Bella’s Birth – Shift One

I have struggled for the words to describe Bella’s birth more than I have any other part of this journey. It is safe to say I have never experienced the Lord’s presence more strongly than those twenty-five hours on the sixth floor of the University of Washington. And in many ways I know I will never be able to adequately describe the Indescribable One and how He was at work during that long day. So please forgive my feeble attempts and grasping for words! The story is long, so I’ve decided to split it into the three shifts of staff we labored through.

That Saturday morning I woke up at my typical 4:30 meeting time with Jesus with words on my heart. Two mornings before I had camped out on the bathroom floor to write so as not to disturb my husband’s rest. Somehow on that morning I had forgotten that there was a very comfortable library with chairs and tables right next door to our room. Fortunately, on this morning I remembered said room, so grabbed my laptop and headed over to record the words that were swirling in my mind.

After writing, I returned to the room to climb back into bed, but sleep eluded me and I soon got up to shower – and of course dry and straighten my hair as well as put on make-up. Heaven knows you’ve got to enter labor looking good, and by golly I wanted to look nice for my first face to face introduction to my daughter.

Jeff made a tray of breakfast for me, Deb and Kristin and we sat around waiting for the magic time of 7:45am to call in to the hospital. The three of us sat with bated breath and whispered prayers as Jeff made the call. The news was disturbingly similar to the previous day. No room right now, maybe there will be room at eleven. We’ll call you. The only difference this time was my reaction – a bit of impatience, but mostly peace.

Jeff got dressed (this time in a well worn t-shirt instead of the Sunday best I had picked out for him to meet his daughter in that was now dirty from the previous day’s wear) and we headed out for a walk on the trail conveniently located by the Ronald McDonald House. A passerby commented, “You two look so happy!” and I realized the Lord must be with us.

We had made our u-turn and were on our way back, stopped by a blackberry bush for a snack, when Jeff got the call. As long as we came in after eleven they would have room for us. We looked at each other – 11:01 it would be. After giving the update to my dad, he decided to bring Ellie by for one last quick visit before we headed into the hospital.

And so my last minutes before going to the hospital were spent running (ummm, quickly waddling) after my daughter on the playground at Ronald McDonald. As I sweated and waddled in the humidity I wondered why I had bothered to straighten my hair. I remember looking at her laughing face and wondering how on earth the next time I saw her I was going to explain that this was the only time she would see her sister.

Kristin and Deb showed up from their own walk just as we were grabbing our bags from the room, and caught our last moments as a family of three. In some ways these shots break my heart. Eliana clearly knew something was going on, but there was just no way to explain to her. Getting in the car after hugging her goodbye was one of the few times throughout the day that I cried.

We arrived at the UW and parked in the same garage we had on all previous visits. Rode the same escalator up. Entered the same doors and walked down the same hallway. All of those visits culminated in this day. This day where guesses and speculation and supposed outcomes would be replaced with reality.

We checked in at the desk on the sixth floor and were ushered to our room. I noticed we had been placed at the end of the hall. Right next to the OR and the infant stabilization room. I knew this was not by accident.

I changed into the oh so glorious hospital gown and we waited for our nurse. Both Jeff and I were eager to get the process started. I wanted a baby that day. We were already behind my personal schedule, and frankly I wanted to get Kristin back on the road and geographically closer to her grandson’s arrival.

The nurse came in and started writing on the whiteboard – does your baby have a name?

I watched her write “Healthy Baby Girl” next to the plan for the day and wondered if she was being sweetly optimistic or simply unaware of the situation. She asked if we knew the plan for the day and what it would look like, and Jeff dutifully rehearsed what we expected pre and post birth. He recited the three possible scenarios for after our daughter would be whisked away to the infant stabilization room.

Best case scenario: the doctors would be able to stabilize her breathing with minimal intervention. Arabella would then be taken to the NICU for further observation and assessment.

Worst case scenario: intervention would make it clear that Bella’s lungs were not made to breathe here on this earth. She would be brought back to us in the delivery room to spend her brief moments in our arms.

Gray area scenario: with intervention she would be able to breathe, but unclear whether she would be able to sustain breath on her own at any point. Once again, she would be taken to the NICU for further intervention and assessment.

As Jeff recited the day’s possible outcomes it was clear from Tami’s face that she was not fully aware of the situation when she walked in the room. She sweetly and immediately apologized for not having the time to fully review our case before coming in. We assured her it was quite alright. We told her about the meaning of Arabella’s name, and about the hundreds praying for her. Little did Tami know how prophetic those words she wrote on the board would be.

We made it clear that our main aim was to get this party started and started as quickly as possible. The attending OB for the day and night came in to introduce herself and check my starting point. We had seen a lot of different OBs at the clinic and one of my reservations going into delivery was the fact that I would likely once again have a new and unknown doctor delivering me. However, we connected with this OB from our first interaction – it was clear this doctor had been prayed into our story. After being checked, the determination was made that we would need a couple doses of miso before we started pitocin. I had been greatly hoping that my contractions during the previous days would have accomplished enough to start in straight with the pitocin, but tried to remember the word of the day was release.

And so we began the long and somewhat uneventful process of labor. After two doses of the miso, we started in with the pitocin and contractions quickly followed. In no time at all I was contracting in a beautifully regular pattern of every two minutes. A pattern I would continue for many hours to come.

Bella proved to be as stubbornly active during labor as she had been in the previous months, which means poor Tami spent a great deal of time adjusting the monitors on my belly trying to track Bella’s heartbeat. So for those of you who know how to read the fancy machine above, never fear. Her heartbeat was never 85 beats per minute. She just didn’t appreciate being constantly tracked.

As evening and a shift change approached, they decided to check my cervix again. I was hopeful for at least 6 centimeters and the possibility of a delivery that night. However, instead we discovered, despite my textbook and frequent contractions, I was still at 3-4 centimeters and Bella was still sitting at a -2 station. This was starting to look too similar to my 36 hour labor with my first daughter. I, however, was determined to do everything in my power to keep things moving. This meant no epidural and either standing, walking or sitting on that infamous labor ball.

The atmosphere in the room throughout this first shift was one of absolute peace, and perhaps even light-heartedness and joy. I was so happy to have begun the process to finally meeting Arabella. And Jesus was with us. There was no denying that fact. And so we labored with joy and expectation. Jeff and I played cribbage and dominion, and filled with room with truth filled choruses picked out by all of you.

Tami got ready to finish her shift, and was clearly moved by what she sensed happening in our room. I directed her here if she wanted to read more of Bella’s story, and she, with tears in her eyes, told us she fully expected us to have a baby before she returned the next morning. We had the distinct sense as she left that Tami had been specially chosen as a part of Arabella’s story.

And so one shift closed, and another began.