After I wrote Kennedy's birth story many months ago, I realized that I had never actually written Ryan's birth story anywhere. I did not keep a journal at the time when he was born, and it was long before my blogging days. So I decided that I should write it, if only for myself and for him, and that I would post it on his next birthday.
Well today my little Ryan Maguire turned seven years old.
This is the story of his birth, exactly seven years ago, December 7th, 2006.
My due date was November 25th, my 21st birthday. That day came and went without a single sign of labor. And then another week past.
My doctor agreed to schedule an induction of labor sometime between the 5th and 8th of December. I immediately refused to schedule it for the 7th. Many years ago, before the birth of my oldest brother, my mother had given birth to a still-born baby girl on December 7th. I remembered the date because she used to have a Christmas ornament with the date embroidered on it to remember her first baby. I am normally not a superstitious person at all, but I simply did not like the idea of giving birth to my first baby on December 7th. So we scheduled the induction for the 5th.
Jayne flew out to North Carolina from Arizona on Monday, the 4th. I was instructed to call the Army hospital at 6:00 AM on Tuesday to make sure there was a bed available. But when I called, there was not. I was told to call back in three hours. I called back every three hours for two entire days and was repeatedly told that they still had no beds. After such a horrible pregnancy and then being two days late for my induction, I was beyond miserable. So miserable that I locked myself in the bathroom on Wednesday night and cried for hours.
The phone rang around 6:00 AM the next morning. It was the hospital calling to tell me that I could finally come in. Of course, it was December 7th. Andrew had already been at work since 5:00, so Jayne and I drove to the hospital and started the process of getting checked in. I still had not had a single contraction, was not dilated at all, and was 0% effaced. The nurses warned me that I was most likely facing
at least 12 hours before I would meet my baby boy.
My IV of high-dose Pitocin was started at 9:00 AM. Within thirty minutes I was having extremely painful contractions, so I called my doula, Doris Ann and asked her to come help me. Andrew had arrived but was told by his "higher ups" that he could only stay for a few hours (gotta love the Army!), and since the midwife on call assured us the baby would not be arriving until later that night, we went with it - but I was pretty pissed.
I labored unmedicated with Doris Ann for two hours, and felt confident that I would be able to make it through a natural birth, despite the extreme contractions caused by the Pitocin. By noon I was dilated to 4 cm and was told it was time for the midwife to break my water. The nurses asked me if I wanted an epidural first, but I felt I was handling the labor pretty well and was afraid an epidural would stall labor if given too early, so I told them I would wait. So the midwife came in and broke my water...and then the very next contraction was so painful I thought I would pass out. It was a pain I had never known, so intense that there are not even words to describe it. I immediately screamed for the epidural.
While I waited for the epidural man to arrive, I labored as best I could, jumping off of the bed and squatting on the floor with each contraction, because for some reason it was the only thing my body wanted to do. Doris Ann and Andrew would help me back into bed in between each contraction, and then I would jump back out only a few minutes later. My IV was still being pumped with high-dose Pitocin, which made the contractions long, hard and excruciating. The epidural man arrived at some point, and it was hospital policy that only one person could be in the room with me while the epidural was administered, so I chose Doris Ann to stay with me while Andrew and Jayne waited down the hall. They felt at ease knowing that by the time they returned, everything would be calm, the pain would be gone, and we could get through the rest of the labor in peace.
Unfortunately, that things did not go quite as expected.
I was unable to sit still long enough for the doctor to place the epidural. My contractions were so intense and close together that it was impossible for me to sit up straight for longer than a minute or two. I remember him complaining, saying "you're only 4 cm, you should be able to hold still." I wanted to punch him in the face. He finally got impatient and told me that he was going to do the epidural for the woman next door and then he would come right back, giving me time to "practice holding still." But Ryan was born before he even finished the epidural next door.
Everything after he left is pretty hazy. I don't know the time frame of when everything happened or many details, but I do know it all happened very fast. I remember squatting on the floor, clenching Doris Ann's shoulders, screaming in pain. I remember seeing blood all over the floor. I remember begging Doris Ann to not leave me alone as she was adamantly trying to get someone in the room to check my cervix. I know one nurse checked me incredibly fast and said I was only 8 cm. She left us alone without hesitation and could not have cared less about the fact that I was begging to push or that there was blood all over the floor. I did not know it at the time, but I later discovered that my placenta had most likely ruptured - yet there were no doctors, no nurses - it was just my doula and me alone on the floor.
