On April 3rd, Tim and I were on cloud 9 as we welcomed our sweet baby, Oliver, into the world. Throughout my pregnancy, I was the happiest I had ever been. Life seemed to be falling into place. We got married, worked on renovating our first home and prepped for our little bundle of joy. It was an amazing experience, other than the morning sickness.
This all took place at the very beginning of Covid. Restrictions had just been put into place about having visitors. I was terrified Tim wouldn’t be able to be in the room with me, but luckily, he was able to come. Unfortunately, we were not allowed to leave the room or have other visitors but that turned out to be just fine. Those days in the hospital were a very special moment reserved for Tim and me, without distraction.
I was induced a few days before my due date. My doctor recommended we go ahead and “get it done” before Covid got any worse. Little did we know, it would be months before Covid made it to our part of the United States. We went in at 6 in the morning. They stuck me with an IV & started the Pitocin. I was filled with anxiety! Especially because I hate needles. First thing they did was blow up the vein in my left hand.
Around 9 my doctor came in and broke my water. That was an incredibly weird feeling. It was like peeing your pants but being unable to stop it & everyone accepted it as totally normal. So strange. Before my water breaking, I was dilated to a 4 and hadn’t really felt much of my contractions. Once my water broke, oh boy, I was in a world of pain. I had 2 contractions then was begging for the epidural. I really started to have an anxiety attack when the epidural doctor was on his way. I was terrified to get it. He came in and instructed Tim on how to support me. I remember telling Tim, “If you freak out, I’m going to freak out even worse. So, leave if you can’t handle this.” He ensured me he would be fine. The doctor gave me a numbing shot, and after that little pinch, I didn’t feel a thing. The epidural worked perfectly for me.
In some ways, it worked too well! I could not move my legs at all. That alone kept my anxiety at high levels. Tim and the nurse kept having to move me from side to side so we could get Oliver in the middle of my birthing canal. One time, one of my legs totally dropped to the floor because it was so numb. I ended up sleeping most of the day because I could not feel a thing! It’s wild how well it worked. I didn’t expect it!
Finally, they checked me and told me we would soon start pushing. Here came another anxiety attack. I don’t even remember why… Fear of something going wrong? Was it because I was about to be a mom? Is it because I knew this was going to hurt? Can’t tell ya’. I just knew I was scared to death. Tim calmed me down & before too long we started to push. (Side note – Tims phone rang TWICE while I was pushing. Once he pulled it out and I thought he was going to answer. I’ve never snapped so hard on him!)
I pushed for an hour and a half. That’s a pretty long time compared birth stories I’ve heard but the doctor and nurse told me that was actually pretty normal. There were so many pushes that were unproductive. I had a hard time getting a hang of it. Also, Oliver had a big head & in general was an above average size baby. I’m quite certain his head was stuck. Anyways, I pushed like hell the last 30 minutes. The epidural wore off, so it started to hurt. I remember saying “I don’t want to do this anymore,” over and over again. Finally, my doctor came in for the final pushes. She was very encouraging. In that time, I realized what a true productive push was. If only I had done that sooner, it would have gone a lot faster.
Oliver was born and set on my chest. It was a major release of emotions. It was euphoric. I just worked so hard to get through birth and now MY baby was here, perfect and healthy. I cried instantly. It was the most special moment. Words cannot accurately describe it.
I thought we were in the clear other than cutting the cord. I was wrong. The nurse said something about how we’re not done… I was confused as ever. Turns out, I still had one more push. The placenta. I remember the nurse explaining that then she said so sweet and jokingly “but we’ll give you a few minutes.” It was nothing to finish up the job. They stitched me up, which did not hurt but I could feel the string going through my skin, and Tim got to hold Oliver for the first time.
It was so joyful. I’d do it all over again, many times. I can’t even remember the pain anymore. I have no idea why I thought of this, but shortly after birth I got weirdly sad about the day Tim, and I decide not to have babies anymore. It still makes me sad, thinking about never getting to experience that again. That’s part of life though.
Today, our sweet Oliver Alan Neice turns 2 years old. It has been quite a journey. There have been many ups and downs, but together, Tim and I are raising an amazing child in a home full of love.
Happy birthday, baby Ollie. I love you.
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