Danny's birth story.

The moment Morgan arrived via c-section, I knew I wanted to try for a vaginal delivery again. I had all sorts of dreams tied up in hoping for the most perfect, natural birth. And the first time around, I had worked for it. I had worked hard. Then I had been burned. I had trusted my body once. Forty-one grueling hours of trust. I had given it a good, long shot and then I was cut.

After a long, hard while, I accepted it. It was the way it was for a reason, and I may never know why. But what I did learn is that my next pregnancy, labor and delivery would be different. I would learn more, pray more, eat better, read all that I could, and eat, drink and sleep all sorts of herbal concoctions. And I would learn to trust my body again.

I spent most of this pregnancy worrying, which I think is why I never felt quite ecstatic about writing out my feelings. I cautioned myself to not be too sure, too dreamy about a situation that could go either way very easily. All and all, the exhaustion came from knowing that this delivery would determine, in a great way, how big our family would be. I swear the pressure broke my heart. And when feeling broken-hearted did nothing for me, I decided to press on.

I read. I watched documentaries. I asked questions. I listened to the stories of other women. I reached out. I weighed the pros. I weighed the cons. Some days I was certain it was the right thing to do to give it a shot. Some days I wondered why on earth I would want to risk my own health as well as the life of our baby.

Still, I hung onto my dream. And for forty weeks exactly, I made us a baby.

Fast forward.

Last night, we looked at the clock at 11:02pm and couldn’t believe a week ago, we welcomed our second son into the world. In a sort of dream-like state, we couldn’t believe a lot of things. Then there were some things we could believe. Simple miracles.

Tuesday afternoon, my membranes were stripped. I hadn’t planned on this, and it wasn’t something I would have opted for, but the doctor who checked me at my appointment just did it without asking or informing me, and then it was over, and there was nothing I could do. I was pretty crampy for the rest of the day, and we decided it was probably a good idea to have my mom come to stay with us. Just in case. Then nothing happened.

In between then and Friday, we shopped, walked, made cookies, ate Wendy’s three times, sat on the back porch in the evenings, dyed my hair a horrific brown/black that was nothing like the color on the box, and asked baby a million times, when he was going to arrive.

Friday morning, I had a few sweet contractions that had me wondering if I was actually going to have a baby after all.

We still went shopping. And I walked around like C3PO and everywhere we went, people asked when I was due.

"Today," I said.

Today.

Friday afternoon, Mr. Keller put on his white shirt and shoes and went golfing. After all, my contractions weren’t too serious. Yet.

A few hours passed and they were ten minutes apart. Then eight minutes apart. I breathed and breathed.

I called Jared on the green.

Then I decided to gather our things.

There was our hospital bag, our snack bag, and our in-case-we-deliver-on-the-side-of-the-road bag for the hour’s drive to Idaho Falls, equipped with towels, sheets, new scissors and string. Our camcorder, two cameras, my cd player, my grooves, my make-up bag, my essential oils, and my ‘I can do hard things’ sign I printed off weeks ago, to remind me, when I was dying, that all would be well.

Within a half hour, my contractions went from every eight to ten minutes, down to four minutes apart. Now we were in real business. So I called Jared. Again.

Two holes left. Twenty minutes tops.

I breathed. And my mom hovered, following me around the house with her cell phone clock.

Three minutes apart.

Three minutes apart.

Three minutes apart.

When I called Jared again, thinking ‘where-in-the-hell…’, (luckily) he was turning onto our street, and alas, his life was spared.

Around 6:30pm, we had our Pocatello midwife check my progress to see if she thought it was really rock-and-roll time, and to gauge when we would need to go to Idaho Falls. I was a good three to four centimeters dilated (though I had been three centimeters for days), and 90% effaced. So, we went home to pack up, and to wait a little longer, since we were both adamant about not arriving at the hospital too soon.

