Our doctor, Dr. Allphin, let us know in one of Emily’s appointments leading up to the due date that he was going to be leaving on vacation for the Thanksgiving holiday. That information coupled with the fact that he didn’t want us to go past 41 weeks of pregnancy meant that we might have to make a hard decision. We had never really thought too hard about induction. For some reason, it just didn’t seem like something we needed to worry about or mentally prepare for such a possibility. For some reason, a C-section procedure seemed like a more likely scenario than having to be induced, and we were more prepared for that. As the due date approached, and passed, and we started looking at it in the rearview mirror instead of a future impending event, we realized we were going to think about being induced. Today was Wednesday, and Dr. Alphin was going to be leaving the next Tuesday. If we wanted to make sure he would be present for the delivery, Emily would need to be induced on Sunday evening, ensuring that we would be done by Tuesday. We could wait to see if labor would start naturally, but Wednesday would be our cut off date, and if we went that late, we would have to go with a doctor we were unfamiliar with. We decided to go ahead and schedule the Sunday evening appointment, but we were still hoping earnestly that labor would start naturally and we would have to cancel the appointment. I think part of our reluctance was that we were dreading going through the experience of “this is the last time we do this by ourselves”, “this is our last night”, and having a countdown clock to our lives being turned completely upside down. We would much rather have the eventuality sprung on us unsuspectingly, not giving us time to think about what was about to happen. Emily had started getting “fake” contractions, and they had started getting worse as the days advanced through Thursday and Friday. In fact, we had a false alarm on Friday when it seemed liked contractions might be starting, but they suddenly stopped. The next day, on Saturday, the contractions started up with a vengeance and it seemed like it was for real this time. It was around dinner time and typically I’d start preparing a meal, but we decided we’d rather just go the easy route and get some Five Guys rather than make and eat dinner through the contractions. I was mildly freaking out, evidenced by the fact that I totally forgot where Five Guys was, even though I’ve been there several times before and it’s in a prominent place in the little tiny town we live in, and you have to be blind to miss it. I eventually got my wits about me and turned around after having completely bypassing it and finally located the building. After returning with the food, we ate, and started the process of gathering the necessary belongings that we would need at the hospital. Disappointingly, the contractions suddenly stopped yet again. We still held out hope that contractions would start up again on Sunday. It was mid-morning on Sunday and there was absolutely no hint of a contraction whatsoever, and we were finally forced to face that, yes, Emily is going to have to be induced. Emotions and tears started flooding in, everything from “oh wow, it’s hitting me how totally inadequate and unprepared I am to help you through labor”, to “this is it, our happy, comfortable routine is over and our marriage is probably going to fall apart once we’re stressed and have had no sleep for days on end”. We were due at the hospital at 7:00 PM. I made dinner, but neither one of us were in much of a mood to eat. We eventually choked down some food, and I’m glad Emily was able to get something in her system because this would be her last meal for 48 hours. We packed up the car and had a few minutes left and we just sat in our living room, just sitting and knowing life is about to change forever. It was a long, silent drive in the dark to Idaho Falls, with a lot to think about. It was 30 minutes but it felt longer than that but at the same time it ended all too soon. We weren’t sure what was awaiting us when we arrived and I don’t know that we were too eager to find out either. Once we arrived at the hospital and got settled into our room, and Emily changed into her hospital gown, I think we both started feeling more at ease. I think a lot of nervousness and dread comes from having a lack of information, and being in that room and realizing this is where it’s going to happen, gave us just enough information to calm our nerves a bit. We also had a very nice, competent nurse named Leah, which I thought was a good sign because I have a niece named Leah. 
We were warned that we probably wouldn’t get much sleep that night. Dr Allphin had already made us aware that it could take up to 16 hours, so we were prepared for the long haul. It took a while to get Emily hooked up to her IV, because they kept hitting a valve, which meant there was blood, and I was getting uncomfortable. They eventually switched arms, but even when they successfully stuck her, there was a blood spurt just to spite me. I was glad when that was over. 
