I know, my baby is 3 months old and I'm just now getting around to birth details. Two words: three kids. I'd be lying if I said I didn't have time, but by the time 8:00 rolls around, my brain is the texture of overcooked oatmeal.
That being said, I'm sure I've forgotten some details. I know for sure I've forgotten the intensity of labor because I'm already like, "Yeah, that was rough. But was it really
that rough?" (And Randy reminds me, yes, baby. It was.)
Back to the beginning of Kylie's story. It took me a long time to mentally be ready for another pregnancy, even though I knew I wanted another baby. When I got pregnant with Colton, Landon hadn't been diagnosed with DiGeorge syndrome yet, so I didn't even think twice about it. This time, though, I knew the risks. And I knew (and know) how hard it is being a special needs mom, so adding another baby to the mix scared the heck out of me. But goodness, I longed for a daughter. And those of you with special relationships with your mamas probably understand that. A year before we started trying, I started praying. I knew God knew my desires and ultimately He'd give me what was best for me. But as you know, I have a hard time trusting. Imagine that. We ended up getting pregnant the first month we tried and I remember seeing the two lines and my first thought was, "It's a girl!" But I was immediately convinced from that point on that it was a boy. My pregnancy symptoms were pretty much exactly the same (except my morning sickness lasted over half my pregnancy this time - that was super fun) and I mean, really, how could someone with two boys have a girl?! It just
wasn't gonna happen. As you can tell, I have great faith. 😜
Our insurance covered genetic testing since we already have a child with a genetic abnormality, which also meant we could find out gender early (at 10 weeks!). I had my blood drawn, and the next week, the genetic counselor let me know the results were ready in an envelope at the front desk. I don't think I've ever been so nervous to walk in to a doctor's office. I picked up the results with shaky fingers but waited to open the envelope until I got in the car. Longest walk ever. I opened the envelope and the genetic counselor had written in big letters punctuated by a huge smiley face, IT'S A GIRL! And there was the breakdown: XX - Female. No denying that.
I didn't actually cry right away because I was in utter shock. I called my best friend pretty much hyperventilating and she was probably even more excited than I was, mainly because I couldn't actually believe we were having a girl!. I hadn't told Randy that I was picking up the results, so I picked up a "Daddy's Little Girl" onesie and wrapped it up to give it to him (his response was adorable - a bunch of "No way!"s and laughter).
I finally started crying on the way home. I knew that baby girl was a direct answer to prayer and so very, very undeserved. God didn't have to give me a healthy baby, and He didn't have to give me a girl, but He did. And that is grace and that is love.
So... fast forward to her birth story. The week before my due date, I was having a lot of strong contractions, and I could tell they were different because I have Braxton Hicks from about 15 weeks onward, and these were definitely more intense, but not consistent or timeable. I lost my mucus plug early on Wednesday morning and continued to contract throughout the day. I asked my midwife to strip my membranes. She tried, bless her. Two days in a row. But she couldn't because of how Kylie was positioned. Stubborn already, that girl. All it did was send me into a fit of uncomfortable contractions. In fact, in this last Instagram photo I snapped, I was having contractions before I took it and smiled before the next contraction hit. What we do for social media. It's almost embarrassing.
The contractions were extremely frustrating because they hurt, and I knew they were the real deal, but they always fizzled off. We all went out to dinner on Friday night and the contractions kept coming all during dinner, but when we got home, they stopped again. I was annoyed and decided to try a labor induction cocktail that a lot of midwives recommend (and they say it only works if your body is ready for labor). Yes, it had castor oil. Yes, it was disgusting. Yes, it worked. 😉 I took it around 10:30 and almost threw up from the taste. We went to bed around 11:30 and Randy, in typical fashion, fell asleep before his head hit the pillow. I laid there for a while wondering if my water would break and then fell asleep dreaming about the day I would not wake up 5 times to pee.
I woke up around 12:20 with a strong contraction. I started timing them, and they were coming anywhere from 1 and a half to 5 minutes apart. They were only lasting 30-40 seconds long, but they were pretty intense, and my midwife had told me to ignore duration and pay attention to intensity. I called the hospital for advice and the triage nurse said, "Oh, they're only lasting 30 seconds? They're not doing anything to your cervix. Take a Benadryl and try to rest. " Hahahaha. I'm glad I didn't take that advice because Benadryl turns me into a vegetable.
The contractions kept getting more intense, so I called my good friend Tatum (who is also a nurse!) and she said, "Um, you need to go to the hospital. I can hear it in your voice." I finally woke Randy up around 1:30 and said, "I think we need to go in." He was like, "Are you sure?" And I was like, "Umm... I think I'm sure. Am I sure? I don't know. Yes. I think I'm sure." You'd think I'd have it figured out by my third kid, but I didn't! (In a nutshell.. parenthood.) I then started losing a ton of blood, which totally freaked me out. Later they told me it was my bloody show because my cervix was dilating so fast, but at the time, I thought something was going horribly wrong. And I couldn't get Kylie to move even when I pushed on her, so I was nervous
and in pain. Our wonderful babysitter got there a little after 2, and we left for the hospital at 2:12. I told Randy if there were cops, they would just have to follow us to the hospital. And wouldn't you know it? We were speeding down the road and there sat one lonely cop. I mean, FOR REAL. He was either sleeping or eating doughnuts because he didn't stop us. I don't blame him. I'd keep eating doughnuts too.
