Thy WILL be done - William's birth story

I taught a lesson in church to the women, our Relief Society as it's called, on the second Sunday of May. The lesson was on prayer, a topic that I felt comfortable and confident leading a discussion about, but knew that in my short 28 years of life I didn't have long enough metaphorical fingernails to truly scratch the surface. 

Soooo, we would just stick to what I DID know and facilitate a good discussion with others and let the Spirit be the teacher.

I shared a quote during this lesson from the Bible Dictionary about the definition of prayer. In part, this is what I read: 

"The object of prayer is not to change the will of God but to secure for ourselves and for others blessings that God is already willing to grant but that are made conditional on our asking for them."

Fast forward to the other day as I was going through my notes and came across this quote. I was struck. 

Leading up to my mom coming, and during her stay, I had chats with Heavenly Father. 

"Look, I get it, 'my ways are not Thy ways' and your timing is perfect. I already know that. So in this case, this is not really a lesson I feel I need to learn ... Cause I already know that!! So, could you just make it so we can have this baby while mom is here? Please?"

And then my mom extended her stay ... because there was no baby.

Time for another chat: "I want what is best for this little guy! I really do. And so him having a mother who is supported by HER mother would be really fantastic. Plus, she's here and it's embarrassing I haven't had this baby yet. Thy will be done, yeah, but ... I'd love to go into labor soon."

The night before my due date and 3 days before her extended trip was over, I walked from the bathroom into our room where Josh was standing, ready for whatever news I had (always secretly hoping it would be "I just lost my mucous plug!" like it had been with Hazel). Instead, I surprised myself by melting into his arms, and through my crying said, "I just want to have this baby already..." He held me and rubbed my back. Not much TO say when you honestly don't have any control over when baby decides to make an entrance. 

During one of the visits with my midwife while my mom was in town, she said there is an art and a skill to be learned in "not knowing." We are becoming so programmed in the world today to having a quick answer for everything. 

Wanna know the weather forecast for that trip NEXT weekend? Google it. 

Curious about the definition for Sesquipedalian? Copy, paste, boom. 

Not sure how to start that essay due at midnight when it's 11:48pm? I'm sure AI can help you. 

Want to have a BABY?! Just call the office, they'll induce you. 

I was fully aware of what she was saying. It made sense and I was grateful I could be counted with the people learning true patience like those in days of yore ... but I feel like I'm a pretty patient person. So, c'mon, Lord, I want it right now!

After my mom left, I wouldn't say I was bitter, but maybe a little frustrated with God. In my kindest words, I let Him know that I felt a little alone. I never felt like He wasn't *listening* to my prayers, but maybe like He had listened and then gotten busy helping someone else. So, after a day or two of crying, being too stoic to cry, and chatting (and a cold shoulder or two) up a storm, I threw up my hands and said, "THY WILL BE DONE". And I meant it. 

It was obvious that this baby boy, being a week overdue, was meant to come at a very specific time and in a very specific way. And I actually just started getting curious about how it would all happen. Excited to see how everything turned out, as I knew it truly would because it was GOD'S way, not mine.

We went to our 41 week ultrasound and stress test, as is customary when you haven't had the baby and need to make sure everything is still going well. What they discovered was a healthy baby, healthy heart, healthy placenta ... but there was a slight problem. 

Actually not slight. A pretty major concern that turned our day and weekend plans around. 

Low amniotic fluid (not great news) and lots of meconium in said-fluid (definitely bad news). In fact, our midwife showed up at the office minutes after I sent her the ultrasound findings so that we could all talk plans. It was unexpected to have her show up, so we knew something was about to happen.

The consensus: go home, back your bags, eat lunch, and come back to the hospital for an induction. 

Lightbulb moment. 

So THIS is the plan. Okay. 

Thy Will be done. 

📢Brief Intermission, brought to you by ModBalls, a delicious 100 calorie energy bite (created by good friends of mine), that has assisted in both my kids' births. Nutritious, delicious, and nothing suspicious! Go check them out (and use code McKenna10 for a discount!)📢

Now, birth stories are my favorite. I love hearing them, I love writing them, and in this case, I loooveee telling them. So, though this is detailed enough for online, there are many details NOT online. Let's chat in person for more of those. Haha. 

We got to the hospital, Hazel included, checked in, and they started me on pitocin. I had hoped NOT to have any pitocin, as it is a synthetic version of oxytocin (the natural hormone your body makes to assist in contractions) and can make the contractions you DO have more intense ... but I felt peace in their advice to start there. 

