Hello my dear readers,
The last month and a half has been a total blur. I can't believe it's March already! Well, as promised here is my birth story. It's long. (You have been warned). It's not edited because I don't have a lot of time these days for editing and I suck at it (probably explains why I'm not published yet). And it's not PG. There are gory details about birth here because I feel it necessary to share the raw experience the way it happened. So without further ado here we go:
My birth story starts back on the Friday before Memorial Day
weekend. All week I’d been eating like a proper piggy. One day I actually went
to the cafeteria at day job FIVE times and bought full meals because I was so
hungry. Well, that Friday at 3am, I took a pregnancy test and for the first time
in my life of peeing on the “stick”, it came out positive.
I’d always known when the time came to have a baby, I’d want
a natural birth either at home or a birthing center. I’d watched The Business of Being Born. I knew I was
a healthy person and didn’t need to be in the hospital. So when I found out I
was pregnant it seemed natural for me to pick a midwife and birthing center. I
went with a local midwifery center, which came highly recommended by a personal
friend and other acquaintances. Over the nine months of pregnancy I received
top notch care from the nurse practitioner midwife I had chosen and the two
assistants. I was so happy that all my ultrasounds and labs throughout the
pregnancy were normal. This only validated my decision to have my little girl
at the center rather than the hospital.
In December I took a Birthing
From Within childbirth class and really enjoyed it. I learned that I can
cope with pain pretty good as we had to hold ice in our hands while practicing
the breathing techniques taught in the class. I even bought the book that goes
with the class and found it very insightful. In my head I had this vision of me
laboring in the water at the center completely in my birthing land haven. I’d
swam most of the pregnancy regularly and even wrote a mermaid YA novel over the
summer, so it seemed appropriate for my daughter to be born in the water. Yeah,
I was going to be the ultimate Zen water goddess mama.
The last trimester flew by like a torpedo with the holidays
and getting everything ready for the baby to come the first week in February.
My pelvis had been hurting bad and I’d been going to see the chiropractor
regularly for adjustment, but the treatment on Friday the 18th of
January didn’t seem to do me much good. My midwife was gone for a long weekend,
but I wasn’t worried because this was my first baby and they ALWAYS come late.
(Huh, huh, huh) Saturday I had my last prenatal massage. Sunday the 20th
I had an infant CPR/ first aid class. Before the class I went for a good long
swim. I swam longer than I normally do and it felt great. I stopped by the
store and bought some last minute items “just in case.”
Sunday night I felt like needed to get some stuff done. I
finished up a book review and did some other chores. Monday morning at 3am I
turned in bed and realized I was going to pee my pants, but not really. I
rushed to the bathroom just in time to feel the gush of water pouring out of me
and it wasn’t my urinary organs at work. My first thought: “Oh shit, my midwife
is out of town.” Second: “Is it okay to text the assistants at 3am in the
morning to tell them my water broke?” Yanno, I don’t want to be rude.
My husband happened to be home this particular morning and
he said “you’re paying them good money, you can text them whenever.” I followed
his advice.
One of the assistants called me back and told me to stay
home. I texted my boss and told her I’d be working from home. She was very
understanding. I worked for 4 hours mainly trying to wrap up some loose ends “just
in case” this was my last time working before maternity leave. Hubby finally installed the car seat that my
folks had bought me and had been sitting in my living room since November.
Around 9 am the other assistant came over and checked me.
She said it could take hours before my labor would begin, but suggested I rest
and take it easy. I took the remainder of the day off and lay down for a nap
next to hubby who had gone back to sleep since he works nights. Around 11:30 I
came to and released I’d started contractions. They felt like really bad
menstrual cramps which I was used to after battling endometriosis in my early
twenties. I thought, “this isn’t too bad. I can handle this.” The contractions
became more regular and within the hour they started coming every 5-7 minutes
and each one grew in intensity to the point I couldn’t lay in bed anymore. I
got up and started doing some last minute stuff around the house and packed my
birthing center bag. I texted the assistant and told her what was happening.
She came over again.
When she knocked on my door I was having a contraction
leaning on the yoga ball and couldn’t even move to open it for her. Yeah,
that’s how intense they were. Honestly,
I don’t know what early labor is, because I went into active labor so quickly.
The pain reached the point of unbearable and I got in the shower on my hand and
knees. The hot water hitting my back seemed to take the edge off and let me
breathe through the contractions.
Soon afterwards the assistant came in and said it was time
to go to the birthing center. Yes! That meant I was close. We arrived in the
early afternoon and they had filled the tub. I got in and relaxed into my
labor. Water goddess, here I come. I let the water hold me, felt its warm
embrace as I concentrated on opening my body to let the long awaited child
through. Yet, soon thereafter I became cold as the water cooled. We added more
hot, but soon realized that only cold water was available. Somehow they had run
out of hot water for that particular room and tub. To make matters worse the
room was cold too. I shivered as I got out and that only made the contractions
worse. By this point I couldn’t take the pain and became very vocal with each
one. Holy shit it hurt.
