birth story and such.

ok, i revamped the blog. we are now using real names. for some reasons, mostly bc i kept forgetting who was who. i really like the hobbit names and i liked the strength of chris's elven name.
that's not the only thing new. we also have a new baby girl. a new princess of the King. God has blessed us with a sweet baby girl we namd frances marie. that's right, we kept with the frances/francis name and chose marie for a middle name bc she waited patiently to be born on our ladies birthday. she surprised us all by coming early....well, i could go into details while george tries his best to add to the stitches in his upper lip by pestering mary jane, but i think i'll just cut and paste my birth story... so here it is....
The novella of Frances Marie’s birth

Frances’ birthstory begins much different than the stories of her siblings. On Friday, September 5th I walked the kids to the neighborhood pool. We swam in the late afternoon sun, having such a good time I wished it would never end. George was working on perfecting his timing in taking breaths. Mary jane was working on surfacing. Henry carried me around the pool a few times feeling so strong before he and I raced across the pool sideways mimicking Phelps’ Olympic performance. Samantha taught Max how to shallow dive into the pool. I had to cut it short because I knew Chris would be home soon and wonder where his family was. I loaded Mary Jane into the stroller and we took off up the big hill. As I walked I kept feeling trickling between my legs. I kept walking, thinking that I just hadn’t toweled off good enough. When the trickling seemed to come in mini-bursts I got curious and pulled my dress up enough to look. Twin streams of pink liquid, one down each inside leg, coursed towards my ankles. I pushed the stroller towards the curb and sat down by a mailbox. It was about 6:30pm Friday night. I was 37 weeks and 3 days.
“Samantha, go get daddy. I need him to come pick me up.”
“Why?” She looked at me. “Ok”
Samantha raced on foot while Max peddled madly up the hill.
Pinky, a sweet autistic 10 year old boy that frequently haunts our house came peddling up the hill from his house across from the pool. He looked upset, an emotion he very rarely lets known. He babbled something about pushing a boy and his mother calling. He sat next to me while we waited for Chris, who came only a minute later.
“Hey,” Chris called through the open car window.
“My water broke.” My water has NEVER broken outside of active labor of it’s own accord. With Henry the doctor broke my water 30 minutes before he started pitocin. With Samantha I don’t even remember my water breaking with her- but she was a mizoprostol induction, so I’m fairly certain it broke during labor. Max’s water broke just before his head came out. The midwife broke George’s water in an attempt to get things rolling when labor seemed to have petered out. Mary Jane’s ample supply gushed in a seemingly neverending flow all over the doctor’s gloved hands as he made the initial uterine incision.
Chris put Mary Jane in the car. She was so jazzed to not have to sit in a carseat. I grabbed a towel from the stroller before he folded it and put it in the back of the blue van. I put the towel on the front seat and sat down gingerly. I was a bit worried something was wrong because I had always thought amniotic fluid was clear. I had received news the day before that I was Group B Strep negative for the first time since the birth of my oldest. This news suddenly seemed much more important to me now. I was incredibly grateful.
“Call the midwife when we get home.”
I made my way upstairs as quickly as I could with my phone in hand. I took off my dress and suit, which had a tiny amount of pink mucus in the bottom. I put on a pad and a clean dress, the one I traditionally wore to the hospital when it was time to have a baby.
I called the midwife. No answer- so I left a message and then called my sister. She told me that it was ok to be pink. I calmed down.
“Your labor may take off, give yourself 30 minutes to see.” I hung up and started getting things ready. Chris was on his phone getting his parents to come earlier than expected. They were coming this weekend anyway to an interior design expo. Chris’s sister, Leslie also wanted to be there for the birth. She was going to stand by Samantha’s side while she witnessed the baby’s birth.
The midwife called back and asked how things were. I told her and she said to keep her updated. She said she’s comfortable going 24 hours with ruptured membranes.
The kids were getting hungry and I began to assign dinner chores. Max shredded the cheese while Mary Jane proceeded to eat pepperoni by the slice. I rolled the dough out and spread the sauce, thinking, This baby could be here tonight! What luck! To finally go early and not be uncomfortable a day longer.
