Baby Bear's Delivery

Alright, so- BIRTH STORY! My mother, Mr. Barcenas, and I all arrived at the hospital at 5:00pm Friday evening. 

Last puppy cuddles before Baby Bear joins us!

(Dad doesn't smile for selfies) Last selfie before entering the hospital!

My OB decided that it was best to use cytotec to soften my cervix and then we would start pitocin on Saturday, the 25th (we did the same for Lilly's delivery). I was barely a fingertip dilated, maybe %50 effaced, and baby hadn't dropped at all when we went in. I received my first dosage of cytotec at 6:00pm, my second double dosage at midnight, and we started pitocin at 6:00am on Saturday! The cytotec didn't soften my cervix as much as my doctor would have liked, but it worked a bit (when I say "a bit" I mean not at all). By 7:30 I had dilated to about 3cm and the pitocin was increased. My nurses continued to up the pit every hour until around 10:00. This is when my OB came in to do a cervical check and OH. MY. GOSH. I'm no newb when it comes to checks- this is my second baby. But for some incredibly crazy reason, I could not to stand them while pregnant with Baby Bear! They were SO painful! This last one was particularly bad. I was trying to climb my way up the top of the bed while Doctor was trying to feel where baby was at. It felt like he was trying to dig his knuckles into the area I had my hematoma, which is/was still tender. Sooooo not fun at all. It was because of this that we decided to place the epidural before they'd break my water. Epidurals are the most amazing thing in the history of amazing things- seriously. Oh! And my anesthesiologist! He had the most calming, level toned voice. It was like a caring monotone. So crazy. Anyways, so I get the epidural, doc breaks my water (which feels way cool- he kept pressing on my belly and it kept gushing out) and the pit is increased some more. Around 11:45 I was dilated to a stretchy 5, and the nurses note that Baby Bears heart rate was dropping a bit during contractions- this is completely normal for a baby who is engaged in the birth canal, but Baby Bear wasn't, so it was weird and a bit worrisome. And scary! Once they told me he was having decelerations, I was like "okay! Prep me for surgery! We're getting him out NOW!" Of course I didn't say all of that in reality, I was just thinking it. But I worried. I knew before that it was very likely we would have some decelerations because of his cord abnormality, but I was hoping and praying we wouldn't. My nurses flipped me onto my sides to get his heart rate back to where it was supposed to be- I had to stay on my right side (it's the only one baby liked!) and the epidural really numbed me up. Do you have any idea how weird it is not to be able to feel an entire side of your body? It's so freaking cool!

I looked like a beached whale!

 12:45 comes along and I'm about 8cm and baby STILL hasn't dropped. 1:30 and I'm 10cm, and baby is only around -2. He just wanted to stay up there in my ribs and never come out, but too bad so sad! He was being evicted. 1:30 my nurse asks me to do a few practice pushes and I oblige- baby comes down into my pelvis a bit but goes right back up when I'm no longer applying pressure. Doctor is called but he's away delivering one of the other four babies that would be born within a few hours of each other that day. Of course it's once I'm told this I can feel my body pushing Baby Bear out on its own! Doc finally shows up after what feels like forever (but is only a few minutes) and out pops Baby Bear at 1:47- and I bawled like a baby! While they were setting everything up and transforming the delivery bed, I just looked at Mr. Barcenas and started crying. I can think about the experience now and I just feel all these overwhelming emotions- I don't even know how to describe them all. Worry, anxiety, excitement, grief, happiness, sadness, anger, love- I think I pretty much experienced every feeling possible in those last few moments before Baby Bear came into our lives. 

Okay- back to the story. So. 1:47. I think I only pushed for three contractions? Our little boy popped out and he was blue and covered in vernix and my OB was suctioning fluid from his mouth and he wasn't crying. This is the moment when I experienced the longest seven seconds of my entire life. These seven seconds seemed to last an eternity. The entire time, I prayed. I prayed that Baby Bear was safe- that he would breath that first breath of life and that he would cry. In those seven seconds I promised God that I would never find my baby's cries annoying, that I would never get angry because he was being too loud. I'm pretty sure I promised a whole bunch of other stuff, too, but I can't remember what those promises were. 

And then finally- a cry! It was a little one, but it still counts! And I just BAWLED my head off- I was sobbing and laughing and smiling and just sooooo grateful he was okay. I was able to just hold him and look at him and cuddle his cute little body and soul while the placenta was delivered (it came out really quick this time, too) and my doctor fixed me up. I didn't have any tearing, but I was able to have a bunch of scar tissue from Lilly's delivery removed. His APGAR scores were 8 and 10, he weighed 7lbs11oz, and was 21 inches long- just as long as his sister, but a whole 10oz heavier! And two weeks earlier! 

Recovery this time around has been so much easier. I wasn't nearly as swollen, I didn't tear, I didn't develop a hematoma- it's been great! I am definitely counting my blessings. After I delivered Lilly, I didn't want to leave the hospital. I wanted to stay there as long as possible- I think it was because I didn't want to face reality. With Baby Bear, I couldn't WAIT to leave. We had to stay the mandatory 24 hours and it felt like forever- I just wanted to get home to cuddle my baby in my own comfy bed. We were able to leave around 3:00 Sunday afternoon, so we were there for a total of 46 hours. 

