Deacon's Birth Story

It all started with a snow cone....

It has been two beautiful, challenging, tiring, dreamy, snuggly, painful weeks since our perfect little boy came into the world. But before we get into the timeline of it all, let me provide a little bit of background that got us there.

• My very loose birth plan was always to try to labor as long as possible unmedicated. I planned to use movement and water therapy to my advantage. I also wanted to avoid an epidural as much as possible because I have scoliosis and was nervous that my curved spine might cause complications for an epidural.

• We were told by my OB from around 30 weeks through the end of my pregnancy that baby boy was head down and in a great position for birth.

• Both Brad and I are the oldest in our family and were both early arrivals. Though I completely understand that we are the exception, I was hopeful that our babe might also come early.

• I spent weeks 38 through 40 doing and trying EVERY possible labor inducing trick, food, drink, activity (with the exception of consuming castor oil because no thank you) with no luck.

• I was 1 cm dilated and 60% effaced at the end of week 38, 1 cm dilated and 70% effaced at my 39 week appointment, and the same at my 40 week appointment. At my 40 week appointment, we discussed a "plan B" with my OB and decided to schedule an induction for Sunday, July 23rd into Monday, July 24th. She didn't want me going past 41 weeks due to the increased risk of baby getting stuck causing shoulder dislocation, increased birth weight, etc. I REALLY wanted things to start naturally so I was hopeful we wouldn't end up needing the induction.

• My OB, who is a family friend, would be out of town through the rest of July beginning Thursday, July 20th which would mean if baby didn't come by then (due date was 7/17), a provider I'd never met would be the one to deliver baby boy. I am fully aware that due to on call schedules, that was always a small possibility but this definitely added pressure to the situation. She is someone I trust and had built a relationship with and having her there would be an added comfort.

July 21, 2023 | 40 weeks + 4 days

I had finally given myself grace to slow the labor induction efforts and just give my mind and body a break. Let nature hopefully take its course before Sunday's induction appointment. Around 5:15pm I asked Brad if we could go down the street to get snow cones to beat the July heat. I ordered a large mango, passionfruit, and watermelon snow cone and that first bite hit the spot! At 5:23 I snapped a picture because the phone always eats first and B teased me saying "what are you going to do with a picture of a snow cone?" As we got ready to leave the shop I felt a small leak of fluid and thought to myself, "could this be it?" There was a group of 6 little girls in the snow cone shop so I didn't want to sound the alarm, especially because I wasn't positive my water was breaking. I squeezed my legs tight and got in the car hoping we'd make it the 2 minute drive home. Sure enough we did, I walked in, headed straight for the bathroom, and my water started to break while I peed. Still unsure I headed to our bedroom and then it happened, the gush that one anticipates when their water breaks. I called for Brad to bring me a towel and started to put the wheels in motion.

Since it was after 5, I called the on call line at our OB's office and they said they'd contact the on-call physician and give me a call back with next steps. I called my friend Annie who was on call to step in to take care of Oakley when the time came for us to head to the hospital and told her we'd most likely be heading in but were waiting for a call back to confirm and that I'd let her know as soon as I knew one way or the other. As soon as I hung up with her my phone rang again with the call back from the OB, they confirmed it sounded like my water had broken and told us to head to the hospital. I hadn't stopped leaking fluid since it started so I put on one of the adult diapers I'd bought for postpartum, had Brad line my carseat with a towel just in case, I packed the final few things into my bags for the hospital, B loaded the car, and off we went.

We headed to Overland Park Regional with that silly snow cone still in hand because I hadn't had a chance to eat it with all the excitement and facetimed my best friend on our way to let her know what was happening. At 6:30pm we were on our way, dancing in the car to my "dancing through labor" playlist and excited that we'd soon be meeting our son. We arrived to the hospital about 10 minutes later, I took the last few bites of my snow cone in the parking garage on our way into the lobby and we headed up to the Labor and Delivery floor. We were checked into triage at 6:45pm and started the process of getting admitted. My contractions started while we waited for the nurse to come do her exam and felt like intense period cramps. She confirmed that my water had broken, and let us know I was a loose 1 cm dilated (on my way to a 2) and still about 70% effaced. She let us know they would be admitting us and she'd be back soon with our room number.

Around 8pm we were taken to our room, one with a tub, per my request so I could use water therapy during labor and a nurse came in to introduce herself as my L+D nurse. we did some paperwork and discussed my birth plan. At 8:16pm while Brad headed down to the car to get our things for our stay and inform our families that it was baby time, I excitedly took a video of the room where our son would be born. Shortly thereafter the nurse came back in and let us know that a resident would be in to ask a few questions. He came in around 8:30pm to introduce himself and said he wanted to do a quick ultrasound to verify babies position. The ultrasound was taking longer then expected which started to make me nervous and then he said the one thing we never expected to hear.

