and put his hand on my stomach where I had just seen it move. Rylee kicked again, and sure enough, Jordan was able to feel it. It was a precious moment.
My second trimester was, for the most part, absolutely wonderful. It was such an enjoyable time of my pregnancy. I rarely felt sick, and I no longer NEEDED to take naps to get through the days (although I still took them on occasion, simply because of the fact that I could, and people were always telling me to "get as much rest as I could while I still could"). My face was clearer (of acne) than it had ever been, and I really felt beautiful, even though I was getting bigger every day. My stomach did a lot of noticeable growing during my second trimester, which made the pregnancy feel even more "real" to me, because I actually LOOKED like I was pregnant. I loved my baby belly. (I still miss it.) I did have cravings for certain foods every now and then (I remember one specific occasion where I basically had an emotional breakdown because I was craving a salad and chocolate chip cookies, and we had neither in our house, and I didn't feel like going anywhere to get them. Looking back on it - and how I was hysterically crying, while Jordan attempted to console me while trying not to laugh in my face (and failing rather miserably) -, it was rather hilarious. At the time, though... not so much.), but I never really had any huge, constant cravings for anything specific, and I never craved anything that I normally wouldn't eat (No, I did not eat pickles with ice cream. I don't even like pickles.).
Sometime in my second trimester (or possibly into the beginning of my third trimester), my stomach started doing something strange. Every now and then, seemingly out of nowhere, my entire stomach would tense up really tight and become very bulky and boulder-y in shape. It would be hard as a rock. It wasn't really painful, but I would feel a lot of pressure. After a minute or two, my stomach would relax back to normal. It was so weird, and when it first started happening, I wasn't sure what was going on, but I thought Rylee was somehow pushing her entire body against my stomach. I described what I was feeling/experiencing to my doctor, and he told me I was having
Braxton Hicks contractions. He said they were like "practice contractions"; they were my body's way of preparing itself for real labor. In the beginning, they really weren't much of a bother at all, but as I got further along in my pregnancy, they intensified in strength. I would often have several in a day, and sometimes they were so strong, it felt like my body tensed from my stomach all the way up into my throat, making it hard to breathe. I would have to lean my head back and breathe through it until it went away. Although they got rather annoying after awhile, I'm thankful that I had them, because they really did help prepare my body for labor.
As I entered into my third trimester, I began to experience pain in my lower back/tailbone area. I was able to walk around and sit and stand with no real problem, but when I would start to lie down, I would immediately feel the pain. It wasn't too bad at first, but over time, the pain got worse and worse until it was almost unbearable. I asked the nurse about it at one of my doctor appointments shortly after I began experiencing it, and she told me that it sounded like I had
sciatica. It's apparently pretty common during pregnancy because of the way our bodies shift to prepare for delivery. The shifting can put pressure on or pinch the sciatic nerve. I had never experienced pain like it before. Going to bed became a task that I dreaded. Just trying to crawl/climb into bed would bring me to tears, and rolling over from side to side was almost impossible. I was well into my pregnancy at that point, so of course I always woke up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. I would try to get out of bed by myself as carefully as I could, but the pain was excruciating, and I would often end up literally screaming out loud. Jordan tried to help me as best as he could, but there was really nothing either of us could do about it. It was the worst pain I have ever felt in my life (WAY worse than even labor... but more on that in a little while), and it lasted for several weeks (in fact, I don't really remember when the pain started subsiding, but I don't think it was very bad by the time I actually gave birth, thankfully). I always described it as saying it felt like my lower back was broken - although I have no idea what a broken back actually feels like. The sciatica was definitely the worst part of my pregnancy, but I would go through it all again in a heart beat, knowing what blessing was on its way.
