I remember waking up Thursday, April 30th and thinking, “this is it.” I kept questioning my sanity and telling myself, “stop it, that’s just silly” — To think I knew that this was the last day of my pregnancy, crazy right? (Although I did call the exact day with my first, and was right about it, so maybe it’s not so crazy.)
I woke up having back pain that morning, nothing serious, definitely not the kind I had when I experienced back labor with my first daughter. So I was trying to tell myself it wasn’t labor. However, Audrey had finally dropped and something just kept saying, this is it.
I was 39 weeks 4 days, so everything was already packed and ready to go. Freezer meals had been prepped, house was cleaned — I did some vacuuming that morning, then I went on about our day as normal.
The difference was, I knew it was my last day of being a mother of just one. Don’t ask me how, but I just did, which made for a very emotional day for me. I cried over every single thing my oldest daughter did.
While we watched cartoons, I cried.
While we showered and got ready for the day, I cried.
While we built towers and played outside, I cried.
I cried because I knew this was our last day as just the two of us, and as excited as I was to add one more to our days, the idea was bittersweet nonetheless.
At nap time, I laid down in her bed with her and napped with her, thinking to myself, this will be the last nap we take together, just the two of us. I woke up about 40 minutes into her nap and went and did my hair and makeup. I had been wanting to snap some photos of just the two of us for awhile but had kept saying, “tomorrow.” My gut told me, this is your last chance. So as tired as I was, I knew I wanted those photos. After she woke up, I got her ready. We went and took a few photos together, just her and I — nothing fancy, just a couple shots in my room and outside. After the photos, we went to visit my husband at the church (he’s a pastor and had asked for some help with something). When I got there I told Wes how I just had this feeling, something felt different today and I wouldn’t be surprised if this was it. His guess was one more day..
We finished up there and I told him I was too tired to cook, so he grabbed dinner for us. But because of where Audrey was positioned, I was barely able to eat. After Kinsley went to bed, I did a double check of our “go time” stuff, all the bags, snacks, Kinsley’s overnight bag, etc. then I lounged on the couch with Wes for the night as we watched Netflix. I had barely had any contractions since that morning and the ones I was having weren’t very strong, but my gut still told me otherwise. I asked for a late night sweet snack and told Wes I wanted to eat good because if I did go into labor in the middle of the night, I didn’t want to be hungry. Lol
We went to bed right about midnight. At about 12:15, I felt and heard this popping sound. At first I thought my water had broke, I sat up, but there was nothing. A few minutes later I had a fairly strong contraction. “This is it, labor is starting. I knew it.” My labor with Kinsley started right after midnight, too. But I labored all night until 9 the next morning before heading to the hospital.
What I didn’t know was how fast things would progress this time. I laid back down after the pop sound, but was up 10 minutes later because I was so uncomfortable. Feeling like I had to pee with a combination of another strong contraction, I tried to use the bathroom, but nothing. I had planned on hopping in the shower, but 6 minutes later, another very strong contraction. A little cautious, but sure that I couldn’t be that far along in labor, I went back into the bedroom and began walking and doing my breathing routine to see if I could slow the contractions.
5 minutes later, a contraction that took my breath away. I opened my contraction tracking app and started it, a little more concerned now. Another 5 minutes, another strong contraction, 4 minutes, another intense contraction. At this point, Wes was aware that I was up, but wasn’t out of bed yet. When the 4 minute contraction happened, I told him I thought we should probably go ahead and head towards my parents house — our hospital is an hour away and they live 15 minutes from the hospital. We had already planned to drop by first to leave Kinsley with them. We decided if the contractions stopped then we’d just spend the night there, but if not we’d head to the hospital.
At this point the contractions continued to come every 4-5 minutes and were very intense. The intensity is what really got me moving. Wes began to quickly pack the car. I woke Kinsley and told her that her baby sister was coming so we needed to go to the hospital and that she was going to Nonnie’s house.
I’ll never forget, when we buckled her into the car at 1:30 AM, half asleep, she goes “I love going to Nonnie’s house! She gives me treats.” Lol my contractions were so intense and I was at the point where I could barely speak already. I had this weird pressure and was terrified of my water breaking. I thankfully had brought a towel just in case my water happened to break in the car or heaven help us, I delivered.
My mom had been on standby since that morning, so when I text her at 1:30 to tell her the plan she was good to go. By the time we got to their road though, we were definitely going to the hospital, we basically threw Kinsley and her bag to them out the window and took off. Wes and I both thought for a few minutes that I might actually give birth in our car.
Because of covid, Wes was allowed to only make one trip to the car, once he was in, he wasn’t allowed to leave. So he dropped me off and went to park. I waddled in, told the young boy and older man at the front desk that I was in labor and wouldn’t you know, they asked me to fill out a form.
The old man told the younger guy to wheel me up and just hand off the paper to a nurse when I could. That poor boy - he was trying to make small talk and jokes with me, but all I could focus on was not birthing a baby right there. When he finally noticed I was barely talking, he asked how far apart my contractions were.
When I said 4-5 minutes for the past hour, shocked he said, “oh man! Please don’t have a baby on me. I haven’t had anyone give birth while I’m pushing them yet, let’s keep it that way!” He shut up after that and wheeled much faster.
Again, because of covid, he could only wheel me to a certain point, then had to page a L+D nurse to come get me to take me into the L+D floor. As soon as she arrived, he thankfully told her, “4-5 minutes for an hour, get her back quick!” My nurse was awesome, she got me situated quickly, checked me and found I was dilated to a 6-7. Wes made it up a few minutes later and as he came in, he said, “Hey I saw Melanie was out there! That’s awesome we got her again!”
