It’s 6:55AM on Mother’s Day. My 3-year-old daughter is sleeping, Matt is downstairs prepping a chorizo breakfast hash, and I’m sitting in the nursery with 7-week-old Connor. He’s laying on his back in his gym, batting at a ball hanging above his head and twisting to the side to see his reflection in a mirror.

Three years ago on Mother’s Day morning I typed out the story of Mackenzie’s birth. This morning seems like the perfect time to document Connor’s arrival.

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I was sure Connor would come early. Mackenzie had arrived at 38 weeks, 5 days, so after Kenzie’s 3^rd birthday (and 3 birthday celebrations!) passed in early March I woke up every morning ready to have a baby. My ankles had ballooned beyond recognition and even my normally loose, comfy Vuori joggers left deep indents around my swollen calves. I struggled to bend over to pick up the dozens of things Kenzie seemed to drop on the floor every hour (ha), and I even woke up a few times in the middle of the night and prepped her entire breakfast and lunch, certain that that day would be the day we’d need to rush to the hospital to give birth.

But Connor was in no rush to arrive. At my 39-week checkup Dr. Wu and I discussed induction, which I eagerly scheduled for the following week. I still fully expected my baby to arrive before then, but it was comforting to have an definite end date in sight.

I was instructed to call Bryn Mawr Hospital at 6AM the morning of my induction to see what time they wanted us to go in. But, surprise! I woke up at 3:39AM and realized my water had broken. My water hadn’t broken with Kenzie so this was a new experience. I woke Matt up and called my mom to let her know we’d need her on Kenzie duty a few hours earlier than expected.

Matt and I were on our way to the hospital by 5AM. On the way we reminisced about our 5AM journey to Bryn Mawr three years ago. At that time, I was in active labor and urging Matt to drive faster, frustrated every time we got stopped at seemingly unnecessary red lights on the deserted roads. But this time was different. Yes, my water had broken, but beyond that I felt completely normal. I was excited today was the The Day, but I wasn’t having contractions or any pain.

We parked in the same parking garage spot we’d occupied three years ago and soon we were settled into a spacious room on the Labor and Delivery floor. The doctor wanted to wait and see if my labor would progress naturally since my water had broken, so I spent the morning wandering around my room dressed in a hospital gown and boots. (I felt more comfortable and supported in the boots versus just wearing the grippy socks the hospital had provided.)

Several hours into our stay Matt’s mom, Rosemary, offered to bring him lunch. I was technically allowed to have one support person so we invited her to join us in the delivery room. Rosemary is a retired Nurse Midwife and, while I hadn’t planned in advance to have her join us in the delivery room, it was very nice to have her company.

At 12:15PM the doctor started me on Pitocin. An hour later I was having contractions strong enough to cause me to pause my conversation with Matt and Rosemary. The contractions intensified quickly and by 2PM I had to focus hard to get through each one. (Although I had given birth three years ago without an epidural, at that time I had labored overnight at home and went through the worst of the contractions in the car. Laboring in the hospital was new to me!)

Rosemary helped give me tips on how I could stand and hug Matt’s shoulders during my contractions. The nurses checked my progress as I went from 5cm to 7cm to 8cm at what felt like an agonizingly slow pace. I was in excruciating pain during each contraction and looking forward to pushing, which Rosemary told me would give me some relief. (Or at least a different type of discomfort!) After a particularly tough set of contractions, I thought maybe I was starting to feel the urge to push. I asked the nurse to check me again and, hallelujah, I was fully dilated.

Dr. Cheston wasted no time getting into the room and the nurses rapidly broke down the bed. Rosemary held my left leg and Matt held my right and I started pushing at around 3PM. As I remembered from Kenzie, pushing was HARD. But I also remembered how amazing that final push was with her and I wanted to get to that moment of relief as quickly as possible. I pushed like my life depended on it and appreciated when Rosemary showed me how to reposition my head and neck to curl towards my lower body and make each push more productive.