I was thrown two baby showers while I was pregnant, which were both huge blessings. We received so many wonderful gifts that really helped prepare us for our baby girl. First, my co-workers at Chocodelphia threw me a small baby shower on April 18, 2010. Then, the sweet people at the church we were attending at the time hosted a baby tea for me on May 23. Here are a couple of pictures from my two showers:
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| baby shower from my Chocodelphia co-workers |
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| baby shower from our church family at the time |
On April 19th, we went to the doctor to have a 4-D ultrasound done, but unfortunately, Rylee wouldn't cooperate very well, and the technician had a hard time getting good pictures her of. Thankfully, however, she let us come back two days later for a second attempt at no extra cost, and on that day, she got several great shots. In some of the pictures, she had her eyes open. She was sucking on her fingers (at one point, it also looked like she flipped us off!), pouting, smiling, and blowing kisses at us. It was so amazing to see such detailed pictures of our baby girl. Technology is an incredible thing. Here is one of my favorite 4-D pictures we got of Rylee that day (the blob on the side of her face is my placenta):
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| her eyes were wide open! |
I put on the majority of the weight I gained in my final trimester (I gained a total of about 24 pounds during my pregnancy), and my belly got really big (I was "all baby", as everyone always told me. Thankfully, my face and no other parts of my body "blew up" like a blow fish as I feared they would). I could no longer see any part of my body below my stomach, and I began to waddle when I walked around. Everyone who saw me told me there was NO WAY I was going to make it to my due date, and I really didn't think I would either. I prayed that Rylee would come on June 7th, because that was my grandpa Parker's birthday, and I thought it would be really special for her to share the birthday of her great-grandpa whom she never got to meet. (And remember, I got the confirmation that I was pregnant with her on the three-year anniversary of the day he passed away.) However, June 7th came and passed, and there was still no Rylee. I was pretty bummed, but I knew it meant she just wasn't ready yet (or that she was just stubborn and already disobedient, because I'd had several talks with her leading up to that day telling her that I REALLY wanted her to come out on June 7th. Did she listen to Mommy? No.). Anyway, despite what everyone thought/said, my due date drew closer and closer, and Dr. Dupre decided that, if Rylee did not come by the day before my due date, he would induce me. Because I have a small frame, he didn't want her to get too big, which would complicate things for me during labor and delivery (thank you, Dr. Dupre!). I had my final doctor check-up on June 9. Dr. Dupre was actually out of town that day, so I met with one of his partners, Dr. Martin. He checked me and said I was already approximately 2 centimeters dilated. He told us that, if I didn't have Rylee in the next few days, we were to report to the labor and delivery floor of the hospital bright and early at 5am on June 15 so I could be induced. I couldn't believe it. It was almost time to meet my baby girl. I took my final belly picture that day after my doctor appointment. I was 39 weeks along, and weighed 131 pounds. Here is the picture:
In the last week of my pregnancy, I felt like EVERYONE was waiting for Rylee to make her grand appearance. Every day, at least one person would check in with me and ask, "You haven't had that baby YET?!" I talked to Rylee often and told her that she was quickly running out of time to come out by her own free will. Otherwise, we were gonna force her out. On June 13th, two days before I was due to be induced, Jordan and I celebrated our one-year wedding anniversary. I couldn't believe how fast the year had gone by, and I REALLY couldn't believe that we were going to be parents in just a couple of days. I was really nervous that I would go into labor on our anniversary. It might sound silly, but I really didn't want Rylee to come on our anniversary. I wanted that date to be a special day for just Jordan and me, and I wanted Rylee to have her own special day as well. Of course we wouldn't have been upset had she been born on our anniversary, but thankfully, she held off.
June 14th came, but Rylee did not, and when I went to bed that night, I think I was still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that, the next day, I would finally get to meet my baby girl, whom I had been carrying around for nine long months. I don't think I slept very well that night, but it didn't really matter.
Jordan and I woke up in the wee hours of the morning (around 3:30) so we could get ready to head to the hospital. On the ride there, I was surprisingly calm. I know I was nervous, anxious, scared, excited, and probably a million other things all balled into one big emotion, but at the same time, I had a sense of peace. I had not been allowed to eat anything since midnight, but my stomach was surprisingly calm as well, especially considering the fact that I usually feel nauseous when I'm anxious about something. I didn't know what to expect, but I was in constant prayer that God would be with me, the doctors, and the nurses, and that Rylee would arrive safely and healthily.
We made it to the hospital, and after signing in, a nurse led me to my delivery suite. When I walked in, I'm sure my mouth literally hit the floor. The room was huge. I went into the bathroom to change into the gown the nurse gave me, and then I climbed into the bed. "Let's get this party started," I thought to myself. The nurse injected an IV into my right hand and started the pitocin drip. She then put some bands around my belly to monitor Rylee's heart rate. I settled in, and Jordan turned the TV on in hopes of finding something worth watching to pass the time. From what I can remember, the first couple of hours went by seemingly fast. I don't think I fell asleep at all, but I really don't remember.