He informed us that baby boy appeared to be breech and that the hospital does not allow breech deliveries however he was going to go get an attending to help verify and he assured us she was excellent at ultrasounds. I honestly couldn't tell you how many minutes passed before they came back to our room but it truly felt like an eternity. I was doing everything in my power to keep it together and not hit the panic button yet. I sat there praying that the resident was wrong and that things would move forward as I had hoped. Finally the resident and attending entered our room and the attending began her own ultrasound. After another several minutes she confirmed that baby boy was in fact breech. I lost it. I couldn't hold it in, with one sentence the labor experience I'd hoped for, that I'd been working towards, went completely out the window and was replaced with one of the scenarios I was most fearful of. Since we'd been told for months that he was head down, we were completely caught off guard. The first thing I could get out to the doctors was whether or not I had any options before a c-section. They informed us that there was one possible maneuver that might be able to be done to try to flip baby boy but the decision would ultimately have to be made by the on call OB. They left to fill him in on the latest and said they'd return with an update shortly. The longer I sat there, the more upset I got. I started playing things over in my head and Brad and I started going through the details. We were both frustrated because 2 weeks earlier at our 38 week appointment we'd asked about possibly paying for one more ultrasound (insurance only covers ONE the entire pregnancy). Our OB told us it wouldn't be worth it because baby would be so cramped and we wouldn't be able to see much, in hindsight, it would have at least let us know he was breech and given us time and options to try to prepare for a possible c-section.

The doctors came back in and informed us that the on call OB didn't feel comfortable trying the maneuver to turn the baby because my water had already broken and there was very little fluid left so I'd be having a c-section. At this point I still hadn't met the OB that would be performing the procedure and my anxiety started to sky rocket. You should know that until that night I'd never broken a bone, never had surgery, not even my wisdom teeth, so a major abdominal surgery felt and was incredibly intimidating. The tears only started to fall harder and faster and my brain could no longer catch up with my body and wouldn't until the wee hours of the next morning. A few moments later the anesthesiologist came in to introduce herself as well as the OR nurse that would be taking over my care now that I was a surgical patient. Shortly thereafter I finally met the surgeon that would be performing the procedure. I was completely overcome by fear, anxiety, worry, determination, and mourning for the experience I'd hoped and planned for. I got out very few comments and questions to the medical team that had suddenly filled my room. They were all trying to be so friendly and act like it wasn't a big deal but once they found out that I didn't know my baby was breech and wasn't planning so much as an epidural, the pity registered in their voices and across their faces. There was no doubt about the fact that I was crushed and terrified. I know that the chance of a cesarean birth was always present, that's the thing about babies, they come when and how they want and you're just along for the ride, but the abruptness of it all was heavy.

The only question I remember asking the surgeon/OB and the rest of the team was what the timeline for surgery looked like. They said I'd be having surgery within the hour, that it would take about 10 minutes to have baby boy out, and that the whole procedure would take about an hour start to finish. It had been approximately 30 minutes since we'd been told I'd be having surgery and it was maybe only another 20 minutes before I was headed into the OR. At this point I'd never even had a chance to change into a gown. The nurse and the anesthesiologist helped me change, gave Brad his suit for the OR, and told him they'd come get him as soon as I was prepped and ready. They took me down the hall to the OR, sat me on the table, and the anesthesiologist began the process of administering my spinal around 9:45pm. Before we'd headed to the OR I informed her that I had scoliosis and that it needed to be taken into consideration when the spinal was done. Unfortunately, as I feared, my curved spine did make her alignment difficult so she had to position it a second, more painful time. The block started to take affect immediately as they laid me on the table to continue prepping me for surgery. Shortly thereafter Brad and I were finally reunited and as he took my right hand I started repeating the mantra I had planned for labor over and over again: "I can do hard things, I can do hard things." The shakes from the IV medicine began shortly before Brad was brought in and no one had warned him about them but he hid his fear well. I set my focus on the ceiling as they finished preparing my body and the room for the procedure and as they began I continued "I can do hard things, I can do hard things." As promised, about 10 minutes into the surgery Deacon Robb Boegel was born, at 10:05pm measuring 20.5" and weighing 7 pounds 8 ounces and as they showed him to us over the drape my tears turned, for the first time in over an hour, from tears of fear to tears of relief and for a brief moment joy. He was here and he was perfect. I said out loud through big sobs "he's so handsome!" and then he was taken across the room for cleaning and vitals and we heard his very first cry. It was at this time that the surgical team confirmed he had been breech for quite some time and they really had to maneuver his little body out of mine. Brad was called over to document his weight and height but quickly returned to my side once we knew our baby was healthy and safe.

