Ava's Birth Story

Our precious baby girl, Ava Shay, was born on a rainy Sunday morning two and half weeks ago. The story is below. Scroll down to Labor & Delivery if you want just the birth story. It's all long, but I needed to get all the details down for our little growing family.

Leading Up to Her Birth

I was 3 cm dilated and 80% effaced since week 37. The doctor and midwives who saw me weekly each took turns commenting on how there was no way I'd make it to my due date and how they were just sure they'd be seeing me in Labor & Delivery in the next couple of days. They described my amniotic sac as "bulging" and made it sound like my water would break any second. I took each step gingerly, hoping to make it past week 38 when I was hosting one of my best friend's bridal showers. Week 38 came and went, as did week 39. My due date, May 20th, the day I had waited 10 months to see also came and went. What the heck? At first I was peaceful and calm about the situation. After all, I had read that a first time mom went an average of 8 days past her due date.  I was patient and tried to enjoy my time off work as I had started maternity leave a week before my due date.  I took a three mile power walk each day; cooked great meals, freezing half for when the baby arrived; and enjoyed being home in the middle of the day when Mark came home from his night shifts. This worked for the first couple of days but I grew frustrated, impatient and eventually depressed when I got to be 7, 8, 9 days late. Text messages, phone calls and Facebook posts came pouring in from well-meaning friends and family wanting to know if she was here yet. I didn't want to talk to anyone until I had news. It wasn't just the waiting that was frustrating though, I was in physical pain. I had contractions almost everyday, some lasting 10-12 hours at a time. They weren't consistent or intense enough to go to the hospital, but they weren't benign Braxon Hicks either.

My doctor, who said she wouldn't induce without a medical reason to do so before week 42 completely changed her tune as soon as Ava was "late." I had an appointment four days after her due date that I was really hoping I wouldn't have to go to. When I found myself there after all she gave me the option of being induced the next day or Saturday. I was confused. We had talked about this and I really thought we were on the same page when it came to induction. I chose Saturday because it was the later date of the two and as much as I was over being pregnant, it seemed way to early to call it. Something told me to wait. I had to trust that my body knew how to get pregnant, how to sustain this life for (over) ten months, and that it would see this process to completion and go into labor on it's own when the timing was right. My doctor was not happy that I took the later option and told me I'd have to go in for a non-stress test to make sure the baby was okay and that I had enough amniotic fluid. Her tone made it sound like this was my punishment for not agreeing to get induced the next day. I went and baby and fluid both looked great.

On Friday morning Mark and I went to Huntington Beach. He surfed and I walked and did a major stair work out in an effort to continue "Operation Get Ava Out of Me." We went to The Sugar Shack for breakfast and talked more about the imminent induction. Saturday was getting closer and closer and it still didn't feel right. I called my doctor during breakfast to push it back even further. She was really not happy at that point. She kept saying she'd respect my ultimate decision, whatever it was, but that "there's no benefit to waiting." In my mind I'm thinking, except that I'm letting my baby cook as long as she needs to; I've read and heard horror stories about inductions leading to 30-40 hour labors, only ending in emergency c-sections; and having the benefit during future pregnancies of knowing my body knows how to do go into labor on its own ." After sticking to our guns, she relunctantly rescheduled my induction for Monday morning at 8:30.

We went to happy hour (water for me please!) at 3pm that afternoon and contractions started. They lasted for 12 hours and finally got to be 5 minutes apart, lasting one minute, for an hour (the recipe for when you're supposed to go the hospital) around 3am. We did some last minute packing, I showered and did my hair and make up, and we headed in. When we got there I was still 3 cm dilated... like I had been for month. I was so disappointed I could have cried. They still admitted me and had me walk the halls to see if I'd progress. After about a half hour of this Mark and I looked at each other and said, "This is stupid." I had walked over 30 miles that week, what was walking the halls going to do? The doctors and nurses kept saying things like "You're past-due, the baby has to come out sometime" and "The good news is your doctor is on call in the morning." So basically they just wanted to keep us there, walking the halls to make us feel like we was doing something so they could ultimately induce me. I hadn't eaten anything since 4pm that afternoon and hadn't slept at all due to the contractions, not a great shape to go into an induction. Our desire to leave was again met with a lot of flack, except for the midwife, Pat, who discharged us. We expressed our reasoning for wanting to leave and she agreed with us, saying, "I think you're right, you should go home. Get some rest and have a good meal before you come back, which by the way, I think will be within the next 24 hours." Someone understanding and on our side,  how refreshing!

We got home from the hospital at 7am on Saturday morning. Mark went to work and I went to bed, except I couldn't sleep due to crazy, intense contractions from Satan. They were nothing like the night before. I was writhing in bed, alone, moaning and groaning to get through them. They lasted until 10am, left, came back from 4 to 6pm and left again. One of my best friends, Kristin, called me and the second she asked how I was doing I lost it. I was so mentally and physically exhausted by then. Having contractions for days and nothing to show for them was really wearing on me. All of this and true labor hadn't even started yet. I told her I was fine with the induction on Monday, I couldn't handle labor before then anyway.

After happy hour at Tequila Joe's in the harbor. The last photo taken before Ava was born.

