“When you have come to the edge of all light that you know and are about to drop off into the darkness of the unknown, FAITH is knowing one of two things will happen: There will be something solid to stand on or you will be taught to fly” ~Patrick Overton
Every birth has a story.
And this one goes to Leo.
I thought for sure I wouldn't be able to sleep the night before our son's birth. Unlike our first birth, Leo's was planned. We knew the day and we knew the time that we had to report at the hospital. The tone of the whole event was different than Lidia's. I wouldn't say that it was a good tone rather than a bad tone, or even a bad tone rather than a good one. It was just different.
Bursting with Anticipation
Tap into that feeling that you had the night before Christmas when you were a kid. You had dreamed of all the wonderful things Santa could bring you. A new bike, a doll, a new video game, a swanky new coat. You had asked nicely for the items and were even on your best behavior leading up to the big day. There still were no guarantees that you would get everything that you asked. On the contrary, there was a chance that you could get everything.
Next, imagine the feeling you've had the night before a big vacation. Your alarm is set to go off at 4:00 am so you can get on the road, and so you can arrive in time to enjoy the beach for the first day. Your bags are packed, dogs are at the kennel, keys are in the car. You've been envisioning yourself laying in the sand, eyes closed, sun beaming down on you, and waves crashing right in front of you. Pure joy and relaxation. The only thing standing between you and the beach is several hours of sleep and a long, boring car ride.
Those two accounts are the closest that I can come to in describing the night before our son's birth. That is why I thought I wouldn't be able to catch one wink of sleep. After waiting patiently for 279 nights, I was just one night away from kissing our baby for the first time.
Hush, Little Baby
Surprisingly, though, I was able to sleep. All of those aches and pains from the weeks before had already begun their decent to recent history. My alarm chirped it's sing-songy tune at 4 am and I jetted out of bed quicker than I had since I became pregnant. I showered and put on my make-up, just as it had been any other morning. My body still wasn't showing many signs of labor being imminent, which was not surprising. I found myself wanting to be in a hurry, but at the same time wanting to slow down. Lidia, my sweet, good-natured 2-year-and-9 month-old was about to have her whole life flipped upside down. She was still sleeping (of course) as we left the house that morning. I had the biggest urge to just run into her room and hold her tight to let her know that everything was going to be OK. I would tell her that Mamaw was there to stay with her and help her through this tough transition. I wanted her to know that she was not alone and that no matter how many babies we end up brining into this house, she will always be our baby girl. We will always love her and treasure the 2 years and 9 months that we had - just the three of us. But, my down-to-earth husband knew better. He urged me out the door as we began our journey to a family of four.
The car ride to the hospital was nothing compared to our last labor trip. It was slow and steady. We drove without out saying much. Our eyes gazed out the car windows as our minds were running miles a minute. Would everything go as planned? Would I dilate quick? Would I be able to endure the pain? Would Leo arrive unscathed? Before long, we arrived at the hospital. Time of arrival - 5 am.
3, 2, 1..Action
After our check-in, we were escorted to the birthing suite. Within minutes, I was in a hospital gown, laying on the bed, and being prepped to be pumped full of IV fluids and Pitocin. There was definitely nothing natural about this process. It felt very routine, as if everything was happening according to plan. However, to the nurse's dismay, it was extremely difficult to insert a port in me to administer these drugs (I'm almost certain there's a medical term for this, of which I am unaware). The nurse was literally digging around in my veins to get the port to stay. She tried several times on my left hand, then my right hand, then she gave up and went into my left arm in the space underneath my elbow (again, I'm sure there is a medical term for this area, of which I am unaware). I could tell that it still wasn't in quite right, but at this point I was in so much pain that I had tears streaming down from my eyes, so the nurse accepted the port insertion for what it was. Finally, around 6:30 am, the Pitocin was flowing through my veins. It had to be upped several times, as the contractions were not beginning. During this time, I laid in bed and Jason and I nervously chattered about anything and everything. He brought my computer out and started my playlist, which was quite amusing to the nurses (you can check the earlier posts to find out what my labor mega-mix was).
Doctor, Doctor, Give Me the News
Then, around 9 am, our amazing Doctor, Dr. Rinala made her first appearance of the day. She decided to break my water in hopes that it would speed things along. This was not new to me, as the same was done to me with Lidia. After the water broke, they did not notice any discoloration in the amniotic fluid, which means that Leo did not do a poopie in my womb - which was perfect, and not what had happened with Lidia (she's still our pooping pro to this day).
At this point, I had asked to be hooked up to a mobile monitor, as Jason and I wanted to walk around to help the labor progress more. I couldn't get in the shower like last time, but I did get on the birth ball and leisurely strolled around the room. I didn't have an epidural yet, and I still wasn't convinced that I needed one. We knew the contractions were getting bad when Jason was beginning to get welts on his arms from me squeezing them with Hercules-like strength. The contractions had started and the waves of pain were hitting me hard. I mean, really hard. (You can bet that Jason is smirking as he is reading this. We have a running joke about my non-tolerance for pain). I gave Jason a desperate look and with a trembling voice said, "I'm ready for the epidural." His face agreed, but he did try to motivate me to hold off a little longer. At the same time, he knows me and once I have made a decision, there's no turning back.
