I am Mom strong: Birth story.

Tuesday the 28th, six days past due, I went to what was now my weekly pre-natal appointment, hoping that the membrane strip my Midwife just finished would be the thing to get it all started. 

I dreamed of walking out of that Women's center with my water breaking, only to rush over to the Hospital, labor for an hour, and voila... a baby! 

Two membrane strips on the same day and still. 

not. 

one. 

sign. 

I like the idea of God's timing. So inducement was never an option that I even considered. But being pregnant for 2 years, I needed this baby out of me. After wrestling with the thought of being induced, I decided to go ahead with it. 

We got it scheduled and it was set.

Heading to the Hospital early the next morning I felt a lot of anxiety. This was the first time I was to deliver in a Hospital and it made me nervous. I'm not a huge fan of monitors and IV's, or annoying blood pressure arm bands. Also, I hated knowing that while being induced they were going to pump some strange substance into my body. That was probably my least favorite thought. Pitocin is not a natural thing, and that scared me the most.

Mark and I settled into our room and made ourselves as comfortable as we could, knowing full well we had a long day ahead of us.

The Nurse came in hooking me up to an IV and some monitors. Feeling some strong contractions, I was surprised at how fast the pitocin worked! About 25 minutes later the Nurse came back in, only for me to find out she had not even administered it yet. 

That right there was an incredible tender mercy. 

My body was going into labor that morning all by itself, and that brought the peace to my mind that I so desperately was searching for.

This Hospital experience was entirely different than my first birth. It was uneventful. A lot of waiting. Mark and I sat watching some television, I bounced on the birthing ball and we just talked and waited for things to happen. Another tender mercy was the amount of pitocin that was put into my body. The Nurse told us that with most women, every hour they turn it up 2 levels usually until 30. My level stayed at a 3. They call it a "whiff of pit" and I was so relieved that that was all it took. 

Contractions started to get painful around the 1:00 hour. They were so deep and so intense. The pitocin makes everything a little bit more rough, and I was definitely feeling it! Things were a bit easier to manage this time around. I knew what to expect and how I was able to cope through contractions best. 

Dejavu all over again, I hopped into the jetted tub they had in the room across from mine, but I wasn't in there long. I knew from Alivia's birth that the tub was more of a deterrent than anything. But it makes for a nice break from all the pressure my body feels.

I love labor.

As painful as it is, I love the empowerment it gives. I feel strong, beautiful, and a certain oneness with Heaven. I also love the silent connection between Mark and I. Relying on his strength and encouragement to get me through the worst of it.

It is absolutely breathtaking.

I could feel it was time for my baby boy to be born. Finding a position that was comfortable was very difficult in that Hospital room. I finally climbed up on the bed putting my feet up on a bar, having Mark sitting behind me.

Pushing was hard. My Midwife gave me a numbing solution and it seemed only to take away the natural push feeling that my body is supposed to give.

This baby boy was so unmotivated and very content where he was at, but after about 8 hours of labor... 

Hanson Mark Cochran was born 3:06pm in the afternoon.

 7.15 lbs. 20 inches long.

Hanson is named after his Granddad Mark, his great-great-great-Granddad Hanson, and of course his Daddy.

I'll be very honest in saying how hesitant I was finding out we were to have a little boy. I'm the oldest in my family and my Brother comes after me. We're 18 months a part and as of the last 2 years there's been a huge strain on our relationship. 

Having Alivia and then Hanson, being a year a part, I felt it identical to my brother and I, and I was scared things would repeat. Totally irrational, but nonetheless it was a fear.

Holding Hanson for the first time was oh so sweet. All my worries and fears vanished, like they usually do when you hold your newborn.

 Another piece of my heart was on the outside. 

The love I have for my son is nothing more or nothing less than for what I feel for my daughter, but it is a completely different kind. I've struggled to explain it but I just can't put it into words.

Hanson is the most tender little boy. I knew from the minute he was put into my arms what kind of balance he'd bring to our home. 

I read a phrase today that I fell in love with.

"Mom Strong"

Raising two very unique, very determined children has been (and continues to be) a very large learning curve. Obviously I could not do any of it without God and my husband Mark, but I have felt like super-mom on more than one occasion and the things I have been able to accomplish surprise me. I can do hard things.

Hanson is a reminder of how proud I am of myself and how mom strong I really am. 

Motherhood is power: Birth story.

5 days late and at 3:00 am in the morning, I woke up to a dull, tidal wave of pain. Wondering if the feeling was nothing less than normal pregnancy aches and pains. I tried falling back asleep, but to no avail. I decided to get up and go to the bathroom, and then, pacing back and forth throughout my tiny home, tried to shake the pain off. Climbing back into bed, and waking Mark up while doing so he asked if I was OK. I told him I was hurting, but I'll be just fine. 

I laid in bed battling contractions until 6:00 am where at that point they put me a little bit closer to the edge and I knew I would be having this baby girl today. I intentionally woke Mark up this time, and told him he better skip his class he had that morning because I think it's happening, I proceeded to call my friend Stacey in whom we chose to be our Doula, a birth coach and superwoman all in one, letting her know I was having what I thought, at the time, were strong contractions. Also calling the birth center and giving the Midwives there a heads up on what was happening.

 I knew I wanted a natural, unmedicated birth experience, right from the very beginning but I was extremely nervous about labor. I read everything I possibly could on the subject and still was very anxious for the unknown. I also knew the idea was to labor at home for as much as possible which was both scary and beautiful.

 I was entirely grateful when Stacey came over soon after I called her, early that morning. In hoping for a distraction I had turned on a movie, and Mark went back to sleep knowing he was going to need every ounce of energy for the events that lay ahead. Stacey and I sat on the couch half watching the movie, half talking about what was to come. We decided to go walk through Walmart and find some breakfast with the intention of helping me progress in my labor. We walked around Walmart up until my contractions went up a few notches. Stacey drove us both back to my house where Mark was now awake. 