I don’t remember eating much. I was just grabbing a piece here and there between getting stuff done. After dinner Chris headed to cvs to buy some latex gloves. I wanted to check to see where my cervix lay. I posted my news on the ICAN board and immediately good wishes started flowing in. Some advice I planned on following came in as well, if nothing starts, get to bed early tonight. After I checked my cervix and found it none too favorable, I began getting ready for bed.
“Early” turned out to be an hour later than I’m used to. I had a glass of wine and turned in. I slept off and on. No contractions coming, the air feeling still and expectant.
“well, at this rate I may be able to watch the kids in their first soccer game.” The thought helped me get back to sleep.

“Anything?” chris asked sleepily in the early morning light.
“Nothing. I’m going for a walk.” I grabbed a Gatorade, put ten drops each of black and blue cohosh in and shook. I shoved the Ipod buds into my ears and took off around the block, determined to walk every stitch of concrete in our 400 house subdivision. I changed my mind 2 miles and a full pad later. I needed to refuel.
Chris’s dad and he had made a nice breakfast and the family fell to. We decided to pack a bag for the hospital and get it ready so we could head to the hospital after the games.
The day was hot and bright. I made sure to drink plenty, all the while adding the homemade tincture my herbalist friend had made for me. All during the games only braxton hicks contractions came and didn’t get stronger or closer. The games just served to make me hot, sticky, and uncomfortable. I decided we weren’t going to the hospital. We were going to eat something, take a shower, and sleep. Which is what we did. Little did I know it was the last time I would feel full, rested, and clean for a long, LONG time.
After our nap I followed an herbal protocol from my doula. One dropper full of blue cohosh under the tongue on the hour, one dropper full of black cohosh on the half hour. After a few hours of that with no results we decided to head into the hospital. I hugged the boys goodbye and got into the car with Samantha, Leslie (my sister in law) and Chris. We got to the hospital at about 8:00pm. I hadn’t pre-registered because I didn’t count on needing to until I was at least 39 weeks. I filled out the paperwork quickly and we walked to L&D. I checked in at the nurses station. They asked me if I was a waterbirth, no doubt trying to decide which room I’d take. I was tempted to take the midwife’s advice and not tell them I was a VBAC(Vaginal Birth After Cesaeran) but I couldn’t. The thought flashed through my head that once they found out, I would be stuck in the room with a nice tub and not be able to use it. Also, I would be taking up the room with the nice big tub that someone else who wasn’t a VBAC could and should be using. So I told the truth.
They set me up, took blood and left bruises, Set up the hep lock for the Lactated Ringers and Pit, and asked plenty of questions that didn’t really make sense at the time…like, “how do you learn best? Listening, doing or watching???” how does that relate to why I’m here again?
My sister/pediatrician Margaret, husband, and son arrived. Her son was all over the place taking things in because.. “I want to be an ER doctor.” The midwife came to check me and pronounced that I was 2cm and posterior which was no news to me. I asked her to check to see if in fact my water broke. I felt the need to prove to all the doubters in the room. She checked. It didn’t turn blue to mean my water broke it was more of a green color. She used the other tail of the paper and made me cough. Water came out in a mini-gush and it turned blue.
Chris and my brother in law went to get some food. My sister Christina arrived and brought some snacks for people. The midwife gave the orders to start the pit and not to go past 10 miliunits. They started low and increased 2 miliunits every 15 minutes. I was at 10 miliunits by about 11pm. Everyone started getting restless and wanting to see action or go to bed. I sensed it. Samantha made her bed in the inflatable birth tub that lay propped up sideways on the wall. My brother in law took my nephew home. Christina left and said she’d be back after 1pm tomorrow when she got out of class.
We all settled in to “sleep” and turned the lights down low. The nurse, Sharon, was awesome. She kept propping me with pillows and making sure I was as comfortable as I could be barring those cursed monitor belts. At one point she came in and asked me if I wouldn’t mind laying on my right side. That laying on my left side was causing some minor decels in the baby’s heart rate. It was great news because after months of being vigilant about laying on my left but preferring my right, I could finally do what my body desired.
I finally got a good stretch of sleep and woke to the nurse checking the strip.
“Did you turn off the pit so I could get some sleep?”