My baby was born at 3:11PM. As his head emerged, I heard Dr. Cheston matter-of-factly state something about the cord and his arm being wrapped around his neck and I felt her deftly maneuver him around to free his little body. Moments later he was on my chest, feeling surprisingly heavy and solid. I think one of the first things I said was, “He feels SO much better out than in!!!” I also thanked my team of nurses, Rosemary, Matt and Dr. Cheston for their cheerleading during pushing. They laughed, joking that that was what I was thinking about moments after giving birth.

At 8 lbs. 3.8 oz. and 21 inches long, Connor was heavier and longer than his sister. He started nursing right away. He was perfect, with steely blue eyes and soft light brown or blonde hair.

By 5PM we were on our way to the Maternity floor in a little rolling caravan: me in a wheelchair, Connor in his bassinet and Matt with our overnight bag. We ordered dinner from the cafeteria and settled in for the night.

The next day was Thursday. Matt got us bagels and coffee from Spread Bagelry and my mom visited us before lunch. Connor was circumcised, and he was delivered back to our room for a long nap. Everything was good. Until a tech stopped in around 3PM to take my blood pressure, that is. It was through the roof at 186-over-something. They took it again, 197-over-something. Uh oh.

A nurse and then an IV tech tried and failed to give me new IV line three times before one was finally inserted into a really uncomfortable spot on the inside of my right wrist. I was given a dose of Procardia and the doctor sent our little family back down to the Labor and Delivery floor for more intensive monitoring overnight.

Seven weeks later it still stresses me out to write about the next 48 hours. The nurses would politely but urgently ask me if I felt OK and if I had a headache or blurry vision. The automated blood pressure cuff on my arm would tighten and render a verdict (still high!) every 15 minutes or half hour. After spending Thursday night on the L&D floor, we were transferred back to the Maternity floor on Friday, only to be transferred back down to L&D Friday afternoon. I cried in the elevator on the way down.

At 5PM on Friday Dr. Wu ordered I be started on a magnesium IV to reduce the chance of seizure. This seemed Serious. A second nurse had to come in and check the first nurse’s IV setup in what clearly was some sort of two-factor verification procedure. They started the medication through my wrist IV only to realize it was clogged or otherwise not working properly and the liquid was accumulating under my skin. Another IV line was inserted (in a MUCH more comfortable spot!) on my left arm and the magnesium began. I chewed crushed ice while the bolus (larger initial dose) of medication was dispensed.

I was on the magnesium IV for 22 hours. During that time, I wasn’t allowed to walk around because the medication can cause dizziness and other side effects. Fortunately I did not seem to experience any side effects, but I was still confined to my bed. They put massaging sleeves on my calves so I wouldn’t get a blood clot. I had a blood pressure cuff on my right arm, a pulse-oximeter on my left big toe and, of course, the IV on my left arm. I had to use a bedside commode (extra fun at two days postpartum!) and a nurse had to listen to my lungs and check my reflexes every two hours. It was not a fun 22 hours.

Fortunately baby Connor was perfect throughout this entire ordeal. He was healthy, hungry and snuggly. I couldn’t get out of bed to change his diapers or retrieve him from his bassinet, but I was allowed to nurse him and his presence was comforting. I tell people now that Connor was the easiest part of our time at the hospital because he was. What a perfect little baby.

They stopped my magnesium drip at 3PM on Saturday and two hours later we learned we’d be released that night. I was given a prescription for a double dose of Procardia along with instructions to take and record my blood pressure twice a day and by 5:40PM we were in the car, driving home to introduce Connor to his big sister.

Kenzie was very happy to meet her baby brother. She proudly presented a big yellow “Welcome Home Connor James” sign that she had made with my mom, and she carefully held him on the beanbag in her room before bed. She comforted him when he cried, saying “calm down, baby, I’m here, baby” and confidently offered to carry him to his nursery for a diaper change. (After the events of the past four days it was tempting, but, needless to say, we declined!) 🤣

At around 3 weeks postpartum my blood pressure levels settled back down, and at my 6-week checkup Dr. Cheston told me I no longer needed to monitor my blood pressure at home. I’m extremely relieved to put that ordeal behind me.

