This is the story of how our daughter, Luna Camila, came into the world.
*Disclaimer: If you're not someone who enjoys birth stories or hospital stories, or gets triggered/anxious from hearing the details of these, this post may not be for you.
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| Photos by Adriana Brito |
It was a warm, balmy Friday night in Miami. October 6th, to be precise. I was at a restaurant celebrating a friend's birthday, and I was as pregnant as it gets. It felt good to be out, and I sensed this feeling as I drove to the restaurant that this would be my last hurrah before our daughter arrived.
I was still about a week out from our due date, and I was feeling it. Sleep was a gamble thanks to heartburn and incurable hip pain that no amount of pillow-propping could manage. Earlier that week, the Braxton-Hicks contractions were all over the place...in fact, just the day prior, they increased to an intensity for a few hours in the morning that made me think, is today the day?? But alas, after some water and some rest, they petered out.
Back to dinner. We ate and we laughed and had a great time celebrating our friend. I had given someone a ride that evening, and as we walked back to my car, it started again...that uncomfortable tightening low in my belly. I didn't mention anything to anyone...at this stage of pregnancy, everyone is watching and waiting for ANY sign that you might be in labor, and I didn't want to make much ado about nothing. So I dropped off my friend and made my way home.
I walked through my front door at around 10:30pm. My two-year-old son and my husband Sebastian were both asleep. As I got ready for bed, the contractions still hadn't gone away, and I was starting to recognize more of a rhythm to them...albeit far apart and differing in length. I crawled into bed and Sebas stirred as I told him, "I think something might be happening." After a long pause he asked, "Are you sure? Should we give it a few?" He remembered the day before, and I'm sure he was remembering the birth of our son Jackson two years prior...which came after 14 grueling hours of labor. "I'm not sure," I replied.
I gave it about five more minutes before I said to him, "I think we should call your parents." That was all he needed to hear. We started gathering our go-bags as I attempted to call his mom...and then his dad...and then his mom again. No response. For sure, our on-call babysitters were fast asleep.
I finally called my sister-in-law (who had been at dinner with me, so I figured she would still be awake-ish). She picked up immediately, and when I explained to her what was happening, she said we could of course bring Jackson over to stay the night, and that we could connect with the Abuelos in the morning.
It was a little after 11:30pm when we dropped Jackson off with Tio and Tia. On the way to the hospital, I called my doctor to let her know we were headed in. Contractions were definitely more uncomfortable now, but still inconsistent. She told me to get checked in to triage and she would be on call for whenever they admitted me. When I got off the phone, Sebas grabbed my hand and prayed for me.
Triage Woes
We arrived at the hospital just after midnight. I was brought to the maternity triage area, but much to my dismay, Sebas was told to stay in the waiting room. To say this irritated me is an understatement. This meant that through all the check-in questions, the preliminary pelvic exams, and gradually escalating contractions, I was left to advocate for myself, by myself with the nurses. This is not what we experienced last time, so I was not happy. To all the confused readers out there...have you ever had to sign a legal document with a rabid animal tearing into your pelvis? That's about what it feels like.
But I figured, I must be far enough along by now, they'll admit me pretty quickly.
Well, the first exam came up with the midwife (who ended up being awesome). She had a very familiar face, and a unique accent that made me wonder if I had met her somewhere before. Unable to place her, I didn't say anything. After the exam, she very matter-of-factly said "One centimeter." I was in disbelief. After some more questions about my symptoms and monitoring of my contractions, I was told it would be very likely to get sent home, but that they would do an ultrasound first just to make sure baby was not in distress.
By now it's just past 1:00am, give or take and I am beyond upset. I keep trying to text Sebas, who's just down the hall, with updates...meanwhile contractions are only getting worse. I go in for the ultrasound, and the contractions are really uncomfortable now, and I have to pause and focus to breathe and get through them. Every time the technician pressed the little wand into my belly to get a good view of the baby, I could have smacked him. And I was growing more impatient by the minute that I was still separated from my husband.
After the ultrasound, I was told to stay in triage until we got the results, but that most likely I would be sent home. I could have laughed because of what I was feeling in my uterus at that moment. There was no way I was leaving that hospital. As the staff waited on results, non-medicated me was getting through contractions the best way she knew how to get through a lot of tension in life: being vocal about it. It worked in labor with my son, so I channelled all the pain into what became pretty loud exhortations. You didn't need to look at a monitor to track these contractions, you could hear them, start to finish.
At this point I hear the midwife say "Send her on the walking path." I thought, what the eff does that mean?? A very nice nurse came back and explained there was a path designated throughout the hallways just outside with stations and exercises to help move things along. "And if your support person is here, they can join you," she added. Say no more! Send me on the walking path!
At around 2:00am I was guided outside to the waiting room to meet Sebas, and the second I explained what we were doing, the pain of my contractions went from like a 5 to about an 8. I couldn't really walk through them, but would still get bursts of energy in-between, so along the path we went, doing squats and step-ups here and there. After about 20 to 30 minutes of that, it was officially unbearable. I ended up on all fours in the middle of the hallway, and everyone could hear me. A nurse came out of triage and kindly said "lets get her back to the room and check her again."
