Nothing Goes As Planned - Bridger's Birth Story

Five years ago today, I became a mother! It’s crazy to think it’s been five years! Where has the time gone? I’m not one of those who thinks, “I’m so sad it’s going so fast. I want him to stay little forever” but MAN, how is he FIVE!? Bridger David Weinhard Sanders is one of the coolest, smartest, creative, inquisitive, frustrating, challenging, independent humans around! Following the 2024 pattern, I am behind the “schedule” I had planned, but awesomeness is happening, and that is ok! It was similar to Bridger entering this world….

Bridger, then “Little #7” since he was the 7th grandbaby for Dave and Julie and we didn’t know his sex yet, was always on his own schedule and not as “planned.” Late into my pregnancy I developed high blood pressure and we are talking HIGH blood pressure. Dr. Whitaker knew me all too well and knew “bedrest” wasn’t in my vocabulary. We got to see each other every Monday, Wednesday and Friday bright and early at 7:30 for my blood pressure check so I could avoid an extended stay in the hospital. 

Thursday, Jan 10th, Bridger’s due date, we went to IML and bought Little #7 some bred cows to start a SMALL commercial cow herd. We didn’t really track how many cows we bought, turns out, we bought 7! Fast forward to Wednesday, Jan 16th my usual early morning check in, no breakfast, no shower, hadn’t shaved in who knew how long, morning chores weren’t complete… blood pressure came back 176/119. Our nurse had me lay on my side and we tried again. No improvement. Dr. Whitaker came in shaking her head and said, “come on, we’re hooking you up one last time and if it’s not under 150, you’re headed for Labor and Delivery. Sure enough, it wasn’t any better. She looked straight at Brian and said, “STRAIGHT to the hospital. If I have to, I’ll call her an ambulance to make sure she doesn’t try to escape!” Again, she knew me all to well! Brian, listening to Dr. Whitaker and NOT to me would NOT take me to get my things, would NOT take me to get food, would NOT let me pass “go” OR collect $200… So to the hospital we went. We were checked into the first room on the right and started Pitocin. Within an hour I was having contractions 2:30 minutes apart lasting for 45 seconds. I informed everyone on the Labor and delivery team I was NOT having this baby on the 16th. Dr. Whitaker smiled, laughed and said, “Oh honey, you’ll be LUCKY if you have this baby today!” How could that possibly be?! I was in labor. My mom had us in 20 minutes, Julie had her babies in less than an hour… there was no way I wasn’t having this baby today, but these numbers (1, 16, 19) were just NOT going to work for me and my number OCD. Conversations continued, Julie was there, my mom was there, my sister was there, people stopped by to say hi and talk to Brian. The nurses were in and out, checking for pain, looking at vitals, doing their thing. At one point, a nurse asked if I had to rate my pain on a scale of 1-10, one being the worst, what would it be… uh, a 1? Maybe a 2? “REALLY?!” She asked. “Yes, I smashed my face to pieces and lost my front teeth and my buckle plate and I’d rate that at a like a 6… this is nothing compared to that!” With a confused look on her face she slowly asked, “Well what would a 10 look like?!” “Being disemboweled with a rust dull knife and then set on fire and burn to death without asphyxiating…” “Wow, you’ve really thought this through! We won’t be getting to a 10 I guess!” And off she went. 

What seemed like hours passed. I was hungry. My contractions were starting to irritate me every time they came on. I couldn’t get comfortable because of all the monitors, and let’s be honest, hospital beds just aren’t awesome. The nurses kept coming in, checking monitors, checking pain level, which by now, 10+ hours in, was up to “at least a 4?” I was pulling my hair every time my contractions came on to try and distract myself. I was starving. I was tired. I was beyond irritated and it just kept GOING. I tried convincing someone to get me food, no one would. I asked for gum, not happening. You know what I could have?! Ice chips… freaking ICE CHIPS! Now, don’t get me wrong, ice chips were better than no ice chips, but really!?! ICE CHIPS!?! I digress… 