 I distinctly remember it being around 11:00 am when my pain started getting a little more intense. My "strong contractions" earlier that morning were nothing compared to these, and little did I know these were nothing compared to what was in my near future. 

 I was back to pacing my little home and using a table here and there to lean over, for when I needed support. Stacey suggested we walk to the park, which was a few houses up from mine but a good lengths walk when you're 40 some odd weeks pregnant. We walked to the park and I did little lunges against the curbing around the playground. It was a pretty chilly day and the cold, crisp air only felt good for so long, so we made our way back. Home once more, taking a hot shower was the only thing on my mind, and boy did the hot water relieve most of the pressure I was feeling in my hips and back.  

Coincidentally, I had my weekly checkup at the birth center scheduled for this same afternoon. So, after running the hot water- cold we started preparing to leave, gathering up my "hospital" bag, some snacks, and of course, the newborn outfit I had excitedly picked out for our baby girl to wear home. 

Mark is my silent rock. In high intensity situations he's as cool as a cucumber. I discovered this while visiting the ER numerous times during that 9 months. It really is quite the blessing considering he actually has a high anxiety personality. He doesn't say much in these situations but he's there by my side and that fits my own personality, perfectly. 

 We arrived at the birth center for what was supposed to be my weekly routine checkup, they checked me and I had dilated to a number 7, all on my own! With me being so far they had me stay. I was done laboring at home and could labor there with my Midwives and the giant bathtub which was in the room. I was rather relieved feeling, it felt good to be able to move on to the next part of this birth experience. I felt I could check phase one- laboring at home, off my list. I immediately requested to be put in the bath. 

 I labored in the water for quite a while with, what I felt, was little to no progress. It was around the 3rd hour where my water decided to break helping boost my confidence right back up. Another hour went by, and nothing. I remember praying the whole time, frustrated. I almost yelled to God out loud quite a few times. I wanted this stubborn little baby girl in my arms so bad, I couldn't understand why she was taking her time. What was it that she had to do up there that was more important than meeting her Mama?

 I've always had a high tolerance for pain. When I hurt, I withdraw. I don't complain much, I simply go to a place inside my head and switch to survival mode. Contraction pain was no different, shutting everyone in the room out and only letting Mark in was the technique I chose to go with, and it was beautiful. Until that day, I did not know what my body was fully capable of and how much I relied on my Husband. 

 As I was praying and pleading to Heavenly Father, I had the quiet impression to get out of the bathtub and move to the bed. Nooooooo, I did not want to move, whatsoever. The hot water felt good and relieved a lot of the pain, and moving also meant I'd have to stand up. Ouch. Relocating to the bed, I laid on my side with Mark, as he lay there facing me. I will never forget this moment. Mark held both of my hands as we laid there together, my labor pains so much more intense outside the safety of the water, allowing me to squeeze his hands every time I felt the tidal wave of extreme misery. We laid there together in that dimly lit room for about 45 minutes, silent, sometimes staring into each others eyes, and going in and out of sleep. 

After some time, one of the Midwives came in suggesting that I go to the restroom. With help, I made my way over there and oh, my! The toilet seat itself provided my body the best position I had been in all night. The relief on my back and hips was so amazing, I sat there for a good 25 minutes. The last 5 minutes I had a new sort of rush surge through me. Like my whole entire body was working on it's own, almost against my will, it was the feeling of pushing. It had finally arrived and I was still on the toilet. Baby girls head was in sight. My one Midwife came in and told me that I really did not want to have this baby on the toilet. Actually, I did, thank you. Moving to a birth stool was almost as great as the toilet seat. Because, admittedly, I did not want my baby born in the toilet bowl. 

 Things moved fast. Mark was sitting behind me so I could lean on him for support. The push feeling was overtaking my body, which was the most amazing warrior-like feeling, yet at the same time I hated it because it was something I couldn't control. They call the crowning of the babies head 'The ring of fire' for a very good, and self-explanatory reason. It makes me cringe just thinking about it. One half hour of pushing our tiny human being out, and she was in my arms. Mark was crying and I was laughing. 

 Nine whole months of severe nausea, dehydration, vomiting, aches, pains, weight gain, insomnia, IV's galore, expensive medications, swelling, animalistic hunger, cravings, and emotional breakdowns, and not to mention the whole labor itself that ended 5 seconds ago, was forgotten. 

February 11th 2016 at 9:01 pm, I held my 8 lb, 5 oz, 22 inch, perfect baby girl, in my arms. We named her Alivia Helen after myself and also my great-grandmother. We decided to spell Alivia a little different to incorporate the A I have in my name. Oh, how I had worked so hard for her!

 All of my life I wanted to be a Mom. That's all. I couldn't give a hoot about college, or a career, I wanted to be a Wife and a Mom. I was the absolute luckiest when I met Mark, and his goals in life matched mine wanting kids immediately. You don't meet very many people like that these days, and I have been so grateful for him. 

 We were a family. Sitting on that bed in the birth room, all three of us, it was absolute heaven on earth. An indescribable feeling. 

 That day was perfect. I grew up. I experienced instantaneous love that has grown deeper with each passing day. I have tasted, which I'm sure is only a small amount, of the love Heavenly Father has for me and the sorrow he feels when I'm hurt or sad. Experiencing birth has brought me closer to God in so many different ways. Even though I was new to labor and had no idea what I was doing my body knew exactly what to do. I let God and my spirit take over. I was proud of myself, I was proud of my body, and I was proud of being a woman and the divine role that comes with being one. 

 Motherhood is power.