So I had a great pregnancy, one that didn't require much complaining even though I'm sure I did my fair share. I didn't have morning sickness but I was nauseous at night and basically a vegetarian for the first trimester because the smell of meat cooking sent me reeling. Strangely enough there was a week in there where we ate Hamburger Helper like four times because it sounded good, which is weird because I never eat Hamburger Helper. I worked hard at maintaining a healthy weight while still giving in to donuts. I do not remember a time where I lashed out at my husband, blaming him for my "condition," if I did, I blocked that out, sorry babe. All in all I was healthy, Soren was healthy and I was prepared to have a healthy delivery.
I chose to work with the midwifery group at Evergreen Hospital not because I'm a hippie and not because I am opposed to western medicine but because I needed a practitioner for my annual check up and my midwife, Shana Burton, was recommended to me by a friend. I went in to see her for my annual on February 9, not thinking I was pregnant and then, finding out five days later that I was pregnant, decided I liked her a lot and wanted her to be a part of my journey. I don't know if everyone realizes this but being a mom in this day and age is a constant competition as to who is more organic, whose child can speak Spanish from the womb, who can do prenatal yoga while cooking eight course meals and at the end of the day being attractive for her husband. The mom-compeition (henceforth known as mompetition) starts at conception. What I liked about the midwives I met with is they were not interested in everyone else's story, they were interested in mine, not judging me for the fact my birth plan was essentially this: I want a healthy baby boy by whatever means necessary and since this is my first time, I'm trusting you.
So fast forward, this is me at 36 weeks,
Notice the uncomfortable look on my face? That's two things, looking into the sun is one, the other is being 36 weeks pregnant. My very wise friend Sarah, whose baby boy Sawyer is three and a half weeks older than Soren, made the following observation: "The last month of pregnancy is less for the baby and more for the mom, because by the end you don't care how much it hurts you just want it to be over."
About a week after that photo was taken I started to develop all the last trimester "symptoms" all at once. I had carpal tunnel, sciatica (which by the way hurt worse than much of my labor and my sister had it all through her pregnancies, she is wicked tough), constipation, horrible gastrointestinal pain, sleeplessness, headaches, the whole lot. This entire time I was working as a nanny for three really great kids, truthfully probably not being a really great nanny because all I wanted to do was lay down. I couldn't lie down however because each time I did I had to run to the bathroom in order to be reminded of my constipation and then I would cry.
Then I arrived at October 10, 2012. Soren's due date was October 17 and so I figured I had three days left of work and then I would be home for a few days to rest before he came. I mean first babies never come early, right?
I got to work that morning after my 39 week check up, not thinking to mention to Michelle, another one of the midwives, that I had been having new pains in my back starting that morning. I walked in the door immediately felt that it was going to be a hard day. I was going to have to pick the two boys up at pre-school at 11 and Lyla and I spent the morning on the couch reading books. She wanted to go run and I couldn't muster the strength. We drove to the boys' preschool and picked them up, and I still didn't think much of the pains that were coming more than the day before, because they were more than 15 minutes apart so they couldn't be contractions, plus they were mainly in my back so I was just going to have to be a good Norwegian and tough it out, suffering silently until I could yell unnecessarily at an unsuspecting victim. However after the kids' and I got home I had to call their dad and say I just couldn't do it anymore that day, I was in way too much pain.
I drove home, took some Tylenol, a bath and fell asleep for three hours. When Noah came home I apologized profusely for "failing" to stay at work all day. He, being a good man, laughed at me and reminded me I was 39 weeks pregnant and he loved me and I was not failing. So that night we spent partly cleaning up but I mainly laid on the couch wincing every few minutes, still not realizing what was happening because I had been in so much pain the weeks previous that I was oblivious to what was really going on. We sat and watched tv and decided to go to bed around 11. I tried to sleep but I was getting up every few minutes feeling like I had to go the bathroom but that wasn't the case. I told Noah I was going to walk around the living room for a little bit. I broke out the contraction timer on my phone (thanks for the recommendation Tanzi Mitchell!) and walked for an hour. There, to my face-palm inducing surprise was the proof I was in labor. Contractions were coming every 4 and a half minutes for an hour lasting an average of 65 seconds each. Holy crap. I walked into our room and said to Noah, "Um, honey, I'm in labor." He sat up and asked if I was sure and I said yeah so he got up and we started putting things in the car.
I called in to the midwife on call, Kathleen, and explained my symptoms, the timing of my contractions but I could tell she didn't really believe that I was in labor because I wasn't screaming in pain. She said we could come in and just get checked in triage as opposed to getting admitted in case they were going to send me home. So about 2:45 am we got in the car, after doing some dishes, and drove to Kirkland. I could tell something bigger was happening when I had to ask Noah to take the corners a little gentler. We arrived around 3:15 and met Kristen, the charge nurse who brought us into triage and hooked me up to the monitors that measure contractions as well as the baby's heart beat. When I laid down my contractions became a little less regular and after 20 minutes she looked at my print out and gave me the look I dreaded, without saying anything her face seemed to shout "Really? You think you're in labor? Oh great you're going to be one of those, can't hack it moms." Then came for the ever fun checking of the cervix, where the look on her face changed but I was sure it was still annoyance at the fact I was probably at like 2cm. Then she looked at me, cocked her head to the side and said "I think you're fully dilated."