You're kidding right? Separated from Sebas again, I was escorted back to triage and checked by the midwife. With a slight tone of satisfaction in her voice she said "Alright! We're at a 6. Let's get her admitted." Relief does not begin to describe my emotions at that moment. They got ready to transfer me to labor & delivery and told me they were calling my doctor. After being reunited with Sebas, we were brought to the delivery room.
Here She Comes
When we got to the room it was after 3:00am. I was hooked up to IV, heart monitor and baby monitor. A new nurse was assigned to me and said they were contacting my doctor (again? where was she?). "Epidural?" "No thank you." "Okay..." (Spoiler Alert: Before you look at me like I'm crazy, just know that even if I wanted one, there would be no time for it in the end). Shortly after this, I bore through another really intense contraction. Remembering my 14-hour labor two years prior, I looked up at Sebas and said, "I don't know if I can keep doing this."
As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt a peculiar urge to pee. When I asked if I could use the bathroom, the nurse looked at me with wide eyes that have seen stuff like this before and gently said "Are you sure it's not just the contractions?" I said, "No, I think I really just need to pee." She told me, semi-reluctantly, to make it fast because "we don't want a baby in the toilet." I sort of chuckled and assured her it would be quick.
Famous last words.
Still hooked up to the IV, I was guided to the toilet by Sebas and the nurse. "Are you sure you're okay?" Sebas asked me. He sounded nervous now (he told me later it was because he had caught a glimpse that I was bleeding, but didn't want to scare me by saying anything until I got out). "Yes! I'm good, this'll be quick!" He quickly slid out of the bathroom as I squatted down to sit. Suddenly, I felt not just pee, but a huge gush of water and a familiar surge of pressure down low. Panicked, I quickly reached down and...there was the crown of my daughter's little head.
"OH MY GOD, SHE'S CROWNING!" I shouted. The next few moments were all a blur: there was a swift rush to get me out of the bathroom as nurses came in and ushered me back to the bed. I nearly tripped over the IV on my way back. I could feel her ready to arrive, she was practically falling out of me. My doctor was still nowhere to be found, so our wonderful triage midwife was paged and came rushing in. That's when I finally heard her name, Pauline. Pauline...where have I met this person before??
The thought left me as quickly as it arrived because this girl was READY to come out. People kept telling me to slow down but all I could feel was, she wants out! I want her out! Let's get her out! Between wails, the nurse by my head kept having to snap me back to focus so that I could breathe normally and not panic or rush the process. Midwife Pauline asked me for one little push, which I was happy to give, and just like that...Luna Camila was here, at 3:47am on October 7th, 6lbs 7oz, and just absolutely perfect.
Meeting Luna
Nothing mattered at that moment. Not the awful triage experience, not being separated, not tripping on the IV, not my missing doctor, not my inability to remember who Pauline was...none of it. Newborn Luna was placed onto my chest and at last, our little family felt complete. I said through tears, "You're here! You're here baby girl! I love you so much!!"
This girl waited for no one. God brought her into the world exactly when she needed to be here. She didn't wait for me to be "ready" for a second baby. She didn't wait for a due date or a doctor, and she barely waited for me to get back into that bed! She blazed her own trail into this world and I am already so, so proud of her.
After some intense pushing on my uterus to help deliver the placenta (geeze, that part's worse than getting the baby out!), my doctor finally arrived. The quote of the day from her was "You basically gave birth by yourself!!" I looked around at all the people who helped me not lose it or fall over that day...by myself? Hardly. But I laughed, said I was glad she made it, and that I had a lot of awesome help regardless.
Oh, and about Pauline: Once my doctor had cleared me for recovery, I realized she had already left, so I never got to ask her anything. Over the next few days it would dawn on me...my sister-in-law had delivered both her boys at a holistic birthing center, and I remembered one of the midwives and her unique accent. I later asked my sister-in-law what her name was and she said "Oh yeah, Pauline!" I about fell out of my chair. This woman had now helped deliver three different Cardona babies. I wonder if she even knows!
Postpartum
Thanks to Luna's swift arrival and my lack of medication, my physical recovery was a breeze compared to when I had Jackson. I was up and walking, no tearing or stitches to worry about, and overall felt great the next day despite the lack of sleep. The Abuelos brought Jackson to visit and meet his baby sister that day. It was a sweet and tender moment...I could see the look of both curiosity and uncertainty in his eyes as my husband brought her to him. It would take some warming up and getting used to mom and dad's now very divided attention...but these kids adore each other now, they make each other laugh, and Jackson has been just the sweetest big brother.
That euphoric feeling would take a dip the morning of our last day in the hospital, and even more so as we got home and into our "new normal." Breastfeeding was challenging for the first week, but eventually we settled into a good rhythm. Postpartum baby blues have hit me really hard with both births, and with Luna I even think it has lasted much longer, although it started to feel less intense once Luna started sleeping through the night, which meant that I could finally get adequate sleep again.
Even though some things didn't go according to plan, I am so grateful for a healthy birth and a healthy baby. I'm still in awe of how much the female body can endure in order to bring new life into the world...and both times I've done it, I was reminded that there's so much we think we just can't do. But with God's strength, so much is possible. I hope to carry that into parenting, which is also hard but in a much different way!
I hope our story encourages you. Here's to Luna Camila <3
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| Photos by Adriana Brito |
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| Photos by Adriana Brito |
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