Oliver’s Birth Story
Content and Medical Trigger Warning:
Content Reminder: This story shares the vulnerable parts of my son’s birth - induction, preeclampsia, painful interventions, hemorrhage, and scary moments with my baby’s oxygen. If you have lived experience with traumatic births, NICU stays, or pregnancy complications, or are currently expecting please care for yourself while reading. I’m holding space for you.
This story contains descriptions of:
severe preeclampsia
induction medications (Cervidil, Magnesium, Pitocin)
painful cervical dilation procedures (Foley balloon, manual manipulation)
epidural complication with blood pressure crash
newborn respiratory concerns
postpartum hemorrhage (significant blood loss)
insertion of the Jada device
If any of these topics are activating for you, please read gently or skip.
When we found out we were expecting and I saw the due date of December 1st, I told Rjay our child would be joining us in November and something told me November 11th would be significant. Little did I know how significant.
Fast forward to the second half of my third trimester. I had an overall easy pregnancy up until the last few weeks. I quickly became super uncomfortable both day and night and I was averaging 3.5 hours of sleep a night broken into 25-30 minute increments. If one more person told me it was prepping me for a newborn, I was going to lose it. I was miserable. My blood pressure was also starting to slowly rise. My pulse had been averaging over 100 since my second trimester, but there hadn’t been any concerns of preeclampsia.
I didn’t really get that overwhelming nesting feeling they talk about except for the night of November 8th when I decided to drag the box containing our son’s bookcase into the living room at 8pm to assemble it. Rjay looked at me like I had lost my mind and kept telling me we could do it tomorrow. I was determined though and by 11pm there was a bookcase full of organized books in the nursery.
November 9th started out as a normal Sunday in the Hartt house. We had a lazy start to the day - Rjay made a pancake breakfast - and as he was flipping the last pancake the headache hit me. The type of headache that takes you to your seat. I started checking my blood pressure and got a 137/93 reading. Nothing to write home about but when you’re normally getting 100/70 ish readings, it is a big jump. After a call to my OB, we made our way to labor and delivery for monitoring. My blood pressure climbed a bit more, but after about 3 hours of tests and monitoring, our OB came by to let us know we were going home, but a 38 week induction was now on the table if I wanted it. I was not surprised since I was not quite 37 weeks that we were going home. There was also no sign of preeclampsia in my labs at this point. The official diagnosis was late term gestational hypertension. That night my headache returned but thanks to a prescription from my OB, I was able to control it.
Fast forward to Tuesday November 11th. I spent the morning at my favorite coffee shop, Forge. I took what would end up being the last photos of the bump. I, for some reason, decided to run home between Forge to see my pets and to tell them I’d be right back - afterall it was just a quick prenatal 37 week check in. Man did I lie to them.
I remember pulling into my appointment, looking at my bag with my laptop and consciously deciding not to take it because again - it was just a quick appointment. This was the same reason I’d decided to go alone to this appointment. For the first time, my OB office was running ahead and I practically went straight into an exam room - around 10:35am. The nurse took my blood pressure and I immediately started laughing. 151/91. My doctor came in and gave me a knowing look before saying, “so we will do a cervical check and then I’m sending you back to labor and delivery because their labs come back faster and we will see if we are inducing you today.”
0% dilated.
I was then wheeled over to labor and delivery (thankfully my doctor’s office was connected to the hospital, though being wheeled over was mildly humiliating when I still thought I may be going home). I was set up in triage. An IV placed “just in case” and texting those closest to me that no one needed to come until we knew more - including Rjay who was working in the mountains 3 hours away. Yes, I am that stubborn and that committed to not inconveniencing anyone. I also felt like if I told them to come, this was really happening. And I was NOT ready. Hell I hadn’t even taken a birthing class yet. How was I supposed to push a whole ass baby out of me? I had no idea.
160/97 and a nurse that seemed more nervous than me combined with a bed that was absolutely killing my back - looking back this was possibly early back labor.
1:29pm the nurse comes back, “so your bloodwork came back great, but you have double the protein in your urine than you did on Sunday. You’re being induced today.”
My whole world shifted in that moment.
I called my husband and my brother. I updated my family and friends. And I started to shake. Not the labor shakes they warn you about, those would come later, but the reality hitting me shakes. I was alone. I was being admitted. And I was having a freaking baby.
Room 3328.