I remember the moment when Doris Ann looked me in the eyes and asked, "do you feel like there is a baseball in your butt or a basketball?" I answered basketball without hesitation. Then she looked at me and said "you are having this baby NOW." She did not want to leave the room because she was afraid that Ryan would be born on the floor if she didn't get me in the bed as fast as possible. So she helped me up and started yelling for help. By that point I had lost so much blood that I was starting to go into shock. I vaguely remember a whole group of people rushing around me, telling me to push. I was so confused and scared, because they had just told me not to push only minutes earlier. I was terrified. I yelled for Andrew, but he was still in waiting room thinking I was getting an epidural
A nurse ran out to get him.
"Is your wife in room --- ?!"
"Yes...?"
"You better get in there, you're having a baby!"
"No I'm not. She just getting the epidural."
"No she's not! Go now!"
He and Jayne later told me that they could hear me screaming the moment they ran through the doors of the mother-baby unit. They ran into the room just as Ryan's heart rate started plummeting. They told me he was stuck in the birth canal because I wasn't pushing hard enough and that I had to get him out before his heart rate got any lower. I remember sobbing as I begged them to just do a c-section. An oxygen mask was put on me at some point, but I didn't even notice. There were blurry nurses everywhere I looked, Jayne was in the corner of the room looking terrified, Andrew was holding my hand, Doris Ann was holding my legs, and the midwife was yelling at me to push harder. But I was in shock - all I could feel was pain, and I could not figure out how to tell my body to work harder when I felt I was trying as hard as I could. I was given an episiotomy without my consent, and without any numbing medication. It wasn't until I heard the midwife ask one of the nurses for a pair of forceps that I snapped out of it and pushed with everything I had.
And then there he was.
Ryan Maguire was born at 1:49 PM, after less than five hours of labor and only an hour and 50 minutes after my water was broken. Apparently he was determined to make an entrance and wasted no time doing so.
He was taken to be weighed and cleaned off before I could hold him. It must have only been five or ten minutes, but it felt like the longest five or ten minutes of my entire life before I could hold him and look at him. I sobbed as I listened to him cry and listened to the nurses calling out stats. Eight pounds, seven ounces, and mad as hell. But he was healthy, pink, plump, and
perfect.
The moment my sweet little Ryan was finally placed in my arms was the most amazing moment I had ever experienced. It was as if I could literally feel my heart changing, like the rumblings of an earthquake in my chest. I felt a relief that was indescribable, knowing that the hell of my pregnancy was finally over and that the grand prize was entirely worth every moment of misery. I also felt strongly that my mother had sent Ryan down to me on December 7th for a reason - to give new, wonderful meaning to a date that had caused her so much pain. I almost laughed as I cried my tears of joy, thinking about how it was all part of God's plan all along.
At some point both Andrew and Jayne had left to make phone calls. All the nurses had gone, and it was just my tiny boy and me alone in the room. I held him and sang "Baby Mine," the lullaby from
Dumbo that my mom used to sing to me. Ryan now calls it "the baby song" and knows it is my special song just for him. I also now have the words "Baby Mine" tattooed above his name on my shoulder blade.
After Ryan was born, I was not allowed out of bed for 24 hours due to how much blood I had lost. I was never given an explanation of why. It was only years later after discussing it with experienced medical professionals that I learned my blood loss was not normal and that the most likely explanation was a ruptured placenta. I then experienced problems with my placenta during Kennedy's birth as well, so the explanation seems even more valid, but I will never really know exactly what happened. My doula told me after the birth that she estimated I had progressed from five to ten centimeters in only about ten minutes, based on everything that had happened. The incredibly rapid nature of Ryan's birth was frightening and traumatizing, and the recovery from such a fast brutal assault on my body plus the episiotomy was awful. But he was so,
so worth it.
It was not easy to bring my son into the world. I had an awful and complicated pregnancy. I miscarried his twin brother. I had a traumatic and painful birth experience. But every moment, every tear shed and every twinge of pain was all part of the greatest transformation I ever experienced. My son's beautiful blue eyes melted away everything but pure love and joy. And that is something I will never forget.
***
I love you, Ryan Maguire.
Thank you for changing my life.
