To be honest, I don't even know where to start in telling this tale. Perhaps the best place to start is in addressing the role depression had in my pregnancy and delivery. Yeah, that sounds like a good place to start.
As I've mentioned before on my blog, I have depression, but by no means does that mean I am "depressed." The biggest way that my depression manifests itself is through crippling anxiety and downright irrational fear to situations that wouldn't really phase the average human being. A huge fear and anxiety of mine is being "exposed"… Which would obviously make delivering a baby quite terrifying.
So back track to my first prenatal appointment with the obstetrician I was referred to in Calgary. She was nice. The appointment went well. That is until she wrapped things up by saying to make my next appointment for a complete physical. Which is something I've never had, let alone have any desire to have. Fortunately, as Jon and I were walking out of the clinic the reception staff were all on lunch break and they just told me to call and make the appointment. And since I'm super sneaky, I ripped up the piece of paper with their contact information and threw it away when Jon was at work. Problem solved. That is until Jon started asking when my next appointment was. This was the answer I had formulated:
"I've decided I want to have an unassisted home birth. I've read up on it. It's not a big deal."
I really had read up on it. And it seriously didn't seem like such a big deal. Having a room full of strangers staring at my privates - now THAT'S A BIG DEAL. A big freaking scary, terrifying deal. And I would have sooner had a baby in a bathtub by myself than subject myself to such a mortifying experience.
You can probably guess how thrilled Jon was by this answer. He wasn't. We had some pretty excellent arguments that made it darn clear that neither of us were going to budge. Jon wanted his baby born in a hospital and he wanted his wife to start seeing the obstetrician again. Kristen wanted her baby born in a place where she would feel comfortable and there was no way she was going back to that crazy lady who wanted to do a complete physical. It was a pretty intense standstill.
Eventually a compromise was reached. We agreed to have the baby at the hospital in the small town I grew up in. This way the baby would be born in a hospital and I would be in a place where I was comfortable. Win-win.
After coming to this agreement, the remainder of the pregnancy went blissfully by (well, with the exception of me being hysterically sad that I was having a girl… Dang depression, haha). I met with my doctor a small handful of times. His laid-back personality reaffirmed that we had made the right choice in coming to Raymond. I felt comfortable and Jon felt confident.
Before I knew it, I was on Maternity Leave from work and vacationing in Raymond waiting for the imminent arrival of Baby Ruiz. I met with the doctor and after measuring my HUGE belly he told me that, "This is going to be a big baby." He then suggested a good ol' sweep and stretch of the membranes, to which I gracefully declined. When my mom asked how the appointment went, I told her all of this, to which she then exclaimed I was crazy for not wanting my membranes stripped after being told I was having a big baby. So I beat myself up all weekend, since that appointment took place Friday afternoon, and on Monday morning I went to the clinic and begged to get in to my doctor ASAP. Fortunately, there was an opening that afternoon (small town perks…).
Throughout my pregnancy I found myself intrigued by the book "Childbirth Without Fear" by Grantly Dick-Read. Essentially, his entire book and life's work was based on the "Fear - Tension - Pain" relationship in childbirth and how if you're able to decrease your fear you'll subsequently decrease the amount of pain. It made sense to me. So by the end of my pregnancy I believe it's safe to say I really had no fear. I was ready for whatever.
Although I was warned having the membranes stripped would be uncomfortable, it wasn't at all. Afterwards, all the doctor said was, "That's bizarre. Are you sure you haven't had any contractions yet?" After sincerely reaffirming that I didn't think I had, the doctor said, "Well you're at about a 3 or 4 right now." Nice.
When I told my mom this news, she got pretty bitter. Apparently when she was pregnant with me it took her a good 20 hours of labour to make it to 4 cm. I got there without breaking a sweat or even being aware that it was happening.
The next few days were spent running errands, going to Waterton to climb Bear's Hump, and shooting gophers. I must admit, a pregnant belly makes for an excellent gun prop.
By Wednesday I was getting uncomfortable. And by Thursday I was getting cranky. But I did my very best to hide this by cleaning and going into Lethbridge with my Mom. While running errands with her I started to notice that my stomach felt a little tight every so often. Oh, these must be contractions. I decided to just keep it to myself. At around 5:00 pm-ish the contractions became regular and consistent, pretty well 5 minutes apart. Oh, this must be labour. Again, decided to keep things to myself. Eventually I told Jon what was going on and he insisted we leave for the hospital right then. I convinced him that going on a long walk would actually be a better idea. And so go on a walk we did. When we got back from the walk the contractions were more like 2-3 minutes apart and there was no real break between them. Finally we let my parents know what was going on and got to the hospital around 9:00 pm.
