Evangeline Victoria's Birth Story

Allow me to share my birth plan for Baby #2 with you: “Get an epidural as soon as possible.” Period.  End of story.  My birth plan with Isabella was pages long and full of idealistic nonsense, particularly avoiding all pain medication and unnecessary medical intervention (no episiotomy, no Pitocin, no epidural, and, obviously, no c-section).  That all went out the door when nothing went as planned on March 1, 2009.  Oh, except that the epidural that I had finally succumbed to due to the need to take Pitocin b/c my labor wasn’t progressing, yeah, it didn’t work.  The stinkin’ epidural didn’t work, people!  So, instead of intermittent excruciating contractions, I had incessant excruciating contractions.  I vowed that with my second delivery, I wouldn’t endure such agony again if I had any say in the matter.

All that by way of introduction.   Now, if you’re reading this, you may be interested in the play-by-play of how precious little Evangeline Victoria came into the world, so I’ll try to make it detailed by not too gory. :)  At around 2 AM on Sunday December 16, I woke up with diarrhea, vomiting, and cramping.  Having had diarrhea before I went into labor with Isabella, this seemed like a sign that things were getting started this time as well.  However, when I called labor and delivery (L&D) department at our hospital, they said it sounded more like the flu bug that’s been going around, and to stay home and try to rest.  The cramps weren’t unbearable, so I did.  I woke up once or twice with more diarrhea, vomiting, and ongoing, increasingly painful and frequent cramps. 

By noon, the pain was becoming a concern, as Dan and I sensed more and more that these were no ordinary cramps, but rather labor pains.  L&D continued to affirm that it was normal for the uterus to contract like that when you have flu symptoms, and that diarrhea and vomiting weren’t common symptoms of labor.  “We wouldn’t want you to come in and get everyone sick,” they said.  “Just take some Gravol (that’s Canadian for Dramamine) and see if that helps.” However, as the pain of my cramping increased, I'm not gonna lie to you, my concern for the well-being of the hospital staff decreased.

At around 1 PM, Dan started timing the interval of the pains, and by 2 PM they were at 4 minutes apart.  They were becoming unbearable, but we were home alone with Isabella, so we needed to decide if we’d have someone watch her if we chose to leave for the hospital before Grandma and Grandpa came home from church.  L&D soon tired of our frequent calls, but we simply had trouble believing that it was normal for me to be in such agony due to the flu.  Again, they were adamant that if I came in, they’d probably just check me out and then send me home.  Why trouble myself by going all the way to the hospital only to hear from them in person that I wasn’t in labor.

By 3 PM, I was dying, and knew in my heart that I couldn’t stay home any longer.  Dan packed some last minute things, and some family friends came to stay with Isabella (who was napping).  Minutes after they arrived, I felt a gush of liquid come out.  “My water just broke!”  This further confirmed that I was in the throes of labor.  However, when I went to the bathroom to confirm, to my dismay, it was tainted with brown, so I thought I had lost all control of my bowels due to the pain I was under. 

Just as we were about to leave, we finally got a call back from our friend Esther (a dear missionary nurse friend from Senegal who was with us for Isabella’s birth and just happened to be in the area and wanted to be with us for this one).  When she heard the intensity and duration of my contractions, she provided her own medical opinion, “You guys better get to the hospital right away!  Angie, you’re in labor!” 

The ride to the hospital takes about 35 minutes, but Dan flew there, with his hazards on, flashing his high beams to persuade people to get out of our way.  By this time, I was in so much pain that I could hardly take it.  And the contractions were one on top of the other.  Just as we were pulling into the hospital, another gush of fluid came flowing out.  I was mortified.  I ran to the check in desk, but was too embarrassed to sit and risk soiling it: “I just pooped my pants,” I told the nice lady.  Seconds later, another contraction hit, and this sweet secretary knew better than to expect me to fill out any paperwork.  She personally got me a wheelchair and escorted me to L&D. 

“I need an epidural!” I groaned to the first woman in scrubs who spoke to me.  As they were rolling me into the delivery room, the nurse I’d spoken to on the phone at nauseum answered, “Ok, honey, just calm down.  We need to get you an IV and blood work first.  But don’t worry, we’re going to take care of you.”  In between contractions, which were now so close together that I felt like I’d been given Pitocin, the nurse checked to see how far I was dilated.  “You’re at 8 centimeters, Angela.” Dude, I felt like screaming at her: “Do you believe me that I’m in labor now, lady?!” 

Again, I begged for the epidural, but they were still waiting on blood work.  When the blood work finally did come, the anesthesiologist was nowhere to be found.  What the heck?!  I couldn’t believe it.  “Would you like some laughing gas?  It might help a bit with the pain.” Uh, hello!  I would’ve liked that the minute I rolled into the joint, but, I took what I could get.  I sucked that stuff down like it was my lifeline.  Honestly, it didn’t numb the pain a whole lot, but it did seem to help me focus on my breathing all the more as I endured each wave of agonizing contraction.

They checked me again, and I was now fully dilated.  “Angela, it’s too late for the epidural.  We’re going to need you to push soon.”  So much for my one sentence birth plan, eh?  “Can I at least squat?”  With Isabella’s delivery, it had helped tremendously, and I knew that, anatomically, it was the most natural and comfortable position to push out a baby (if I retained nothing from those granola books I read in preparation for my first delivery, it was that!). 

My doctor’s associate, who was on call that night, arrived minutes later.  They got me a squat bar, I hopped on, I pushed twice, and a hairy little head popped out of me.  They had me lie down again, suctioned her, gave me the ok, I pushed one more time, and, boom, out she came!  Our little princess had meconium in her, since she’d pooped prior to delivery (so, it was my water that had broken just as we were leaving for the hospital and I wasn’t incontinent!), so they had to give her antibiotics.  In the meantime, they stitched me up (no time for an episiotomy meant that I had a small natural tear, like I had wanted but didn’t get with my first delivery!).

Minutes later, Esther, who had been waiting outside, was permitted to come in.  What a joy to see a familiar face with whom we shared such history!  It brought me to tears.  What a loyal friend.  She had to laugh with me when, as we processed the euphoria of the safe arrival of our precious daughter, Dan said, “Wow!  That was an easy delivery!”  I think he meant fast.  Or maybe he was referring to how wonderful it was for him to see a healthy little girl come into the world, as opposed to the traumatic experience of witnessing the arrival of a seemingly lifeless little girl with the cord wrapped around her neck twice, as was the case with Isabella.   Still, I lacked the presence of mind in the moments immediately following such an “easy” delivery, so I must confess I insulted my husband after delivery, even though I hadn’t lost it on him once during! :)  

Oh, and as for that flu?  Of course, I’ve had no further symptoms since giving birth.  It may have been a figment of the help line’s imagination, but since the staff remained concerned about my getting others sick, we got bumped up to a private room during our stay at the hospital, free of charge (provincial health covers all expenses of labor, but you share a room with two other moms/couples post partum).  Sweet!

In sum, Evangeline Victoria was born at 5:13 PM.  She weighed in at 7 lbs. 14 oz, and 19 inches long.  Her Apgar score was 9 out of 10.  She’s named in honour of the gospel of our Lord Jesus (Evangeline) and my maternal and paternal aunts who are both named Maria Victoria.  Please join us in praying she will be transformed by the victory of Christ on the cross and bear witness to the good news of his salvation until he comes.

Me and Evangeline Victoria, brought home from the hospital
in the same stocking I was brought home in 38 years and five days ago.