Jenna von Oy's Blog: Sharing Gray's Birth Story

Despite our efforts, come Monday morning (at exactly 37 weeks to the day), another ultrasound showed that my levels were unsettling. After consulting with a high-risk OB, and after a second ultrasound for verification, it was time to get Gray out of there.

I feel secure knowing that my doctors didn’t arrive at the decision lightly. I know in a time where c-sections are plentiful and have a bad reputation for being done without true cause, it may be easy to assume they rushed into it.

I’m confident this wasn’t the case, and I’m relieved to know that we did all we could do prior to delivering her that way. Natural birth is wonderful, and my preferred method … that is, until there are complications. Obviously, my first loyalty was getting Gray out in a healthy state.

I was sent over to the hospital immediately, and at 4:51 pm, my sweet little Gray was born! Before I even saw her, I heard one of the doctors exclaim, “Wow, those are some serious leg muscles!” and “Look at all that hair!” Sweet words when you can’t see your baby immediately, because they likely mean she’s healthy.

Hearing her first cry made me weep. Then the hard part came; the doctors were only able to put her on my chest for about 30 seconds, before whisking her away. Due to her early entrance, and because her breathing was a bit faster than they would have liked, Gray was sent to the transition nursery.

Brad and I had already decided, in advance, that he would go wherever Gray went. This meant he stayed with her as they wheeled her to the nursery, while I was left to be “put back together” like Humpty-Dumpty.

I’ll admit this was a devastating time for me. Not knowing if my daughter was okay was impossibly painful on my heart, and not having my support system right next to me wasn’t terribly fun either. It did, however, comfort me to know that Brad and Gray were together … I knew she needed his touch more than I did in that moment.

Once I was taken back to my room, the nurse told me they would wheel me up to see her as soon as I could wiggle my toes. I’ve never tried harder for something in my life! My frustration mounted each time I tried and failed.

Finally, after several hours, I was able to prove movement, and they brought me to see her. I wasn’t allowed to hold her yet, but at least I was able to touch her, rub her back, and hold her tiny hand.

Disappointingly, I started getting super nauseous after about five minutes of being in the warm nursery, and the nurses carted me back out.

I can’t explain how excruciating it was to leave Gray behind. All said, I was separated from my daughter for the first 17 hours of her life.

Not having the opportunity to feel her skin against mine for that period of time was shattering, and my insecurities and feelings of inadequacy returned ten-fold. I started wondering if our bond would be broken by my absence in those initial hours.

Part of me almost felt as though I’d never even given birth, since I wasn’t witness to any of it and had no baby next to me to prove it.

Worst of all, I knew I loved the baby that had grown in my belly, but I had very little recollection of the newborn version of her that went along with it, which made her presence seem surreal.

I can only imagine how difficult it is to have a child in the Intensive Care Unit; I feel deeply for those of you who have had to endure weeks or months without that bonding time. Even a few hours are far from easy.

We are blessed that Gray never wound up in the NICU; her breathing ultimately improved, and she never had to be put on oxygen.

In all honesty, I barely slept that night … I kept waking up expecting my little girl to be there. It’s strange how quickly that motherly instinct kicks in. Every half-hour, I awakened with the urge to feed my child!

By 10 o’clock the following morning, Gray was in my arms and breastfeeding. In that moment, all of the worries I’d had about any disassociation due to the c-section had vanished.

I was so relieved to discover that both the love and the bond were immediate and overwhelming. Those moments removed every trace of my self-doubt and sense of non-closure. It was an immense relief, and I started bawling on the spot.

Looking back a few weeks later, now that I have some perspective, it dawns on me that I still regard Gray’s birth as the most beautiful experience I could have had, natural birth or not. After all is said and done, the c-section is a part of her story, and that makes it something I view with intense love and appreciation.

It is a moving realization after so many weeks of being plagued by apprehension.

I hope those of you who may be experiencing some of the same concerns about an impending c-section will walk away with a changed heart … In the end, how your child comes into the world takes a back seat to the magic of having her in it.

Simply watching Gray breathe is so awe-inspiring, I am lost in her. I wish you the same.

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