No laptop. No chargers. Nearly dead phone. No hospital bag. The nurses instructed me to order food and take a good shower before everything started. If you’re ever told that by a nurse - savor the food and the shower. If I had any idea what the next 39 hours would hold, I would have stood under the hot water a little longer. I would have savored the food a little bit more.
During this time I got everything arranged for our daughter to be covered and thankfully talked a friend through collecting what I could remember we needed from the house. I was and am so thankful to have friends I trust to not only go through my house and put together my hospital bag, but also care for my daughter and pets indefinitely. (shout out to Sara B., my brother Kris, and my SIL, Crysta).
My brother, sister in law, and husband showed up just in time for the first dose of cervidil which happened just before 430pm. For those that don’t know, cervidil is a drug used to thin the cervix. Remember, I’m 0% dilated at this point. The nurse warned me it would likely be a long night and to expect 4 doses of the med but she’d seen people have up to 6. I was still in denial at this point thinking maybe our son would make a quick appearance.
The other thing about cervidil is you have to stay in bed for ideally 2 hours after it’s administered. I am not good at staying in bed. They were administering every 4 hours so I got 2 hour reprieves where I could at least use the restroom or sit on an exercise ball. I was not however allowed to eat.
Side note: the northern lights made an incredible appearance in Colorado that night and it was killing me to not see them. Thankfully a friend sent me a video about how the ancient Chinese linked the northern lights to battling dragons. It seemed rather perfect.
As midnight approached I knew we were not having an 11/11 baby. I also had a gut feeling we weren’t going to have an 11/12 baby either because let’s be real, an 11/13 baby is much more Rjay and Jenn.
Four doses into cervidil and I was 1 lousy cm dilated. 16 hours of meds, monitoring, laying in bed, and hoping for the best, and all I got was 1 freakin cm. I was tired and hungry. The nurses had been incredible and with the green light from my doctor I was allowed to order breakfast - YESSSS.
Ha.
I ordered breakfast around 730 am and was still waiting at 9am when my nurse came back to take my blood pressure. 178/108. Shit. This saint of a nurse, whom I truly wish I could remember the name of, looks at me and instructs me to eat as much as I can when my breakfast shows before she’s told to take it away from me. Universe bless her. Breakfast shows and I manage to get down an English muffin and 4 bites of scrambled eggs before the order comes in - bye bye breakfast. I wouldn’t have anything more to eat for over 24 hours.
The labs wouldn’t come back for many hours, but at this point I now was classified as severe preeclampsia. I’m not big on labels in general, but this is definitely once I’d been happy to avoid until now.
Enter my nemesis - magnesium. Fucking magnesium.
Magnesium meant I was now bed ridden with a catheter and hourly checks of my vitals. It would be days later before I learned the vital checks and catheter were to make sure the magnesium didn’t slow down my organ function too much - fun stuff.
The thing about me is I can handle a lot of pain. But I handle it a lot better when I can move. I had started having contractions the day before but I only felt them in my back. Combine that with being bed ridden and attached to monitors and this was quickly becoming my personal hell.
After two more doses of cervidil I still hadn’t progressed beyond 1cm. And again something I learned later - the magnesium and the cervidil were actually fighting each other. Cervidil was supposed to move things along faster while magnesium was slowing everything down.
In comes my next foe, the Foley balloon.
A foley balloon is used to induce labor by physically dilating the cervix. It’s as pleasant as it sounds. It is filled with sterile water and puts what they call “gentle” pressure on the cervix encouraging dilation. There was nothing gentle about it. At this point my back hurt so much and now I have a literal balloon inside me. We are about 24 hours in from when I was initially admitted.
The pain escalated pretty much immediately and I was offered IV pain meds - aka fentanyl.
Another fun fact about me: I don’t do pain killers. Hell taking an ibuprofen is a rarity in my world. I’ve never done drugs. Not my thing.
The fentanyl hit like a Mac truck. Rjay said he watched my eyes dilate - at least something in my body wanted to dilate that day. I did not like it. My head felt weird and it did nothing to touch the pain from my nemesis, Foley. So now I felt high and in pain. So fun.
Before all this, I really wanted to avoid an epidural if I could. The biggest reason being I wanted to be able to walk around. But now, preeclampsia had taken that option away and fentanyl had made me even more miserable, so I agreed to an epidural. What did I have to lose at this point right?
