Ethan Thomas' Birth Story

We are a family of five! Can you believe it?! I still can't. Ethan is a treasure and we all adore him. Just like his brothers, he has fit into our family so easily we know he was always meant to be here.

At 36 weeks I went in for my checkup and discovered I was dilated to 3cm and 50% effaced. My doctor informed me Ethan was coming early and to stay off my feet to try and stall labor as long as possible. I was very nervous. We don't have any family in the area and help wasn't arriving until I was 39 weeks, so while trying very hard not to panic, we made several phone calls and back up plans to get help sooner than later. My contractions remained steady and strong, but miraculously Ethan held on til I was 37 weeks and family arrived to help. Thank goodness! Now I could get on my feet and bring on labor! Then somehow I made it to 38 weeks... and then 39. Turns out Ethan didn't want to come early. I was frustrated at the time, thinking I'd cried wolf and made everyone rearrange their schedules for nothing, but I have since been grateful he took his time so I didn't have to worry about him spending any time in the NICU. Heavenly Father has a plan, and we may not always understand it, but it is always better than our own. Funny how I have to learn and relearn that lesson constantly.

So on August 5th, at 39 weeks to the day Brenton and I got our things ready and headed to the hospital. Even though I hardly slept the night prior, I was very calm that morning. I felt reassured everything would be fine. I'd been through this all before, and knew I'd be in good hands. I kissed my boys goodbye and we headed for the hospital.

We breezed through check-in and I met my nurse, who would stay with me through the entire delivery. I had never had that before. Usually with a csection you have different nurses poking, prodding, transporting and touching you for every different step. It was wonderful to have only one nurse to explain my birth plan to. Amazingly, this lovely nurse had already done her homework and read up on all my doctor's notes about my wishes, knowing everything we were planning in advance. She also knew I would most likely have a panic attack in the OR, and was prepared to help me through that, too. I was so grateful to have her there with me.

 At about 10;15, it was time to go to the OR and have my spinal block put in without Brenton. The last time I had this done I was wheeled in on a gurney, sparking my panic attack with Jackson's delivery as it triggered my terrifying gurney ride to the OR for Ryan's emergency csection. This time they let me walk there myself. I felt so empowered by that. I know it's a simple thing, but it made all the difference. I was walking down that hallway by myself. I was in charge of my body and what was about to happen to it. I can't fully express how the simple task of walking into that room unassisted lifted my spirits.

While it was a little chilling to be back in an OR with all the bright lights and tools lined up that would soon be in my body, I was greeted by cheerful nurses and assistants all ready to help. They chatted with me as I climbed onto the operating table and readied myself for the spinal block. My nurse helped me hold still as the needle went in, and I assumed I was done. Nope. For whatever reason the anesthesiologist had a hard time getting the needle in just the right place for the nerve block to work. I don't know if you've ever had a large needle shoved into your spine but, for the record, it's extremely painful. After about twelve tries (not kidding), she decided to call in some back up. I was sure during all of this my panic attack would arrive. I was just kind of expecting it. However, my nurse knew it would come, too, and she kept talking to me saying, "you're so brave, Katie. You can do this. You're such a brave mom." So I kept repeating out loud, "I'm a brave mom. I can do this. I'm a brave mom." Later on my doctor came in and held my hand, talking to me about Ryan and Jackson to also keep me calm. I'm so grateful for her and my nurse because while I shed several tears as my back kept getting stuck, I never lost control. I'm still amazed by that. The second anesthesiologist got my spinal block in first try. Moving on.

Because I had so much medicine in my back from all the attempts to get the spinal block right, I became very nauseous, and threw up a little before they slipped some Zofran through my IV. Brenton came in and I felt much better. It is always such a comfort to have him beside me, feeling his hand brush my hair and tell me everything's alright. After a minute or two I realized they'd already made the incision and were working their way down the layers to get Ethan out. Brenton talked to me and things settled down until before I knew it, I could barely breathe as they pushed and pulled Ethan out. I felt like it went much faster than Jackson's, but maybe that's because the spinal block took so long.

At 11:02 Ethan came out with a full head of jet black hair. I couldn't believe it! About three feet to my left they wiped him down and weighed him. Brenton walked over to cut the cord which is always a little funny to me since the cord is already cut, and he's really just trimming it. Anyway, our beautiful baby boy weighed 8lbs 6oz, 20" long, the smallest of our three little guys. I loved him instantly.

Moments later my beautiful son was being laid on my chest. No blankets, no diaper, just me and him, skin to skin. I'd never had that before. Even with Jackson's delivery he was all swaddled in blankets and although I got to hold him in the OR, the pediatric nurse never let go of him either. Not this time. Every person in that operating room honored that fact that I was Ethan's mother, and no one held him but me. They backed away and gave me, Brenton, and Ethan our own little space to be in, just the three of us while I was stitched up. No one tried to intervene or talk to us, and it was as perfect as if I had delivered him like any other mom. I have had many sweet, precious moments in my life, but this one may have taken the cake. It was indescribable. 

As I was getting close to being finished up, the pediatric nurse said, "well, it's time for Ethan and Daddy to go to the nursery." Before I could open my mouth in protest my wonderful doctor firmly said, "No, the baby will be staying with mom." The nurse immediately backed off and that was that. I didn't have to say a word. If I could I would have sat right up on the operating table and hugged my doctor. She was my hero. Minutes later we went to recovery. All three of us. 