Labor & Delivery:

On Saturday night my parents came into town at 9:30pm after going to Janelle's (my brother's girlfriend) college graduation. I looked and felt like hell. I started having contractions again, the ones from Satan an hour later, at 10:30pm, when everyone had gone to sleep. I had the chills, was hot one second and then freezing cold the next. I laid on the floor in the nursery, kneeled by the bed, walked around the house in agony and worked through them until 3am when I finally woke Mark up and said, "I don't know if this is the real thing or not, but I'm in so much pain I want to go to hospital to see if I'm dilated to a four just so I can get an epidural." I woke my mom up too, took a shower, this time did NOT do my hair or makeup and we took off for the hospital, telling my dad to meet us there in the morning. I gave my mom that option as well, thinking it'd be a long process before she was actually here. She said no way, she was coming with us. We got into the car and realized that our neighbor, who lives in the duplex behind us, had a guy over that night who he had pinned us in. Mark flew up her stairs, banging on her door and yelling, "My wife's in labor, you need to come out here and move your car NOW!" Our poor neighbors on the other side innocently yelled out, "It's not our car!" The guy finally came out and moved his car as I'm doubled over in pain and trying to breath through these contractions. Then as we're driving over one of the two huge bridges on our way to the hospital we spot a man dressed in all black, at 3am, walking IN the left hand lane. We miss him by only a few inches, severely swerving into the right hand lane to avoid hitting him. Whew. It'd be a miracle if we made it to the hospital in one piece at this point.

We made it to the hospital and I couldn't walk or talk through my contractions. The nurse in triage asked me if I was cold because I was shaking, my teeth were chattering and I had the chills. I said no and she got a concerned look on her face, stopped asking me all the questions and went straight to checking me for progress. Her eyes got wide and she just kept saying, "Oh girl." Oh giiiiirrrrrl." I said, "What? Please tell me it's good news." She told me I was dilated to a 9 and 'rimming.' She turned toward Mark and said that if we had waited much longer he would have been delivering his own kid. I told her he's an ER doctor so it wouldn't have been the end of the world. She said, "Oh honey, you don't want an ER doctor delivering, you want an OB." Fair enough. With that she put the side bars up on my bed and wheeled me into a Labor & Delivery room. Passing a fellow nurse on the way she instructed her to, "Get a doctor, we have a ripe one on our hands."

The first thing I asked when I met the nurses who would be taking care of me was if it was too late to get meds. They said no, but also looked at me like I was a little crazy for asking. They said I could still get an epidural or IV meds, but that I had come this far without anything and they thought she'd be here pretty quickly. I was concerned about the pushing, that I get in over my head in pain and it'd be too late to get any meds. They said I needed to make a decision soon, either way. I looked at Mark and said, "We're just doing this huh?" He smiled and said, "I know you can." His confidence in me was all it took. 

I breathed through another hour of contractions and it was time to push. I couldn't believe it was that time already and mentally pushed back on it. I had it in my mind that I'd labor for seven or so hours at the hospital and then start pushing. I couldn't quite grasp that it was time so soon. Pushing is a funny thing. I had read, taken classes on, and practiced my breathing for months, but there's nothing that really prepares you for pushing until you're in it. I half-heartedly pushed through a couple of contractions and then asked if I could just breath through the next one instead of pushing. The nurse said of course and I did. That pain without the satisfaction of pushing was enough for it to mentally click that yes indeed, it was time to push.

My nurse was kind of wishy-washy about telling me when and how to push. I needed help, guidance, direction, someone to tell me what to do. Mark stepped up and took control. He got me into a good position and confidently counted to ten for each push, telling me to take a big breath in between, and doing it all over again to get at least 3 good pushes in per contraction. Pretty good for a guy who could only make it to one of our four birthing classes because of work. It was like having a crew coach at my bedside. And it worked. 45 minutes later she was here. I was in shock. It all happened so fast. Only 2 1/2 hours after arriving at the hospital.

At one point they gave Mark the option of having the OB on call or Pat, the midwife we had met the night before, deliver our baby. Mark opted for Pat since we had been so impressed with her when she had discharged us. I can't express how thankful I am that she is the one who delivered Ava. It was like seeing an angel walk into the room. I knew I was in great hands.

They cleaned her up a bit and put her on my chest and I just kept looking at Mark and then my mom, asking, "Can you believe this? I can't believe this." She came out with a full head of dark hair, that was the most surprising thing. At first I thought, who's baby are they giving me? But then she started crying on my chest and I started talking to her, saying her name over and over again in the voice I used when talking to her in my womb. She slowly looked up at me with those dark slate blue eyes and I knew for sure she was my daughter. And it was if she knew her name, or at least that I was her mom. I'll never forget our first meeting right there on my chest. I get teary-eyed every time I think about it.

Waiting for Ava to come was hard. Honestly, harder than the labor. But God's timing was (once again) perfect... for a couple of reasons, 1) My parents were in town (I really wanted my mom in the labor room with me and it ended up going so quickly that if she had been coming from Ventura she probably would have missed it). 2) We had the opportunity to meet Pat, the midwife, the night before when in false labor. Looking back, as frustrating as that experience was, it was part of God's plan. 3) Mark's work schedule was packed through May, but completely clear in June. She was born on May 29th.

Ava arrived 24 hours before my scheduled induction. God, once again, came through at the eleventh hour. He always has a plan and is always in control, even when it really, really doesn't feel like it. There were walks on the beach and nights in my bed where tears would just stream down my face as I asked God, Where is she?! Better yet, where are YOU?! I desperately wish I could remember how faithful He is in the times of waiting, but He's patient and graceful with me and comes through even when I've all but given up on Him.

They say if you want to know how you're birth experience will go, ask your mother about her experience because they're likely to be similar. My mom went into labor with me at 10pm and I was born at dawn on a rainy morning after seven hours of labor.  I went into labor with Ava at 10:30pm and she was born at dawn on a rainy morning after 8 hours of labor. Like mother, like daughter. And now I have my own daughter. I love how that sounds.

My loves.