When it comes to giving birth, mother nature often has a mind of her own.
I had a birth vision. I was going to waltz into the delivery room with my hair styled like a Victoria Secret model, conquer every last contraction like the woman warrior I know I am without any drugs, easily push my baby out with Devin and my midwife by my sides cheering me on, and enjoy glorious skin to skin contact with my perfectly healthy daughter cooing on my chest.
Cut to the universe doing that “ha ha” thing Nelson from The Simpsons does.
Let’s just say my vision didn’t end up coming to fruition.
So when are you due?
My due date was October 25, 2018. My mom, my best friend, two different psychics and pretty much anyone I spoke to predicted baby Sunny would come early for some reason.
All three of my mom’s babies came at least a couple weeks early, so I figured I would follow in her uterine footsteps.
Sunny had other plans.
She was ultra cozy in the ol’ womb and decided she wanted a late checkout. October 25th came and went. Halloween came and went. And I realized I might have to change my membership from the “October 2018 Babies” birth club on my baby app to “November 2018 Babies.”
My midwife chose November 1st as the day she would break my water and get the gal outta there once and for all.
Trying to sleep the night before you know your entire life is about to change was not easy, but I listened to a meditation and mentally prepared myself for the exodus.
I was told the hospital would call me at 8 a.m. to tell me what time to go in.
November 1st
8 a.m. Nothing
9 a.m. Nothing
9:30 a.m. A text from my mom saying, “Hear anything yet?”
10 a.m. Nothing. WHAT THE HELL? We called the midwife.
Turns out she was attending another labour and couldn’t accommodate me that day. She assured me I could go in the next day.
Talk about a mindf@*k.
I balled my eyes out. Okay, so I’m not giving birth today. I guess I’ll just watch Netflix and go for an uncomfortable walk–basically waste the day so it becomes tomorrow.
I washed my hair so it was fresh for the big day and had another near-sleepless night.
November 2nd
I set my alarm for 7:45 a.m. knowing the hospital would call me at 8 a.m. I was beyond ready this time. My body was sore and my mind tired.
8 a.m. Nothing
9 a.m. Nothing
10 a.m. Nothing
11 a.m. YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME. Nothing. We called the midwife.
This time, she says all of the rooms at the hospital are full and they won’t be able to accommodate me AGAIN. I balled my eyes out even harder.
My anxiety went through the roof. I felt trapped. I don’t think I spoke a word the entire day.
My mom and husband took me out for lunch to try to cheer me up, but I just stared out the window, watching the rain.
November 3rd
At this point, I had severe birthing blue balls. I was ready for another disappointing phone call and another day squirming around in pain while my daughter practiced karate on my ribs from the inside.
8 a.m. The phone actually rings.
Cue a choir of angels singing HALLELUJAH! The midwife tells me there’s room at the hospital and I should get there as soon as I could.
I showered, got dressed, scarfed down a dry piece of toast and was in the car within 20 minutes.
Zero to One Hundred
When we got to the hospital, I put on one of those green, backless gowns and laid down, ready for the OB to break my water and get this show on the road.
She prodded my insides with what looked like a crochet hook for a while and finally broke the membranes. For the next few hours, I felt like I was constantly peeing my pants.
Then it was time to poke me with the IV and start administering Oxytocin, the hormone that jumpstarts contractions.
And oh did it work.
Unlike a natural labour, where the pains start small and gradually increase, these ones went from zero to one hundred.
Ummm OWWWW!
Every mom I know says they can’t describe what contractions felt like. I now get that, but let me try:
It’s like Satan slashed into my pelvis to amplify my period cramps 1000 times, then rung out my uterus like a dirty mop while lightning bolts ripped up and down my thighs until I fully transformed into Regan from The Exorcist.
With things like tattoos and piercings, I’ve always been one to say, “It’s not THAT bad” when others complain about the pain. When it comes to contractions, it was THAT bad.
I toughed it out for hours, until I was dilated eight centimetres. Devin’s hands were likely blue from me squeezing them so hard. Then I started throwing up and feeling really weak.
The OB came in and threw some casual math at me. “You’re probably looking at about eight more hours.”
EIGHT MORE HOURS?!
That’s when I threw in the natural birth towel and asked for an epidural.
Kudos to anyone who can push through that much pain after being induced without drugs, but at that point, I wasn’t looking to become anyone’s hero. I just wanted my baby out.
The Calm Before the Storm
I went from the worst pain I’ve ever felt to feeling absolutely nothing with the prick of a needle. I could see the contraction levels on the monitor increasing, but I was just chillin.
Devin and I watched an episode of The Leftovers and played some trivia games.
It felt like we were waiting at the airport. It was awesome.
This went on for hours, until eventually it was time to start pushing. I could feel the pressure of the contractions and gave it my all each time. The midwife was cheering me on. She could see the top of Sunny’s head!
It was happening.
The Storm
About an hour after I started pushing, I struck a fever. As my temperature shot up, so did Sunny’s heart rate.
The chill vibes quickly turned into panic. She needed to get outta there as soon as possible.
Within seconds, about a dozen people filled the delivery room. Complete strangers stared at my nether regions and told me to push.
The OB took a vacuum to her head and started pulling.
One broke. Then another.
I saw the terror on Devin’s face when he glanced down and watched a full-fledged episiotomy go down. I thought the doc would ask if I was okay with him tearing me a new one, but no, he just went for it.
Devin is still traumatized.
With the final vacuum, I gave one giant push and felt my baby slide out of my body. Instant relief.
Sunny June McNulty was in the house.
They put her on my chest for literally 10 seconds, then ripped her away and put her on a respirator.
She was spooked by all the drama, and needed some help breathing.
I was shaking from the epidural and fever. Even though she was hooked up to machines, I innately knew she was healthy and didn’t feel scared or panicked.
She sadly had to spend the first night away from us in the special care unit.
We visited her a million times the next day, but it was hard to see what she looked like under all those wires. I sang “A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes” over and over–her favourite song in utero.
It wasn’t until the next day that they took her off the respirator and we could see her big blue eyes and tiny nose.
That’s when I got to hold her in my arms and instantly fell in love.
My New Heart
We had to spend a couple more days at the hospital so they could keep an eye on her, but she was a total trooper, strong and healthy when we drove out of the parking lot.
Now, we’re settled in and I remain unconditionally in love with my fragile little Sunny bird.
My entire camera roll is now her. I burst into tears every time I think of any harm coming her way. And I already can’t picture my life without her.
My body is still healing and my hormones are all over the damn place.
I had to buy Preparation H for the first time. (Pretty sure the “H” stands for “humiliation” you face when the cashier rings it through the checkout in front of a line up of people).
But I honestly don’t care anymore. It’s no longer about me. It’s about her.
I’ve landed the job I’ve wanted more than any other my entire life. Mother.
Though Sunny’s birthday was a rocky road, I am dedicated to making the rest of her days as smooth as possible, and I will hold her tiny hand as she blazes her own trail in this weird and wonderful world of ours.
