Dawson's Story

Dawson Troy Weber

Dawson’s birth story goes back further than just two weeks ago; it starts with Bryce’s birth story. Having a cesarean section with Bryce was a challenging experience and it brought a whole new meaning to pain and vulnerability.

What do we long for? What do we dream of, as mommies to be? Passion; a longing to hold our little one for the very first time, to kiss their soft sweet faces, to caress their smooth baby skin. This passion brings us through 9 months of uncertainty. The song in our heart, our toes waiting so eagerly to push against the carpet to rock our babies to sleep; these things give us passion, a deep passion for our precious little ones.

Dawson’s Birth story starts almost 6 years ago on September 2^nd at 9 o’clock in the morning when my Doctor cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Emergency NOW!” Shaking violently during a contraction, I wasn’t even alarmed, just concentrating on my knuckles, turned white while grasping the hospital bed. Within fifteen minutes my breech baby Bryce was looking around the room at his new world. The weeks ahead were challenging. It started the moment I was handed my precious infant to hold for the first time and I could barely feel the weight of his tiny body, because my arms and hands felt numb and heavy. For fear I would drop him and the oddness of the feeling I handed him to his Daddy. Overjoyed to be a mommy to something so special, I took it all in with happiness in my heart. My expectations of having a baby quickly changed when I realized the hardship I would have to face because of the C-section. Not being able to walk and breath were the first signs that it would be a hard recovery. I enjoyed watching Daddy change the first diaper and seeing the pictures of the first bath. He really stepped up to the plate and cared for the two of us like a champ. I’m sure it wasn’t easy for him to have to bathe his wife and help her out of bed from a lying down position every time she needed to sit up or use the restroom. Caring for your brand new baby and your wife is a lot of work, mentally, emotionally and physically. I wanted to avoid this scenario at all costs; I never wanted to see anyone have to go through that again, not just me but my hubby and my children.

Five years later, almost to the day, I entered the hospital for pain I can’t even explain with words. I leave you with “excruciating,” just to give you an idea. September 1^st of last year a tumor the size of a grapefruit contortioned on itself and because it was inside my ovary it caused the blood flow to be restricted which in turn caused intense pain. A week later I had surgery to remove it. Horror set in when they told me they would need to use my C-section incision and they also added that I might have cancer and that my reproductive organs may need to be removed. WHAT!!??

This is when I start praying! Yep, I waited all this time and finally started bringing God into it! I cried out to the Creator and begged for His hand to protect my unborn babies and give me the gift of more little ones. Just over a month later He blessed me with my second pregnancy, a boy, Dawson Troy Weber.

Right away I planned for a Vaginal Birth, VBAC. Praying almost daily and staying healthy gave me confidence that I would be successful. Bryce being breech, I was certain that it wouldn’t happen a second time. I fully believed that God would give me the desires of my Heart, which was to NOT experience the pain and heartache of surgery!

I had contractions worth paying attention to starting 5 am, Monday morning. It was July 25^th, my Dad left just the day before and my Mother and Emily stayed to wait for Dawson’s arrival. Chris and I had headed to the Hospital late Monday night and arrived there by midnight. I was only at 1cm. My contractions had been consistently between 5 and 10 minutes apart and painful for 19 hours. They let us stay and the monitor showed hard contractions despite the lack of dilation. July 26^th, 5am, 24 hours later I still had not progressed in dilation although my contractions had worsened. The nurse gave me a shot of Morphine. While the pain of the contractions did not subside the shot did allow me to sleep for the eight minutes in between them. Two hours passed. They said I was at a 5/6 dilation; I was relieved and pleased. So thankful to know my body was moving along on its own. The morphine allowed my body to relax just enough for dilation to occur. At that point I was at complete peace with the process of giving birth. I was happy and thankful, relieved to know my little one was safe and excited knowing that I would be meeting him soon. I couldn’t help but be proud of my body and its progress, I had been praying for months for the Lord’s will to be done through my birthing experience. I had confidence that He knew my deepest desires and fears. I had faith He would watch over me and have His hand in this precious experience. I had my eye on the prize, and it made it easier having Chris beside me the entire time. Come to think of it, I don’t remember him ever going to the restroom. He was soaking it all in, so curious and intrigued. I was surprised by his reaction; my hopes of him having a shoulder view were dashed by his obvious awe and involvement. He had front row seats! So about that time I received an epidural; I was so grateful. I had expected the epidural to take away all the pain but it didn’t and oddly I was somewhat thankful to still have some of the pain. Feeling the wave of the contraction riveting through my body, the tightening of my uterus, the unexplainable and unrelenting pain in my lower back, the pressure on my pelvic bones; it made me thankful to be alive, to be giving birth. I was in awe, awe of God, The Creator. Savoring every moment of the pain, like a dessert or the smell of a flower, I wanted it to be ingrained in my memory for a lifetime, every pain, every smell, pressure, emotion; I was savoring it, savoring God himself. I was literally praising Him in my heart for the precious gift of life. Pushing started. My frame of mind continued to be strong and content. I was at such peace with the pain, vulnerability, and uncomfortable positions.