After the initial dose of Cytotec, there was nothing left to do at this point but wait. I laid down on the couch with a blanket and tried to get some shut-eye. I would wake up when the nurses would come in every hour or so to check up on Emily, but Emily and I were able to get a bit of sleep. At 3:40 AM, after her second dose of Cytotec, Emily felt a gush of liquid. She reached for the button used to call in a nurse, and was so surprised that someone started talking to her through a speaker, that in her groggy state of mind, all she could say was ‘oh’. Leah came in soon after and checked her and confirmed that her water had broken. They gave her mesh underwear and gigantic pads, because as it turns out, you keep gushing liquid throughout the entire process. Emily’s water breaking gave us hope that the process was progressing at a quicker pace than expected, and we would be able to continue labor without the aid of medication required for inducement. The medication that would have been required would cause contractions to happen closer together and make for a more painful, and unpleasant experience, which is why most people who are induced have an epidural. We were excited that we might be able to forgo all those drugs. At around 8 AM, the contractions really started picking up. I started applying pressure and helping as best I could, dutifully fulfilling the responsibilities I had prepared for, and trying to help Emily get through each contraction. I could see on the monitor when each contraction arrived and how big each one was. Emily started experiencing simultaneous intense back and thigh pain. Whenever a contraction would start I would put pressure on her back so she could get through it. We listened to a bit of Jim Gaffigan, and eventually she moved to a side-stomach position she had practiced, and turned on some music. Periodically she would switch to her other side, and every hour I would remind her to go to the bathroom and change out pads. This seemed to work for an hour or two. When the pain started to intensify, and I helped her walk around our room for a bit. I was surprised at how little we saw our nurse during this time (Alicia was our new nurse after the shift change at 7 AM), and how hands-off it seemed. The benefit is that we had privacy to work through some intense stuff on our own, but I also felt unsure about whether we were doing it right, or how long we could expect all of this to even last. 
As the pain just kept getting worse, we were getting anxious to see what kind of progress she had made and what positive news we had earned from the last four hours. When the nurse finally checked Emily, she reported that she was exactly the same. 3 cm, 80% effaced. There was not even a little good news to report. We had been fairly optimistic and ready to power through anything, but this report was very disheartening. It seemed like we were going through a pointless exercise of pain for no observable benefit. We decided to take it hour by hour. Emily’s contractions were getting more and more painful with every passing moment and I was doing everything I could, but now her thighs were hurting in addition to her back, and I needed 4 arms at that point. After an hour, Emily got checked again. The only positive thing to report is that Emily was still at a 3 but “maybe” at a 4 at that point. We started talking seriously about asking for an epidural. We had prepped ourselves that we would only discuss it in between contractions, so as to make the most rational decision we could. We decided to go yet another hour. After another hour had passed, there was still no progress, so it seemed appropriate to ease the pain and try and speed up the process. It had already been 12 hours since her water broke, and the longer it takes to deliver the baby after that, the more nervous doctors seem to get. It was an emotional decision because Emily felt like she was giving up on her goal of doing this naturally. We talked and we realized that we were still proud of ourselves for trying, for going through something intensely difficult, even if it didn’t turn out as we had hoped. It was time for Emily to get some pain relief. At about 2:30, the anesthesiologist, Walter, came in and walked Emily through the process of sticking a giant needle in her back. She also received an initial dosage of Pitocin, which makes the contractions come more quickly. Alicia set up a competition where the four of us stated our predictions of the birth weight, the length, the time, and gender. I think we both appreciated that she did that, it lightened the mood when we really needed it. In fact, all the people who worked with us at EIRMC were outstanding, and we truly appreciate them. Alicia, Emily and I all predict the birth time to be between 6 and 7 PM. Walter prefaced his prediction that we weren’t going to like it. He predicted 9 PM. After the epidural medicine kicked in, it was obvious that it wasn’t strong enough. Walter had mentioned that he was going a little light on the dosage because Emily is petite. After it became apparent that Emily was still in pain, he upped the dosage, which seemed to do the trick. Not too long after Emily received the epidural, she got checked again and was at a 7, and it looked like things were progressing nicely. It seemed like we were past the worst of it, which was a relief. I was able to take a shower, and Emily tried to get some sleep, though it was difficult because her legs were spontaneously moving. I think it was because her contractions were getting more powerful from the Pitocin and it was causing her legs, which she didn’t have any control over, to move. It was really bizarre, and none of the nurses we talked to had ever seen it before, but they didn’t seem concerned. After a few hours, and a bit of downtime and some sleep, we found out that Emily was still at a 7. We were hoping she would be able to start pushing at that point, but zero progress had been made. There was nothing left to do but settle in, try to get some sleep and wait it out. 
