This is another post in a series on how God has changed me through the ups and downs of pregnancy, childbirth, and miscarriage. (View the previous post here, or start at the beginning here.)
“You don’t want to have a baby on the floor, do you?” someone called out.
I looked up and saw two labor nurses approaching me with an empty wheelchair.
“Do you think you might feel like pushing soon?” asked the other nurse as she helped me into the wheelchair.
That’s a silly question, I thought. I have another ten hours at least. But the suggestion of pushing made me realize I could feel Lily’s head very low.
“How did you know to find us here?” asked David.
“The security guard saw you on surveillance and sent us down to get you,” she answered.
They hurried me up to the maternity triage unit, where I changed into a gorgeous hospital gown and David began filling out paperwork.
“You’re at seven,” said the nurse after checking my dilation.
“I thought I was at two!” I said.
“Things usually move faster the second time around,” she answered.
Another contraction came and faded, and I thought about the nurse’s earlier question. I realized it seemed I could push Lily out.
“It kind of feels like pushing,” I said.
The nurse checked my progress again. “Eight or nine,” she said.
“We don’t have time for fetal monitors . . . ” said the other.
Another contraction, another check.
“It’s gone . . . ” she said.
They started rushing to recruit the needed help and wake up the doctor-on-call, then awkwardly wheeled my bed through the triage unit doorway.
“She’s coming!” I yelled as they hurried me down the hall, with David following. I didn’t have the urge to push but contractions seemed to be pushing Lily out anyway.
“Don’t push!” they yelled back.
We arrived at a delivery room and they began setting up.
“I need to sit up!” I said between contractions. My bed was fully reclined and I wanted to relieve the pressure on my back.
“Sit up? You’re going to have a baby!” said the doctor who had just walked in.
“I need to sit up!” I said again. A nurse had compassion and adjusted my bed. Another contraction broke my water, splashing it out at the doctor.
Within a few minutes, everything was ready for delivery.
“Okay!” said the doctor.
I didn’t realize that was my signal to push.
“Push!” yelled the doctor. “Baby’s not coming out unless you push her out! Push that back pain out!”
That was what I needed to hear. With a big roar (like the time I gave David a piggy-back ride) I pushed out the back pain and Lily’s head. Another contraction delivered her tiny body.
I looked at David with shock and relief. What had taken many hours and multiple pain-relievers to achieve in Brayden’s labor had taken minutes in Lily’s. I was so grateful Jesus had answered so many prayers for Lily’s health and safety, and for a quick labor.
They wiped Lily off and handed her 5 lb. 15 oz. body to me.
What a beautiful prize.
“That was fun!” said my nurse. “That was like Nascar! Let’s do it again!”
The doctor started sewing me up, and told the nurse to mark Lily’s delivery position as “posterior”. I had been thinking her face-up position would slow down labor, and was so thankful it hadn’t.
I felt so happy taking Lily home, having received the answer to many prayers. We settled in as a family of four, and the first year and a half went quickly (except that I would not recommend potty-training a two-year-old while round-the-clock nursing an infant . . . ). But I had a surprise coming for my 30th birthday . . .
Read the next post here.
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