“No. You’re still on 10.” Disappointing news to say the least. Labor was not picking up like everyone thought it would.
“Your midwife is going to get more aggressive with the pit in the morning, so get some rest while you can.”

So the morning came. It didn’t feel like Sunday without all the hustling and finding shoes and combing hair to prepare for mass. It felt like stagnant air sitting there, refusing to budge no matter how many fans you turn on. Leslie and Chris each “slept” on pullout chair beds, Margaret “slept” on two chairs pushed together, strategically placed near the monitor strip. Samantha was the only one who didn’t budge all night. The birthing pool turned out to be used very well. I decided to sneak something to eat before anyone woke. Christina left a banana on the rolling table near my bed so I stealthily snuck bites of it’s goodness for breakfast.
The day shift nurse came in and announced that the midwife okayed going to 16. We proceeded as usually up 2 every 15 minutes. 16 wasn’t much different than 10. Occasionally I had to breathe deeper but no focusing was needed. I decided to call the doula. The midwife came in a little while later and tried to snag the bag of waters to make a complete break, as I was just leaking a little. Her thought was that a complete break would start the ball rolling. My right leg was bent so my foot was close to my bottom with my knee sticking out over the edge of the bed. The midwife sat by my shin and worked the hook. I had to go somewhere else in my head- I was so tempted to kick her off the bed. The pain was excruciating. She couldn’t quite snag the bag of waters so she gave up.
My angel arrived a little after noon on Sunday bringing aromatheraputic oils, essential oils, and homemade juice. She had under her arm, an eggplant colored birthing ball. Nadine was going to be my pillar of strength and voice of reason for the next 12plus hours.
In the room at this point were Leslie, Margaret, Nadine, and my sister Denise who arrived and was grading papers quietly in the corner. Chris had all the kids (our own plus some cousins) at Wills Park down the street and was feeding them lunch. I sipped the juice and chatted quietly with my sisters. Nadine massaged my lower back with clarion sage essential oil to bring on stronger contractions.
I needed to take a nap and laid down for a much needed rest. I was left in the room alone and got some more rest. I should add that rest in the hospital is not really rest at all. It’s just pretending to sleep so people can leave me alone. So I rested. I actually probably fell asleep because Leslie told me when I awoke that I was sighing. I think that’s when the contractions were starting to be felt. The midwife came and checked my cervix at around 5. It was 4 cm.
Everyone decided to go to Little Azio’s for dinner in Crabapple. Samantha looked torn. She couldn’t decide whether she should risk leaving or not. I said that it was up to her and no one could make that call but her. She decided to go and hindsight shows us that it wasn’t too bad a decision at all. I was left in the room alone and got some more rest. I should add that rest in the hospital is not really rest at all. It’s just pretending to sleep so people can leave me alone. So I rested. I actually probably fell asleep because Leslie told me when I awoke that I was sighing. I think that’s when the contractions we starting to be felt.
My brother, Fr. Kevin came with mom and dad and brought communion. We had a little communion service right there in the room. During the service I had a few contractions that felt like braxton hicks with an edge. After the service I had a lot of people in the room. It was nice to hang out and chat with everyone. I had missed Kevin while he was away at basic training, and in a few days he would be off to Colorado to finish training for a month before he was then shipped to Iraq.
At about 630 Nadine came close to me and spoke in a low voice.
“I’m giving you until 7:00 to have some good contractions, then I’m kicking everyone out of the room.” She then went to do some reconnaissance at the nursing station. I was totally oblivious to the fact that people in the room were scaring the contractions away. Nadine was so cognizant and so aware. She returned from the nursing station with some information. First, I’d be allowed off the monitors for 15 minutes every hour. No belts, just the IV pole. Second, at the next shift change she would try to secure a “favorable” nurse. The upcoming shift would bring us some good nurses, one really good one and one that wasn’t so favorable. We were hoping we’d get the really open-minded nurse. Seven came and all onlookers left. Contractions really started picking up after that. The shift change brought bad news. The nurse we had hoped for got into a car wreck on the way to work. We ended up with the nurse who carried the rule book under her right arm.