At around 10 PM, Emily started to be able to feel her legs again and the back pain was returning. They had to bring in an anesthesiologist (who was on-call) to administer another dose. That helped for an hour or so but the back pain started returning yet again, and this time the thigh pain was starting to rear its ugly head as well. And so the anesthesiologist came back to give yet another dose. Again, that helped for another hour, but the pain was insatiable and kept coming back for more. It’s all hazy now, but I seem to remember the anesthesiologist coming back for a total of 4 times. Finally, at 1:47 AM, we were told that Emily was almost 10 cm dilated. She was writhing in pain at this point, with brief periods where the drugs eased the suffering a bit. It seemed no matter how many doses of drugs she received, the pain just wouldn’t let up. At around 2:30 or 2:45, she was fully dilated, and this is typically when “labor down” starts, where the mom waits at least 1 hour before pushing, to allow the body to bring the baby further into position as much as possible. At 3:10, the pain was so severe that waiting any longer didn’t seem like a viable option. The nurse suggested maybe she should start pushing now, and Emily agreed. We felt like getting the baby out as soon as possible was the best option available. The staff in the hospital seemed a bit thinly staffed, which I suppose makes sense given it was 3 in the morning. There had been a shift change and there was only one nurse Amber, there with me at that time. In an effort to set our expectations she mentioned that pushing typically lasts 30 minutes to 2 hours. I distinctly remember thinking “that means it’s going to be four hours”. Pushing was indeed slow going. Emily was “pushing through the pain”, meaning the only way to make it stop is to push and get the baby out. Amber would coach Emily through the contractions as we each held a leg. I remember hitting the two-hour mark and at that point, it wasn’t clear to me how much progress had been made, which was discouraging. I did know that we were only barely starting to glimpse the head and what looked to me like black hair, but I didn’t know what that meant in terms of how far along we were. Amber started leaving the room periodically, leaving just Emily and I. I can’t remember exactly why she was leaving, but I believe she talked with Dr. Allphin at least once. Once I started being left alone with Emily, my emotions and my stamina were starting to really be put to the test. Emily continued pushing through her agony, and I as an untrained professional tried to coach her, as calmy as I could, based on what I heard Amber do. Inwardly I was totally freaking out. I just had no concept for whether or not I should be concerned, or how normal this was. I supposed I could have tried to get a better gauge of the situation from Amber, but I was totally focused on helping Emily. I was told our baby was trying to work its way past the pelvic bone. I don’t think that helped my state of mind. It seems everyone I know who has gone through labor has had horrible traumatic experiences, and I started thinking about my sister Janae, who had a C-section after her baby just wasn’t making it past the pelvic bone. The pelvic bone seems like a troublemaker, and I was imagining that Kevins was getting stuck like my niece had been. Out of the past 48 hours of labor, those final hours of pushing were by far the worst, the scariest, the most doubt-filled, the most painful, and the most exhausting, exacerbated by the fact that we hadn’t slept much and Emily hadn’t eaten in a couple days. She continued to push and push and push, through excruciating contraction upon excruciating contraction. I was at the end of my rope, and it was at this point that in desperation all I could think to do was send out a text to all the family members that I had been sending updates to throughout the process. Admittedly it’s a text that would have freaked me out if I had been on the receiving end. With no other context, it said simply, “please pray for us”. Not soon after that text, at about 6:30 AM, Dr. Allphin walked through the door, and it seemed like a cloud began to lift. Emily was still working like hell through her pain, but as more and more people began to pour through