Somewhere in here before Foley my best friend, Sarah, had arrived with her 4 month old in tow - and this especially important to note because she had to leave the room for the epidural and Rjay was told to sit down because they didn’t want to deal with a fainting husband.
The placement of the epidural around 330pm was a cake walk and I’m not sure if that’s because I was running out of fucks to give when it came to pain or it really wasn’t that bad. I remember the anesthesiologist telling me he was administering the first dose of the meds and then a feeling like a trickling of rain water down the right side of my body. It wasn’t unpleasant. Just a little weird.
But then, I crashed.
My blood pressure which had last been read around 178/110 dropped to 60/30. I vaguely remember making eye contact with Rjay as I slipped in and out of consciousness. This was and is the only moment I remember my husband looking scared. I remember them pumping my IV full of who knows what to get my blood pressure back up and finally the doctor going to his own cart to get his “own mix” as he called it to bring me back. They were satisfied when they got me back to something around 80/60. I vaguely remember the charge nurse coming rushing in and shortly behind her my best friend. Looking back, this was terrifying. In the moment though? I truly had no idea. Whether that’s because of my brain protecting itself or the amazing medical care, I’m not sure. Likely a combination of the two.
The best part of our new friend epidural? It didn’t really work. My right side was completely and utterly numb. My leg felt like the trunk of a giant sequoia and the nurse had to help me move it on multiple occasions. Left side though? I felt everything and the night time anesthesiologist was less than helpful telling me to roll onto my left side to get it to work (the side I was already laying on at that point).
Shortly after that excitement we started pitocin to get the contractions moving and our friend Foley was removed - almost as fun as having it put in. I was finally at 6cm so at least Foley had done something. Pitocin was what I was most worried about with being induced but my body was so tired at this point that I didn’t really notice it making much difference until later. My doctor manually broke my water around 930pm which was thankfully anti climatic.
I’d spend the next 6 hours or so with a peanut ball between my thighs and being rotated side to side like a rotisserie chicken trying to encourage our stubborn son that being born was a good thing to do. Rjay and I attempted a game of cribbage, which he likely would have won if the pain hadn’t gotten in the way. My cervix was staying put at 6cm and 80% effaced. Baby boy was holding strong at a -3 position - aka a no thank you, I don’t want to.
As the night progressed I learned that my biggest adversary yet would be the immense pressure I started to feel as Pitocin did its thing. I was dosing off at 2-minute increments which I’d later realize was the time between contractions. The downward pressure was excruciating and all I wanted to do was walk it off, but our first foe magnesium was still at play which meant I was still a prisoner to my hospital bed. I also wasn’t told for hours that I could control the epidural meds and push a button to increase doses. I’m not sure it helped at all but it gave me some sense of control when everything else felt so out of my control.
Around 3am I was still only 6cm dilated and I was starting to falter. I woke Rjay up and told him I didn’t know if I could keep going. I was so tired. I was in so much pain. And more than that, nothing seemed to be happening. Shortly after this the nurse came in and said the one thing I needed to hear, “do you think you’ll even be able to push through the pain?” And that sounded enough like her questioning my abilities to snap my determination back in place. I doubt she meant it that way, but it worked. All I said back was “doesn’t seem like I have a fucking choice, do I?” To which she replied “well okay then.”
I cuss a lot. It’s part of who I am but I’d been careful to not come off as an asshole to the nurses who were incredible. Now however, 38 hours since I was admitted, my filter was gone.
455am and I was finally 8cm. My doctor came to check on us and my nurse started walking me though how to push. Things moved quickly at this point and it was discovered all that was left of my cervix by about 510 was a “lip” over our son’s head which had to be manually pushed back. The nurse tried and then my doctor was able to successfully move the last bit out of the way. By 530am it was time to push. I hadn’t taken a birthing class but I did know if I felt like I had to go to the bathroom, it was time.
I quickly learned that while pushing was exhausting, it gave me something to do with the pain of contractions so it didn’t really hurt. I was instructed to push for 3-10 counts for each contraction. It took some time but with my doctor’s guidance, I eventually learned how to push effectively and not put my energy into my legs or my upper body - easier said than done.