Seven weeks into life as a family of five (I’m including Piper, of course), we are all doing well. Mackenzie loves helping with Connor and has even shampooed “his little head” in the shower, a task she took very seriously. She rocks Connor in his bouncer seat and is careful not to bounce too hard because of his “very delicate” neck. Piper is super relaxed about the whole second-baby-thing. She snoozes at my feet while I nurse Connor and doesn’t seem to be bothered by his presence at all.

For his part, Connor is starting to sleep for 6-7 hour stretches in the 9PM-4AM timeframe which is amazing. He loves being “worn” on my chest in the Solly wrap and he’s already been to far more public events and places than his sister attended in the first 18 months of her life. (Thanks, Covid.) He’s a perfect addition to our family and I feel so lucky to be a mom-times-two on this beautiful Mother’s Day.

It’s now 8:51AM. Piper is outside listening to the birds sing their morning songs while Matt fires up the Ooni pizza oven to cook our breakfast hash in a cast iron skillet. Mackenzie is still asleep in her big girl room across the hall. Connor is now laying on a pillow across my lap where he’s snoozing with his little cheek pressed against my chest. His head is heavy on my right arm as I type. All is good in the Thorne home. Happy Mother’s Day!

It’s my first Mother’s Day. I’ve been wanting to type out the story of how I became a mother but (surprise!) with a 9 week old baby I just haven’t found the time until now.

This morning baby Kenzie woke up at 5:56AM, a full 8 hours after going to sleep in her bassinet next to our bed last night. Kenzie, Piper and I snuck out of the bedroom without waking Matt. I nursed the baby, let Piper out and fed her, made coffee, drank said coffee, pumped more milk for a practice bottle later, and now, at 7:30, I’m happily settled in my recliner in the nursery typing away as Kenzie gurgles and goos at her new crib mobile.

A few minutes ago Matt emerged from the bedroom to say good morning. He thought he was waking up before me and he had quietly slipped out of bed, only to turn around and realize that Kenzie and I weren’t there. Ha! He’s making breakfast strata downstairs so I have a strata’s worth of time to get some of Kenzie’s birth story down before my Mother’s Day breakfast feast. 😀 Onto the story!!

My due date was Friday, March 13th. I felt great for most of my pregnancy but by early March I was starting to feel really uncomfortable. Thinking I still had another 2 weeks to go, I continued to push through my runs, walks, and Pelotons, but bending over to put on my bike shoes was becoming increasingly difficult and my normally boney ankles were puffing up. I remember doing a quad stretch after a short run and being slightly alarmed when the imprints of my fingers were still visible on my ankle afterwards!

On Sunday March 1st I ran a mile and a half. On Monday I did a 30 minute Peloton and on Tuesday I walked and ran while watching the final action scenes from Captain America. On Wednesday morning at work I felt my first contraction. But I wasn’t sure it was a “real” contraction.

In early March we were all just realizing that Coronavirus might be a serious threat, so on that Wednesday I had printed out several signs from the CDC for our workplace about Proper Handwashing and Staying Home When Sick. Every time I had a contraction I got up from my desk and walked to a different area in the office to tape up a flyer. That helped get my mind off of the cramping pain.

By lunchtime I’d posted two or three flyers. Matt and I would usually go home for lunch with Piper, but on that Wednesday I requested lunch at our favorite new Mexican restaurant, Rey Azteca. I figured this might be my last lunch out for a while. (Little did I know… it’s now May 9th and that’s still the last restaurant we went to!!!) I ordered my favorite pork burrito with refried beans and rice and it was delicious.

I posted several more flyers throughout the afternoon at work but didn’t tell anyone except Matt that I was having contractions. A few days before I had downloaded a contraction timer app but all that told me at this point was that my contractions were not coming at regular intervals and were not close enough together to get excited about. After work Matt and I walked up the giant hill in our neighborhood, then I finished off the evening with another walk on the treadmill.

