“Could you be pregnant?”
“I hate fish. Ever since Isla.”
That was the conversation I was having with my best friend while I was driving to my first WISH segment in downtown Indianapolis. I was telling her how I couldn’t wait to get sushi after appearing on local television, something that I had on my bucket list. In fact, I was so nervous I didn’t even tell my two best friends what I was doing until after the fact. I’ll always remember driving south on Meridian when she asked me if I could be pregnant. Of course, not. The thought of seafood has been vomit-worthy since I was pregnant with Isla. Surprise: it was my first tell.
Pregnancy
This pregnancy was worse than Ellie’s, but a cake walk compared to Isla’s. Morning sickness or all-day sickness was terrible. Acid reflux was the enemy, and I was never truly ok until after Cora was born. I kept telling people that I had good days and bad days. But the bad days always hit hard. On top of being pregnant, I still had to maintain a normal life for the 3yo and 2yo, do all the fun summer things, travel, and keep a home. I wasn’t tired. I was pregnant tired. And nothing was more annoying when people pointed that out to me.
Another issue this pregnancy, was the size of the baby. Because I had Covid in the summer, they predicted that baby could be small, therefore I would need growth scans in the third trimester. At later appointments, they thought this baby was big. Then at my third trimester growth scan, baby was measuring on time. Even before we met baby, my OB and nurses predicted this would be my biggest baby…
Contractions
I started having Braxton Hicks contractions very early. In fact, I had (what felt) like a real contraction during my friend’s bachelorette party. Word to the wise: don’t jump off your tube while river floating through a rapid in Texas when you’re 20 weeks pregnant. Just don’t. But closer to my due date, the contractions started to get stronger, and I began to feel more pressure. At my 34-week appointment, the NP had mentioned that the cervix was soft and the head was super low, and I was already dilated 1cm. With Ellie, I had prodromal labor and progressed to 4cm. Needless to say, I was super nervous this baby was going to arrive unannounced. I joked with a couple of my friends that I would end up on our local police scanner: women delivered child at side of road. And anytime something like that showed up, I texted my friends to let them know it wasn’t me.
A couple nights before Isla’s 4th birthday, I started contracting. The real ones. The ones lasting 1 min every 5-7 min. In the middle of the night, I walked back and forth in my bedroom, pleading with this baby to not come on or around Isla’s birthday. The contractions eventually went away and these continued to happen a couple times throughout the week. Sometimes, Isla would wake up with me and walk with me through each contraction. It’s a memory I’ll always hold on to.
The next week, we went to triage in the morning. After an hour of strong contractions, they somehow disappeared at the hospital. I know, I was THAT patient. Even though my contractions didn’t change my cervix, my blood pressure gave my OB something to talk about. My pressures were regular in office but that morning, my pressures were 130-140/80-90. She discharged me home and told me to come back the next day for an NST and pressure check.
When I got back home, I laid on the couch and felt a shift. Coincidentally my neighbor asked me how I was doing and reminded me that her house is open to drop the girls off, should the time come. Not knowing yet, that the time was very soon…
Labor
The next morning, I passed the NST. Baby was sleepy but moving around. The medical assistant took my vitals and when she took her stethoscope off, she said “sit on the chair for a little bit and I’ll retake it in 5 minutes.”
5 minutes passed.
150/90
The NP came in and said, “I told labor and delivery to expect you.”
This isn’t the first time I flirted with possible pre-eclampsia. It happened with Isla, but with her I had bleeding and zero fetal movement that sent me to triage. Even though this was more controlled, I still cried on my way over to the hospital. We started with one dose of Cytotec then began Pitocin. I emotional to start Pitocin, probably because I knew the pain associated with it and I feared the epidural (even though I had it twice before.) I was thankful I made the decision to, because there were C-sections waiting for the anesthesiologist.
Like Isla, this baby was sunny side up.
Unlike Ellie, this baby took some effort to push.
This time, my OB was finally present to deliver me. While pushing, she was able to turn the baby (which was the weirdest feeling) in hopes that pushing this baby would be easier to come out. However, I knew something was wrong. The staff had equipment prepared to push on my pelvis should there be a shoulder dystocia, extra people were in the room, and there was more discomfort in my pelvis. I wanted to cry. I wanted this baby out. I was so scared. There was low whispering and I prayed so hard that I didn’t have to be rushed to the OR. It seemed like forever, but it was probably only 20 minutes of pushing. The emotions of hearing a cry and finding out the gender was…emotional. They tried to put her on my chest, but she only reached my belly button. I think that was the reason they were so concerned about her not coming down, because her cord was so short.
I was nervous to hemorrhage again.
I was scared I was going to pass out.
I was so afraid of all the unknowns.
I didn’t want to rest.
I was so damn scared, everything was out of my control, and I didn’t know how to process my emotions.
Cora was our number one girl name. Steve didn’t like her middle name and by exhaustion, I agreed to Lucia. Cora is a sweet, short classic name that means Maiden. I like the name Lucia because it means light. Also, St. Lucia’s feast day was a couple days before her birth and her originally birthdate was the winter solstice. It also ties into Isla’s middle name Luz which means light, and Ellie means light as well. (Coincidentally, all their middle names start with “Lu.”) I didn’t realize it later but changing her middle name turned out to be a prayer answered.
