Surprise! We had another baby, our fourth and final. Her name is Sophia, and she completes us. We’re a hop, a skip, and a throw away from her first birthday, so it’s probably time I sat down and wrote out her birth story. So here we are. Also, hi, hello! It’s been a while and I missed it here.
We were beyond blessed to conceive her quickly, and I got a positive pregnancy test the morning of our seventh wedding anniversary. I opted to take a genetic screening test, for the sole purpose of finding out the baby’s gender, because I needed to mentally prepare myself for the possibility of a third boy.
On the most gorgeous January morning, I got the email: a girl. I still can’t believe how blessed we are — two boys, two girls. What a gift.
A pregnancy flies by when you’re a stay at home mom to three toddlers. It was a big blur of vomiting, unpleasant hemorrhoids, unsightly varicose veins, and garden variety pelvic pain. Though, all things considered, it was textbook and smooth, and I managed to exercise 2-3x per week at the gym + daily walks until the very end.
As her due date approached, my only real concern was the possibility of needing another induction due to my history of low fluid levels. I really wanted to deliver at the birth center and avoid interventions.
Her due date also happened to land on the first day of kindergarten for our oldest and the first day of preschool for our second born.
Not ideal, but I managed to get everyones supplies labeled, met the teachers. The timing made me nervous because I really, really, wanted to be the one to take our daughter to her first day of kindergarten. It felt like a moment I couldn’t miss.
Thankfully, I was able to be there. But literally the moment I got back in to the car, I started having contractions. I decided to go for a walk once I got home, in the hopes to keep things moving. I got a pedicure, took another long walk, all while heavily cramping and contracting the whole time. But by bedtime, everything fizzled out.
The next morning, I woke up at 3AM for a snack (always a 3AM snack in the 3rd trimester) and never went back to sleep, as light but slowly increasing contractions were starting up again. I did my usual morning with the kids, breakfast, and getting everyone off to school. All the while contractions didn’t slow. My husband dropped off our daughter, and I foolishly walked our son to preschool (it’s only a 5 minute walk, but still). That’s when I knew: this is it. Contractions were now 4 minutes apart. Today is the day.
I came home and rested on our bed, and began timing contractions, coming closer and closer. In just 45 minutes, they were coming 2 to 3 minutes apart. Coincidently, I had my 40-week appointment that morning (which has now happened for all four of my births — oddly consistent). We decided to throw my bag and the carseat into the car, knowing we’d come home with a baby.
At 10am, we arrived at the birthing center for my appointment. Everything looked great. It was clear I was in labor, but since I wasn’t even 1cm dilated, the midwife on call went through our options with us. We could go home, and labor for a while, come back when things picked up, or since we were already there, and it was a slow day at the birthing center, I was welcome to early labor in the birthing suite of our choice. I was really surprised, because when I delivered my older son (four years prior), they made a big deal about not checking patients into the birthing suite until a minimum of 4cm.
Anyway, I really appreciated the grace because I was looking forward to early labor in a nice quiet environment, away from my other children. I knew that if we went back home, I’d be sucked into the vortex of childcare around lunchtime, etc. and I didn’t want to deal with another roundtrip car ride while in active labor. It was settled, we were staying. We went back to the car, got our bags, walked around the hospital for a bit, got lunch, and walked around the courtyard.
I remember that it was an unseasonably cool and perfect August day for Missouri, and feeling so confident and excited to meet our daughter. I remember feeling really calm, grounded, and confident in my body’s ability to do this for the fourth time. I can do this.
By 1pm, we were settled and checked into our birthing suite. Lights low, tub filling, I rested with the peanut ball and met our lovely L&D nurse, MJ. I labored in the tub for hours. Contractions were steady and manageable. Still spaced two to three minutes apart. It honestly felt like a really pleasant day. There were no diapers to change. No meals to make. My in-laws had the kids. We were in this quiet room, talking, breathing, resting. It was almost… fun? As fun as labor can be. Between contractions, we joked and talked, and it felt like a day date that happened to include contractions.
MJ checked the baby’s heart rate before, during, and after contractions every 30 minutes or so. All sounded good. And then around 6pm, still pruning in the birthing tub, I started to feel pushy. But thought it was too soon, because I knew I didn’t go through transition.
But it was the fourth baby, so maybe I got to gloss over it and have a super easy birth, for once? Midwife Michelle had me come out of the tub, and wanted to try an all fours position with a peanut ball on the bed. After pushing for about 20 minutes with no progress, she decided to check me for the first time since the morning. Four pregnancies in, I know that my cervix is high and at an awkward angle, and sure enough, she was having a tough time reaching it. Which isn’t really what one hopes to hear when they’re trying to push a baby out.