By the time we were watching Jeopardy! my contractions were becoming slightly more regular. I think I timed them at 40-ish minutes apart at that point. This was still a far cry from the “5-1-1” pattern that we had learned about in our birthing class a few weeks before. I needed to wait until my contractions were 5 minutes apart and lasting 1 full minute for 1 whole hour before calling my doctor and going to the hospital. So wait I did.

We went to bed. I got a little sleep until around 11:30 when a contraction woke me up. At first I tried to stay on my side in bed as I timed the contraction (1 minute!) and breathe through it, but that was really painful. Taking a cue from my flyer-posting walks at the office earlier that day, I began to pace around our house during my next contraction at midnight which made the painful minute go by much faster.

By 12:30 I had my pacing routine down. I figured out that it took me almost a full minute to walk a lap from our bedroom down the hallway around the perimeter of our second floor great room and back. I kept up this routine through the next several contractions. By 2AM they were 15-20 minutes apart. Although each contraction was painful I was really hoping the intervals would speed up so I could get this over with!!

Finally at 3:15AM I had a contraction just 5 ½ minutes after the last one. Hurrah! Now to hold out for another hour of this pattern. I did NOT want to go to the hospital too early only to be turned away!!

Shortly after 4AM I woke Matt up to tell him that I was nearing the 5-1-1 pattern. At 4:15 I called my doctor’s office to say things were getting serious. The call center said they’d give the hospital a heads up.

Our plan was for my mom to pick up Piper and watch her for a few days. As Matt got our go-bag into the car I specifically remember thinking to myself “Piper needs a bed for mom’s house!!” so I carried her dog bed down the stairs. That was HARD. Putting on my sneakers was also hard. I asked Matt to tie them. He says I moaned they were “too tight!!!!” even though he’d made them very loose for me.

By 4:47AM we were in the car, making our way towards Bryn Mawr Hospital at what felt like 10 miles per hour. Usually I am a huge stickler for not speeding on the narrow country roads around our house, but on this particular Thursday morning I kept urging Matt to go faster. We saw multiple deer lurking in the shadows next to the road and he wisely pointed out that if we hit a deer it would take a lot longer to get to the hospital. Good point, but that didn’t make the drive any better.

The contractions in the car were the worst yet. I obviously couldn’t walk around to take my mind off of them, so I sat in agony as we got stopped at what felt like every single red light between Newtown Square and Bryn Mawr. Why on earth would a shopping center get the green light at 4:55AM??? Matt was on the verge of going through a red light for a construction zone on Bryn Mawr Avenue when it happened to turn green. Longest drive ever.

We had toured the hospital’s maternity wing two weeks before so we knew right where to park. Matt offered to drop me off but I said I’d rather walk. After all, walking had been the only thing getting me through this long night so far. We parked in the garage and I made sure Matt grabbed my computer bag (who knew how much time we’d need to spend in the delivery room??!). The walk seemed to last forever but thankfully the L&D department knew we were coming and had already opened the big security doors for us. They whisked us to a room and gave me a gown and a stretchy sleeve to put over my abdomen that would hold the various monitors.

By 5:30 I was on the hospital bed and I was REALLY uncomfortable. No one had checked me yet, but I explained that I had hit 5-1-1 around 4AM. From our birth class I understood that it would probably still be HOURS before I delivered my baby. Considering how much pain I was already in at that point I was not looking forward to the next several hours. I had originally thought I would hold off on an epidural and “play it by ear” before making a decision. But when the nurse asked me if I wanted an epidural I figured I’d already played it by ear all night and I readily agreed to one. She said she’d let the Anesthesiologist know so they could start getting it ready for me.

