My due date was March 26th. The last day of school before spring break. The plan was for my mum to come up on March 25th, and stay through spring break to help with the kids, and be here for when things would shake down. I was fairly confident I would make it to my due date, having being overdue with 3/4 kids. And since 3/4 of my labours occurred overnight, it would have been much easier for my mum to already be here, vs me calling my sister to come over in the dead of night. So we were all praying and crossing fingers that she would just wait until her due date.
My house was dusted, my floors were scrubbed, my laundry was being done on the daily, and I was making sure our fridge and cupboards were stocked every couple days. I had finally installed the car seat (3 days before she was born haha), and was feeling prepared- or at least the house was feeling prepared.
On Thursday (Mar 25th), I got home from playschool with Scarlett, and without going into gory detail, noticed some pretty obvious signs that labour was likely in the next 24 hours. I had only experienced that with Scarlett (who was my only early baby), and I went into labour about 18 hours later. So I gave Gordon and my mum a heads up, and then I cleaned both my bathrooms, made sure laundry was extra caught up, and threw a couple more things in the hospital bag...you know, just in case.
I started having irregular contractions in the early afternoon, but nothing that I needed to keep track of. When the kids came home from school, I unpacked their lunch bags and started repacking them already for the next morning....you know, just in case.
My mum arrived at supper time. Sigh of relief, we made it! She asked me what the routine for the kids was in the morning. I just held up a notebook where I had already written down a complete schedule and checklist for her (she just stared at me and laughed)...you know, just in case.
Some of the contractions I was having were quite uncomfortable, but still all over the place, and I knew I was likely in for a sleepless night, whether or not I was in actual labour. I had a YW presidency meeting at 8, which I consistently contracted through. That was when I noticed them coming more regularly and I started timing them. They were every 5-6 mins, but around 930, which is when Gordon went to bed, they started to taper off. I figured I would hop in the shower and go to bed to try and get some sleep, in case things picked back up in the middle of the night. Well by the time I got out of the shower they started coming back. I didn't want to disrupt Gordon, so I laid down on the couch around 11 to try and rest. They had slowed down to every 8-10 minutes, so I would almost be able to fall asleep in between them. At midnight they picked up in frequency and intensity. I couldn't just lie there, close my eyes and breathe through them anymore. I wanted to give it another hour if I could, or at least wait until I couldn't talk through them anymore. With Isaac and B I went to the hospital in false labour (painful as it was) and had to go back home, so that was always in the back of my mind. I didn't want to wake Gordon up, get there, only to be sent home, especially since he had work in the morning.
But at 1230 they were every 3-4 minutes and becoming quite painful, so I woke him up and told him it was time to go. Course he wanted to shower, pack snacks, brush his teeth again... so I made sure everything was accessible and ready to go for the kids getting to school in the morning. By the time we got in the van it was 1am and we had a 25 min drive ahead of us. I had about 5 contractions in the van, with me gripping the handles and mentally counting 12 even breaths for each one.
When we got to the hospital at 130, I had Gordon drop me off in the parking lot so he could go claim a free parking spot somewhere residentially. We're both too cheap to pay for that stuff. Unfortunately the little shortcut path to the emergency that used to exist was closed, so I had to hobble around the outside hospital to the other side to get to the doors. Gordon caught up with me in emergency getting registered, and then I was swiftly wheeled up to labour and delivery triage.
When we got up there, I asked her to check me first before doing anything, so I would know where this was going. I wasn't going to lie in bed strapped to the heart monitor for 20 minutes if I wasn't going to be admitted. The whole time I'm praying silently in my head that my body has actually done something in the last couple hours. She told me I was 5cm, and both I and Gordon were very relieved that we wouldn't be sent walking stairs or driving home. I told her I was ready for my epidural as soon as I was settled in the labour room, and she went to go get me admitted. Looks like this little girl would follow her cousin Georgia, born 7 weeks ago, and also be born on her due date. Contrary to my thumbs up in the picture below, I was anything but "thumbs up". I just like to put on a good face.
Contractions lying in the bed are torturous. I had Gordon put the side rails up on the bed so I could grab them, instead of crushing the bones in his hand, every time one would hit me. Finally after what seemed like forever (but was only 30 mins), we were moved into a labour room. I still needed an IV for the epidural and I had tried to be good about drinking lots, but I could tell my hand veins weren't going to cut it. I suggested a different vein to my nurse, but she wasn't able to get it (if only I could start IVs on myself...), and so she called the anesthetist to start one. I had a few more contractions while sitting and waiting on the bed, and I looked at Gordon and said "Remember, I'm never doing this again." Thank heavens the anesthetist found a vein, and it was only 2 more painful contractions before my epidural was up and running at 230.
I was really really hoping to get some sleep. With B, I think I slept for a solid 3 hours once I had my epidural (they wanted my antibiotics to go through before anything happened). But I could not sleep this time. Between them taking vitals and checking things, and me thinking about the kids getting off to school in the morning it was impossible. At 345 I was 6-7cm. I alternated between closing my eyes and reading my book. At 5am, I started feeling painful tailbone pressure with contractions, but wasn't anymore dilated. 5th baby isn't a quick labour charm apparently.
