my birth story.

It's been two weeks since little Ty was born. And I truly feel like it has flown by. I feel as though it was only hours ago that my water broke... and then I blinked and had a newborn in my arms. And then I blinked again and here I am, two weeks later and I seriously have no idea where the time has gone.

Everyone I speak to looks at me with sentimental eyes and they all seem to say the same thing... "they grow up so fast" or "don't blink" and "enjoy every second", and with every little passing moment I am acutely aware of this acceleration of time... and it actually causes me a pain in my chest... a physical anxiety... a panic almost... and I beg my sweet boy... Tyson Lee, please, pleeease... grow slow.

I spend 90% of my day looking at him. And holding him. And taking tons of pictures of him. And then staring at those pictures while he's sleeping in my arms. I'm documenting every last facial expression... every tender moment... practically every second of this little boy's life. I'm completely infatuated. Obsessed with him, really. And it's a wee bit ridiculous how much I stare at him, and study his features, and try and memorize every single expression and squeak and cry... because I know that tomorrow he'll look a little bit different and sound a little bit older and I won't ever get this day back.

I cry a lot. Like when we had to put him under the phototherapy lamp to treat his jaundice and little Ty was so unhappy and was crying so deeply that it literally was ripping a hole in my chest and I looked over at his daddy, and Brandon's eyes were welling up with tears and I completely lost it. Or when he woke up in the middle of the night and the only song I could think of to sing to him was "You are my Sunshine". And I meant every word. Or when he turned a whopping week old. Or finally outgrew the "preemie" size and fit into a "newborn" onesie. While hormones and exhaustion are a likely culprit... they can't be all to blame. Real love such as this is intense.

The day that I went to the hospital was so insignificant. I woke up that morning feeling amazing and rested. I had slept in until 10 a.m. which was unusual but I had no complaints. Before Brandon had left for work, I even joked with him that I would hold the baby in until he got home. I made myself some blueberry waffles and picked up a little and sat down on the couch to do some crafts for Ty's nursery. Around 2 p.m. I stood up and was walking to the kitchen when suddenly I felt this huge gush of liquid pour out from between my legs. My initial thought was, Ohmigod... I'm peeing on myself. But as I tried to "hold back my pee" I realized that this was not coming from my bladder. My water had broke.

Almost instantly, a strange calmness overtook me. I ran to the bathroom to let my body finish that business and then I picked up my phone and called my midwife. I had had an appointment with her only the day before, and she had told me that I was leaking amniotic fluid and that I was almost 4 centimeters dilated. That it would only be a matter of time before I would go into labor. I had heard her say this. But I didn't believe it. I still hadn't packed my hospital bag, for crying out loud. And so when I called her to tell her that I thought my water had broken, she quickly informed me to head to the hospital. I remember thinking that this couldn't be it. I was surely not going to have this baby yet. But I knew that despite my denial... ready or not, my little baby boy was coming.

I immediately hung up the phone with my midwife and went to dial my mom but after realizing that it was only 2 p.m. and she would still be at work I decided against calling her right away. But I wanted someone to be aware of the situation and so I chose to call my sister-in-law. I believe the conversation went a little something like this:

Hannah: "Hello?"

Me: "Hey girly... don't freak out but I think my water just broke."

Hannah: "Oh my God! Do you need me to come get you and take you to the hospital?!"

Me: "If you wouldn't mind... but I don't need you to come right away. I need to do a load of laundry. And shave my legs. And I still haven't packed my hospital bag. And I'd like to do the dishes, too."

Hannah: "I mean.... is there any recorded tv you want to watch as well?"

And so I did those things. And around 4 p.m., Hannah showed up at my door ready to take me to the hospital. I still felt no urgency... I had yet to feel a contraction. But around 4:30 we piled into her car and headed to the hospital. Once we hit the interstate I decided to call my mom. I calmly informed her that I thought my water had broken and that Hannah and I were headed to the hospital to check to see if it had, in fact, broken or if I had just completely lost control of my bladder. She was with some of her girlfriends at a Mexican restaurant and before I hung up the phone I heard her exclaim "Katie's water broke!" to all of her friends. 

Hannah and I laughed and joked for the entire car ride to the hospital and I remember thinking how lucky I was to have such a wonderful sister-in-law and how lucky Ty was going to be to have her as his Aunt. Once we pulled into the hospital parking lot, I told Hannah not to even worry about grabbing my bags because "I didn't even know for sure if I was in labor or not". We walked into the hospital, mom was there already, and they took me in to be monitored for contractions and to check to see if my water had really broken. The nurse came in, hooked me up to the monitors, and checked my amniotic fluid levels and sure enough... I was in labor. When they checked my dilation, I was a "good 4" centimeters. I think I was in disbelief. I don't think it ever hit me that this was it. I think there was still a good part of me that thought I would go home, without a baby, and just continue being pregnant. 

And from there it was all a blur. 

I remember calling Brandon's work to tell his dispatcher that I was in labor. 

I remember walking up and down the halls with Hannah to help get my contractions going. And I remember feeling my first one, thinking, That was it? That just feels like a bad menstrual cramp. 

I remember just sitting in the hospital room wondering when this whole "giving birth" thing was going to start.

I remember Brandon getting off work and calling me, freaking out, thinking he'd missed the birth. And I remember him getting to the hospital, like, 30 minutes sooner than he would've if he had been going the speed limit. (Shame on him.)

I remember the contractions getting stronger. And more uncomfortable. And making Brandon walk the halls with me again. And stopping when a contraction hit. And having him kiss my forehead and hold my hand and tell me how excited he was and how much he loved me. 

I remember getting in the birthing tub to help with the contractions and for the first time, actually having them take my breath away. 

I remember Brandon's parents getting there. And the room beginning to buzz with excitement and anticipation.