The worst part about this part of our story? When I had to stop pushing. My nurse noticed the epidural meds were almost out and called for more but none came. Just before it ran out, she and Rjay dropped my legs so she could go get more. It was only about 2 contractions but now that I had learned pushing meant less pain - they were the longest 2 contractions of the whole thing. Oh and somewhere in there my oxygen dropped to 77% and my amazing husband was tasked with holding an oxygen mask for me as needed along with one of my legs. Oh and giving me sips of water between every contraction.
Around 645 my doctor called for the nursery team and I was coached on how once getting our son passed my pelvis was going to be the hardest part but then it would move fast. I don’t honestly even know when that happened. Next thing I knew, my best friend was back, my husband was pushed away from my leg as another nurse stepped in and I was being cheerleading-style coached by and entire room of nurses to not stop pushing in between contractions. I thought it was because we were close. But really it was because our son’s cord was wrapped not once, but twice. As I was pushing my doctor was working her magic to untangle him. The first wrap was around his neck. The second was wrapped around his arm which was by his face - thankfully keeping it from getting too tight around him - and his neck. I feel so lucky to have such an amazing team that I truly didn’t know anything was wrong. It now makes a lot of sense that his hand always seemed to be in his face during ultrasounds. He was taking his own safety quite literally into his own hands.
Our son was born at 7:03am on 11/13. 41.5 hours after being admitted and 39 after my induction had started.
The fun however was not over.
Oliver was placed on my chest as a nurse checked him over and I knew things weren't quite right. He was fussing but it sounded muted and the other nurses were calling out numbers as the one next to me encouraged him to breathe. I was thankfully distracted enough that I barely felt it as I delivered my placenta. Ollie was taken over to an infant bed so they could work on him shortly after this and Sarah thankfully had arrived before he was born and slipped in by his side while Rjay stood by me.
I remember my doctor pushing on my stomach. And I remember my vision going wonky as I heard the rush of blood leave my body. I would later find out it was 1800ml of blood leaving my body - normal vaginal births lose about 500. I had hemorrhaged. But I didn’t know it. I was staring at Ollie as they worked on him and only partially heard it as my doctor worked on me, my vein where my IV port was collapsed and they had to place another while also pricking me trying to get blood, and somewhere in there I started violently vomiting - luckily the only thing in my system was water.
Once again, my doctor and the nurses made it so I really had no idea the gravity of what was going on. It was just being handled. I do remember the word “transfusion” being thrown around but ultimately deemed unnecessary. Once I was stable, a nursery nurse - later we learned really a NICU nurse, came to get Rjay because Ollie’s oxygen was too low and they needed to take him. Sarah slipped silently by my side as I prepared myself to handle both my boys being gone from my side.
Ollie thankfully decided the NICU was not for him and as they were about to leave his oxygen spiked and he and Rjay never had to leave our room.
I truly have no idea how much time had passed but now my doctor was telling me I was going to have another balloon device inserted due to the bleeding.
They had to insert a Jada, which is a device that uses gentle suction inside the uterus to help it contract quickly and stop the bleeding. It works fast — but the placement is extremely painful.
I thought I hated Foley. Jada was a real bitch.
My doctor was literally saying “I know, I’m sorry” as she inserted it and I yelled out in pain. I thought once Ollie was here, the extreme pain was done, but Jada quickly humbled me. Thankfully once it was in, the pain was minimal. It just needed at least an hour to work.
Thankfully this is where things overall got better. I had the violent post labor shakes, but I also had my baby back in my arms. My bleeding was under control. I was given a break from the magnesium. And Oliver was breathing well. I’d end up bed ridden until Friday morning as I got one more 12 hour magnesium drip, but I was allowed to eat. After 2 iron IVs - the last port was finally removed as well. Side note: I didn’t realize how absolutely crappy I felt from everything until after that first iron IV which I felt like quite literally brought me back to life.
My birth plan was healthy Jenn and healthy baby from the get go - and we thankfully got that. But looking back, I think I wish I’d been a little more specific with the universe on how I hoped to get there.
Once everything finally settled, and Oliver was safely on my chest, the reality hit me.
How fast everything changed.
How close we came to danger.
How strong I had to be when I felt empty.
How extraordinary my medical team was.
How supportive my family and friends were both near and far.
How Rjay and Sarah carried me through moments I didn’t fully understand at the time.
The room felt different afterward - quieter, heavier, sacred.
But Oliver was here.
I was here.
And I will forever be grateful for everyone who helped bring him safely into the world.