Unfortunately for Brad, on his was back to my side of the drape he turned and got a very clear look at my surgery very much in progress. You should know Brad gets lightheaded at the talk of blood and surgery, he HATES needles, and we joked from day one that he might pass out during the labor process but when it came down to it he put all of it aside to sit steadfast at my head through the most fearful experience I've had to date. The funny thing about operating rooms is there are a lot of reflective surfaces around the room; the overhead lights, the glass cabinet doors, even the protective eyewear worn by the providers can give you an unwanted glimpse of the procedure in progress. Through the remaining 50 minutes of surgery I locked onto Brads eyes and held him there to prevent myself from slipping any further into my fear and anxiety. Around the halfway mark that pesky snow cone came back with a vengeance and I got sick on the table (a very common side affect of the medicine given during surgery). Because of this I didn't get to have the immediate skin to skin with Deacon that we were planning on. Because of the surgery, Brad didn't get the opportunity to cut the umbilical cord the way he hoped. More lost experiences.

As we finally neared the end of the longest hour of my life, I was assured the incision looked "SO good" and that the surgeon doing the stitches was being absolutely meticulous. I was able to muster a joke about music to my ears for my first scar and stitches ever but internally I was just realizing the scar and the complicated healing process I was so fearful of, that I had had done ZERO preparation for, was now my reality. Brad left the room with our little boy and I was rolled into the recovery room shortly thereafter. We have no pictures from inside that OR except Deacon's weigh in. The first thing I asked for in recovery was for skin to skin, trying to salvage the last bit of that precious first "golden hour." Finally my nurse asked if we had gotten our first family photo yet and she took some for us. After a while I was brought up to speed on what to expect from the next 12 hours. My catheter (another first I hope to never repeat) would stay in until the following day, my lower body would slowly start to regain feeling from the spinal but my ability to move and get out of bed would be limited until the following day as well. The bandages would come off my incision after 24 hours and I'd have certain milestones I would need to try to meet in the days to come like an assisted first trip to the bathroom, successful voiding of my bladder, and simple walks down the hall. The thing you have to know about me is that I am fiercely independent so to be laid up in a hospital bed without being able to do the most simple human tasks, let alone care for my brand new infant son, was really hard. Once the excitement of his arrival and the adrenaline of getting through surgery wore off, I found myself in tears in the early hours of the following day, mourning all the moments and experiences that were lost in a blur. I have to admit to you that after all the dust settled, I felt and still somewhat feel that when I started receiving all of the words of congratulations and the "you did it!" messages from friends and followers alike, I felt like a fraud. I can't tell you what labor feels like; at 1 cm dilated and 70% effaced I had a very swift and very unplanned cesarean birth. I felt like I didn't "do" anything to bring Deacon into the world. My husband continues to assure me I did the bravest thing and faced my fears in that space to do what was required of me to get him here the only way I could. I will continue to work with my therapist to reframe these feelings but I wanted to be honest about where I'm at.

Please don't mis-understand me, at the end of the day I feel blessed beyond measure that Brad and I were able to welcome our healthy, beautiful baby boy into the world regardless of how he got here. I know how fortunate I am to have had a healthy pregnancy without complications and that it was truly an enjoyable experience. I know I didn't have to share my birth story or the details of it all but I knew sharing and talking about it would be healing for me. I don't mean to scare any expecting mama's out there, in fact only 30% of babies are breech, but I wanted to share the real and raw for anyone who has had a similar experience or might face one in the future. I'm learning that in motherhood, we are NEVER alone and leaning into the community of Mama's can only enhance the experience.

On the first week anniversary of D's birth, Brad and I were able to get out for a celebratory dinner, just us two. I wore a dress and foam slides because they were the ONLY shoes in my possession that fit my swollen feet post surgery. At that dinner we started replaying and reliving the experience of it all with a slightly different lens. We laughed harder than we had in a long time as we started to recall some of the ridiculous details that lead up to my surgery. As we started talking I remembered that right before the anesthesiologist and surgical nurse tried to take me to surgery, I was still sitting on the bed in my nursing bra and shorts from home when the nurse placed a cap on my head and asked if I was ready to get rolling. It was at that point that I asked them if I should have changed or if it was okay that I still had my clothes from home on. If the fact that they hadn't realized I hadn't changed doesn't tell you how swiftly the whole thing happened, I don't know what else would. They quickly helped me change into a gown before they were going to roll me into surgery. It was at this point that they then discovered that the bed in out labor room was broken so instead I walked to surgery. Very tongue and cheek, because I know that God brought me safely through the whole ordeal, I joked with Brad that He looked down on me and gave me a big ole middle finger for having a expectations of what my delivery experience would look like. Getting to revisit the events a week later, after living in our newborn bubble, gave us a lot of gratitude and comedic relief for all the things that happened to bring us to that celebratory dinner.

Two weeks have passed and my body continues to heal. The incision hurts much less, the swelling has FINALLY left my body (for the most part), I can start driving again on Monday, and I get to cuddle my sweet angel boy every single day. I'm not entirely sure yet what my prolonged healing process will look like but I know the hardest part is behind me and I got to bring home the sweetest gift for a job well done ;)