a better-late-than-never birth story

Grab a coffee.  This is gonna be a long one!  Halle's birth story, written as a letter to her.  Read on, but be warned that there are lots of "graphic" details.  :)
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My dear Halle girl.  Where should I start?  With a little history, I suppose.  Your birth story started well before you were born.  I was 29 weeks pregnant when my water broke.  (For more details you can read my pregnancy blogs here.)  I thought I suddenly had terrible bladder control.  Oops!  About 30 hours after my water broke, I called the midwife because I was concerned about a tiny bit of blood.  It was a Sunday morning and we skipped church to get things checked out with the midwife at the hospital.  A lovely spec exam later, and we were told it must be poor bladder control, and sent home.  An hour after we got home, I realized I was bleeding.  A lot.  Back to the hospital we went.  And stayed.  For five days.  Every test the doctors ran said that I wasn't leaking amniotic fluid; it must be something else.  And yet I was bleeding, a lot, from who knows where.  I was labelled a mystery.  And you, little Halle, you were doing great.  Kicking me lots and reminding us all that you were doing just fine despite the unkind living conditions.

Micah and I, at 34.5 weeks

The doctor ordered an ultrasound on Monday morning, and they found nothing unusual.  Just a healthy, happy--although a little small--baby.  By the time I had a second ultrasound on Thursday it was clear that I must be leaking amniotic fluid... the water surrounding you had dropped significantly.  Despite continued mysterious bleeding the doctors all agreed that you were doing great and I was sent home to be monitored by the home care nurses.

From when I got home that Thursday afternoon until you were born, I was in an out of hospital again several times.  Every time something changed in my condition it was back-to-the-hospital-we-go.  Better safe than sorry.  But each time the doctors checked us both out and determined all was well, given the circumstances.  At home I was doing various self-assessments four times a day.  Temperature, check.  Pulse, check.  Kick counts, check.  Counting contractions, check.  Charting my leakage and rest hours, check.  And every day the nurse would come and either listen to your heartbeat or run a fetal monitoring strip.  And every day you showed us that you were still healthy.  We praised God for each day He let you keep on growing inside me!

34.5 weeks pregnant

Finally we made it to 34 weeks--the point at which the OB was ready to consider inducing me.  You had already made it five weeks living in hostile conditions, and he didn't want to risk infection for any longer than necessary.  Together we decided to start the induction at 34.5 weeks.  Thursday.  It was our OB on call at the hospital, and one of our favourite midwives was also on call.  It was the perfect combination.  (I was originally seeing a midwife but when my water broke they transferred my care to the OB.  For the rest of my pregnancy and labour the midwife was there for support, but she wasn't in charge of my care.)

After a hearty breakfast out (what we thought would be our last as a family of three), we were called in to the hospital around 9am.  The hospital was bustling and there were no rooms available for us.  Finally a room came free, only to find out that there weren't any nurses available.  Then we had to wait for the OB to be free.  Finally, around 4pm the induction was started.  It was slow going, with little-to-no contractions at 7pm when the OB apologetically came in with bad news.  "There are no beds in the NICU.  I've been trying to save one for you, but someone else needed it.  We need to stop the induction.  We can transfer you to another hospital to continue, or you can stay here and wait for a bed."  We chose to wait.

Day two - Friday.  It was 3:30pm before a NICU bed and a nurse and the OB were available.  It was go time.  By 2am the IV oxytocin was at 20, and the OB came in to check on things.  I was contracting, but not nearly enough yet.  He wanted to bump up the oxytocin to 30 and jump things into action.  I was exhausted.  And not overly fond of the OB that was on call.  After much deliberation we chose to stop the IV for the night.  Why not start again tomorrow?  Each day you were getting a little bigger and stronger, so as much as we were eager to meet you, we were okay with the delays.

Day three - Saturday.  Thankfully there was still space in the NICU, and we were able to start the induction at 9am.  Once again we had a wonderful OB on call, and the midwife (Gillian) was one of our favourites.  About 10 hours later I was contracting sufficiently to be considered "in labour".  Thanks to the oxytocin, labour was long and hard.  I think my body just wasn't ready.  You were only about 35 weeks old, and my body wasn't willing to give you up just yet.  Mentally, I found this labour much harder than with your brother.  I was somehow under the impression that because you were premature labour would be shorter and easier.  Not true!

Most of the labour was a blur.  I know that your Daddy was amazing, your Grandma was wonderful, and Gillian the midwife was fabulous.  I wasn't allowed to eat solids while on the IV, but after seventeen hours of not eating, I was famished.  I don't remember whether it was the nurse or the midwife, but some brave soul made a call to the OB to ask if I could eat.  I knew it wouldn't end well unless I could regain some strength.  Yes!  Permission granted, and your Grandma courageously walked to Tim Hortons at 2am to buy me a sandwich!  What a gem.


At about 8am the doctors had changed shift again.  Again.  It was the fifth OB I had seen since I was admitted to the hospital on Thursday morning.  She walked in to the room and proceeded to tell me that you were going to be a c-section baby unless I dilated the rest of the way in the next thirty minutes.  I was so mad and defeated.  23 hours on oxytocin IV and she had the gaul to tell me I would need a c-section!!  I don't remember the details, but your Grandma leaned in close and told me that I could do it.  I wouldn't need a c-section, and reminded me to dig down deep and breathe.  Not much longer. 

Just a few minutes after the OB left, there was a gentle knock on the door.  "Not the OB again!" I thought.  But it wasn't.  In walked your Grandpa.  Completely unexpected, completely unprompted by us.  I burst into tears.  I knew it would be okay. 

my first visit to you in the NICU

If I say that labour was a blur, the rest certainly was a blur!  The OB came back only to find that I had managed to dilate the rest of the way.  She checked me, and unexpectedly told Gillian (the midwife) to go ahead and deliver, and briskly walked out.  Gillian and I looked at each other in shock!  We both knew that the OB was going to deliver you... but as of that morning you had reached 35 weeks gestation, and she was allowed to deliver.  She quickly got ready and one long push later, out you came at 8:45am.  All four pounds and eight ounces.  And you cried.  We had been told that your lungs might not be mature yet, but you cried.  Your Daddy cut the cord.  Gillian passed you to me, and we snuggled for a brief moment before the neonatal team took you to be examined.  You were born five weeks early, but so healthy,

with Gillian at almost 8 weeks old

surrounded by your Daddy and I, and both of my parents.  (Yes, we told your Grandpa he could stay and witness your birth.)

After another brief snuggle you were transferred to the NICU, where you stayed for nine days.  There were lots of ups and downs in the NICU... but overall you were a strong, healthy girl.  You can read some of the details of your NICU stay here and here and here and here and here.  We finally brought you home to live with us on August 2, 2011.

I love you, Baby Girl.  I'm so thankful to God for you, my Halle Grace.  Six weeks of bedrest for you, was totally worth it.  I'd do it again for you in a heartbeat.

Love, your Momma