Hello friends! I am so thrilled to pop in from my maternity break today to share that the reason for my break—our precious Nickelson Ryan (“Nico”)—is here! He arrived on the afternoon of Sunday, August 18, right at 39 weeks, and he is more amazing than we could have dreamed. Settle in, because I’d love to share his birth story with you; it’s a good one!
The weeks leading up to Nico’s arrival were unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Nico’s actual due date was August 25, but because our other babies delivered early (Charleston at 37 weeks and the twins at 36 weeks) we were expecting an early-August birthday. By the first week of August I was certain that I was seconds away from going into labor because I felt as I did right before my other labors began; it turns out, that’s just what it feels like to be 9 months pregnant, but I didn’t have much experience in that arena. I was extremely uncomfortable with intense back, groin, and round ligament pain, consistent Braxton Hicks contractions, and lots of swelling in my legs and feet. My sleep was restless and often nonexistent so I was exhausted, and I was experiencing a lot of anxiety about the particulars of our delivery: we were very set on wanting to have a drug-free VBAC, even though the type of incision I had from my emergency C-section with the twins (who were both breech) was a complicated one and put me at high risk for uterine rupture during labor. Our doctor (Dr. Seeker) was on board with our decision as long as I went into labor spontaneously before 40 weeks, but he wasn’t comfortable with my going past my due date, so we had a C-section scheduled for August 26, and I felt like we were on a time crunch.
At my 37-week appointment I was 1.5 cm dilated and 50% effaced and baby was at a -1 station. Dr. Seeker said that I had a 50% chance of delivering that week, but the week came and went with no signs of labor. At our 38 week appointment I was a little closer: dilated to 2 cm, 75% effaced, and baby was so low that Dr. Seeker had to reach around his head to check my cervix (I still don’t know how that’s possible!); he put my odds on delivering that week at 90%, but as the week progressed and it STILL hadn’t happened, I was having serious misgivings. I felt like a ticking time bomb and both wanted labor to start at any minute while also feeling nervous knowing that it could. I had been very in tune with my body throughout the pregnancy and wanted to continue to trust its timing, but I was nervous that it would not do what it needed to do. To further complicate issues, in the final two weeks I was having a hard time eating because I was so uncomfortable and nauseous, and I worried that baby would not be getting enough nutrition to continue growing. This was entangled with fears that he would keep growing and be too big for a vaginal delivery—talk about anxiety whiplash! Looking back I can see that all of these fears were totally unfounded and fueled by hormones, but in the moment they felt like very valid concerns.
Despite the challenges of the final few weeks of pregnancy, it was also a precious time in our home—the proverbial calm before the storm. We had cleared our schedules, so we had plenty of quality family time, and I was in full nesting mode that had me feeling emotionally tender and intensely protective of our little family unit. August brought us a wonderful first few weeks of homeschool, lots of trips to the pool, laughter-filled family game nights, and treasured snuggles and kisses with Mama’s belly.
Luke was an incredible support during this time, listening to my tearful misgivings and offering constant back rubs and reassurances. He reminded me to savor the miracle of my pregnancy, and we would lie together on our bed holding my belly and feeling the baby do calisthenics on the other side of my skin. We had long talks about our hopes and dreams for baby and FINALLY settled on his name, and we spent a lot of time praying and planning for our birth: this would be our first labor and delivery without a doula, and we knew that our planned VBAC was high-risk, so we spent time researching and practicing birthing positions and coaching techniques so that we could enter into labor as prepared as possible.
On Saturday night, we went to church and used the opportunity of being in real clothes to capture a 39-week belly photo (one night early). That evening I had reached peak discomfort and couldn’t stomach dinner. I really felt like this could be Baby Eve, but I’d thought that before. . . . When we went to bed around 10:00 I was having fairly strong contractions every fifteen minutes and knew this might be the real thing, but wanted to try to get some rest and was actually able to sleep through the night. I woke at 7:00 and Luke and I snuggled in bed while the kids entertained themselves. I was having contractions every five minutes and when they continued for a full hour I knew it was go time. It was an odd mixture of excitement that the moment had FINALLY arrived, and a whole lot of trepidation about what the day could hold. I got dressed, brushed my teeth, and went to tell the kids to get ready to go to Grandma and Grandpa’s house because it was BABY DAY! We’d looked forward to this day for so long, we were all kind of in shock that it was actually here.
It took my in-laws about half an hour to get to our house. In that time I tried to pack up between contractions that were now coming every three minutes and were strong enough that I couldn’t talk through them. The kids were so sweet to come and rub my back each time one came on. Luke called the hospital to let them know we were coming, and I called my parents to tell them I was in labor. My mom and dad live in California and their original plan had been to leave for Texas as soon as I went into labor, but my mom surprised me on the phone by letting me know they were already in Texas! (They’d felt certain baby would come soon and drove out early, but had thoughtfully kept their travels under wraps so that they wouldn’t be a distraction before we were ready for their visit.)