One of our friends came in at shift change as would be our nurse through the night shift. What a relief. Someone who would actually be honest about what was happening and what to expect. And she did. She said just what Dr. Whitaker said, we’d be lucky to have this baby tonight, but n=most likely tomorrow. The clock ticked, and ticked, and ticked. Finally it was midnight. 1/17/19. “Ok! I am ready now, anytime would be great!” but no such luck. Dr. Whitaker came in to ask if she could do an emergency C-section. This meant stopping the pitocin. ABSOLUTELY! What a relief! For almost an hour my contractions were slowing down to every 5-6 minutes and they weren’t as intense. But, as soon as the crying baby came into their room down the hall, the drip was back on and so were the contractions. We went over the “plan” which was not much of a plan other than we knew we were going for a natural birth, delayed cord cutting and delayed vaccinations. There were no birthing classes available in La Grande in my second two trimesters so we didn’t do the planning or breathing practice, we were just winging it. 

Minutes seemed like hours. I was so frustrated. Had stripped every piece of clothing from my body, was bouncing on a ball, gripping the side of the bed for what seemed like an eternity. I was so tired, I was beyond hungry and EVERYONE was getting on my nerves, especially Brian who kept reminding me “our plan is to have a natural birth, remember?” Yes, I also remembered the plan was to have a baby in 20 minutes, not 20 hours. And by 8 am the next morning, I was done. My mom recommended they check me to see what progress was over the last 24 hours. They checked… dilated from a 2 to 4. A FOUR!?! 24 hours and I’m at a freaking FOUR!?! Nope. Suck it out, cut it out, pull it out, I’m done! 

Luckily, another trusted friend was our day nurse and her words of wisdom spoke so many truths. “Your kid doesn’t get labeled and put into a different reading group in Kindergarten if you have an epidural, Lynique. What are you trying to prove? Are you scared? Are you against some part of if? Do you have all the facts?” The truth was, I had no idea why not. I knew this is what you were “supposed” to do. You weren’t supposed to get an Epi, you were supposed to have a baby naturally. I had also heard a horror story from a classmate in college, so that definitely didn’t help, either. She sat down and explained the process, explained the pros and cons, the actual statistics of success, and when I asked her if she would do it, she didn’t even hesitate. “I’d recommend it, at this point. I 100% trust the woman with my kids!” DONE! Call her! 

Within a few minutes, she came back in on her phone, “Sheridan said she can be here in 30 minutes but she’ll be in her gym clothes, or she can go home and shower and get  here in an hour or so?” “I don’t care if she comes in a sports bra and yoga pants! Get her here NOW!” My understanding of pain had changed. My scale of 1-10 had changed. THIS was the new 10. Why, you might ask, as both nurses did. Well because. Because you won’t ever DIE from this pain. At least being cut open and burned to death ENDS at some point. This, this just keeps going and going and going and you start getting REALLY good at knowing how long 2 minutes is, and it’s not enough time to get your composure back when you’re exhausted and starving! 