Melanie was the midwife that delivered my oldest and she was phenomenal for me as a first time mom. This time around, instead of seeing a doctor for my regular appointments, I had basically only seen Melanie, minus a couple appointments. However, with covid, she had warned me at my last appointment that whoever was on call would just be the person to deliver for me, and thank you Jesus, Melanie just so happened to be on call that night.
I was so relieved when she walked in and said, “Hi, Alyssa, are you ready to have a baby?” She checked me once more and said I was at a 7-8 now, and laughed because my water bag was so low, she was amazed it hadn’t just busted yet.
She talked to me about my want for an epidural. I knew my chances were extremely slim to none at this point. But being the kind midwife she was, she said, “Look, I’ll do whatever I can to try to get you an epidural, but listen I’m just going to be honest. I think you’re having this baby, SOON. So it’s not looking good for the epidural.” She then told me that she believed in me and that I could do this naturally. She gave me the option to either break my water now to speed up the process or we could hold off a little longer and see what baby decided to do while she tried to get an epidural going.
During all of this, I was rolling around, squatting, breathing, shouting occasionally and getting pressure back rubs from Wes. That “weird pressure” that I kept feeling between the contractions was getting stronger and I had a feeling if we waited, my water was going to break on it’s own. Agreeing to not break it, my midwife and nurse walked out to begin preparing a few things. It wasn’t 5 minutes and I told Wes to “grab them now, the baby is coming!”
As he opened the door to tell them come back, my water broke. Both ladies came in, got me flipped over to my back. Exactly 7 minutes later, they placed Audrey in my arms. That 7 minutes felt like the longest, yet shortest, period of time ever.
People talk about birth being this out of body experience, for me that’s close to what it was. I still clearly remember having a conversation with myself inside my head while birthing. Sounds strange, it was. As if time stood still — but was flying by all at once.
This is what those 7 minutes looked like:
Wes coming to my side, holding my hand, then saying, “woah, I feel lightheaded all of a sudden, I think I need to sit.”
My amazing nurse, not evening missing a beat, pushing Wes over into the chair, grabbing my hand, “Yep, sit down dad, we don’t need to be taking care of you, too. You just sit, we’ve got her, okay!”
My midwife telling me, “you’re doing great, push! We’ve got a head!”
Me inside my head talking to myself: “I’m so tired and my thighs are burning! I knew I should’ve done more squats this time. Dang it.”
Another push. And another. And another.
Me: Several VERY loud groans.
Me inside my head: “oh man, I hope the girl next door can’t hear me (they had told me a another girl was next door laboring, but not progressing quickly). I don’t want her to be scared. This really isn’t painful, it’s just taking a lot of energy. Maybe she’s not a first time mom and already knows that. Maybe she’s cheering me on.”
“Alright, Alyssa, I need another good push. You’re doing great. If we can get one or two more really good pushes, she’ll be here.”
Me inside my head: “Ugh. I don’t want to do this anymore. I’m so tired. Can I just be done... you dummy, you can’t be done until she’s out. There’s no going back now.”
My nurse, staring me straight in the eye, holding my hand: “Hey, look at me — look at me — You. Can. Do. This. You’ve got this, okay. Let’s get her here, mama.”
Wes: (now standing back up over my shoulder) “You can do this! You’re strong! I believe in you. She’s almost here!”
Inside my head: “I love that man. Who would’ve thought he would be such a great birthing partner. Minus almost fainting this time, I think it was just because it’s so early. What time is it? How long have I been pushing?”
“Okay, hold on, don’t push yet. Alyssa, the cord is wrapped around Audrey, and I need to unwrap and clip it. That’s all I’m doing and then she should be fine, but I do need to get it off.
“Okay, give me a big push, mama! — that’s it! That’s it!”
*tiny, baby cries*
Instant relief. And at 4:02 AM, a precious, squishy, newborn baby girl was laid straight into my arms.
Audrey’s birth was the perfect birth for me. And even though labor and the actual birth was rapid and fast, with contractions that felt bone breaking, I remember thinking, “holy cow, this is amazing. My body is delivering a human being, right now, all by itself.” And every time I think of her birth, I can vividly remember it all — the sounds, the conversations, the emotions, the faces, the exhaustion, the adrenaline and then more exhaustion, followed by more adrenaline, and then the serene peace holding her sweet 7 lb. 4 oz. self.
But the one thing I can’t remember? That bone breaking pain of that hour and a half of intense contractions. And I can’t say I’m sad about that memory loss! Lol
I did find out later, that during that moment that Audrey’s cord was wrapped up, she was actually blue. Wes informed me, my midwife looked a little worried and when he saw Audrey, he was honestly scared. In my opinion, that was just more testament to how wonderful my midwife truly was. I fully trusted her, and instead of panicking me, she explained the situation enough that I knew what was happening, but didn’t put fear into me because she knew the stress it could cause on the birth and my body.
There’s something bittersweet about Audrey’s birth. The morning we welcomed her earth side, was the morning my family was saying goodbye to my papa at his memorial service. The week before she was born, he passed away, and due to covid and restrictions as well as other unknowns at that time, that entire situation was heartbreaking. For a long time, I didn’t feel like I got the proper goodbye, or closure — grieving a life, while simeltaneously celebrating another is a very emotional event to endure, it’s difficult to process what you feel and how you should feel.
As I got to know Audrey during her first year, and as her personality has continued to blossom, I have felt a peace about the rollercoaster of emotions I endured that April and May. And as those bittersweet one year dates came and went, I just know my Papa would have loved this little girl, mainly because she’s just as ornery as he was. When I see her mischievous grin, I’m reminded of him often.
And that’s the beauty of life, just as one comes to an end, another begins. I’m so honored to have the opportunity of raising this little life.
Here’s to two years of loving you, my sweet Audrey!
