Declan's Birth Story

It has been nearly six weeks since our sweet son entered the world, but when I look at his precious face, that miraculous moment seems like only yesterday. (There’s also something about having a newborn that makes the first few weeks feel like one really long day).

For as long as I can remember, I have known I’ve wanted to be a mother, but it wasn’t until I saw my son for the first time that I truly knew what that meant. This is the story of that day.

In the weeks leading up to my delivery, my health took a slightly scary turn for the worse. In early September, following a long weekend in Hilton Head, South Carolina, I went to a check up. They told me that my blood pressure was up slightly and they wanted to keep an eye on it. A week later, I was 35 weeks along, I went back again and the BP was further elevated. The doctors were concerned that my condition could develop into pre-eclampsia. They decided to place me on modified bed rest, which meant leaving work several weeks before I had intended to start my maternity leave and trying my best to simply relax at home (which is clearly not my best thing). They told us to prepare ourselves that our son might need to be delivered, as early as the following week and to fully expect that no matter when he was born, my labor would likely need to be induced.

We spent the weekend making the necessary arrangements to welcome a baby into our home. We returned to the doctor’s office on Monday. My pressure remained high but no other signs of pre-eclampsia had yet emerged and the baby seemed to be stable. They decided to give our little guy more time inside the womb to develop and began monitoring me twice per week with ultrasounds and non-stress tests. Each time we went to the doctor, we put our suitcases in the car and prepared to be taken over to triage and each time, we were sent home to “bake” a little longer.

Miraculously, we were able to hold off induction for another four weeks without any other pre-eclampsia symptoms developing! We were even cleared to make a trip to Syracuse, NY to be in the wedding of our best friends! Though my blood pressure remained high and I was retaining fluid at a somewhat alarming rate, I was happy to give our boy more time to develop.

We were finally at 38 weeks and a few days. After reviewing my condition and his, Hubs and I, together with our doctors, decided that it was time to deliver. We made arrangements to induce at exactly 39 weeks on Wednesday, October 9^th – on the anniversary of our first date five years ago.

On the morning of the induction, Hubs and I woke up around 3:30 am. We were scheduled to arrive at the hospital at 5:00 and so we took our time getting ready and enjoying a hearty breakfast together. It was a special moment that we’ll always remember.

We arrived at the hospital right on time and were able to secure the largest labor and delivery room on the floor. We checked in and got situated. Shortly thereafter, the nurses began setting up my IV – it took them no less than six (count ‘em) tries before they finally got a vein that worked (ouch!). They started pitocin and fluids and I was able to shut my eyes for a few minutes.

I started feeling contractions but things were getting off to a slow start. My amazing sister-in-law who had come into town (with her three young children) specifically to coach me through labor, arrived at the hospital a few hours later. She encouraged me to get up and get moving (we even had a short dance party)! Contractions started to pick up in consistency and strength but were still manageable. Around noon, my doctor came in and broke my water. At that time she placed an internal monitor to better observe my contractions.

From then on, contractions began to pick up steadily. Throughout the process, I had the best team of coaches I could have imagined surrounding me – my husband, my mother, my sister-in-law and her sister. I was aiming to have a natural delivery without the aid of pain medications and so needed every ounce of their support.

As each wave of a contraction rolled in, they seamlessly took on specific roles helping me to relax my entire body from my face down through my legs. They helped me remember to breathe and let the contractions completely take over my body. In some ways, it felt like a perfectly choreographed dance and they were all partnering me through it.

At one point, the baby’s heart rate decelerated for about four minutes. In order to accurately keep track of the baby’s heartbeat, the nurses asked me to stay close to or in my bed, limiting my ability to labor in different positions.

As the afternoon wore on, contractions continued to come at me every few minutes and were lasting for about 30-60 seconds. I had little sense of time passing and in between contractions tried to completely relax my body, almost to the point of sleeping for short stints. We kept the room dim and quiet with the blinds drawn, and I remember completely giving my body over to the pain. The nurses came and went regularly, monitoring my vitals and adjusting my pitocin levels in order to let the labor progress as naturally as possible.

Around 8:00 pm the intensity picked up further and I entered transition – the last phase of labor before you begin pushing. My body was wracked with each wave to the point of nausea. I got sick several times and felt relief rush through me just as the next wave rolled in. Hubs later told me that I had four “off the charts” contractions in a row and then immediately on their heels a less intense but incredibly long one that pushed me over the edge.

It was then that the doctor came in to check my progress. Despite exhibiting clear signs of transition, I was still only about 6 cm or so dilated and about 70-80% effaced. There was scar tissue present that was keeping me from progressing further.  I nearly fell apart when I heard this news. All the while, the contractions kept coming.