Shortly after 7 o'clock, Dr. Dupre came in to check on me and break my water. To that point, I had not felt any real discomfort. If I was having contractions, they weren't painful enough for me to notice. I was nervous about him breaking my water; I had heard it was pretty painful. It took him only a second to do it, and although it was uncomfortable, it did not really hurt as I feared it would. He explained to me that the frequency and intensity of my contractions would start to pick up, because, by breaking my water, my body was now in "active" labor. Before he left, I asked how long he thought it would be before I was ready to push. Dr. Dupre always likes to make predictions about stuff (before we found out we were having a girl, he "predicted" I would have a boy. He said he was usually wrong, though, and, in our case, he was.). He said, "I'd give it a good eight hours or so. We'll say around 2 or 3 this afternoon."
Sure enough, as Dr. Dupre had said, I started feeling my contractions. Although they were uncomfortable (they felt like strong menstrual cramps to me), I handled them surprisingly well. One would come on, and I would breathe through it, and as soon as it subsided, I felt completely fine again until the next one came on. They never hurt badly enough to make me cry or cuss Jordan out (I don't cuss) or any of those other things that I had seen so many women do on TV and in movies. I honestly can't remember if I experienced any back labor, but if I did, it wasn't very intense either.
Sometime in the 9 o'clock hour, two or three nurses came into my room pushing a rolling table with all kinds of "tools" on it. I saw the table and knew immediately what they were there to do. I had told the nurses when I had arrived at the hospital that I would want to be given an epidural at some point, but I was still feeling pretty good overall. I didn't need it yet. I didn't want it yet. I wasn't ready for it yet. The epidural was what I was most nervous about, even more than pushing. I had heard horror stories about women's experiences getting epidurals, and I had not prepared myself to go through it yet. One of the nurses told me they wanted to go ahead and give me the epidural while I was still relatively comfortable so I could sit really still. I took a deep breath and figured it was best to go ahead and get it out of the way anyway. The nurses had me sit up and hang my legs over the edge of the bed. Jordan stood in front of me, and I had to lean toward him with my shoulders rolled forward. The nurse explained to me each step she was doing. I felt her rub something on my back, and after a minute, she told me I would feel a pinch sort of like a bee sting. I sat really still and felt a slight prick. Then the nurse started putting tape on my back, and after another minute, she said, "Okay, you're all set. You can lie back now." "That's it?" I asked her. "That's it," she said. "You did great." I couldn't believe it. I had barely felt it. It had hurt worse to get the IV in my hand. I was so relieved. I know I was praisin' Jesus on that one. I reclined back on the bed, and the nurse told me that she needed to put a catheter in. While she was "down there", she checked me to see how far dilated I was. I remember asking her about how far along I should be by that time (since I was already a good two centimeters when I got to the hospital that morning, and a few hours had passed since then), and she said, "If you're at four, you'll be doing good." She checked me and said, "Oh wow. You're a good six." Things were moving right along. I asked her how much longer she thought I had left since I only had four centimeters to go, and she said that, although all women are different, most women dilate about a centimeter an hour from that point on. It looked like Dr. Dupre's prediction was going to be pretty close.
The epidural had started kicking in by that time, and the left side of my body was getting good and numb. It was the strangest feeling. However, I noticed that the right side of my body wasn't going numb. It didn't exactly surprise me, since I've had past issues with the right side of my mouth going numb for dental work. Something must be wrong with the right side of my body. Anyway, the nurse said she'd give me a few minutes to see if it would start to set in. When she came back to check on me, I still felt basically the same. The left side of my body from my waist down was completely numb, but I could still feel my contractions in the lower right part of my stomach. It was so weird. The nurse decided to have me lay on my right side so gravity could help pull the medicine into the right side of my body. After helping get me settled, the nurse left and told me she'd be back after awhile to check on me. I laid on my right side, and finally, after a few minutes, I noticed that I wasn't feeling my contractions anymore. The epidural was finally kicking in on my right side.