Alright, so far I haven’t put much emotion into this story! Last night after typing the above, I went to bed and I couldn’t help but tear up and cry a little. I don’t know the exact reasons why, just that I was overwhelmed with the memories of that day. So I’m going to try to share a little more and with more emotion! So get ready for it to be a tiny bit more graphic. We’ll see.

“What was that sound?! Disfigured sounds coming from down the hall?

Screaming, waling, sobbing, it sounded almost like a child and then I realized that it was a women tormented by the pain of giving birth.”

The girl in the delivery room next to me was loud, she sounded like she couldn’t go on. It gave me more reason to be slow and steady, allowing the birth to happen. I was curious though, who was she and was she going to be okay? And for Pete’s stinkin’ sake, give that girl some pain meds!!!!! To my surprise she was my nurse, the poor girl was the same girl who had been taking my blood pressure for the last 9 months. Apparently we had been racing each other. Her progress was much like mine. We were headed down the same road, dilation slow, contractions hard, epidurals that had failed, babies that were turned slightly with little movement through the birth canal. I felt for her and prayed for her and her infant’s safety. So back to my story, or rather Dawson’s. So where was I…? Pushing started, just my awesome nurse and Chris, it felt almost easy. I was thankful to be pushing. I was oh so thankful. We were just practicing for when I would REALLY need to push, but nonetheless I was still pleased to be where I was. Pushing actually took my mind off the contraction and gave me another focus, getting the baby OUT.

I’d never been so exposed in my life, Chris had one leg and the nurse the other, she would say, “I want you to breathe in, hold it, and push with all you’ve got, bare down and push towards my fingers.” Yep, fingers, she had them there for what seemed like an eternity, poor girl. But to my extreme surprise she was cool and collected when I pee’d on her hand! I was so startled by the shot of urine that I jumped and completely lost track of what I was doing. Slowly I would release every last drip of pee throughout the rest of the evening; with each powerful push a little more would be released. All I could think was, “oh disgusting, I could never be a nurse, and what in the world! Why do I have to have an audience?” Hours passed, my arms were becoming weak from grasping my legs and pulling them toward me. My fingers were cramping and holding my breath was becoming more and more of an unrealistic expectation. My face hurt from pushing and my eyes felt like they might explode. My neck was tense and cramping, plus my head was throbbing. The pain was becoming more intense, I was scared of the next contraction and the epidural was wearing off. I had been in every position possible, Chris by my side, holding my foot and pushing it for me. He was as eager as I was. I can’t imagine the anxiety of watching me in pain. He seemed so calm, curious and reassuring. I didn’t like being so vulnerable, but the anticipation of holding my little one over-ruled and I just didn’t care all that much.

“It had been a long time since they said they could see the head; I knew something was wrong. It shouldn’t be taking so long. The Doctor had been in the room for some time now, there were five of them, at least, staring at me with grim expressions; all surrounding my exposure, legs apart and out of breathe, my heart beating fast. ‘He’s not coming out on his own Nicole, we can try the vacuum, but if it doesn’t work we’ll have to do a cesarean section.’ Before he finished I was gasping for air and with each exhale an uncontrollable sob came blasting out of my body. I lost it. My body became numb to pain and hysteria was the result. I tried even harder to push the baby out; each contraction was a reason to push harder! I used every position and rolled over and was on my hands and knees, bearing down with every ounce of passion and strength I had left! Tears were gushing from my face, my eyes so blurred I couldn’t see, my face drenched in my efforts. My three girlfriends came in and prayed over my sobbing, exhausted contracting body. I knew they loved me, but like Peter I was sinking, the ocean around me was swallowing me whole. My faith was being tested. The idea of walking on water was too great for Peter just like the idea of being cut open was too great a circumstance for me to withstand. God asked me, ‘Will you trust me?’ I screamed NO! Not this! Please save me from this! The doctor came in with the vacuum and I did everything in my power to push even harder, sobbing with my entire being, terrified to be cut open. It was hopeless it wasn’t working. The doctor tried more than he needed to. The lady doctor came in; she felt my tight and oddly shaped belly. She glanced up at the others in the room, the question was can we use forceps; she answered “absolutely not this baby is too big and isn’t coming out.”

