Ezra Cole Morris

Ezra Cole Morris

born on Oct 23rd 2012 at 2:36pm

8lbs 6oz

Ezra is finally here, and I have so much I want to record and write about, but as common knowledge has it, words, even those of a great author fail to depict all emotions and feelings.

First of all I want to start out with: Labor and delivery is like dying and resurrecting. I find this quite ironic and completely appropriate as Jesus dies and resurrects for his sons and daughters. Good one Bible, good one!

The pain and the raw way labor breaks you down and humbles you is, in my opinion the closest thing to death that a human will get to experience. The rebirth, through the delivery of an angelic baby-- is the resurrection. For that is how I feel: reborn into a life that is more luminous.

My child is complete perfection. I have no idea why I get to be as blessed as I am. Not only to have his love, but also the love of my wonderful husband. HOW and WHY, I wonder, can a girl be so darn lucky!?

Trust me, it's not the hormones talking-- I have never felt more like myself and more whole. Oh! and I've always been a bit cheesy to begin with ;P

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Birth Story

At 40 weeks 4 days we met with our doctor and had an ultrasound on Monday morning to see how big baby was and the status of the placenta & fluids. In the ultrasound Ezra measured 8lbs 13oz--- very close to 9lbs-- too close for the doctor's tastes for sure.

The doc strongly suggested to induce. I had been so against induction because of all the horror stories that I had heard/read (side note: never believe ANY pregnancy stories will apply to you- most likely something different will happen to you than what you hear/see/read-- even if they are legit stories).

Brian and I did not want to jump the gun, so we said we would talk about it over lunch and get back to her.

Sure enough we had a very strange lunch flooded with strange feelings: we had a choice. The birth was not going to be spontaneous, suddenly we were in charge-- and I didn't like that-- it wasn't what i had imagined.

Though it was irrefutable that the babe could have been almost 9lbs and the fact that I had barely progressed since 36 weeks.

After chatting amongst ourselves and the people we love the most, we decided we would go for the induction that night.

We went home to gather our stuff and that afternoon flew by. I remember Brian anxiously announcing how many hours until we'd go to the hospital almost on the hour every hour ;)

I didn't feel nervous-- just a little skeptical since I had not expected having a CHOICE about the day of delivery.

That night we checked into the hospital at 7pm sharp. It felt so undramatic to park all calm, arrive prepared, without contractions. Not what I had pictured arriving to the hospital for delivery.

The timeline of things went a little like this:

7:00pm-- checked in-- 1.5cm dilated & 60%effaced
9:30pm-- first "dose" of Cytotec pill
following very mild contractions-- very much like period cramps
At this point I was thanking God for having me have had strong period pains throughout my life, to endure this. At this point I felt so confident that I could go on without meds.
2:00am -- second "dose" of Cytotec
following an intense trip to the potty along with bloody show,
here I began to get antsy to say the least.
the pain began to increase exponentially, very quickly-- I jumped in the shower to soothe the contractions. 
I was 2.5cm dilated and 99% effaced
Waters broke- probably highly stimulated by the doctor checking my progress!
I got scared when the waters broke because I knew ( I had read) that the waters cushion the pain-- and without them, nor meds, I knew things would get bad.
I was absolutely right -- from here on it was FIRE, HELL, PAIN.
3:30 am I was in the worst pain of my life. No wait, I was in the worst pain a human being could bare to tolerate.
I jumped in the shower again and although it helped I was hanging on by a thread. The pain was pretty much ALL in my ovaries. I was shaking from here on out for hours. From shock, from pain...
At this point my IV (which had been bothering ever since they put it in) infiltrated & bruised my arm. So in the worst of times, when the pain was at its highest, they had to re-stick me with a new IV on my other arm. It was really very hard for them to find a vein that would work. Both nurses struggled for a while.
The contractions were KILLING me from the inside out. It simply felt like DYING. I had read that keeping my mouth, throat and lips relaxed would help not tense up-- and this DID help.
In that kind of pain, I was never able to concentrate on the "end goal"-- that kind of pain makes you lose focus, that kind of pain makes you lose it.
6:00am-- I opted for the epidural. This did not feel like caving in-- it felt absolutely necessary!!! I wanted it, bad. Best decision of my life- especially in hindsight knowing how completely and impossibly difficult and exhausting PUSHING is.
I never even saw the anesthesiologist's face. They wanted me to lie down straight on my side on the bed. This was pure torture-- here I felt like a raging horse. Convulsing from pain just listening to the anesthesiologist's routine warnings about epidurals. Hearing these made me nervous but never  even came close to persuading me otherwise.
For them to have me in that position, while in raging fire was the hardest moment. They wanted me to keep my legs straight but I just wanted to cave in on myself and curl up into my death.
When the epi went in it didn't hurt but it did make me jolt (arch my back) like a shock wave. This was an involuntary motion, like my nervous system got shocked all at once.
6:40 am-- we started the pitocin
8:40 am-- I was 4cm dilated
I had heard of those women who can sleep after they have an epidural, but I have no idea how!
9:40 am-- 5 cm dilated
11:10 am-- 8-9cm dilated & 100% effaced
we were so close here and I was again not feeling nervous, probably because I had no idea what was in my future. I remember texting family and friends that I was that far along! and I was excited.
11:45 -- 9.5 cm dilated
My butt had So much pressure I could barely sit on it. I remember telling Brian that we needed to tell the nurse that I was feeling a lot of pressure and feeling like no one checked on me for a really long time. It felt like there was an orange in my vagina ;P no but really it did. It wasn't painful just majorly uncomfortable and pressure pressure pressure.
I think I wasn't super nervous because I had read that the contractions are way more painful than the pushing-- and YES they are. WAYYYY worse.
12:45 the doctor got called and informed that we were ready to push.
I pushed for 1hr and 55min and it was the most exhausting exhaustion-- again something almost unbearable, undoable. 
For the majority of the time I had to trick my mind into thinking "I could do this" but really, in the depths of myself, I did NOT think I could push my baby out-- I was really not encouraged by the nurses-- and i just thought that this was not an ability I possessed. I also was never told that I was making any progress and thinking about this through the exhaustion was not motivating. I focused on Brian's voice and commands which helped the most. He was strong, directing and clear. It was exactly what I needed. I knew that he wouldn't lie, so I believed his observations about whether I was improving and what I had to do.

I figured out that they NEEDED me to hold my breath for 10 counts 3 times in a row while pushing with all my might into the spot that the nurse was directing me to. I put all my concentration there-- into that spot, but each time I pushed I wanted to pass out-- heck I think I did pass out and fall into a state of sleep/coma because I remember waking up-- like in a movie, where all the lights and people are fuzzy and shouting unclear words at you.

I remember them telling me to go to my "happy place" and thinking about Sorrento, the narrow roads and the lemon trees.

The doctor kept mentioning a C-section. I had come this far and I was not going to let it go to a C-section. This was pretty much the only motivation I had at this point to push beyond my capabilities-- to push and push myself. Like passing out but having to run 20 more miles. I didn't think I had the endurance. I was waiting for someone to say he was crowning, that was my goal-- if I could make it there, it'd be "easy" after that.

In the blur of people and words, and the unspeakable fatigue, my mom came up to me with tears in here eyes saying she could see him. This was my sign-- I could do it now-- finally! progress! I thought.

The most painful part was the crowning. I shoulted SOOO loud. So loud I thought about the women in the next rooms-- what would they think!? I wanted to push him out all at once, now I had the capability to get him out!!! but they told me I had to STOP pushing to wait on the doctor. I shouted WHYYYYYYYYYY!??!!? loudly. madly. desperately. They had wanted me to push push push all this time and now that I was doing it I had to stop!?!?!?!!? I thought this was preposterous.

The doctor arrived instants later and turned and pulled Ezra out. His shoulder had been stuck and that's what had made the pushing so intense. so hard.

Something was up because they didn't let me see him for what felt like so long. I wasn't worried but kept asking what was up in tears and loneliness. I remember seeing him being brought by the warmer, some words about NICU possibility and I asked the only person whom i trusted: "Brian, what's wrong?!" he replied something reassuring and I believed him. Ezra had some fluid in his lungs but in a few short moments he was better and crying and I remember LONGING for him. After all this hard work I still had not been rewarded with holding him! Brian remained by my side but i commanded him to go to Ezra-- I wanted at least one of us to enjoy him, to be near him.

Soon after I was able to hold him and I completely forget everything else :)
He was so perfect, so much more beautiful and flawless than I had imagined. I was at peace.