I felt so peaceful on our drive up. And that peaceful feeling stayed with me throughout the evening. The nurses checking me in commented on how calm I seemed and then showed me the way to the delivery room. The RN who checked things out was also pretty surprised with how mellow I was because things were far enough along that she needed to call the doctor in. Jon and I liked the doctor even more when he arrived shortly after wearing soccer cleats and gym shorts. After he got changed he confirmed what the RN had thought. I was nearly 10 cm and my water was just "bulging." I gave him the go ahead to just break it (weirdest feeling EVER…).
The next couple hours or so I spent bouncing through contractions waiting until I was given the go ahead to start pushing. I had a funny way of coping through the contractions - I would "sing." When things got tight I would simply pick a note and hold it through until the contraction ended. I found it kept my body really relaxed and took my mind off the discomfort.
Finally the time came to push. In retrospect, it probably really wasn't time yet because I ended up pushing for two and a half hours. Talk about a work out. I don't really remember ever reaching a point where I thought I had made a horrible mistake having the baby in Raymond. I knew when I made my decision that I would not be able to have an epidural, because Raymond does not have an anesthesiologist. My option for pain management was really just laughing gas and I never felt like I needed it either.
Although the pushing lasted for quite awhile, I have fond memories of it. After things were all said and done, the RN told my mom that I was the funnest delivery she had helped with. There were a couple times I made everyone in the room laugh. At one point after a contraction and pushing ended I looked up at Jon and very sincerely asked him, "How are you doing?" The doctor and nurses all laughed at me, one nurse told me not to worry about him. I just remembered hearing stories about how Jon's dad would nearly pass out with the birth of each of his children, so I felt like I needed to check on Jon. At another point in the delivery, where Sheriff was more out than in, I reached down and grabbed all my flappy belly skin, stretched it out, and laughed at it. Again, more laughing at me followed. Lastly, I had a nurse tell me that I didn't need to say "Please" and "Thank you." But when your mother is the "water girl," and also the one who taught you your manners, it only seems right to say "Please" and "Thank you!"
Things did eventually get really uncomfortable at the end. That is because my baby was flipping gigantic and I did some mighty fine tearing. I believe they called them third degree tears. I spent what seemed like the next hour still laying on the bed, waiting for Sheriff to be looked after and then for myself to be stitched up. Although it was a physically uncomfortable, and not very dignified, experience, I vividly remember thinking while being stitched up that I could totally do that again. Just not a week later or anything.
So from hospital check-in to birth it was only five and a half hours. Not bad for a first time having a baby. After all was stitched and done, I had a shower and then got a wheel chair to take me to my room. This is where the stupidest, most painful thing ever happened. You see, I'm pretty tall and since it was nearly 4 AM at this point, I was tired and didn't properly gage how low the seat of the wheel chair was. I thought I lowered myself down a safe distance to then softly drop down the rest of the way. False. I dropped more like half a foot down on a freshly delivered and stitched bottom. It wasn't a pleasant feeling but I still managed to laugh at myself.
And there you have it. My very own birth story. I still can't believe that I actually had a baby. I love her stinking guts.
Before I knew it, I was on Maternity Leave from work and vacationing in Raymond waiting for the imminent arrival of Baby Ruiz. I met with the doctor and after measuring my HUGE belly he told me that, "This is going to be a big baby." He then suggested a good ol' sweep and stretch of the membranes, to which I gracefully declined. When my mom asked how the appointment went, I told her all of this, to which she then exclaimed I was crazy for not wanting my membranes stripped after being told I was having a big baby. So I beat myself up all weekend, since that appointment took place Friday afternoon, and on Monday morning I went to the clinic and begged to get in to my doctor ASAP. Fortunately, there was an opening that afternoon (small town perks…).
Throughout my pregnancy I found myself intrigued by the book "Childbirth Without Fear" by Grantly Dick-Read. Essentially, his entire book and life's work was based on the "Fear - Tension - Pain" relationship in childbirth and how if you're able to decrease your fear you'll subsequently decrease the amount of pain. It made sense to me. So by the end of my pregnancy I believe it's safe to say I really had no fear. I was ready for whatever.
Although I was warned having the membranes stripped would be uncomfortable, it wasn't at all. Afterwards, all the doctor said was, "That's bizarre. Are you sure you haven't had any contractions yet?" After sincerely reaffirming that I didn't think I had, the doctor said, "Well you're at about a 3 or 4 right now." Nice.