She entered with a commanding presence. She walked in and headed right to the fetal monitors and checked the strip. She wasn’t satisfied with something. She unplugged the telemetry (the wireless monitor that allowed me some mobility) and plugged in the stationary monitor, locking me to the bed in one swift movement. Then things started malfunctioning. She seemed technologically impaired. Nadine joked about this a little, to cut the stiffness in the air. I’m not too sure if it worked at the time, but it laid the groundwork for future interaction.
“Try turning it off then back on”, suggested Margaret, “that’s what I do with my cell phone.”
With the machine rebooted Nadine and I waited quietly, watching for her next step. As she got the blood pressure cuff out I began to feel the beginnings of a contraction.
“Give me a minute?”
“Oh…right.”
She was just checking off things on her “to do” list, oblivious that there was a living breathing person at the end of all the wires and past all the beeps.
Nadine informed her of the agreement about being allowed off the monitors. The nurse looked at us disapprovingly and shook her head.
With the people gone and the pitocin now allowed to be turned up past 20 miliunits, Nadine and I went to work. We walked and talked. Chatting about anything that came into our heads; life, death, children, husbands, poison ivy, food, and religion. I was really thankful for her companionship, her knowledge, and her ability to know what was needed and when. She seemed to know just when to bend over and allow me to brace myself. She moaned with me and swayed with me, and when the contraction ended we resumed our chatting and joking as we walked down the halls. On the maternity hall I was coming down on the backside of a contraction when a nurse came out of a new mother’s room.
“81 wants her baby,” she called out to the nurse behind the desk.
“So do I.” I moaned. We laughed and walked on, dragging the pole, the contractions coming about 3-4 minutes apart.
I ran into some family in the hallway. We chatted for a little. It was getting late and they came to say goodbye. Kids needed to be put to bed. I said goodbye to my kids- Henry and Max were upset at having to leave. George was all smiles and Mary Jane was confused by all the tubes and technology that seemed to be stalking me. All the kids except Samantha left. While in the hallway with my family, my contractions seemed to start to peak, then whisper away like a sneeze that haunts but never actually produces. They felt so curious.
My legs began to feel shaky. I needed nourishment. I needed rest. I began to feel the day would never end. We passed the nurse’s station on the way back to the room. The midwife said she would check me. If I was 6 cm she would turn the pit off. If I was 8-9 she would leave it on. I prayed that it was either one or the other. I returned to my room and sat on the eggplant ball. I was getting exhausted. Feeling fatigue in all corners of my body. I slouched over onto a pile of pillows on the bed. Nadine and the nurse started getting anxious because the baby’s heartrate went low when I slouched. I was so tired. Both the nurse and Nadine requested I spend the next few contractions sitting up. The idea horrified me. What if I can’t do it?
“Couldn’t the monitors just be picking up my heart rate?” I whined.
Chris stood opposite the bed from me scrolling on his Iphone.
“Can you be with her while I take a bathroom break?” Nadine asked Chris.
“Sure.”
For three long contractions and what felt like hours Nadine took a much needed breather. I clung on, determined to handle it on my own. She returned and I climbed into bed, wanting to sleep desperately. I laid on my right side, remembering what Sharon the night nurse said about the heart tones being better that way. The midwife came and checked me. I think it was about 11:30.
“She’s paper thin and 7-8 cm,” she announced. Not what I wanted to hear. I wanted to hear something like, “I’m going to press this “pause” button and let you sleep for about an hour, then I’m going to press this “birth” button and the baby will pop out.”
Between contractions I slept like a rock. My eyes would shoot open as a contraction started to peak. I looked out of the corner of my eye and noticed the midwife dozing with her face propped in her hand. Someone told me that she had been there since Thursday. I also saw Samantha sitting on Leslies lap in a chair in the corner. I closed my eyes immediately. I did not want to lose ground with this labor anymore. I was only going forward.
I started shaking violently between contractions. I tried with all my might to stop them. The midwife calmly and confidently reassured me that shaking was ok. I knew shaking meant that I was close, I just didn’t like the uncontrollable feel of it. Up to this point I had been in control. This lack of control shook me mentally. Nadine laid a cold washcloth on my forehead. It felt so nice and refreshing. I started to feel the need to push on the edge of the contraction but I kept willing it away. I was so tired I didn’t want to even think about pushing. My “oooooh”ing started to turn into “oouhng”-ing. The pushing was coming whether I liked it or not, I just wasn’t going to help it any. I couldn’t.