When we got to base and I walked in holding on to Randy's arm, I started to panic. (In retrospect, we should've used a wheelchair. Walking was a dumb decision.) I told Randy, "I don't remember how to do this. I can't. I want an epidural!!!" Forget labor mood music. No amount of Enya was going to get me through this. And then Randy reminded me about something I had totally forgotten to do, and that was moan through my contractions. That helped me SO much. Rockstar birthing coach, that man. ❤️ By the time we were walking in to the hospital, the contractions were about a minute apart. I walked up to triage and said weakly, "Um, hi. I'm Rebecca Davis. I'm in labor." And then I promptly sat on the floor to work through a contraction. Randy told me that's when he knew I was in labor for real. Like for real for real. Well, good to know my "I'm in the worst pain of my life" face looks like it might be fake. 😉
And wouldn't you know it? The same nurse who told me to chug Benadryl was the one to check me. Irony is a beautiful thing. At that point, I was starting to lose it. I was praying out loud and hanging on to Randy during contractions, bless his poor arms and shoulders. As soon as she checked me, she left the room without saying a word. I told Randy extremely calmly (just kidding) to ASK HER HOW MUCH I'M DILATED BECAUSE I CAN'T DO THIS. When she came back in, Randy said, "So, what is she... an 8? 9?" I was a 9 and she wheeled me out in a hurry. I gritted my teeth through a contraction and asked, "Can I please stop and work through this?" To which she responded, "Would you like to have a baby in the hallway?" I didn't really care at that point. Besides, what if I'd taken a Benadryl? I'd be asleep.
Once we got in a L&D room, it filled with about 10 nurses and a resident and midwife I'd never seen. They made me lie on my back while they were busy trying to get Kylie's heart rate on the monitor but I wanted to switch positions because I needed to push. They wouldn't let me and I'm still not sure why, since they normally don't care how you push at Naval - I think mainly because everything was happening so fast. I started pushing and then they started stretching me to keep me from tearing because she was coming so fast. Seriously the worst. I was yelling at them to stop and Randy started telling them to stop too, but they ignored us, and I suppose I'm glad for that since I haven't had a bit of baby delivery training. I think I pushed twice and out she came at 3:11 am. 7 pounds, 2 ounces, and 18 inches of perfection. I cannot even explain the relief I felt. And
so. much. joy. I was holding the baby girl I'd prayed for for so long. And she was beautiful. Randy started crying and Kylie was whimpering her sweet baby whimpers and I was silently swearing I'd never have a baby without drugs again.
I had them make sure she was still a girl (since I was still in disbelief after 3 ultrasounds and genetic testing). Randy almost passed out, so he sat down and drank some water. I had a tiny tear so while they stitched me up, they gave me something in my IV that made me completely loopy, so I tried to pat Kylie and speak comforting words, but in reality I just wanted to sleep.
She nursed beautifully and they wheeled us off to Mama & Baby where I was supposed to try to sleep, but I couldn't stop staring at her beautiful little face. Something I prayed for specifically was that I'd bond with Kylie right away. I've never bonded with my babies immediately, as weird as that sounds - usually takes me several months before I feel more connected. But this time, I bonded instantly and I am so thankful. Something about the sweetness of answered prayer, I think. :)
Kylie's labor was a million times more intense than Colton's labor, and I'm not sure if it's because it was my third ... or if it was the castor oil from Walmart. (Maybe it actually wasn't castor oil.) But it has been the easiest recovery, and with two other kiddos to take care of, I am so glad! I do think consistent exercise helped a ton. I would say good nutrition helped as well, but I ate a lot of cookies so I don't think that would be very truthful.
Kylie is, so far, a fabulous baby. (And I say "so far" because Colton turned into a wild monkey child when he hit a year). Weeks 2-5 were pretty rough because she had a lot of tummy pain, but when she started sleeping 11-hour stretches before she hit 6 weeks, I realized I had borne an angel baby. Or maybe she just figures I'm so busy reigning in her crazy older brothers that she has nothing better to do than sleep. Wise choice, my little one. Her brothers and daddy adore her, and the only issue we've had is that they're jealous that I would take
their baby sister to feed her
. How dare I.
God loves to give beautiful gifts to His children, not because we deserve them, but because He is a good, good Father. Our sweet Kylie Renée is proof of that. And we are so happy she is finally here to hold and love.
Jesus looked at them and said,
"With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible."