We decided to stop pushing and keep laboring. I was a little disappointed, but I’d actually had the thought just before we started pushing: this is too easy, I haven’t hit transition yet.
Then it was shift change, and I was so sad to say goodbye to our nurse, she’d been such a gentle presence. She kept repeating the affirmation, “let it be big,” whispering it as she monitored the baby’s heart during contractions. It was such a small thing, but it stayed with me, even now. It gave me permission to let the contractions fully rise.
So I got back into the tub. That’s when things went to the next level. Something about warm water. Suddenly I needed my husband. Contractions became unbearable. I cried and whimpered through them. Then nausea hit. Transition, hello old friend.
We moved to the toilet, sitting backwards to encourage descent. I was hysterical. Screaming and crying, I can’t do this, I can’t do this. But we all know there’s no way out but through.
Eventually, they moved me to the bed. I was on all fours again with the peanut ball. With each contraction, I rolled my lower body down the ball and pushed. A few pushes in, my water broke — and it was full of meconium. A lot of it. The midwife calmly suggested that the new L&D nurse call in the NICU team (I never learned her name, as when we met I was in full blown labor land).
And that’s when I panicked. I had not experienced meconium the bag of waters with my other births. Within minutes, a whole NICU team filled the room. It was sobering. It was a holy f*ck moment. My baby being whisked off to the NICU is definitely a top 5 fear for me in the birthing world.
ANYWAY. The midwife moved my husband front and center (errrm, more like behind and center? sorry, that was unnecessary) to catch the baby. A few pushes later, she was out at 9:29pm. And oddly, I didn’t feel the ring of fire. I didn’t feel her body slip out. I didn’t feel that huge exhale of pressure. I physically felt nothing, as I was so concerned about the volume of meconium and the team, a literal team of NICU nurses standing by. As soon as she was out, I remember shrieking, “is she okay?! is she okay?! is she breathing?! is she okay?!”
I couldn’t see her, I was still on all fours. She had a double nuchal knot around her neck. But astonishingly, her heart rate had been perfect all throughout labor. No signs of distress. The meconium and the knot were a complete surprise to the whole room.
They flipped me onto my back and placed her on my chest. She was breathing. Thank god. The NICU nurse — an angel — cleared her airway. No NICU stay was needed. Within minutes, the room emptied out. I delivered her placenta.
But then I kept bleeding.
They gave me a shot of Pitocin in the thigh, but it didn’t help. I lost over 1,000ml of blood. Technically a postpartum hemorrhage. For context, the average blood loss is around 250ml. With four babies, your uterus gets tired. Mine just couldn’t contract properly afterward.
I couldn’t sit up. I was so weak and dizzy. In a typical birth center delivery, you’re discharged six hours later — showered, walking, in your own bed. But not this time. It took the full six hours post delivery to stabilize, and sit up. So we decided to transfer to the hospital overnight.
At home, we had a plan. No stairs. I picked our master bedroom and stayed there for a week — part of the 5-5-5 postpartum plan. My mom flew in, and we had three grandparents + my husband caring for the older kids. Between all of them, I was gifted a full week in bed. And it was glorious. Skin to skin. Naps. Nursing. Diapers, hers and mine. Sleep, nurse, recover.
We named her Sophia Ellen.
Sophia was a name we had earmarked since I was pregnant with our second born, Ellen is a beloved family name on both sides.
Overall, despite the meconium scare, the double nuchal knot, the NICU team, and the postpartum hemorrhage, it was my favorite birth. It was calm, peaceful, and fun (until it wasn’t). And this little girl of ours, is a literal gift from God, she is the happiest, most patient, sweetest, smiley, go with the flow baby. Nothing ruffles her feathers. She is our easiest baby by miles, I actually didn’t know babies could be this easy, what a blessing for the grand finale.
Fun story. I decided to splurge on an Artipoppe baby carrier, since our old Ergo survived three kids and was… well, grimy. I told myself, I’ll wear it every day, it’ll be worth the money, it’s our fourth — of course I need a good and beautiful baby carrier.
Nope! Turns out, she doesn’t need to be strapped to me every waking moment. From day one, she’s been perfectly happy to be plopped down next to a big kid, watching and listening to them play, run, and scream. Honestly, I think their chaos is more comforting to her than being glued to me. I’ll take it. If anyone needs an Artipoppe… I have one in excellent condition!