“It sounds like you want to push,” the midwife noticed.
“I don’t want to push.” “Why?”
“Because I want to sleep.”
“Let’s get her underwear off,” the nurse suggested. I didn’t want to budge.
“Scizzors, just get some scizzors,” I moaned.
“She doesn’t want to move, that’s a good sign.”
Nadine wet a washcloth and poured some peppermint essential oil on it. She placed it on the guardrail that I clung too.
With the next contraction the rulebook nurse says loudly, “I can see head!”
So, here I am. I guess I have to push.
I looked at the clock.
You’ve got to be kidding. It’s Monday!
So I pushed with the next contraction. There was intense pressure, then not so much. I was done! With one push! What mercy God was granting me. Now I can rest!
With my head on the pillow and my eyes shut I hear…
“Feel your baby!”
I reach down to feel the slippery warmth of the babies head, and nothing else.
I have to push more??? the whiney, tired, hungry child inside me complained.
I wanted to throw my head back on my pillow and cry, give up, throw in the peppermint scented towel. Then the light came on. If I push once more, this will all be over and I can finally get some sleep.
“Give us one more push!”
“But it hurts!” I cried as I pushed.
As I pushed and the rest of the baby came sliding out.
“It’s a girl!”
“Daddy, you were wrong!” Samantha took great relish in announcing that fact. She got to cut the cord. The midwife talked to me later and said that I should assure Samantha that it didn’t hurt the baby.
“She just looked so serious, and kind of worried.”
This birth was so different from all the others. With the others it was such an unearthly experience. I was high on my own endorphins with the others. With this one I think I tapped every last reserve of endorphins my body had. I wanted to feel the very life of the baby, smell it’s sweetness, and tell the baby I loved her. Then I desperately wanted someone to hold the baby while I slept.
The midwife dedicated herself to the afterbirth while Chris got to hold the newest person in the room. I looked around at all the people and noticed my mom. I was kind of surprised that my mom was there. She sat quietly in the corner the whole time that I didn’t notice her. My mother in law came in and got to see her new grandbaby before they headed to Alabama. They ended up getting only an hour and a half sleep before work the next day.
I was pretty worried that I tore, she came so fast. When the midwife announced that I didn’t tear I was so relieved. She said that letting my body push her out was gradual enough to gently stretch the skin. She also mentioned that it was so fortunate the baby came when she did, because she was absolutely bone dry- no fluid gushed. Nadine rubbed my aching legs with arnica oil. I suspected they ached from the shaking. Nadine also bought be a blueberry muffin from Harry’s that she brought out. I was so intensely thankful for food I began to eat it too fast. My stomach wouldn’t allow me to finish it, so I wrapped it back up for later.
“What is the baby’s name?” someone asked as I offered the baby the breast.
“Frances,” Chris announced.
“We haven’t thought of a middle name.”
I thought of choosing Chris’s grandmother’s name. Nellie. She died this past August and she was such a wonderful person. But another name kept coming into my mind. September 8th is the Blessed Virgin’s birthday. The baby clearly waited to be born on this day. I felt we needed to honor that. So for the next day or so we talked about the pairing of names. I originally wrote “Frances Nellie-Marie” on the birth certificate form. Chris said she was too small for such a name. He tossed a coin and scratched off Nellie.
So she is…Frances Marie Arendale, but everyone just calls her “Bean”.

There are a few people who need to be mentioned here. I need to remember the role of everyone who made this possible.
The midwife- I honestly believe that few people would have allowed this labor to end in a natural vaginal birth.
Nadine LaFlemme doula- without her support and encouragement I would have gotten lost in laborland and never found my way home
Elaine Mills- for starting ICAN, the place where women can come together with one purpose- to help other women make truly informed decisions.
Maire Orlando- for searching and finding ICAN for me while I was stressing
Everyone else- who prayed for me as well as Frances. Those prayers aided in the outcome. It’s impossible to not see God’s hand in what occurred.


Frances Marie Arendale
8lbs 2oz
19 inches
8/9 apgar- her feet were purple for a bit. ;-)