Luke’s parents got to our house at 8:30. We captured a quick final photo with the kids, and Luke loaded me into the car for the thirty-minute drive to the hospital. It was a Sunday morning so the roads were blessedly free of traffic, but I felt every bump and turn and was pretty miserable. Luke coached me through contractions as we drove, and when we turned on some music I cried as I realized the first song that popped up (from my playlist of 100+ songs) happened to be Baby of Mine—the only baby-related song on the list! What a special God Wink that was.
We arrived at the hospital at 9:00 and made it up to the 4th floor, where we were kept in a waiting room for a few minutes. I felt very awkward breathing through contractions in a room full of grandparents and other hospital visitors, and was relieved to be shown into a triage room shortly. We were in that room for three hours and it was my least favorite part of our labor. The room was filthy and felt very clinical, and I was annoyed to be answering tons of intake questions and signing lots of paperwork when I just wanted to focus on laboring. (Why can none of this be done ahead of time?!) Luke set up our speaker with my play list and helped me change into a hospital gown, and a nurse checked my cervix which was only 3-4 cm dilated. She said that I might not be far enough along to be admitted and that she would have to consult with the OB on call (unfortunately not my doctor). I felt a little defeated at this news but tried to focus on my contractions and letting my body do its thing.
Luke went to move the car out of temporary parking while our nurse hooked me up to a fetal monitor, and when Luke returned we spent the next couple of hours working through contractions that were intense and coming every 2-3 minutes. I lay on the bed, curled around a pillow, and Luke rubbed my back and then my hair when contractions were so strong I couldn’t stand to be touched anywhere but my head. He assured me I was doing a good job and guided me through some of the meditations and visualizations we’d rehearsed. Luke later told me that my breath was horrid at the time (I swear I’d brushed my teeth!), and that his back and arms were sore from supporting me, but in the moment he was incredibly encouraging and the only thing that was keeping me going.
A little after 10:00, we were visited by the primary triage physician who asked why I’d come in that day; this cracked me up because it seemed pretty obvious I’d come in to deliver a baby, but I guess more than laboring women are seen in this part of the hospital, so my “concerns” were not a given. The doctor said he would defer to the OB on call (Dr. Halle), and she came in around 11:30 to take a look at our birth plan and discuss our intentions for the day. We had been given verbal permission from my primary doctor to have a drug-free VBAC with no IV or fetal monitoring, but this is not standard protocol, so we were having to do a lot of explaining and pushing back—something that was very difficult to do between contractions, but thankfully Luke was able to do much of the communicating on my behalf.
Though Dr. Halle was not thrilled with my declining an IV or continual fetal monitoring, she agreed to admit me and the nurses began working on getting me transferred to a labor room. At noon our Labor and Delivery nurse, Melissa, came to help us move. I liked her immediately, especially when she read through our birth plan and told us that she’d had her own babies at home and thought our desire for zero interventions was totally reasonable. We knew we were in good hands! I declined her offer of a wheelchair and somehow walked down the hallway to our laboring room, where I lay down on my side—the only position that felt remotely comfortable. At this point my contractions were almost constant and level-10 intense, but I still had to sign several forms consenting to a VBAC and declining an IV and epidural. Getting through all of those signatures might have been the hardest part of my whole labor!
While Melissa went in search of a bluetooth fetal monitor (since I’d declined the straps) and gathered supplies for a blood draw (which I didn’t want, but also didn’t want to have to sign waivers for), Luke tried to help me change into my personal birthing gown; unfortunately it had too many complicated ties to figure out, and the gown was eventually abandoned in favor of me enduring wave upon wave of body-splitting contractions stark naked on the bed.
At this point I had broken out in a sweat and was dry heaving with every contraction, and then my body started shaking uncontrollably. (I now realize that I was in the transitioning stage of, but didn’t recognize this stage in the moment.) Melissa set down the supplies she’d been preparing and asked if I was starting to feel the need to push: I was, but doubted myself since it didn’t seem like enough time had passed for me to be fully dilated. The doctor and nurses seemed to think I had hours to go, and I was trusting their lack of urgency over my own instincts. I told Melissa that I did feel very strong pressure, although I wasn’t sure if I was feeling an urge to push out poop or a baby! (Spoiler: I would learn in a couple of minutes that it was both! You’re welcome for that pleasant visual.) She and Luke helped me open my legs to be checked (difficult because I was shaking so violently). Melissa said I was 8 cm dilated but could tell I was ready to have a baby NOW and pulled a plug from the wall that would trigger other nurses to arrive.
I don’t remember much about the next minute, but Luke said that he and Melissa struggled to put some pads underneath me as other nurses rushed in. I heard Melissa tell them we were having a baby right now, and another said “oh wow, okay, we’re doing a VBAC.” I was never given a go-ahead to start pushing, but my body gave me no choice and I felt myself pushing through my next contraction. I could feel poop coming out but also felt my cervix opening up, and I heard someone say that baby’s head was visible. Luke tells me that at one moment it looked like I was nowhere close to being dilated (he’d expected to be able to see an open cervix), then suddenly he saw the top of baby’s head—which appeared white because his birthing sac was still in tact. I gave one more push and felt a gush of water, just as the doctor stepped in to catch the baby—his entire body coming out in that single push.