Josh and Hazel took a nap on the couch, I tried resting as well, and when they woke up, they went fishing and played in Lake Monroe until dark. I was honestly most worried about Hazel during all of this and what she would do while we were at the hospital ... total change in plans from being at home! 

Blessings upon blessings, my mom was jumping on a plane back to see us (absolute surprise!) and a wonderful friend from our church ward lived 7 minutes from where Josh and Hazel were fishing. She volunteered to take her until my mom got in the next morning. 

Pitocin doses increased and we reached a level 14 with contractions happening every 3 minutes, but no progress. Other than a slight tightening, I couldn't feel them at all. They turned it off and switched to 2 doses of cytotek, inserted vaginally. I started cramping mildly after the first dose, and an hour or two after the second dose, I started feeling contractions. I was able to sleep through them and talk through them when the nurses came in around 8am Saturday morning, but by 9am, I asked Josh for the first counter-pressure. 

I joke that the beginning stages of labor when you're contracting but able to smile and talk through them are my LEAST favorite. I call them "smiley contractions". They hurt, but not enough to really get hyped, so you just ... keep smiling. 

Nope, give me the contractions that you get lost in and can't give anybody the time of day. Those are my favorite. I think it's my "red" personality coming out ... getting to honestly and directly communicate with people and not feel like I'm tiptoeing around. Ha!  

Speaking of counter-pressure, I can't ever speak to Josh's character highly enough, but especially during birth. I need only say one word, "ok" and he's applying pressure. He's never complaining, never making excuses, just attending to whatever I need. I did most of my labor in a very narrow tub of the hospital, and Josh was constantly changing the water temperature in between contractions. "Make it colder." Contraction. "Drain it. Go hot." Starts to do that and then, "Ok" and he's applying pressure for another contraction. "Water", and he's got my water bottle to my lips, (and most of the time without me even asking for it). 

Funny how you can feel contractions before they come, and can determine whether they'll be big or not. "Ok. Big one." And he would put pressure. "Harder, harder." And he would press harder. 

Like I said, there aren't words to describe the gratitude for your partner when they're in it with you like that. Josh is kind, humble, strong, and intuitive. And I'm grateful to have had yet another opportunity to see all those qualities in their brightest light. 

Two of my favorite pictures from Hazel's birth. This time around was no different. 

Photos by Julie Francom

After about 2 hours in the tub, I was checked for dilation (which is always nerve-wracking) and the nurse said I was complete! I was stunned. So much, in fact, that I broke out crying. It was so fast! Nothing like the 48 hours I had been dreading from Hazel's birth.

It's funny, there's always that moment in birth when you feel like you want to give up. And when you feel that, you're almost there. You're almost to the point where you get to see your baby. I was now out of the water, and as contractions kept coming and I didn't quite feel the urge to push yet, my midwife suggested standing up for a few contractions to help baby continue to come down. As I stood up for a few contractions and found they were very intense, I said out loud, "Because of what happened last time, is there any benefit to doing an epidural?"

My midwife's response was perfect, "I don't think you need it. I think this time is different from last time. And honestly, there might not be enough time." 

I'm not sure how long I stood up, but it was enough to make a difference and soon we were ready to start pushing! 

It's honestly a blur, but what I do remember is laying on my side (a good compromise, haha) and lots of cheerleading. The room full of nurses, the incredible doctor, my amazing midwife, Josh ... every push they would tell me how incredible and strong I was. 

Funny side note about all of this: I remember with Hazel feeling her head come out, and then everything else just sliding right out. 

You can imagine my confusion when I felt his head "pop" out, and everyone saying, "Oh, how cute! ... keep pushing!"

So I kept going, thinking THIS would be the last time.

More oohs and awes and comments, "Oh my goodness! Big boy! Push!"

Surely, THIS was the last one. 

It went like this for a few times. 

Finally. Once his hips were out, the rest of his little body (haha, just everything below his thighs) came sliding right out. 

Another blur. And honestly, the next 2 days are bundled into this blur because of what happened next. 

They set him on my chest and I heard someone say, "Oh my goodness, he's got RED HAIR!" And I proceeded to do the intense, hormonal total-body shake while, unknowingly, also having over a liter of blood being directed into gallon bags. The energy in the room was still calm, but I sensed that the nurses were working with some new purpose. Lots of blood. Oh, so much blood. 