When I told my mom this news, she got pretty bitter. Apparently when she was pregnant with me it took her a good 20 hours of labour to make it to 4 cm. I got there without breaking a sweat or even being aware that it was happening.
The next few days were spent running errands, going to Waterton to climb Bear's Hump, and shooting gophers. I must admit, a pregnant belly makes for an excellent gun prop.
By Wednesday I was getting uncomfortable. And by Thursday I was getting cranky. But I did my very best to hide this by cleaning and going into Lethbridge with my Mom. While running errands with her I started to notice that my stomach felt a little tight every so often. Oh, these must be contractions. I decided to just keep it to myself. At around 5:00 pm-ish the contractions became regular and consistent, pretty well 5 minutes apart. Oh, this must be labour. Again, decided to keep things to myself. Eventually I told Jon what was going on and he insisted we leave for the hospital right then. I convinced him that going on a long walk would actually be a better idea. And so go on a walk we did. When we got back from the walk the contractions were more like 2-3 minutes apart and there was no real break between them. Finally we let my parents know what was going on and got to the hospital around 9:00 pm.
I felt so peaceful on our drive up. And that peaceful feeling stayed with me throughout the evening. The nurses checking me in commented on how calm I seemed and then showed me the way to the delivery room. The RN who checked things out was also pretty surprised with how mellow I was because things were far enough along that she needed to call the doctor in. Jon and I liked the doctor even more when he arrived shortly after wearing soccer cleats and gym shorts. After he got changed he confirmed what the RN had thought. I was nearly 10 cm and my water was just "bulging." I gave him the go ahead to just break it (weirdest feeling EVER…).
The next couple hours or so I spent bouncing through contractions waiting until I was given the go ahead to start pushing. I had a funny way of coping through the contractions - I would "sing." When things got tight I would simply pick a note and hold it through until the contraction ended. I found it kept my body really relaxed and took my mind off the discomfort.
Finally the time came to push. In retrospect, it probably really wasn't time yet because I ended up pushing for two and a half hours. Talk about a work out. I don't really remember ever reaching a point where I thought I had made a horrible mistake having the baby in Raymond. I knew when I made my decision that I would not be able to have an epidural, because Raymond does not have an anesthesiologist. My option for pain management was really just laughing gas and I never felt like I needed it either.
Although the pushing lasted for quite awhile, I have fond memories of it. After things were all said and done, the RN told my mom that I was the funnest delivery she had helped with. There were a couple times I made everyone in the room laugh. At one point after a contraction and pushing ended I looked up at Jon and very sincerely asked him, "How are you doing?" The doctor and nurses all laughed at me, one nurse told me not to worry about him. I just remembered hearing stories about how Jon's dad would nearly pass out with the birth of each of his children, so I felt like I needed to check on Jon. At another point in the delivery, where Sheriff was more out than in, I reached down and grabbed all my flappy belly skin, stretched it out, and laughed at it. Again, more laughing at me followed. Lastly, I had a nurse tell me that I didn't need to say "Please" and "Thank you." But when your mother is the "water girl," and also the one who taught you your manners, it only seems right to say "Please" and "Thank you!"
Things did eventually get really uncomfortable at the end. That is because my baby was flipping gigantic and I did some mighty fine tearing. I believe they called them third degree tears. I spent what seemed like the next hour still laying on the bed, waiting for Sheriff to be looked after and then for myself to be stitched up. Although it was a physically uncomfortable, and not very dignified, experience, I vividly remember thinking while being stitched up that I could totally do that again. Just not a week later or anything.
So from hospital check-in to birth it was only five and a half hours. Not bad for a first time having a baby. After all was stitched and done, I had a shower and then got a wheel chair to take me to my room. This is where the stupidest, most painful thing ever happened. You see, I'm pretty tall and since it was nearly 4 AM at this point, I was tired and didn't properly gage how low the seat of the wheel chair was. I thought I lowered myself down a safe distance to then softly drop down the rest of the way. False. I dropped more like half a foot down on a freshly delivered and stitched bottom. It wasn't a pleasant feeling but I still managed to laugh at myself.
And there you have it. My very own birth story. I still can't believe that I actually had a baby. I love her stinking guts.
Sheriff July Ruiz
Born June 27, 2014 at 2:36 AM
Weighed 9 lbs 7 oz
Measured 20.5" long
It sounds like you had such a nice delivery. No epidural and a baby that big, you are super woman! And you are hilarious, I would've liked to be a fly on the wall just to see your antics, nothing else. :)
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