I still hadn’t actually been examined by anyone at this point to see how far along I was. When the nurse finally checked she made sort of a funny face and went to get another nurse. The second nurse checked and they conferred between themselves, saying something along the lines of “Where’s her cervix? Is she complete?” They explained to me that they couldn’t feel my cervix at all. The meaning of this wasn’t especially clear to me and I was vaguely worried, but the contractions were so painful at this point that I didn’t have time to think through what they were saying. They said they were going to call the doctor in for him to have a look.

It felt like it took forever for the doctor to arrive. I think he came in around 6:10AM. He checked and confirmed what the nurses suspected… no cervix. But what did this mean?? Apparently that I was already fully dilated. The doctor casually asked if I wanted to start pushing. I understood THAT!! No more hours of contractions, waiting for incremental dilation centimeter by centimeter. It was go time!! WOOHOO!

I hadn’t had any medication of any kind at this point. A nurse asked me again if I wanted the epidural. She said something like “Are you sure you still want the epidural? You’re fully dilated so the hard work is already done.” With that hopeful thought in mind I declined the epidural and got ready to push.

The doctor broke my water at around 6:30AM. And then the real work began. In the birth class it seemed like all of the focus was on how difficult contractions and active labor and “transition” were. We had learned that you would spend hours laboring to get to full dilation, then POOF! you push and Ta Dah! here’s your baby! Maybe that was just my emphasis, but I had no idea how hard the pushing stage was going to be.

Luckily a team of supportive nurses made the process easier. Like birthing cheerleaders, they enthusiastically chanted 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10!! during each push. They showed Matt how to hold my left leg and a young female nursing student held my right leg. I watched Matt’s face as I pushed. At one point his eyes got really wide. “I can see her head! She has hair!!” he exclaimed. This spurred me on and I kept up the relentless pattern of two sets of pushes during contractions with what felt like a very (very!) brief rest between.

The time simultaneously dragged on and went by in a blur. There was a shift change at 7AM and a new doctor came in. Two of my original intake nurses said they’d stick around for a while longer even though their shift was over. The TV in the room was tuned to channel 6ABC (my favorite!) and at one point I looked up and there was a picture of a cruise ship and the words Italy and Coronavirus on the screen. I felt sick during a particularly rough contraction and threw up into a baggie that someone shoved into my right hand. And I kept on pushing.

Matt became increasingly excited which really helped motive me. He explained again how they could all see the baby’s head and made a small circle with his index finger and thumb to show “how big” the visible portion of her head was. His circle was about an inch in diameter. “That’s all!???!?!” I asked. I had been picturing much, much more head visible after all of that pushing. “Well yeah, but it was only this much before,” Matt replied, shrinking his finger circle down to the size of a blueberry. Fair enough.

After the hardest physical exertion of my life I gave my final pushes and at 8:07AM my baby girl was born. Everything happened at once. I pushed, her head emerged, her body slipped out behind it, and suddenly my tiny daughter was laying on my chest as everyone in the room cheered. I kept repeating something like “Hello Baby, I’m your momma” over and over again as she started to nurse. She held her lovely, goop-covered little right hand over her face, tiny fingers curling into her eyes as she adjusted to her new surroundings.

Our moms both visited us in the delivery room and then helped carry our gear (including my computer bag!) up to the recovery room. We spent the day getting to know our tiny baby and settled on her name, Mackenzie Grace, at around 5PM. For dinner Matt walked to Wawa and brought me back a meatball hoagie and we had chocolate-covered coconut Easter eggs that we’d brought from home for dessert.

The rest of our time in the hospital was a blur. I had blueberry pancakes from the cafeteria for breakfast, my step-father made a surprise visit, our moms visited again, I figured out how to nurse (which took 45 minutes every 3 hours!), we met Kenzie’s pediatrician, my brother brought us dinner from La Cabra Brewing Bodega restaurant, and before we knew it, it was Saturday morning and we were being discharged with our teeny tiny baby girl.

And I’ll stop there… Piper has come into the nursery and is happily squeaking her fox toy at Kenzie like she wants to play. Time to get our day started for real.

Happy Mother’s Day!!