Your Love is Like Bad Medicine
So, to the bed I went as I waited on the drug man. He arrived, as a knight in shinning armor would, and immediately noticed the fluid building up in my skin around the port that was so poorly inserted hours ago. He ever-so-graciously removed it and within one try, it was inserted correctly and with little pain. I felt like yelling out, "Nurses: take note!" Next, he administered the epidural, or as I like to refer to it as, pure joy in a needle. Within minutes I was bedridden, partially paralyzed, and pain free. By this time, it was about noon. The nurse checked my dilation and I was at 6 cm. Wahoo! I was getting close. She turned the lights down low and Jason and I tried to rest as we prayed that our baby was within hours of arriving. At this point, we still had no clue how long it would be, but we were prepared for the worst. I'm not sure if Pitocin or the Epidural increases anxiety, but I was pretty much a complete wreck. I kept hearing my monitors go off and I thought that my blood pressure was dropping and I was about to go into cardiac arrest. The nurse had to keep coming in to assure me that everything was OK. At one point, I flipped out because I felt my left arm go cold, but it turns out that it was just the IV fluid line draped over my arm. Yes, it appears as though my anxiety was in full swing. My entire body was trembling, especially my teeth. This is a side effect of the epidural, but of anxiety also. "Enough of this resting crap!", I thought, "Get my baby boy here now!" Around 2 pm, the nurse checked me and I was 8 cm dilated with just a smidge more to go. She flipped me on my other side in hopes that a change in position would speed up the dilation. By now, the end was in sight. However, I was still nervous about how long it would take to push him out. Lidia took nearly 3 hours and included an episiotomy and forceps. Time: 3 p.m. Total time in labor thus far: 7 hours.
Then, the nurse came in to give me what would be my final check. She called out, "It's time to push!" and Jason and I immediately put our game faces on as we waited for our angel of a doctor, Dr. Rinala. As the labor and delivery crew was getting the room prepped for delivery, Jason and I held hands with nervous, excited smiles on our faces. Dr. Rinala came in and tried to prepare me for the worst. She remembered how long it took to push Lidia out and reminded me that it could take just as long with Leo. While I have always trusted her, I just had this feeling that it was going to be different with Leo. His big sister has done a fabulous job of paving Leo's way through life (in terms of schooling mommy and daddy on how to be awesome parents [more details of this in the first post of this blog]), and I was sure that she had prepped mommy's body for his quick arrival on her way out nearly 3 years before.
Approaching our Destination
Next, all attention was given to the contraction monitor, as I could not feel them. I had to be coached when to push. Just as with the first time, Jason grabbed a leg, the nurse grabbed another, Dr. Rinala was front-and-center, and I pushed as hard as I could for Leo's life. It was just as it had been with Lidia. I pushed and pushed, and still no Leo. By this time, it was only 3:30, but I was feeling a bit scared. I was already losing energy and faith in myself. We took a small break in between pushes and one of the nurses had asked Dr. Rinala to predict how much Leo would weigh. She predicted a weight similar to Lidia's - 7 1/2 to 8 pounds. It was, in my opinion, a very educated estimation. After several rounds of more pushing, Dr. Rinala announced that he was getting close - real close - and that it would take one more push from me to bring our precious babe into the world. So, with one last heartfelt, faithful, God-inspired push, Leonardo Matthew was brought into this world. Time of Arrival: 3:54 p.m.
Every Little Thing is Gonna Be Alright
Leo was placed on my chest within seconds and Jason so lovingly cut his cord to make it official (though, I'm not so sure now that Leo's cord ever got cut completely from his mama). We gazed at our perfect baby boy with amazement. Our love for him rained down on us instantly. I was astounded by how masculine his features were. His shoulders were so broad and strong. I remember looking at his hands and thinking, "These are hands of a strong, faithful man - just like his daddy." His hair, just like Lidia's, had tinges of red in it. Our world had never before felt so full of love and joy. I remember looking at his sweet, blue eyes and whispering over and over to him (and still, to this day), "It's mama, Leo. Everything's going to be OK now."
Big Love
Leo's delivery was much more laid back, since he hadn't done a poopie in the womb like his older sister. There was one nurse tending to him and one nurse and Dr. Rinala tending to me after his delivery. As I was getting put back together, Jason was taking pictures and watching over Leo as he was getting cleaned up. All of a sudden, we hear Jason and the nurse yell out, "WHOA!" I swung my head over to where they were and said, "What is going on?!" Jason looked at me, awestruck, and announced Leo's weight. 9 pounds 3 ounces. Holy s$%^! Yes, that is the actual phrase that went through my mind - and everyone else's - as Jason made this announcement. Leo was rightfully dubbed our little "linebacker" and plans concerning his future in sports had commenced.
While the birth of Leo was an amazing moment for Jason and I to share, it wasn't quite complete without our baby girl. Grandma and Grandpa Schneider brought Lidia over several hours later and we were finally bursting with joy and excitement. And to tell you the truth, 13 months later, we still are bursting with that same joy and excitement. There is no one object, place, person, animal...and on and on...that could even come close to giving me the fullness that my family - Jason, Lidia, and Leo - give me. People ask us all the time if our family is complete. And you know what? Our family is absolutely complete. That is, unless the good Lord decides to bless us again...
So, while others may use words to tell stories, I prefer to use videos (and words!). Without further ado, the story of our baby boy's first year of life is below.
To our LeeLee, Leo Schmeo, Boy, Bub, LeeSchmee:
This one's for you.
