Brody Russell: Just the Beginning

At 39 weeks, I was desperate for Brody to arrive. Friday of finals week was finally over, Jeff's and my full schedule of classes had come to an end, my job of grading papers and tutoring students was over, and Spring Break had finally started. "Let's get this show on the road, Brody," was constantly running through my head. Earlier that morning I had went in for my weekly checkup, and I explained to the doctor how badly I wanted to have this baby. After talking me out of an induction, he told me about the process of stripping my membranes. I agreed to do this in hopes of it putting me into labor sooner than later. All day Saturday I had menstrual-like pains. Not knowing what contractions were supposed to feel like, I was convinced that what I was experiencing was definitely them. I called the nurse in Labor and Delivery at the hospital, only to be told to wait awhile more since they were not coming frequently enough. To my disappointment, the small pains eventually went away. Each day I insisted upon Jeff and I taking long walks around Rexburg. These usually consisted of walking to the nearest grocery store to pick up or drop off a Redbox. Saturday passed. Sunday passed. Monday passed. Tuesday we went bowling with some friends in our ward, and then it passed. BUT early Wednesday morning, I was woken up at 5AM with some serious pains that put Saturday's discomforts to shame. THIS WAS IT. However, one of my worst fears was to go to the hospital and have those girly little nurses turn me away and make me go home. I was insistent upon waiting out the hours until my clinic opened so that they could check me before venturing to the hospital. Hour after hour passed. These minutes were filled with Jeff's IPhone timer, a long bath, a shower spent bent over in pain getting through each contraction, a slow process of putting on makeup, blow drying and straightening my hair while I sat on the floor in front of my long mirror frequently yelling to Jeff to make sure he knew how bad these things hurt, and Jeff running around saying "Karli, let's go, I DO NOT want you to have Brody in our apartment." He must have thought I was crazy. At 8:30AM, my clinic opened for calls only and I called in. I explained to them that my contractions were 3-5 minutes apart and they told me to go to the hospital right away. Relieved, Jeff took me and my hospital bag to the car to start our big day.

We were so excited. This was finally the day that we would meet the little boy that we had talked, dreamed, and laughed about for so many days. It's a weird feeling when you are driving somewhere so important. We not only were driving towards the beginning of so many news things, but we were also driving away from the little life that we had started just a year and 4 months ago together. I remember thinking about how strange it felt to know that the next time I'd get into our little gold Hyundai we'd have a BABY in the backseat, and not only a baby, but OUR baby. What would that be like? What would that feel like? What would he look like? So many questions raced through thoughts of excitement, nervousness, and fear.

Once we got there I was told to sit in a chair and fill out paper work. What the heck? That was the most simple, but most painful task they could have told me to do at that moment. During a contraction, I couldn't even sign my name. I'm surprised they even excepted some of those signatures.. they were slightly illegible.

I finally got checked by our first nurse. I was a "tight 3". She admitted me to the hospital. I think she could have sent me home, but I think her heart got the best of her as she could see how much pain I was feeling. She called Dr. Prince and he told me to walk.. for two hours.. which turned out to be the longest two hours of my life. I picked this one short hallway, with chairs on one end. My routine was walk up and down the hallway twice, and then I'd know a contraction would be near so I'd sit down and endure the harsh pain. The feeling is hard to describe if you haven't felt a contraction before. My best description would be that it is like you have a super bad stomach ache- one that comes and goes in waves- it gets really bad and then disappears, then gets really bad again and then disappears. Except multiply that stomach ache by like.. a million. It sucked. Walking that hall sucked. Jeff walked that hall with me though, each and every time. I was so grateful for him that day. I won't lie though, I was quite envious of the fact that he was bored that day instead of in pain like I was.

Finally, after an hour and a half of walking and sitting, I quit. I was done. I got checked again and I was a "good 3". Seriously? All that work for basically nothing. Dr. Prince arrived 45 minutes later and broke my water. What a warm, rushing, experience that was, enough said. At 4 centimeters, I wanted that epidural bad. My fears that I had built up about the huge needle were over, I just wanted these pains to disappear. The epidural.. it was heaven. I was able to text, sleep, and watch TV without even an ounce of pain. I could still tell when I was having contractions, but I definitely couldn't feel them enough to be in discomfort. A side note- Ever since 9AM, when I was fully admitted to the hospital, my mom was on her way. She was driving the hour to the Seattle airport, flying the three hours to the Salt Lake Airport, and taking the four hour ride on the shuttle to Rexburg. She was due to be in Rexburg that night at 10:30PM. It was a mixed feeling for me. I both wanted her to make it, but at the same time I wanted this baby the heck out of me. Dr. Prince predicted I'd have the baby at 8PM that night.

At 8 centimeters, I could feel those stupid contractions again, except worse than before. The nurse gave me a small button to push that supposedly gave me more pain medicine, but I would argue that it was a placebo. That little button did nothing for me, no matter how many times I or Jeff pushed it. My epidural had run out, and I had a long road ahead of me with no hope for another dose since I was too far along. Great. Hours passed, my mom arrived (way way too happy for her own good), and I got to the long awaited 10 centimeter mark. Hooray!

It was 10:45PM. At that moment I couldn't tell you which I was more happy for, my mom getting there on time or the fact that I was ready to push. And push I did.. for 2 hours straight. Pushed, and pushed, and pushed, and pushed, and let everyone know I was about to quit, and listened to the nurse explain to me that I was the only one that could have this baby and that quitting was really not an option, and pushed, and saw tears in my mom's eyes, and pushed, and heard encouraging words from Jeff, and looked in the mirror at that little spot of hair that everyone was WAY to excited about, and pushed, and finally.. Dr. Prince's voice said that most earthshakingly great sentence, "Stop pushing." At that moment he pulled out this long armed, long legged, stiff thing out of me. I laid back on the bed and relaxed. It was over.

They placed the little thing in my arms and that thing turned into the most beautiful baby boy I had ever seen. He was so small. I'll never forget that little face of his, that little head (that minutes before had not felt so small). I loved that little boy already so much. This was what was inside me all of those months. All of those times that I had felt a kick or a hiccup, this was him. Jeff, with tears in his eyes, kissed me and told me how extremely happy he was at that moment. That was how I felt as well, happy. Before adding Brody to our lives I had considered myself to have had experienced happiness. Now I know what happiness really feels like. What I had felt before was of no comparison at all to the way I felt when those little blue eyes looked up at me and that little head laid on my bare shoulder. I loved him and knew he was meant to come down to earth to be with Jeff and me.

Brody Russell Jaeckel

Thursday, April 12, 2012

00:45

7 lbs and 15 oz

19.5 in