My jaw dropped, so did Noah's. We looked at each other in utter disbelief. Kristen said, "I have been doing this for 11 years I promise, I've just never seen anyone come in fully dilated and making jokes, so I'm going to check again." Obviously she had never been a part of a serious situation in my family where we are all uncomfortable with awkwardness and pain so we make jokes. Apparently my labor coping mechanism consists of bad puns and the phrase "I'm fine." She checked again and called Kathleen and I was admitted with a seeming flourish because they didn't know if this baby was going to come in the next 5 minutes or 5 hours. In all the hustle and bustle with nurses and aides getting my room ready I was bombarded by congratulations that the worst was over. I smiled politely but secretly I was cheering myself on in my head "I am a rockstar!" Then in the next three contractions the pain caught up to how dilated I was and I went from rockstar to feeling what I imagine Kieth Richards' liver feels like. I made the call to have the anesthesiologist come give me an epidural. I don't regret the decision at all, because of the epidural I got much needed rest but looking back I think I got the epidural to both ease the pain and keep me from yelling at all the people who were talking while I was in pain. I generally endure pain silently and I appreciate if people are silent with me. So, I got my Minnesota-nice epidural.
I got to rest and text my family until about 6:30 when Kathleen came in to break my water and let me labor down for a little while. She said we could have started pushing then but since I had the epidural we could let my body do a little work on its own to save my energy. I got to rest again, I told Noah to nap but I don't think he did, not much at least. Kathleen came in at 8 to wish me luck but she was having to leave because her shift had ended. Heather, another midwife came in to relieve her and then found out she was going to have to leave for an important meeting at 11 so Shana would be coming in, that's right it took three midwives and eventually a doctor and a bunch of nurses to bring this baby into the world.
At 9 am Heather said it was time to start pushing and so we did, but she also realized that Soren was "sunny-side up", meaning his face was up instead of down, which is the preferred way to deliver a baby. So as I was pushing I was on my side with one leg on a table for a while and then switching to the other side and so on all in an effort to turn him around. After about two hours, Shana came in, helped massage my back and belly and he flipped over! Then the contractions started coming faster, stronger and the pushing became much more intense. This whole time Noah was right by my side, not moving except to get me ice chips or give updates to whoever was texting. After three hours of pushing Shana and Heather, who had returned from her meeting, told me that after three hours they have to let a doctor know I was pushing for so long. I still had energy left so they said I could go on pushing but if at the 4 hour mark he still hadn't come we would have to explore the other options of using a vacuum or going in for a c-section. I told them I trusted them and we went on pushing. I would push and his head would come all the way down but apparently some narrow bones were making it difficult for him to stay down, so when the push would end he would go back up. At 4 hours I was exhausted, and Shana suggested we ask Dr. Robertson to come in with the vacuum just to hold his head in place through a few pushes.
Dr. Robertson came in and she was great but very matter of fact. There are really strict about the number of tries you can have with a vacuum, it's four and she said she usually calls for a c-section after three. I looked up at Noah and with absolutely weary tears said "I'm so scared." With all the confidence in the world he held my hand, put his mouth next to my ear and said "It's going to be all right, I love you." I have never felt so sure of anything in my life because he believed it whole-heartedly and was my rock.
So this was it, one push, nothing yet. Two-pushes, come on Ali you can do it, he's almost here. Three pushes, the doctors and nurses are all looking at each other with concerned faces but no mention of a c-section. Dr. Robertson made the call for a quick episiotomy and on the fourth push someone said "He's here." I saw him for a brief second before they needed to check him over, which they have to do with any baby that needed a vacuum. I haven't cried that hard in years and I was desperately trying to hear if he was crying. Behind what seemed like dozens of nurses and doctors and NICU specialists I tried to get a glimpse of my little boy. Finally I looked at Heather and asked, "Is he OK?" She looked at me, held my hand and said "He's perfect." Then came his little cry and my world immediately fell apart and simultaneously was made whole. After a few minutes they put this little person on my chest and it was as if I had lived my whole life with a gaping hole in my heart I never knew was empty until he came to fill it.
Soren Christian Hormann was born at 1:25 pm on 10-11-12.
As I was getting stitched up and Noah was holding his son more enamored than I've ever seen him with anything in his life, Dr. Robertson said to me, "I was going to call it after three but you had a look of determination unlike I have ever seen so I decided to give you four." I could not have been more grateful for those last ounces of strength that could only have been from a great and gracious God.
The next 24 hours were a blur, I was more exhausted than I could have ever been and frankly wanted everyone to leave the room just so I could sleep. During our first bout of rest I slept like a log but poor Noah was keeping and ever watchful eye on this new, fragile little life and didn't get any sleep. When I woke up I finally got to eat something and go to the bathroom, where I nearly fainted. When my strength returned I tried to feed him again and he latched on like a champ! Then he slept, we slept and we met many very nice nurses. The next morning all I wanted to do was shower but I had to wait to get the IV port out of my hand. That shower made me feel like I could take on the world and when I stepped out, the world I now knew was waiting to eat :)
Then we met our pediatrician whom we love and she was so encouraging. We went to breastfeeding class and then while waiting to be discharged we took some pretty great photos.
Then, they let us go home, which was the most inane thing I had ever heard! They are just letting us take him home, were they crazy? Were we? Probably, we still are a little crazy but there has been more love in our lives in the last 14 weeks than ever before. We drove home to an appropriate song, it was the theme for our wedding, we hope it has been the theme for our marriage and we are striving to make it the theme for how we raise our children :
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