I was very tired and hungry, but we got through Recovery just fine. I even managed a quick phone call to my mom to tell her the good news. We all rested together and they never took Ethan off my chest, even when they were checking vitals on us both. That skin to skin bonding did wonders for both of us. I've always known the benefits of skin to skin for the baby, but really got to understand the benefits for the mother this time around. I felt so relaxed and happy just holding him and not having to fight for the privilege to do so. 

Because I threw up on my way to postpartum, they restricted my diet to only clear fluids. I'd been fasting since midnight and was starving. I knew I was fine and the nausea had nothing to do with my stomach, so we may or may not have begged a nurse who didn't know my dietary restrictions into bringing me a turkey sandwich. Bless you, uninformed nurse!! They put me on solid food after that, thank goodness!

Later in the afternoon Ethan got to meet his two very eager brothers. They were thrilled! Jackson wanted me to snuggle him a lot, I think to reassure him everything was okay, but the visit went well. Both boys just adore their new brother. It was very sweet to see them all together, and I realized I loved all three of them more than I ever had before. My heart expanded to a whole new level that afternoon.

The rest of my hospital stay was wonderfully uneventful, and we were both discharged 48 hours later. It was lovely to be home again and be able to rest. It's always surprising to me how little rest I'm able to get in the hospital. There is someone coming in literally every 20 minutes needing to check something, give advice, bring meds, check the baby, etc. I never got an hour of uninterrupted sleep, even during the night.

We are so happy to have Ethan here, and that my delivery went so smoothly. Csections are different at every hospital, and I'm so grateful for my doctor and the staff who made the surgery seem as natural as it could be. Our sweet little boy is so loved already. We can't imagine life without him. I still can't believe I have three children. We are so very blessed!

What I Would Say

The birth of our third little boy is rapidly approaching, and that always causes me to reflect on the previous deliveries of my children. Of course, that reflection quickly moves to Ryan's birth, because it affected all my subsequent pregnancies and deliveries. So many thoughts go through my mind. I'm grateful we're both alive and well, angry for being denied the ability of ever having the birth experience I've dreamed of, devastated that with each subsequent pregnancy my chances for additional babies hangs in the balance, happy that I have two beautiful healthy children with another one weeks away from arriving, and terrified about facing another OR again with all the fear that comes with it.

As I contemplate all of this, combined with an overload of hormones making my feelings only semi-rational, I sit and gaze at my wonderful little son who will turn five a couple weeks after his second baby brother's arrival. I watch him as he peacefully sleeps, and am amazed at how much he's grown. I think back to those first scary days after his birth having no idea whether he would live or die, or whether he'd be able to talk, eat on his own, or write his name. If I think my thoughts are all over the place now, it is nothing compared to how they were during that time. Now, five years later, I've thought about what I would say to that terrified, broken down girl who had her life turned upside down so suddenly. What would I tell her?

Probably something like this.

"Hey, it's me five years down the road. I know, I thought we'd be a little skinnier too, but don't worry, you'll get over that for the most part. First off, everything you're feeling is okay, no matter what it is. That sweet little boy over there? The one they won't let you hold or feed because he's so covered with tubes? He turns five years old in a few weeks, and is extraordinary. He loves sharks and trains, with an additional obsession that changes every six months or so. Currently it's a tie between crocodiles and dinosaurs, specifically the spinosaurus, because it's basically a crocodile dinosaur. I know, it's adorable."

"He's a lefty, and a great big brother. Yep! We have more babies! I'm not going to spoil everything that happens in the next five years for you, but yes, you're going to be able to have more, and they are just as extraordinary. He is very smart. Just today I sat next to him while he read me the book, Pirate Pat. We homeschool, and he's awesome at it, writing his name perfectly on every workbook page."

"It's not always going to be easy, and he has his own weaknesses, but so do you. You're going to butt heads, get frustrated, and wonder if you're doing everything wrong. Trust your instincts, trust your Heavenly Father, and trust your husband. He is an amazing father, even better than you dreamed. You will work through the hard days together, and there will be hard days. Remember that Ryan is exactly whom Heavenly Father chose to send to you, along with all his gifts and struggles. You will discover more each day how beautifully he fits into the family, and you will love him all the more for it."

"Also, you may not believe me right now, but he's going to be just fine. Everything those scans show, and all the risk factors all the doctors keep throwing at you that feel like knives in your heart, just let them all go. Have faith, not fear. Ryan will be fine. I promise. Miracles happen. You of all people should know that by now."

"Over the next five years, be kind to yourself. You'll have a lot on your plate both physically and mentally. Learn to let things go, stop worrying about meeting everyone else's approval, and pour all your worries and concerns into prayer. I'm just a little further down the road, and we're not perfect, but trust me, you get through this, one step at a time, and you'll do it a lot faster if you stop worrying how everyone else feels about what you're doing. You've got this."

Of course I realize I wouldn't have learned the same lessons the same way if I could have glimpsed into the future, but it sure would be nice to give myself a hug and tell five years ago Katie everything will be okay. I know right now I'd love for five years further down the road Katie to give me a hug and tell me everything's going to be okay with this delivery, too, but that's a different story, and a different speech I'll post five years from now. Here's to then, and here's to now, taking things one day and one step at a time.