We got 2 minutes of delayed chord clamping, which might've been longer had I not been bleeding so much. 

As soon as the blood was controlled, the doctor grabbed a needle to begin the stitches on my second degree tear. 

My midwife gasped and gently touched his arm, "John, you might want to let her know you're doing this. She can feel everything down here still." Then she put her hand on my leg. 

I remember the doctor being a bit shocked as he realized he'd forgotten I hadn't had an epidural this entire time. 

The last few paragraphs you've just read have been relayed to me, as I don't quite remember much of this time. I know that Hazel and my mom were outside the door, and Hazel was making friends with every nurse, telling them she was a big sister! She even got a sticker, which she was so proud to show everyone. 

My mom made up the cutest song to the tune of "Are You Sleeping" and she and Hazel sang it outside while they waited to come in:

🎼🎶Baby Brother, Baby Brother

You're so cute. You're so cute.

I just wanna hold you. I just wanna hold you.

Where are you? Where are you?🎶

Of course, when Hazel saw Baby William for the first time and held him on the little hospital chair, she had to sing him one of her favorites: BaaBaa Black Sheep. What a lucky little brother. He made her look huge and also tiny all at the same time. We didn't know how much he weighed, but everyone was guessing somewhere in the 9's.

They finally weighed and measured him and I couldn't believe my ears. 

10lbs 4oz. 

"I'll weigh him again just to make sure." said the nurse. 

10lbs 4oz. 

Mind blown. And 22.5 inches long? No wonder I felt him pressing on my pelvis AND kicking my ribs at the same time. I always joked, "This kid has got to be 27.5 inches long!"

Per the nurses request for me to eat something asap to start the blood renewal, I ordered some food and found it extremely difficult to eat. It's hard to explain the absolute fatigue I felt. In general, but specifically in my arms. They had told me I needed to eat, but the weight of the hospital fork I was using was just too heavy. Because of the narrowness of the birth tub, I didn't have tons of room to move around, so the position that suited me best was kneeling on the floor with my arms on the "shelf" of the tub. With my arms doing most of the support for my body during that 2.5 hours, they were pretty beat. 

Bless my angel mother who at first was watching me and reminding me to keep taking bites, and then came and sat down beside me on the bed and fed me. 

And the rest is history! Er, um ... healing; y'know, the boring parts that are REAL but not as exciting. The first two days home, I felt like a zombie: tired, weak, and insanely bruised on my back from Josh's sacrum pressure (worth it? absolutely!). 

So. What about it. Why did this happen? During our first night as a family of 4, I pondered the whole scenario. Baby brother was here! He had arrived in the hospital, not at home, and the entire situation was just nothing like I had pictured. 

And that was TOTALLY okay with me. 

Of course it was. Because that's usually how it goes. 

"The object of prayer is not to change the will of God but to secure for ourselves *and for others* blessings that God is already willing to grant but that are made conditional on our asking for them."

.

.

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Blessings God was already willing to grant.

The blessing of having peace of mind, knowing that if baby boy got stressed out and inhaled meconium, we were within seconds of getting him help, rather than a 45 minute drive down the canyon.

The blessing of having my midwife still with us in the hospital, to advocate for all the things I still wanted to accomplish: unmedicated, birth tub, side-lying, delayed this, none of that, etc etc. 

Or, the most unknown: 

How about the blessing of being in the hospital under medical supervision during a moderate -severe hemorrhage? 

Blessings God was already willing to grant, but made conditional upon our asking for them. 

Thy Will be done. Not mine.

Silly to look back and remember me telling God, "Look, I know this lesson. I don't need it. I just need you to give me what I want." How ironic. How immature. Face palm face palm face palm. 

Grateful that God is always patient with His children and truly DOES have their best interest in mind and in His heart. Whatever it is. Whether it's being nervous about a move across the country. Wondering how you'll make the rent next month. Waiting for a baby because YOU think the timing is perfect. 

Even with this new experience, I am very aware that I still don't have nails to scratch the surface of this topic; however, I'm grateful to a Heavenly Father who lovingly and gently helps us realize that the first step to scratching any soil is to get down on our knees. 

Not to change His plans, but to align ours with His. 

It's hard to see in the moment, but with every experience I've ever had, it's so easy to look back and see how God has been orchestrating the entire thing. For my benefit, even. Always. 

You know his name, but I'll never tire of telling people:

William Kyle. 

Welcome to the family, baby guy!