Olive’s Birth Story
1. Rewash the clothes that I left sitting in the washer too long
2. Pack our hospital bag (for real this time)
3. Post pictures on my blog of clothes, blankets, booties, and other gifts friends and I had gotten for Olive
The way the day really went:
I woke early this morning to pee, feeling more uncomfortable than usual. I went back to sleep, awaking again around 4:00 am with cramping. The cramps came and went. Watching the clock, I was able to track them as being consistently five minutes apart. I was able to rest in between them. I wasn’t ready to consider the cramps to be contractions. All I could think was, “We still have six weeks until the due date! It’s not time yet.” I just watched the clock, continued to track them and waited for them to stop. Instead they became more frequent, timing at two to three minutes apart. When I noticed myself rocking back and forth as I endured each one and I was unable to rest in between them, I admitted that maybe it was time to wake Colby up. “But it’s too early!” I thought. “We haven’t even packed our hospital bag!” I continued to rock myself through the contractions, but eventually became antsy, unable to lie down or sit still. Trying to stay mellow, I gently called for Colby. He responded with a half asleep mumble, his eyes still closed. I calmly told him I’d been having contractions for the past two hours. His eyes were suddenly wide as he jumped up to assist me.
Colby called his mom, who quickly came over to take care of Reid. Our friends, Kim and Darren came and prayed with her in our living room, while we continued to labor in the bedroom. Colby and I had an emergency refresher course on our Bradley Methods for handling the pain, which intensified quickly. With each contraction I felt intense pressure creep up my lower back and hips, and could actually feel my cervix open to prepare for our long-awaited meeting with little Olive. Colby coached me through every contraction as he ran back and forth between his mom and me to help her pack our bag. I followed his guidance, breathing and moaning through the pain, envisioning myself floating or swimming. We continued to hold off on our trip to the hospital, remembering how long our labor with Reid was and how they wouldn’t even admit us for a couple hours after we had arrived. I didn’t want to find myself stuck outside the hospital, puking in the courtyard bushes again! However, after a short stroll outside, Colby decided it was time we head to the hospital.
With an empty tank and my contractions still coming two to three minutes apart, we headed to the hospital, about 30 miles away. We only made it a few blocks before Colby had to pull over for me to throw up all the juice and Reid-sized bites of bread he had fed me earlier. On the way, Colby asked me what level the pain was at. I answered him that if it were any higher, I’d be pushing! We made it. Colby walked me up to Labor & Delivery. Once buzzed in, we found only a desolate hallway, which I slowly hobbled down towards Triage, which was also empty of any staff. I lost any remaining patience and courtesy as I flashed back to our experience in triage when in labor with Reid, remembering the short, cold nurse whose shift must have been one hour too long. “Where is everybody?” I yelled. “What do they expect me to do??”
Colby tried to calm me down as he tried to find a nurse and directed my mom and step-dad, Rudy, who had just arrived, to get our bag out of our car. I lied down on the gurney and the nurse, already knowing our situation thanks to Colby calling ahead, came to me and kissed me on the forehead, telling me it would be ok. I broke down crying. The contractions were so intense they seemed to have merged into a steady stream of pain with no break in between. I grunted to the nurse that I needed to push. She began to wheel me straight into a delivery room, skipping the admittance process all together. “She’s coming!” I yelled. And the more I yelled, the faster she wheeled me to the room at the end of the hall. One by one, more nurses ran to join in the race to our delivery room. Colby ran to catch up with us. I not-so-modestly yelled, “Take my pants off!!!” not understanding how anything else in the entire world could be of any higher priority to them! Once in our room, the nurse looked to me and started talking like the adults in the Charlie Brown cartoons. I remember thinking to myself, “Kristen, this could be important. You should probably listen to what she’s trying to tell you!” So I leaned up to look at her as she repeated herself, advising me to try to breathe through it to avoid pushing, which helped. Before I knew it, she was being handed to me!
I couldn’t believe it! After all the waiting (and six and a half hours of labor), she was finally here! She was so purple, but with every attempted gasp for air, she slowly took on a pale, pink tone. Had she been healed? Had all of our prayers been answered?? At this point, all I felt was relief. There was nothing I could do at this moment besides take my little baby into my arms and appreciate every minute I would have with her. My mom and step-dad raced into the room in disbelief that she was already here. Olive lied on my chest while Rudy began filming. I held her close on my chest, skin to skin, but mentioned that I couldn’t see her. The nurses picked her up to adjust her for me and just as they did, she opened her eyes for the first time and let out a couple little cries. “You do it, little girl!” Colby encouraged her, “You do it!”
Friends and family began to fill the room in hopes to meet our Olive. We found so much joy in allowing each person time to hold, pray for and adore our little girl. It was like a celebration where all we could do was focus on the very moment. We felt so proud of Olive. She had changed the world in ways we knew we didn’t fully understand. She was back in our arms. We loved her. She was so still and peaceful. It was hard to tell when she had stopped breathing. Colby called me over and gently told me he thought she was gone. We held each other and cried. The mood in the room shifted. After only about an hour, she was gone and everyone knew it without needing to be told. Colby and I weighed her, gave her, her first bath, and dressed her. Even the premie gown our friend, Danaly brought us was so big on her delicate little body.
Some of our friends and family stayed, others left, while others continued to arrive throughout the day. When evening came, it was just us and the little body Olive came to visit us in. We continued to hold her and love her, even though we knew it was no longer her. Eventually, we knew it was time to say good-bye. We called in the nurse and surrendered her over. As the nurse carried her away, we will always remember her stopping before reaching the door and pulling the blanket down from our girl’s face for us to catch one last glimpse. There she goes.
Colby and I cried together. I took a deep breath, feeling a bit relieved and said, “It’s done.” We decided there was no reason for us to stay there overnight and requested the hospital discharge us early so we could just go home.
It was difficult for us to sleep that night. We clung to each other and eventually got some much needed rest. I awoke in tears early the next morning, unable to calm myself. Colby had learned by now to take me outside when he finds me like that. This time he took me to the car and drove me to an open area to watch the sunrise. It was proof that the world would continue on and gave us hope that we would be able to as well.
Then the cops showed up. Apparently, in Livermore, if you’re not watching the sunrise, you’re waiting to score some drugs or something. I guess sitting in your car in the early morning brings about great suspicion because someone had evidently called the police on us!
Today (one year later), we decided to start the day of Olive’s first birthday by watching the sunrise from our new home in Mountain House. It seems that something coming along to interfere with the experience may become part of the tradition as well. This time it was big rigs and construction trucks lining up directly between where we sat in lawn chairs and blankets and our view of the sunrise, all facing us with their headlights beaming directly at us. It was actually quite comical.
We miss our little girl and know the day is ahead of us when we will get to hold her again. This day will be quite different, as it will be in a place of wholeness, and without sin and death, for as Isaiah 65:20 reads, “Never again will there be in it (the new heavens and earth) an infant who lives but a few days, or an old man who does not live out his years.”
Thank you to all of you who have loved us and prayed for us through this, especially our moms and dads. We love you guys.
Colby & Kristen