Jared loaded our things, and I filled the tub up high with sweet hotness. And I melted. I ate homemade lasagna and fresh bread. I ate half an ice cream sandwich, and I hurt.

Jared sat holding my hand, helping me breathe. And we couldn’t believe nine months had come and gone, and there we were. Once again.

When I got out of the tub around 8:00pm, Jared helped me to the bed. Within a few minutes of lying down, I heard (and felt) my bag of waters pop and immediately was hysterical. I had prayed so hard to keep my bag of waters in tact until the very end, to help with the pain. With Morgan, my water broke before labor began, and I could not believe the difference in the level of pain laboring with my bag of waters in tact this time around. It was incredible, and when it broke, it took me two seconds to go from mentally thinking I could do anything, to feeling defeated. And I cried. And while I was crying, Jared took me in his arms and assured me. He reminded me that we were going through all of it together and that no matter what, it wouldn’t be worse than what we had gone through before. I believed him. And I felt calmed.

Within a few minutes, I found myself back in the tub, while we tried to decide if we were to ready to hit the road.

And within a few minutes of that, I was dying. Dramatics aside, I really thought I was dying. Pain kicked into the highest gear I never knew was on the charts. Scream, yell, breathe, breathe. Scream, yell, breathe. And I couldn’t hear anyone. I couldn’t hear myself. It took me only a few contractions to realize there was no way we would be going to Idaho Falls for this delivery. And by not going to Idaho Falls, I knew we would be subjecting ourselves to delivery by cesarean section. (The only doctor who delivers VBAC patients was out of town.)

This entire pregnancy, I had prayed fervently for an open mind. I had prayed that the safety of our baby would not be put in jeopardy because I had such a tight grasp on a dream. In a moment, my mind was entirely open. And Jared was by my side as we prayed for and received confirmation that Portneuf was where we needed to be.

And then there was just pain. The swift and strong kind. With each contraction, I squeezed and screamed, and I began to wonder how I would even survive driving four miles down the road. Jared ran around the house making phone calls to labor and delivery, to let them know they needed to get the on-call doctor there, and to prepare the operating room for us. He was running back and forth from the truck to the house, bringing me my nightgown and oils and soon we were flying down the road. And if I thought I was dying before, back at home in the tub, I was really dying now. And I mean dying. My legs were kicking and I was scratching Jared’s arm on the freeway, and he was still on the phone, and trying to help me breathe, and I was clenching and screaming all sorts of insanity.

I felt like we were in the scene of a movie, with the situation becoming more dire with each passing second. Imagine the insane wife, and the frantic dad-to-be. When we pulled up, he drove around to the parking lot and I screamed at him to drive me to the entrance instead. He ran around the side of the truck, and I screamed at him to go get me a wheelchair. He brought me the wheelchair and told me to wait while he parked the car. I told him ‘NO WAY!’, and so, with car doors left wide open, he pushed my wheelchair full speed through the hospital doors. 9:22pm.

It was Friday night and I swear no one was there. Except a grandpa at the end of the hall who took one look at me, and turned right around. Soon a lady came running out from the back room. And my state needed no explaining, so she took right over while Jared parked the car. She ran me to the elevators and we passed several more people, just gaping, but trying not to. And I could have cared less. I could have been entirely naked for all I cared. The truth is I didn’t care. About anything, really. Only one large needle, and sterile uniforms, and that familiar bright-white room. That’s where I was begging to be.

Soon a dark haired lady breathed in my face and asked ‘Are you Ms. Keller?’

I nodded my head and she said come with me. And as I was contracting down the hall, she yelled at me, ‘Are you pushing?!’ And I couldn’t answer. Which meant I was.

She helped me up out of the chair and stripped me down and laid me on the most uncomfortable bed and checked me.

She had a roving phone up to her ear, and I heard her say, ‘Nine centimeters, and she’s stretchy. She’s going to push right through this.’

