Since Donovan is fast asleep right now, I figured it was a good time to post about how our little one was born.

It started the morning of my birthday, Thursday, March 25th.  I had a doctor’s appointment first thing in the morning before work, and while I was there, I asked the doctor to check to see if I was dilated at all (since I was 38 weeks and curious!).  She said I was 1cm–no big deal, I could be 1 cm for weeks, no worries.  Later that afternoon, around 2:00  I (sorry if the following is too descriptive) used the bathroom and noticed some blood.  I hadn’t had any bleeding or spotting at all during my pregnancy, so this was alarming, to say the least.  So I got online and was looking up any information I could find–did I lose my mucus plug??  One piece said I was having “bloody show” and should be preparing for going into labor within hours… YIKES!!! I emailed it to Grant and then called the doctor’s office and told them what I thought I was having.  “No,” the nurse said, “it’s probably just spotting from your exam this morning. Don’t worry, it should go away within 24 hrs. If it doesn’t then let us know.”  Phew!  I felt relieved, and so did Grant–and Allison by the way… Grant told her what was going on and she called me freaking out.  So we all went about our day and later that evening, since it was my birthday, Grant took me to dinner at the Olive Garden.

We had just ordered our food and were in the middle of eating our salad and breadsticks.  Grant said something funny and I laughed.  Then I thought, “did I just pee my pants? No, I never peed myself during this whole pregnancy.  Oh my gosh, it’s not stopping!”  So I turned to Grant and said, “I think my water just broke!”  He looked at me, almost expressionless, and said, “are you serious?!”  “Yes,” I said. “the seat is wet!  I think I should go to the bathroom.” So I left Grant in our booth, stunned and shocked, and high-tailed it to the bathroom.  I was in there for about 5 minutes, thinking poor Grant–I’m coming, I’m coming!  Then a lady walked in and said, “Ceara?”  Confused, I said, “yes?”  “Your husband is outside and he wants to know if everything is ok.”  “Yes, everything is fine, I’ll be out in a minute.”  Well, she let him in (since I was the only one in there) and I told him we needed to get the bill and go to the hospital.  We make our way back to our table, catch our waitress and tell her that my water broke and we needed the bill because we had to go.  She looked freaked out and said she would get it and also box up our food since it was just about to come out.  Cool.  The manager came over with the bill, but said it was on the house and wished us luck. The waitress came back with our food, plus extra salad and breadsticks and we rushed out of there.  We had to stop at the house to get the bag that was not yet packed (I was going to do it that weekend), grab the car seat that wasn’t yet installed (despite Amber constantly telling me we needed to waaaaayy in advance), and call the doctor’s office (to yell at the nurse who said I wouldn’t be going into labor anytime soon!).  We were instructed to go to labor and delivery where they would check to see if my water was really broken.  We got there, were told yes, my water was broken (duh) and to get comfortable because tomorrow we would have our baby!  It was exciting and scary at the same time. All the last minute prep stuff was going to get done that weekend–our house wasn’t ready for the baby yet, and frankly, I wasn’t sure WE were ready! But the baby was coming…eventually….

  • Since my water was broken and I tested positive for Group B Strep, they started me on an IV and antibiotics and pitocin to get my contractions started.  It was about 8:30 or 9:00 pm.  We ate our food from Olive Garden and tried to get some rest in preparation for our big delivery day the next day!
  • 12:00 am I’m having trouble sleeping–my contractions keep waking me up.  I get up and walk around the room, trying to get myself dilated, all while talking to the baby “you and I are a team; you’re not going to hurt me on your way out; everything’s going to go smoothly; I love you; you’re not going to hurt me on your way out.”
  • Friday morning, contractions are getting more and more uncomfortable.  A nurse comes in and asks what I was doing for pain management. “Nothing, I don’t want medication,” I said.  Grant was by my side every second of the way, coaching me through my contractions, getting me food (jello, toast, popsicles, juice, water) when I would get hungry, walk with me through the halls.
  • Friday afternoon, only progressed to 2 cm. Ugh! My petocin gets upped and I continue with labor.  Allison comes by at 5pm to see how we’re doing.
  • Friday evening, after walking the hall, spending a few hours on an exercise ball, getting in and out of the tub, my contractions are intense. Grant holds my hand through each one, and Allison lends her support as well.  Around 8 or 9:00 pm, a resident comes in to check my progress.  “This baby has a lot of hair!  Looks like you’re at 7 cm!” she announced and I think everyone cheered and breathed a sigh of relief (progress, finally!) “No, wait,” she says, “your only 3.”  I wanted to kick her in the face.  How could she say that to me?!
  • I get back in the tub and continue with labor. My contractions are so intense and I was so exhausted that I was falling asleep in between my contractions, which were coming about every 60-90 seconds. I tried listening to music but it seemed every noise and sound was intensified and I couldn’t stand it.
  • It’s 11:00 pm and Grant says to me, “I know you don’t want anyone to mention it, but I think you should consider getting an epidural.  You’ll need your energy later to push and it will give you a bit of a break from the contractions.” I gave in right away. “Ok, I want the epidural.”
  • 11:15 pm, the anesthesiologist shows up and prepares to give me the epidural.  His pager goes off. “A stab victim just came in downstairs,” he says.  “Don’t go! You can’t go yet, you have to give me the epidural first! Don’t go!” I yell at him!  He tells me he won’t leave, but it’s at this point that Allison says good-bye and I thank her for all of her help through all of this.  I get the drugs and boy do I feel better!!!  I should’ve done this 6 hrs ago, I tell myself!  I’m able to get some sleep.
  • 2:00 am (Saturday) my doctor comes in to check my progress.  Still none.  I was fully effaced, but I wasn’t dilating.  She checks the baby and the baby is stressed.  She checks the ultrasound from earlier in the day and notices the baby’s head is tilted to the side instead of straight down to push on my cervix to dilate it.  Hence, no progress.  A c-section is the next and final resort.  I asked if she could just go in and turn the baby and she said that wasn’t an option.  Since it was the last resort, I signed the paperwork and I was prepped for surgery.
  • 3:00 am I was in the operating room with Grant by my side and the nurses armed with a camera so they could take pictures for us.  Grant was in charge of announcing the sex of the baby and cutting the cord. At one point the doctor says, “Ceara, do you do yoga or pilates?” No, I’ve never done either of those in my life, I tell her.  “Well, you’ve got great abdominal muscles!”   
  • 3:30 am our baby is born and Grant comes around the partition yelling, “It’s a boy! It’s a boy! (pointing at me) I knew it was a boy! I told you it was a boy!”  Relief!  The baby is out and healthy.  As soon as the cord is cut and they wrap him up, they bring him over to me so I can hold him.  I’m shocked at how much he looks like me!  (but now that he is a few weeks old, he’s looking more and more like his daddy). 
  • March 27th, 2010: Donovan Turner Wilson. 7 lbs 3 oz.
  • We spend the next 4 days with our little man in the hospital in a private room (thanks to a hook up we have with a friend who is a nurse!) while I recover.  I get a visit from the midwife (who works at the practice I go to) who says she was looking at my chart and my contractions from the day before were the strongest ones she has ever seen in all her years of practicing medicine.  Apparently they were off the charts at 150%. 

So that’s the story of how our son, after 27 hours of (HARD) labor, my birth plan getting thrown out the window from the get-go, and a c-section (which was not even an option as I went through my pregnancy, as far as I was concerned–because I had full faith and trust in my body that it would do what it was supposed to do to birth a child naturally).  Clearly, God and Donovan had other plans.  And I would do it all over again in a heartbeat and don’t regret a single moment of it!

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