I asked everyone to step out of the room and turned to my husband to discuss whether we should introduce pain medication to the equation. We were both dedicated to a natural delivery, but we knew that the scar tissue complication had stalled some of my progress. We decided to proceed in increments and asked for the doctor to push IV pain medication in hopes that it would take the edge off and help me relax enough to continuing dilating. After what seemed like ages I was still feeling every ounce of pain and was losing my ability to systematically relax through the contractions. I asked when the meds would kick in and was told they should have done so a while ago. I was also told that when your body is in transition already, IV pain meds are less likely to be effective.

It was at this point, exhausted and overwhelmed, that we decided to place an epidural. It took a long time for the anesthesiologist to arrive and get set up. I was still contracting regularly and was now without the many hands of support that could help me cope with the pain as they had cleared the room. I was asked to sit up with my legs over the side of the bed resting on Hubs’ knees. I had nothing to brace myself against as two strong contractions came on. Then, I hunched my back to make room in my spine and with every ounce of control I could muster stayed completely still through another contraction while the doctor was injecting the needle. I was focused, Hubs was scared for me.

They were able to place the epidural successfully and I asked them to keep the dosage low. After a short while, I could still feel the contractions but they were far less painful. I was able to rest and regain some strength.

About an hour after the epidural was placed, my doctor returned and checked me again. I was thrilled when she exclaimed “you’re complete!” (Meaning I was fully dilated and effaced). It was then I knew that getting the epidural when I did was the right decision. It helped me relax my muscles, and once the scar tissue was cleared, I was able to progress quickly.

I labored down, sitting upright in bed for another 45 minutes or so, to let the baby drop a little further. They told me to let them know when I started feeling pressure and the urge to push. It was around 10:00 pm that the nurse predicted the baby would be born after midnight.

Somewhere around 10:40 or so I started to feel the pressure they had described and called for the nurse. She checked me and said that we were going to practice some pushing but warned that it could still be a while since I was a first time mom and had never pushed before.

We started with a few practice pushes. The nurse expertly guided and coached me through the process and told me I was doing great, especially for having never done this before! At 11:00 she excitedly proclaimed, “he’s right there – we’re going to start pushing for real!”

I started pushing with every contraction, giving it everything I had. I’m certain it was sheer determination for him to be born on the 9^th that helped me keep up the strength I needed.

Sure enough, at 11:30 pm the nurse was shocked that she could see his head and called for the doctor. In an instant, the room was swarmed with a team of medical professionals. While they were setting up, I felt another contraction coming on and asked if I should push again. They told me to wait (and I’m so glad they did). Moments later, another contraction came on and the doctor told me to push. With that one push, I felt the sensation of his head coming out then, immediately after, his shoulders and his tiny body.

It was without question the most bizarre feeling and one I’ll never forget.

When I opened my eyes, I saw his tiny body being held in the air as he was thrust into my arms. I heard the beautiful sound of him crying and I looked down to see the most breathtaking face I have ever laid eyes on.

Words will forever fall short in describing how I felt that moment. A combination of overwhelming love, relief and simple, raw emotion came over me. I was in tears.

It felt as though I stared at him forever and yet, I’m sure it was only seconds. I looked up at my husband and again was floored by the beauty before me. He was crying and looking down at our son so lovingly I thought my heart would burst from my chest.

Though we had been fairly certain of his name, it wasn’t until we saw his sweet face that we were sure he was in fact Declan Mitchell Bassett. I always thought it was strange when couples told me that they couldn’t decide the name of their child until they were delivered, but in that moment, I knew just what they meant.

A while later, they took him to be measured and weighed. He was a peanut! 6 lbs. 2 oz. and 18.5 inches long. His glucose levels were a little low, so we knew we had our work cut out for us for the next few hours to feed him enough to get his blood sugar levels stabilized.

The hours that followed were an exhausting blur…in fact, in some ways, the last six weeks have been. But every moment has been a learning experience.

I am so grateful for the experience I had bringing Declan into the world. The ability to trust my body to do what it needed to was empowering. I will be forever changed by it.

I am beyond blessed for the support I had in the delivery room – I never could have done it without them.

And I am overjoyed to be a mother - exhausted and frustrated at times, but overjoyed.

It is true what they say about how all the positive things about being a parent manage to completely erase all of the struggles. I experience that every day. I can fall asleep frustrated and defeated after a rough feeding, and hours later, wake him up and just fall completely in love all over again.

I am privileged to be Declan’s mom and so look forward to what this exciting journey of raising a child brings our way.