Daddy holding Baby Bear for the first time

First bath in the hospital!

Leaving the hospital with a BABY!

Eva checkin up on him

Happy Birthday Lilly-bug

A year ago today.
An entire year. Oh my goodness. It's gone by so incredibly fast, and yet so unbelievably slow.
A year ago today, I delivered a perfect little girl into this world. A little girl who would never take a breath outside of my womb. I carried her for 39 weeks and 5 days. Full term. And yet, she didn't survive. You think that once you get past the viability mark, you're baby will survive no matter what- at least, that's what we thought.

It's incredible how much I have changed in this past year. I am an entirely different person now because of my daughter. Before, I was happy, carefree, daring, invincible. Now, I know that I can be brought down and nearly destroyed. I now know what true happiness is, and I know the feeling of true heart break. I know that there will always be a reason to worry, that nothing is a given- that anything and everything can be taken from you in the blink of an eye. Nothing, and no one, is safe.

I used to be naive. Sometimes I wish I could have that back. But then I remember if I had that naivety back, I wouldn't have Lilly. And I don't want that. Despite the pain and hell I have gone through since her passing, I would never wish her away. I would relive this entire year if only I could hold her again. That's crazy, right? Wanting to deliver a dead baby again, recovering from that delivery, undergoing surgery to fix what went wrong on my end during delivery, the depression, the PTSD, the slight addiction to pain killers which I developed, the weekly therapy sessions, the months of infertility, the side effects from the infertility medications, the insensitive comments, the crying... So much ugly crying- the kind where you can't control yourself and every hole in your face leaks. But I would do it again. I would. Just to hold her. To see her face again. Just to feel her weight in my arms. To hold her hand, to look at her tiny toes, to search her face for likeness to my own.

You know what sucks the most? We wanted her. We wanted her from the beginning- before the beginning. Do you have any idea of all the testing and needles I endured just to get pregnant with her? The worry that something might have gone wrong because of a medication I took before we knew I had conceived? There are parents who have "whoops" babies all the freaking time. Drug addicts who become pregnant, mothers who leave their babies at the hospital- sometimes I like to think "why did mine die? Why not theirs? They don't even want their babies." It's frustrating. And I know we don't have it as bad as others- I've met mothers whose babies were conceived through IVF, and theirs were stillborn full term as well. It's their stories that hurt my heart even more. They wanted their child just as much as we wanted ours. They paid thousands of dollars just to conceive, and their child still wasn't safe. It's sad. This is an unfair world. An incredibly cruel, and unfair world.

And I hate that we can't watch her grow up. Instead, I watch other children who were born within a few weeks of her death and delivery. First birthday photos have started floating around Facebook. Chubby baby cheeks covered in frosting, adorable photo shoots... We don't get that... We didn't get to see her roll over for the first time, crawl for the first time, to take her first steps. I wasn’t even able to dress her-not even once. I'm not able to see what face she would have made if I were to give her a lemon slice. I haven't changed hundreds of diapers, cleaned spit up off my shirt, or cleaned poo from the bathtub. There have not been sleepless nights filly by a crying infant- instead, they were full of my own crying. I should have been planning her birthday party- I should have been decorating a cake in pink frosting. I may have even have waited to announce our current pregnancy till her birthday if she were still here. That would have been fun, wouldn’t it? Picture Lilly, with her big cheeks, a huge bow, her little toothy grin and waving with balloons around her and a shirt that says “Big Sister.”

This past year has been hard. Sooo incredibly hard. But you know what? It’s also been pretty great. Yeah, it’s been hell, but we have had so much love and support from all of our family and friends. And I have seen how God placed special people in my path this entire time. I didn’t know why I was so compelled to go to Madison Women’s Clinic when I knew I had fertility problems. At the time, I just felt like it was the right place to go. And now I know why- both of the OBs who practice there were so incredibly kind and caring after we learned of Lilly’s passing (they were cool before, but were so much cooler after). Turns out, both doctors had also experienced stillborn children. They knew the feelings and emotions and trials that my husband and I would go through. They had walked the path that we were now walking. And the nurses! I loved all of the nurses who ever took care of me. I got to know the receptionists over the two and a half years that I visited that office. When I returned for my six-week check up, they took me back and cried with me. They cried with me! I have been able to be there to support other mothers through similar circumstances because of what I have experienced. And because of our daughters passing, Mr. Barcenas and I have grown together like I never knew we could before. Our relationship has strengthened and solidified. Before, we had it good. Like any other couple, we would argue every now and then, and we loved each other. It really was a great relationship before. But now, we have a different kind of love. It’s deeper, and in my opinion, something that will be much harder to break or fade away. We’ve survived what I believe to be one of the most difficult trials that God could have thrown our way. And we are so much stronger because of this. I really think that’s been the best thing to come out of Lilly’s death- how my marriage is better.

I’m hoping that this next year continues to get easier, and that the pain will be easier to handle. I remember where I was at just nine months ago, and to compare that time with now is crazy- I’m in a much better place emotionally now, and I can handle my emotions better. Sure, I still cry, I still miss my daughter, and I still want her here, but my scars have thickened, and the same painful jabs don’t hurt as bad.