Postpartum
My blood pressure continued to fluctuate so they kept asking me all the pre-eclampsia questions and left my IV in more than I appreciated. Pain was controlled. Anxiety was not.
Somehow, someway…I was breastfeeding Cora. I tried with Isla and gave up. I tried with Ellie and was defeated immediately. With Cora, I just gave it a go and stuck with it. Unfortunately, Cora’s bilirubin was not looking good. The same thing happened with Ellie, but with her they started phototherapy in the room with us. We knew if one sibling had it then it was more than likely another sibling would too. That’s all the neonatologist basically told me…before she mom-shamed me for NOT breastfeeding my two older children.
I don’t understand how my decisions in the past affected the future because I was successfully breastfeeding this one. The one that matters. Instead, she chose to nitpick because I didn’t try harder to seek help for my older children. It didn’t matter that I exclusively pumped, she told me I was at risk for breast cancer. She told me I could have “ordered an Uber” to take me to classes. I felt so defeated. I didn’t understand why I deserved this lashing when she could have been telling me how to support my newborn. Not my now 4-year-old and 2-year-old. Later, the nurse came back in with discharge information that the neonatologist DID NOT go over with me. I was to come back the next day for another bilirubin draw. That’s all I was given.
Home
I came home to a full house. Everything hurt and I was emotionally overwhelmed. I remember sitting at the kitchen table, our parents finally left, and I tried eating something for dinner. I opened a box of nipple butter, and it had a quote in it that made me cry: “Breastfeeding is like motherhood: it’s so wonderful it brings tears to your eyes – or it just brings tears to your eyes. Would you change a thing? no. But…still.”
Cora was always wonderful at sleeping and basically being an ideal newborn. She would eat then nap for 2 hours, eat, then nap. On repeat. Even in the hospital. So, our first night at home was everything I expected.
The next morning, we went to the hospital to get her blood drawn. Her poor heel was lanced and even though they kept torturing her poor foot, she never made a peep. We took our first family adventure to Best Buy to look at new ovens and as we were one our way home, I got a call from the neonatologist. Her bilirubin tripled. I had to go back to the hospital. Luckily, I never unpacked. So, all I had to do was grab our bags and head back. But this time to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.
NICU
No one told me this could happen. No one warned me. Maybe if someone had told me, I would have been prepared.
I remember standing outside the locked unit in tears. Cora was in the stroller, and I was in a winter coat. I should be home. Not here. The nurse who opened the door asked me who I was and I started crying. She and another nurse brought me to a room. I took Cora out, they assessed her on the warmer, and I sat by watching. Even though Cora was their patient, I kind of felt like one too. After they made sure Cora was set under the lights, they confirmed my needs were met. They reminded me to eat, where I could go, extra blankets and pillows, everything. I let all my emotions out on the floor for them. I told her nurse I wanted to be home. I was upset because I was going to miss my 2-year-old’s Christmas performance. It’s the last week before Christmas break, I need to be home with my daughters, with my family, all 5 of us. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Man, she listened. Maybe she didn’t understand what I was saying through all the tears, but she was there for me in a way I needed. I just wanted someone to listen to me and validate what I was going through. A mother herself, she knew. She knew.
I never felt so alone in her room. I remember looking out the window and watching the Christmas parade go by. It was as if time stood still. I needed to be everywhere at once, but I couldn’t. I felt so helpless. I had friends at my fingertips who I could reach out to, but I didn’t want to burden them. For some reason, keeping this to myself felt more comforting.
By morning, her bilirubin came back down, and she was given the okay to be discharged that afternoon. I missed Ellie’s Christmas recital. We were only in the NICU for 24 hours, but it still felt like we were floating. Cora was always ok. I think I knew that deep in my heart, but my emotions were the ones I couldn’t control. People say it’s baby blues, but it felt deeper and more scarier than that. I didn’t know how to voice that.
Home for Good
Tuesday afternoon we were back home and Steve had to go back to work immediately. I’m grateful for a DoorDash gift card that saved dinner for that night, but that day also made me realize that I could do it. I can handle two toddlers and a newborn. But like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re going to get…
In hindsight, I’m grateful that through everything the holiday season, Cora and I were the only healthy ones. Through everything we went through, we made it out together. She is my constant and my rock, my sunshine. I started on daily a blood pressure medication and eventually started Lexapro for postpartum depression. One day, I’ll share my postpartum depression journey because I know I’m not alone. It’s been a year, but I’m now coming to terms with it. Writing Cora’s Birth Story has made me realize what I been through and what triggered me. It’s been very cathartic.
Cora was my light through the darkness and still continues to be. As we approach her first birthday and anniversary of my trauma, I hold on to the memory of what I’ve overcome and who helped me through. I had a small village to lean on. For every gift card, porch drop offs and text messages, I’ll forever be grateful for those small gestures that mean everything to me.