the door, the mood in the room started to lighten up a bit as people were joking and having casual conversation. Dr. Allphin didn’t seem worried, and so I felt somewhat reassured. At the very least there were other people there to help us. Dr. Allphin rolled a stool my way so I could sit down as if to say “I’ve got this”. I sat down, I got up, I paced, I sat down, I stood up again. We could see Kevin’s head being pushed out with every contraction, but when the contractions would stop, he would recede back, seemingly erasing all the progress made from Emily’s hard work. We were so close, but it didn’t feel like each push was getting us any closer. At one point Dr. Allphin reached for Emily’s hand and directed it to Kevin’s head so she could realize how close she truly was. This was very encouraging for her. After all, she was the most frustrated person of all that Kevin seemed to be taking his sweet time. It must not have been long after that, at 7:11 AM, and after some Herculean pushes, Kevin’s head and shoulders broke free and my breath was taken away when I saw his face for the first time. He was purple and covered in a white film, which made him look akin to an alien, but his face seemed very human. He was placed on Emily’s chest (after pooping on her first), and she had a “wow, nice to meet you little guy” kind of moment. Emily accidentally felt his junk right way and knew that it was a boy before I did. Dr. Allphin had me announce the gender. It had been over 4 hours since Emily started pushing. We had a difficult time picking a boy’s name so we always joked that it was definitely going to be a boy, coupled with the fact that I’m terrified of trying to raise a boy, so it seems inevitable that it had to be a boy. At that moment I didn’t care all that much whether it was a boy or a girl. It was over, and we finally got to meet that stubborn little turd face to face. There was a flurry of activity around us, and somewhere along the way Dr. Allphin handed me a pair of scissors and I cut the umbilical cord, which felt a bit like cutting through a piece of chicken. Emily had a 2nd-degree tear and Dr. Allphin started sewing her up as we watched this little human slowly turn from purple to pink. Emily had to stop him because she could feel everything and he administered a dose of anesthetics before continuing on. We and Kevin just kind of stared at each other for a bit while the flurry around us continued. 
The reality about going through something as difficult as labor is after the magical moment of meeting this brand new person, you don’t get any rest, seemingly ever again. It was off to the races and we haven’t really stopped since. Immediately a nurse came in to start Kevin breastfeeding, and to show Emily how to care for herself in the wake of her body being beaten to a pulp. In the meantime, I started moving all our belongings to one of the aftercare rooms. The minute I had all our stuff moved, and Emily had been wheelchaired over, and I sat down to catch my breath, people starting pouring in, wanting this thing or that. Kevin had to get checked out by the pediatrician, the lactation consultant wanted to make sure Emily was figuring out breastfeeding, it just never seemed to stop. I wish we had at least half a day of stillness to rest without someone needing to talk to us. In fact, one of my regrets about this experience is having family over. Kevin was very sleepy that day, and we should have taken advantage of it and gotten some rest. We really didn’t sleep much that day, and we were up with him all night, and up with him the next night. And the next night. I wish I could go back in time and tell ourselves to take full advantage of that precious time and keep visitors away at all costs. The first few days after coming home from the hospital were very taxing emotionally and physically. Emily could barely walk, making it difficult for me to feel good about running errands with her to fend for herself. Kevin wouldn’t stop eating and we stayed up most of the night with him. We have since adjusted, as best you can, and it has slowly been getting more manageable, and more enjoyable overall. But I’ll leave the full story for another day. 
Skin to skin time with dad 
Thanksgiving meal before we head home. 
And then there were three. 