The whole pushing process had lasted less than a minute and felt so feral, with me writhing naked on a bed, no stirrups or lights, no tubes or needles, no coaching or positioning or fanfare—just a mama pushing out her baby, and then in an instant he was outside of me. There are no words to describe the emotions of that sacred moment: insane joy, overwhelming relief, infinite gratitude. My sweet Nico boy was placed on my chest and I held him, welcoming him to the world and marveling at his full head of black hair and chubby cheeks. He looked nothing like my other three kiddos, and yet he was mine and he was here and our family felt complete. The intensity of my relief at being through with pregnancy and labor was surpassed only by my overwhelming love for him.
A few minutes after his delivery (at 12:46, my first PM baby!) the doctor invited Luke to cut Nico’s cord, and not long after I felt another urge to push and she delivered my placenta. I asked to see it and was surprised by its size; we chose to keep and encapsulate our other placentas, and part of me wishes we’d done the same with this placenta that was clearly healthy and quite massive. (We have a photo which I will spare you from here!) The nurses cleaned up my afterbirth and did a preliminary check of Nico as he rested on my chest: his Apgar score was 8 at delivery and 9 after five minutes—way to go, buddy! And then everyone left, and it was just Luke and me and our precious baby boy for the next hour.
That hour was such a gift, and felt particularly redemptive as it was time I didn’t get with my other babies. (Charleston was whisked away at delivery because he came early and was so small, and I was not awake for the twins’ emergency C-section and didn’t meet them until they were a few hours old). We took in Nico’s little grunts and squeaks and moved him to my breast, where he immediately latched and began nursing. I was amazed at how much older and more developed he seemed than my other three at birth; the extra weeks he spent inside really made a difference! Holding him, I cried tears of gratitude as we reflected on the miracle of my entire pregnancy and the specifics of my delivery, which were all complication-free and entirely natural. Everything about Nickelson Ryan—from conception to first moments—had been an unexpected blessing beyond what we could have thought to ask for.
A nurse came in after that Golden Hour to take Nico’s measurements: 18.5 inches long and 6 pounds 12 ounces (more than a pound heavier than Charleston and two pounds bigger than the twins!). Melissa finally got that blood draw taken care of and helped me get cleaned up. As I changed back into the clothes I’d worn to the hospital, she commented that we were living proof that birth doesn’t have to be done the conventional (intervention-heavy) way. I had no tearing and felt no soreness, (something I very much appreciated after the difficult recovery I had after my C-section) and I had no problem walking to our recovery room where we got settled in. And less than an hour later my parents arrived to say hello. Another surprise blessing!
Later that night Luke’s parents came by with the big kids, who were thrilled to meet their baby brother and were adorable fawning over him and holding him for the first time. I especially loved hearing them say his name, which we shared with the family for the first time that day (having only settled on a name ourselves a few days prior!). I’d been away from the kids for less than twelve hours, but I had missed them terribly and it felt amazing to have our whole family of SIX together for the first time.
We were in the hospital overnight, and despite lots of interruptions from nurses and doctors it was a sweet time. We had a wonderful nursing staff who took good care of us, and we greatly enjoyed the hospital food. (I especially savored every morsel of my first postpartum meal [grilled salmon, sweet potato fries, and a yogurt parfait—all of my favorite foods!] and was grateful that my appetite had finally returned!) We filled out discharge paperwork and our birth certificate, I worked on Nico’s baby book, we fit in plenty of nursing sessions, and Luke and I took turns cuddling our newest babe. Nico passed every vitals check as well as his hearing test and his 24-hour pediatrician check, and we were cleared to go home at 4:00 on Monday, just 28 hours after Nico was born. What a privilege to have a healthy, full-term baby who was nursing well and gave us no concerns about leaving the hospital. And how wonderful to be feeling back to my pre-pregnancy self!
The days since coming home have also been wonderful as we soak up every minute with our littlest guy. The kids are all smitten with their little brother and are constantly singing him lullabies, introducing him to his toys, and asking to hold him. My parents are still in town and have been amazing about keeping the big kids entertained so that Luke and I can have some special bonding time with Nico. I’ve spent hours just snuggling with him, singing and praying over him, taking in that newborn scent and treasuring every second of his first week. I’m only now realizing how hard these postpartum days were with the twins and have such a great appreciation for the ease of nursing and cuddling just ONE newborn! My recovery has been a breeze, my milk is flowing, and it feels mazing to no longer be pregnant!
I am still in complete and total awe over this little miracle that is Nickelson Ryan. From his surprise conception when we thought we couldn’t have more kids naturally, to my longest and healthiest pregnancy (despite my age), to the delivery that came at just the right time and went more smoothly than I could have hoped for, to the healthy baby boy that is sleeping next to me, hand splayed around my arm, as I type this. God has been so kind to our family in giving us this gift. Thank you, Lord! And thank YOU, my friends, for allowing me to share Nico’s story with you!
One final note: there is a long story behind Nico’s name that I hope to share here soon. The short version is that Nickelson is a riff on my middle name of Nicole, and Ryan is Luke’s middle name. He is a blending of his two adoring parents! Nickelson Ryan means Victorious Descendent of the King, and we pray that our little guy does great things for God’s Kingdom.