I had been laying on my side for probably 15 minutes or so, and suddenly I started feeling a lot of pressure. The pressure would come on strong, and then it would subside, and a minute or two later, it would come on again. I couldn't feel pain from my contractions anymore, but I could still feel my stomach tighten up when I would have one, and the pressure was in sync with my contractions. It happened a few times, and finally I told my mom (who had arrived at the hospital with my brother sometime in the 8 o'clock hour, I think... I really don't remember when they got there) that I was feeling weird. I was confused because, with the pressure, I felt like I was experiencing an urge to push. However, not even half an hour had passed since the nurse had checked me, and I was only 6 centimeters. I still had a few hours to go. It couldn't possibly be time. Just then, a nurse in training came in to check on me and I told her what I was feeling. She left to get my nurse, and when she came in, she asked me, "Are you ready?" I don't remember how I may or may not have responded, but she checked me and said, "Oh yeah! You're 10 centimeters. It's time to have a baby!"
I immediately started crying. Chaos ensued. Nurses were running all over the room, getting things ready. Two nurses helped me scoot down in my bed, and lifted my legs into stirrups. I saw my mom across the room talking to my dad on the phone. I heard her say, "She's getting ready to push! Drop what you're doing and get here NOW!" My poor brother was running around the room like a chicken with his head cut off, trying to find the way OUT. He kept saying, "Where do I go?! Where do I go?! What do I do?! Where do I go?!" (Looking back on it, it was absolutely hilarious.) My daddy, who had driven up from Florida, was to my right. We agreed to let him stay in room during the delivery, and I remember him joking about hoping he wouldn't pass out. I told him he better sit down if he thought it was a possibility, because if he passed out, it would freak me out. He reassured me he would be fine. Jordan was to my left, holding my hand and smiling at me. This was it. We were finally about to meet our baby girl. Everything happened so fast. The nurse had me pushing before Dr. Dupre even came into the room. I remember asking her if it was okay that I started without him, and she said, "Oh yeah. We don't need him." (She was joking, of course.) Finally, Dr. Dupre arrived and said, "Well that was fast."
Pushing was definitely the hardest part of labor for me. I didn't realize how exhausting it would actually be. Dr. Dupre and the nurses were great about talking and helping me through everything, though. When I felt the pressure of a contraction coming on, I had to bear down into my stomach and push as hard as I could, "like I was having a big bowel movement". It hurt having to bear down into my stomach to push, because it was hard as a rock during contractions. I would count to ten while I pushed through my contraction, and then I could take a break to catch my breath for a minute before the next contraction came. As I continued to push, they told me they could see Rylee's head, and that it was full of long, dark hair. Dr. Dupre held up his thumb and pointer finger about an inch apart and told me, "It's this long!" I got a kick out of that. I wanted to say, "That's great, Doc, but how 'bout you help me get her out so I can see it too?" And so I pushed some more. Sometimes the nurses would tell me, "Great job! Give us another push just like that one!", and other times, they would say, "Come on, push harder!" For any of you women who have had an epidural, you know how difficult it is to "push harder". That epidural was my best friend during labor. It certainly did its job - I didn't feel a thing in the way of actual pain. But, I also couldn't feel how well I was pushing. The nurses would tell me to "push harder", and I would try with all my might, but I couldn't feel what I was doing, so I didn't know if I actually was pushing harder or not. It all felt the same. It was frustrating. After a few pushes, I was quickly becoming exhausted, and I heard Dr. Dupre say to one of the nurses, "She can't feel it. She's just too numb." He told me he was going to use the vacuum to help pull Rylee out. He positioned the vacuum, and I started pushing again. Suddenly, I could feel the pressure of Rylee's body coming through my birth canal. I was crying and saying, "Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!" over and over. And then, she was out. And I heard the most beautiful cry I had ever heard in my life. So much of what happened in those precious first minutes of Rylee's life are a blur to me now, but I know they were perfect. She was perfect. She was born at 11:28am (I pushed for less than half an hour), and she weighed 7 pounds, 13 ounces and was 21 inches long. And she did have a head full of long, dark hair, just like everyone said. She was so beautiful, and I was so in love. The nurses got her cleaned up, and then everyone left the room so Jordan and I could have a few minutes alone with our new baby girl. I was able to nurse Rylee, and she took to it immediately with no problems, which was such a blessing. I couldn't take my eyes off her. I knew my life would never be the same. I was a mommy.
Here is a picture my daddy took of Rylee RIGHT AFTER Dr. Dupre pulled her out of me:
Here's Jordan cutting her umbilical cord... and still holding my hand:
June 15, 2010 was definitely one of THE BEST days of my life. I am so thankful for my Rylee.