I remember getting back into the bed and the contractions getting stronger. Like Oh my Jesus, stronger. And I remember doing nothing... absolutely nothing but focusing on my breathing. In and out. In and out. 

I remember my mom rubbing my lower back through each contraction. And Brandon sitting in front of me, watching every wince and brushing the hair out of my face. 

I remember the nurses coming in and letting me know that it was raining outside.

I remember being so tired. Like completely exhausted. And thinking I couldn't do it anymore. It was around 3 a.m. and my contractions were lasting between 45 seconds to a minute and half and being around 2 minutes apart. And I remember my midwife coming in and telling me she was going to check my dilation. I remember telling my mom that if I wasn't at least 8, I was going to get the epidural. I was just so tired, and I didn't think I could push through it anymore. It was hurting, and while it wasn't the most painful thing in the world, it was physically draining me. The exhaustion was more than anything I had ever experienced and I knew that not only was it taking it's toll physically, it was taking it's toll mentally. I remember the midwife telling me I was at 9 centimeters and feeling this small burst of "C'mon, Katie... you can do this."

And then I remember feeling the urge to push. And telling anyone who was in the room who was listening that I needed to push. And Hannah running to the nurse call button and yelling over the speaker that "We're ready to PUSH!"

And then it all happened so fast. This was it. I was going to start pushing and suddenly my life was going to change. 

I couldn't grasp it even then. It was just all happening so fast... and I was just so tired but I really wanted to savor it. I remember looking around the room, trying to take it all in but not being able to focus on anything or anyone. The pain was so much. I wanted to cry. To give up. To tell everyone that even though I was here... it was almost over... I couldn't do it anymore. And I wasn't ready. 

But then I remember one brief fleeting moment, when Brandon was grabbing one of my feet to pull up so that I could begin pushing and our eyes locked and I remembered all of those conversations we had while lying in bed talking about our future family and our dreams for Ty and imagining what he would be like and then thinking to myself, Katie, you are about to meet your son. You are about to be changed for good. 

And I pushed. And pushed. And pushed. For an hour, I pushed. And after every contraction, they would tell me that I was that much closer. And he was so close. And he had hair! And then they moved the mirror to where I could see, and I began to push harder. And I could see him.... 

One more push.

And it was so hard. And I was so tired....

I pushed with all of my might and felt some of the most intense pain I have ever felt in my entire life as I watched the tiniest little body come out of me, arms flailing, lungs wailing... and they put him in my arms. And I felt like I was out of my body... watching all of it happen from afar. And I kissed his forehead, and felt this strange calmness come over me. 

Brandon cut the cord and I remember him telling me how much he loved me. 

Somewhere in the next 6 hours, Ty was weighed and measured, and given his first sponge bath. I don't remember any of this. I just remember being in the euphoric, exhausted, comatose state. I do remember them telling me that even though he was considered a "preemie" at 5 pounds 5 ounces and we thought I was 37 weeks 3 days pregnant, his gestational age was closer to 36 weeks, but he couldn't have been more healthy. My mom watched over him and Brandon and I slept. And the next afternoon, after she left to catch up on her own sleep, Brandon and I huddled together with Ty. Our little family. And all the pain, the pressure, the fear didn't matter. I could barely remember it. We said a little prayer over him, thanking God for our healthy little boy and I felt so high from all the love. The love. 

Family and friends began visiting and taking their turns holding him. I remember staring across the room at him, thinking that is my baby. I couldn't wait to hold him again. And smell him. And feel his skin against mine. 

The first night my mom stayed with us to let us catch up on our rest. The second night, as family began to leave and it was just Brandon and Ty and I, the responsibility of his life weighed heavily upon us. It was nearly impossible to sleep. Having never been more exhausted, I remember barely being able to close my eyes. We watched him like a hawk... the tiny rise and fall of his chest. Picking him up at the slightest whimper. The pain of labor had set in. My body felt like a wasteland and yet I was floating on a cloud. 

Around midnight, Ty started crying. Brandon and I couldn't figure out how to make him stop and we called the nurse to the room. After a little detective work, it was discovered that since I had eaten broccoli, jalapenos, and cheese enchiladas... Ty was gassy (lesson learned...mommy FAIL.). At 3 a.m. I called my mom in defeat and she came to the rescue with gas drops and her baby-quieting-superpowers and Ty quit crying. And Brandon and I slept. 

The day we were discharged from the hospital, after an extended stay due to Ty having moderate jaundice, was such a happy day. I couldn't wait to get him home. To begin our lives together. 

The last two weeks have been nothing short of the most euphoric, challenging, exhausting, painful, happy, heavy, overwhelmingly joyful time of Brandon and I's existence. The spectrum of emotion is vast and extreme. It's truly a remarkable thing what a body can do in 9 months and even though it still feels like it is completely broken and may never heal, I feel so blessed for the miracle that it's produced. 

Brandon has been more amazing than I could have ever imagined. They say that a man who enters the delivery room is not the same man that will come out and this couldn't ring more true. Almost overnight, my husband has transformed into this incredible daddy who loves changing dirty diapers and burping a gassy little boy. I've never loved and appreciated him more. Brandon truly is a super dad and I truly could have never understood how much I loved him until I saw how much he loves Ty. The day that he went back to work, I was a sobbing mess. Parenting really is a team sport. 

Ty is our angel. Our baby boy. The little speck in this universe that makes our world go round. God has truly blessed us with this little being and even though Ty started out as a "surprise" he has turned into the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. I look back on the past 9 months and just feel so incredibly humbled. I'm not sure what I did to deserve this life but I will never take it for granted. I've done some pretty cool things in my life... experienced some awesome moments... but giving birth to Tyson Lee Sillivan takes the cake. And every single day since then adds a little more icing to it.