The anesthesiologist came in, my eyes remained closed and I continued bouncing on my ball. I heard her voice, I didn’t care what she had to say, I just signed papers and said, whatever at this point, if you kill me, you kill me. We had to time it correctly so I didn’t move. Riiiiggghhhhhtttt. NOT MOVE?! Well that’s going to be challenging. But, after 15 minutes, I remember saying, “This is the second best decision in my entire life.” When I was asked what was the first, I smiled and replied, “Getting Ryley!” However, after 30 min, it became the “BEST decision of my entire life! I’m going to bed!” And that’s just what I did. 2.5 hours later I woke up feeling like a million bucks, still hungry, but way more pleasurable to be around, I’m sure! But it didn’t last long. By noon, the contractions were back and this time I was stuck in bed, unable to move my legs. Dr. Whitaker told me if my water didn’t break on it’s own, she was going to break it in 45 minutes. I was making progress, just not great progress. The baby was still sideways, not head down, like it needed to be. They moved me on my side, legs went this way, then that way. I couldn’t sit that way because the monitors weren’t reading. It was a mess. Finally, the baby turned. My water broke and we were making progress! By 4 pm I was pushing, but had no idea what I was doing, apparently. I was supposed to push like I was pooping… Um, some of us don’t push like this to poop, we just poop. Also, my biggest fear/embarrassment going into childbirth was the fact I was going to “poop while pushing” and that was “normal”. I KNOW these people! I see them at sporting events, rodeos, walking in the store! I don’t want them watching me poop while I’m giving birth! But they all kept explaining like they did the 50 times prior. “Well, that was a good try, but maybe more like this” or “Not quite, you’ll get it next time.” Finally, Brian took over and said, “you suck at this. You need to open your mouth, tuck your chin, flex your abs, and bear down like you REALLY have to poop!” I couldn’t help but laugh for several reasons, but I tried. I tried and I finally got it, kind of… Then the baby turned again and was sideways. Back to the side laying, legs moving in the air, trying to turn the baby head down. Dr. Whitaker was patient. She knew I was not a good candidate for a C-Section. She knew I wouldn’t listen and take it easy. She knew I needed to have this baby vaginally or it wouldn’t end well for any of us. Finally, Little #7 turned again and we were back to pushing. Mysha, who at this point was filming because, well, why not, was just patiently sitting there trying to be motivating while staying safely behind the camera. My mom was on my right, Brian was on my left, Julie was on the couch patiently, impatiently waiting for her grandbaby! We pushed and pushed and pushed. 7 pm, 8 pm, 9 pm… We needed to make better progress or we were going into surgery. Then, whoa, I actually FEEL like I needed to push. I wanted to bear down, I felt the urges they were trying to explain for the last several hours! It was happening. “We’re crowning!” Mysha’s head came up over the camera and then an uncontrollable gag reflex. “Oh Gosh. I’ll just keep watching the screen! It’s a LOT different through here!” as she gulped and tried to unsee what she just saw. Chelsie was cheering me on as I pushed with the contractions. Out of nowhere Dr. Whitaker stood up and said, “PUSH! Do NOT stop pushing until I tell you.” And panic set in. No more breath, push three times and relax. It was PUSH until she said stop. So I pushed. And I pushed. And I pushed. I took quick, solid breaths and kept pushing. The baby was facing the wrong direction and has popped into the birth canal. It had to come out quickly so it didn’t aspirate meconium and we’d have even bigger issues. I pushed and pushed and pushed. And finally Dr. Whitaker said, two more and it’s out! So I pushed two more good, hard, like I was trying to poop, pushes, and HE was out! 10:08 pm. It was very clear, he was a HE! They clamped the cord, Brian cut it and he was off doing the newborn baby thing while I passed my placenta. Soon, he was in my arms, nursing like a champ! It was absolutely NOTHING like I had expected, but this new journey had begun and HE was in charge and plans were no longer in my hands, they were in his.   

So, this morning, when I woke up like any other morning, stoked the fire, got dressed, filled two 5 gallon buckets with water to head outside to do all the chores before work, I was going through my list of things that were not yet done. We were going to have his class birthday party today and his friend/family birthday celebration tomorrow. Then, I got the call. 2 hour delay! How exciting! First, I had more time to do chores, but second, I got to be there when Bridger woke up and I could make him a birthday breakfast! Then, the second call, school was canceled! Crap… The super awesome cake is not yet made, the present is not picked up (due to the snow storm), Birdger’s class party was canceled due to inclement weather. But, as I was sitting in front of the fire, freshly stoked for the second time this morning, contemplating all the plans that were falling apart, Bridger came in, gave me a big hug and said, “Mom, why are YOU still here?! It’s light outside!” I smiled and said, “Well Bridg, I have some good news and some bad news… Which one do you want first?” “Uh, the bad, I guess…” (good choice, Son!). I held both his arms and said, “school is canceled, bud” “WHAT?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! YESSSSSS!!!! Wait, that’s the BAD news?!” Laughing, as I thought he’d be so devastated he didn’t get to celebrate with his class (he has been planning this party for two months now), I said, “Yep, good news is you don’t have to go to school and neither do I!”

The morning was fantastic! We got to eat breakfast as a family, watch the snow fall, Dad went outside to prep the sledding hill for Bridger’s party and start the Smudge Pot we had custom made with the boys’ names on it and Brick, Bridger and I got ready to go “work” outside, or so he thought! Even though the weather progressively got worse, we were able to have one of Bridger’s good friends over to have a sledding party, hot cider and a nerf gun war! We ate icicles and Spiderman Cupcakes that were meant for his class party. It was not as planned, but it was a great day!