“My heart was pounding, thuds of fear and anxiety. I felt tortured by the thought. The squeaks and bumps of the bed moving through the halls toward one of my biggest fears were loud and overpowering the voices of the others around me. Their efforts to reassure me were muffled by the noises in my head. My breathing, my heart pounding, the wheels rolling, squeaking; I knew this drill and I couldn’t stop it. More than anything I wanted my baby safe and in my arms. In the end I only wanted his safety. This was his safety. I had no choice. I had done my very best. I tried everything I could, God had a plan and he allowed me to try everything in my power but in the end he was going to deliver that baby by C-section. I wasn’t angry. I was scared, sad and defeated. How could this be? The lights in the surgery room are always very bright, almost blinding. Although I can’t see a darn thing because my vision is so blurred I know what they are doing. They move me from the bed to a skinny little table. It’s so skinny my arms from being so week fall off the side, hang for a moment and then I search for the arm holders that are straight out form my side. So floppy, I feel heavy. They strap me in, someone is talking to me, trying to calm my spirit. I’m trying to calm down as well. It took forever for Chris to arrive with his scrubs on. I can’t see him, only his hand and his voice. I cry for fear! Fear of the next couple of weeks, not able to hold my child or see my child because of my bad vision; scared of the pain, the vulnerability, and the sickness from meds. Not being able to walk to the restroom alone, take a shower or raise myself out of bed. Relying on others, mostly Chris and watching my big boy Bryce be concerned for his mommy. I didn’t want them to have to bear the burden of me having surgery. This wasn’t the experience I wanted for us as a family of four. The healing process is so long and grueling, so emotional and uncomfortable. I DIDN’T WANT IT!! I can’t make it Lord, I can’t do this, it’s too hard! The minutes dragged on. The words that stand out to me are, “He’s huge, He’s SO big, Oh my Gosh, Healthy Baby Boy!” I wanted him near me, but I told them to weigh him; how much does he weigh!? He was 9lbs 8oz; Dawson Troy Weber was born at 9:13 pm Tuesday the 26^th of July, and was 22 inches long. They brought him near my face and I could smell the plastic gloves. I felt his face with my tired fingers, such a sweet face. Chris said he had kissable lips just like Bryce, and was perfect. I started to weep; I was emotionally overwhelmed, thankful for a healthy baby and worried about my recovery. Sad that my desires weren’t granted the way I had hoped. I was so happy to have my little one; tears of mixed emotions fell from my eyes.”

I knew God’s hand was in this pregnancy from the start and I knew His hand would protect Dawson. The best part was when Peter was raised out of the water by the hand of God, Jesus. He grabbed him and lifted him up and said ye of little faith! What a powerful love Jesus has for his followers. I was delivered and my cry to be saved WAS answered. I wasn’t saved from the pain, I wasn’t saved from the fear or the experience of a C-section but I was saved from a negative recovery. God saved me from my underlying worst fear. My biggest fear was coming home and having to struggle through a horrible recovery while building a beautiful bond with a new family of four. I was terrified for all of us. I wanted so badly for Chris to see his wife be a loving mommy without the horrific pain of surgery; I wanted Bryce to feel proud of being a big brother and look forward to story time with Mommy each night. I wanted Dawson to slip into being apart of our family like he had always been there. And with huge tears in my eyes I can say that God delivered me. He saved me from what I couldn’t. He lifted me out of my own doubt and created a memory I will never forget!

Wednesday the 27^th, Chris’ strong arms helped my wobbly legs to the restroom and then he helped me take a shower. I also was able to eat a full meal at both lunch and dinner. I was amazed at my strength and happiness. I was thrilled to be a mommy to a little one again and I couldn’t wait to share my happiness with Bryce. Chris’ confidence in me the whole time empowered me to be even stronger and try even harder to continue the awesome progress my body was making toward recovery. He stood by my side and gave me so much to be thankful for.

As for my nurse friend, she was given a C-section minutes after me. She too, tried her best but her baby was turned and was unable to pass through the birth canal. Her little one was taken to a bigger hospital to be watched over due to an uncontrollable twitching. I don’t know how she is doing. It was hard to know she was in her hospital room recovering while her little one was away from her side. I prayed for her often.

My family of four is a blessing, I’m so thankful for the life God has granted me!