I think Jared almost collapsed. And I didn’t care. Nine, ten, stretchy? I didn’t care. Where was my spinal tap? Where was the doctor?

In a moment, and in jeans and a t-shirt, he arrived. And without saying a word, I knew he was furious. He very adamantly does not oversee VBAC deliveries. Still, he checked me. Ten centimeters. Good gosh. With Morgan, it took me forty-one hours to fully dilate, and here we were going from four centimeters, all the way to ten centimeters in roughly an hour? Holy hell.

I remember nothing in terms of time. I remember wondering what was taking so long for action to take place. I remember screaming for the anesthesiologist. And I must have been rude, because the dark haired woman got close to my face again and told me ‘Hollie, right now he’s tending to a two year-old in the O.R. who is bleeding out at this moment.’

I thought of my own two year-old, and for a moment I had a little perspective. I didn’t ask for him again.

I didn’t ask for anything. And soon, Doctor was at my feet again and nurses were at my side and Jared was behind lifting my back with each contraction. I suppose it was then that I started pushing, though I remember still waiting for someone to tell me the plan. I swear it wasn’t until I must have pushed ten times, each time screaming, ‘I can’t!’, until finally, Doctor said, “You can push him out or I can cut him out. You choose.”

I had a choice?

I had a choice. By miracle, I was given a choice, and I couldn’t believe it.

I still felt like I couldn’t, and I still screamed ‘I can’t!’, but mentally, I had just changed a part of me and I was ready to try.

I pushed. Weakly at first. But soon, I taught myself how.

I pushed. I held my breath and I pushed.

I held my breath and I pushed.

Nothing. Nothing.

Doctor called me honey. Doctor called me darlin’. And he told me he went 90 miles per hour past Ross Park just to get here for me. He laughed with the nurses, and talked about Fuzzy Navels and his wild college days.

In between pushes, I was gone. They would ask me questions to distract me, and I’d wave my hand at Jared for him to answer. I listened to them, then I’d fade away.

I stared at the ceiling and couldn’t believe I was there. I was dilated. I was pushing. I was there. Against all odds, the stars had aligned. And baby was about to come.

After a million hours, it seemed, I began to feel the tinkling of a recognizable sign. That burn I had read so much about. I recognized it, and sweet it was. Like fire. Death and fire. And I felt so alive. I remember looking at the ceiling and hearing myself scream, but not really believing the sound. I held in my breath so deep I felt the color blue in my face. And they cheered and encouraged and darling-ed me and said he was there. Right there.

Still blue, I pushed again and all at once, the thought came to me of something I had read about that one last cry that brings forth life.

‘This was the sound that made the universe.’

I thought it.

And it was.

One last push and one scream that cracked the sky.

My baby was born. Pink and glistening and eyes bright wide. And I held him so close, his body sweet warmth against my chest. And that moment, the one I had dreamed about since I was a little girl, was mine. It was entirely mine. In that moment, that smallest sliver of time, heaven and earth belonged to me. And I felt God.

The pain was gone. Just like I had heard. It was incredibly, miraculously gone. And I was alive. We all were. My body had never felt so beautiful.

We had just created and grown and birthed 8 pounds 2 ounces of miracle. And he was all ours. 11:02pm.

Long fingers, a dimpled chin and the cutest mess of hair I’ve ever seen (since Morg was born, of course!).

And right beside me, holding me, was my husband angel, enamored and glowing. And it was as if we had just had one sweet glimpse into the most heavenly and eternal thing we’ve ever experienced. And it sealed us.

Our labor and delivery was not quiet. It was messy and stressful and I was horrifically loud and difficult. The lights weren’t dimmed and Ben Folds wasn’t singing in the background. I wasn’t calm or controlled or perfect, like I had wanted, like I had planned. It was fast, excruciating, and nothing like what we expected. But it all worked.