I gave myself a top-up and rolled over onto my side to try and sleep. I also asked them to break my water when they had a chance to get things moving. At 6am, the resident broke my water and I was STILL 7cm. My labours are notoriously slow, but this was both discouraging and exhausting, especially since I was still having lots of pressure discomfort. Being awake for 24hrs and not having eaten anything started to get to me. At 645 I felt incredibly nauseous, and turned over onto my side, dry heaving into a basin. Baby girl didn't like that and her heart rate dropped immediately below 100. I was checked and only 8cm, so they tried to get bring the heart rate up by having me roll into different positions and even get up on my hands and knees. Nothing seemed to help, and the next 10 mins were a flurry of nurses and the resident in the room trying to get her heart rate to come up.
They decided to put a lead on her scalp to better monitor her heart rate, and after moving around some more, it started to go back up again at 7am. I could not get comfortable though. The pain from the pressure in my pelvis was constant, but when my new nurse took over at 730, I was still only 8cm. I wanted to cry (that's putting it mildly). I didn't think I was going to have any fight left in me for pushing. Once you get to baby 5-actually like baby 3- you're expected to just pop them out fast and furious. Not me. I'm an anomaly in the childbirthing world.
Then something shifted with the next two contractions. My breath came in shaky gasps, I lost control of my tears, my body was vibrating, and I wanted to both scream and vomit. It felt like she was going to burst herself free from my body, and my body was triyng to hold onto her with all its might. I told the nurse I needed to be checked, and she told me I was 9.5. My body was both trying to cling to this little one and force her out. Mercifully the OB walked into the room, checked me, and said "lets have this baby". I pushed through 4 cycles, drawing strength from every reservoir that I possessed, until finally at 751 am my body let her go into the wide world.
She seemed so tiny to me. I would be shocked in an hour to find out she was 6lbs10oz, our biggest baby by 5 oz. The damage to my pelvic floor it seemed was the same as usual. "You don't have stretchy tissues." This wasn't exactly a revelation after 5 kids and 5 second degree tears (not counting the added episiotomy the first time around). It also seemed that a short umbilical cord was the cause of all the labour drama. She actually couldn't reach my chest when they placed her on me. She took some persuasion to cry, but finally let out a little squeal which my mum was able to hear over the phone. She called Gordon because the alarm was triggered when the kids left for school, and was on the phone with him when she let out her first cries.
We had no name picked out for her. After 3 other girls, our well of names seemed to have been decimated. We had 3 on the "list"-basically the only ones we could both agree on without too much argument. It had been revamped several times, because we lost interest in a name, or it didn't seem to fit. One of the names- Lily, was an early suggestion of Scarlett's after we found out we were having a girl (along with Glittery, Sparkly and other questionable recommendations). Almost every week she would say "What about Lily?" Finally we just added it to the list to make her happy. My niece, born 4 months ago was named Rose, so I wasn't sure I also wanted this little one to have a flower name.
Gordon insisted he couldn't possibly choose a name on an empty stomach, so we postponed the discussion until after we were moved to postpartum and had a decent (or as decent as the hospital cafeteria can get) breakfast. We tossed our first 3 choices back and forth, and threw around another couple possibilities that had been runners up for the other girls. Again both our initial impressions seemed to match, and Lily started to become the front runner. But then what to do about a middle name?
Traditionally all of our kids middle names have been family name. One honoring each of our parents families, for a total of 4. Having a 5th kind of threw off that groove. None of the girls have any of my names, so that was a possibility I considered pretty seriously. But having Morgan as a middle name kind of made it sound like she had two last names. My middle name is Lauren (pronounced Laur-enne not Laur-in), so we mulled over that as well, discussing changing the spelling so it wouldn't be mispronounced like my middle name often is. The last name that I had contemplated ever since I found out we were having a girl was "Grace", because it has an especially important meaning to me- and that is "the divine means of help or strength given through the bounteous mercy and love of Jesus Christ". A strength that as a mother, and especially over this past year, is a invaluable gift upon which I rely heavily to make up for my weaknesses and shortcomings. When I looked up the meaning of Lauren, it referenced the Laurel plant, and since B's middle name is Laurel (after my Grandma Jolie), I felt like they would basically have the same name. If her name wasn't a family name, I wanted it to be meaningful and there aren't many names that embody as much eternal significance as Grace. My sister pointed out her name was perfectly for an almost Easter baby- Lily being the Easter flower and Grace being the central theme of the celebration. It was unintentional, but felt completely right.
We were anxious to go home as soon as possible, so we could all get some actual rest, and so I could manage my own pain medication. Thankfully, probably because there were babies coming out of the woodwork that weekend, and because it's our 5th, we were able to go home that evening. The kids were so excited to meet their new sister and fawned shamelessly over her until we forced them to go to bed. B just wanted to observe from afar.
Tomorrow marks a week since she was born and we brought her home. She is generally very content, except when naked or in the bath. She is very interested in everyone's faces, and spent her first night in the bassinet last night, only waking up to eat twice. I've nicknamed her older sisters "the Smother Mothers", but her big brother has done his fair share of talking to her, and cuddling her. It's amazing how instantly they make a space in your heart that's just for them.