Here are things that I know:

From beginning, right down to the birth, I know Heavenly Father was in control. It took ten months of prayer for me to entirely give Him the reigns. I felt I had trusted my body so much with Morgan, and I ended up exactly where I did not want to be: a c-section. But as this baby grew, so did my faith.

Heavenly Father heard and answered my prayers directly.

While I was laboring, and telling myself I could not go on, I physically felt the strength coming from prayer. I had never felt anything quite like that, and it was incredible to me.

There is power in doing the very thing you think you cannot do.

I DID IT!

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A word on herbs and other natural preparation for birth:

I am a believer in herbs. After Chandra’s incredible 1 ½ hour at-home birth two months prior to Danny’s birth, I told myself I was going to follow exactly what she did in terms of herbal preparation. At 34 weeks, I began an herbal regimen of sorts. And frankly, it sucked. And I really wanted to quit some days, thinking that it wasn’t going to make that much of a difference.Let me tell you, it did. Coming from a girl who took 41 grueling hours of labor to fully dilate with my first baby (and that was with the assistance of oxytocin), to dilating somewhere from 4 cm to 10 cm in roughly one (excruciating!) hour, the herbs worked. They really really really worked. And I want to share the list:

Blood Sugar Balance (capsules from Vickie Sorensen’s Nature Works, can be ordered online): 4 capsules daily. (This is super important! Helps keep baby’s size manageable, especially if you love carbs, like me. I love this and swear that it kept me feeling well my entire pregnancy. I only had cankles twice my whole pregnancy, and an hour after I delivered, the nurse came to check my feet and commented how she rarely sees feet that aren’t swollen after delivery! Blood Sugar Balance, baby.)

Liquid 5-week Formula (liquid from Vickie Sorensen’s Nature Works, can be ordered online): 1-4 droppers daily

Evening Primrose Oil (Fred Meyer)– two tablets orally daily, helps with dilation.

½ capful of Floradix Liquid Iron daily (available online, or at health food stores). This is a blood builder.

2 packets of EmergenC daily (Walmart, Fred Meyer). Helps strengthen your bag of waters so it doesn’t break prematurely.

Red Raspberry Tea or Pregnancy Tea (Fred Meyer, health food stores) Follow directions on the box. Or, if you’re like me and can’t keep tea down for anything, I just bought Red Raspberry Leaf capsules and took four of those each day. This helps with fast dilation. And it worked.

A good prenatal vitamin. This can be spendy, but it’s important. I buy the Rainbowlite brand from Fred Meyer’s herbal section.

Two-three weeks prior to your due date:

Insert two tablets of evening primrose oil vaginally just before you go to bed. (Wear a pantyliner.) This helps with dilation, effacement and helps condition your skin in preparation for stretching. I swear on my life that this, along with the perineum exercises, made my delivery an (almost) tear-free delivery. I pushed out an 8 pounder and ended up with one tiny stitch. My recovery has been a breeze.

Daily perineum stretches/exercises. Soooo not fun. But sooooo worth it. I promise! Both Chandra and I had very quick deliveries and we both went on without a hitch. We both believe it was because of this. Here’s a link to the exercises. These are slightly different since the ones we followed were in the book The Bradley Method.

I also had the essential oil Evening Primrose and the essential oil Clary Sage to help with the pain of contractions. Of course, by the time I thought to grab them, I was half-crazed and in the thick of going through the transition phase of labor, but I will say there was some instant relief once I rubbed them on my stomach.

Birthing ball (regular exercise ball). I bought one right at my 34 week mark and had it rolling around the house for the last six weeks. It drove me crazy, because yes, I’m slightly OCD when it comes to things in my house. But if I kept it out in the open, I didn’t forget to periodically sit on it each day. Chandra suggested sitting /bouncing on it at least an hour each night. Some nights it was just a half hour for me, some nights longer. It helps align your baby, and it also helps with cervical effacement.

Chiropractic care at least once a month your entire pregnancy, then once a week the last month of your pregnancy.