At some point the replacement midwife came in and introduced
herself. She seemed pretty nice, but we didn’t connect, mostly because I was in
agony. She checked me after a while and said I was almost dilated and could
start pushing soon. It was dark outside, the fireplace was lit, the light turned
down low, and it was time to get this baby out. Boy was I ready. I’d had enough
of pain. She needed to come. The sooner the better.
I pushed for what seem like eternity, but it was more like
an hour or so. When the midwife checked me, I was fully dilated but the baby
hadn’t moved down. She suggested I walk around. I laughed. I could barely move
it hurt and the drugs at the hospital started to sound really good. So for
natural pain relief they then suggested I bounce on the yoga ball in the
shower.
And so I did. There I was in this tiny shower on the ball.
Hot water cascading down my body, warm steam enveloping me, and I was
surrounded in my element. I drew strength from each droplet. The heat eased my
pain and I entered laborland alone, but fully empowered. I felt like a goddess on
her throne at last focusing my energy on pushing and opening rather than the
pain of childbirth. Those 45 minutes I labored were exactly what I envisioned
as what my labor would be.
Unfortunately, when I came out and the midwife checked me
the baby still hadn’t moved down and she needed to turn her body too. The pain
returned with a vengeance. They tried different techniques to get her to turn,
but the only thing that happened was more pain. At this point I realized it
could be hours before this baby came and I had run out of steam. I was tired
and had enough. I remember thinking this natural birthing thing is bull shit
and pain relieving drugs sounded really good. The epidural at the hospital
called my name and I answered.
Per my request, my husband loaded me up in the car and with
the accompaniment of the assistants I was whisked to the hospital. Within
minutes of arrival the physician came in and administered the epidural. It took
another ten minutes before I started feeling the effects. All I know is that
doctor was the hero of the night. If my legs weren’t suddenly numb I would have
crawled out of my hospital bed and kissed him.
The midwife at the hospital let me sleep for three hours.
Blessed rest, FINALLY. Oh, how my body and mind need it. About 3 in the morning
she came back in and started the Pitocin, but only a very miniscule amount at
first. She also put a catheter inside my uterus to measure the pressure of my
contractions and adjust the dosage accordingly. I also had control of how much
epidural medicine I received. I was pretty numb, but still could feel the
pressure with each contraction. This allowed me to breathe through and focus on
relaxing my pelvic muscles—a much better way to labor after the ordeal from the
previous day. By 11 am it was time to push again.
To my amazement, they had me pushing in all sorts of
positions. Hands and knees on the bed (the nurse and midwives held my knees and
legs steady since I’d lost most of my control of the them), squatting (the foot
of the bed dropped and they put a bar over the bed so I could pull myself over
the edge and drop into a squat during a contraction), and others too. This I
did not expect from a hospital birth. All the hospital births I’d witnessed the
woman was strapped to the bed and her feet up in stirrups. That was the main
reason I didn’t want a hospital birth, unless I had a condition that required
medical attention.
After two hours of pushing the midwife said the baby was
stuck behind the pelvic bone. It was over 24 hour since my water broke and they
were concerned about infection. She called in the surgeon to discuss my other
options. After everything I’d gone through I didn’t want a C-section. He
offered me vacuum and forceps or the dreaded C. I chose the vacuum. He explained to me that
while there are risks, because she’d descended so low and just needed a little
help turning her head and coming under the pelvic bone she was a good candidate
for vacuum.
The room filled with medical staff: 3 NICU nursing team to resuscitate
in case she stopped breathing, my nurse, the midwife, the two midwives assistants
from the birthing center, the baby’s nurse, the surgeon, his assistant, and
husband. Talk about a birthing “party.” There I lay on the bed propped up by
pillows in all my naked glory. I didn’t give a rat’s ass about modesty anymore.
I needed to get her out because I was tired and if I didn’t do it now, the
scary C loomed over me like a greedy villain in a Disney animation. By golly, I
wasn’t going there after all my hard work. At least not if there was a chance I
could still have her vaginally.
Ready, set, go! I started to push again on the doctor’s cue.
With each push he suctioned her head down a little more. With each contraction
he coached me on where to push and for how long. I didn’t think I had any more
strength in me left, but he encouraged me and somehow found the extra ounce of
energy hidden in my pinky toe. Like an angel sent from the heavenly realms, he
guided me through the last lap of this wild birthing journey. Four contractions
and my baby girl was out.
When I saw the slimy, bloody, little human laying on the
table between my legs, my heart almost stopped. I spent most of my life never
wanting kids. Sure I loved children, other people’s offspring, that is, but
never felt the urge to procreate one of my own. All of my adult life I had
spent avoiding getting pregnant. I also didn’t think I would ever marry either.
I was pretty happy living my own life.
 |
| First night with mom. |
Then I met my husband. Everything changed. I knew I could be
a wife to him and bear his children within the first week we met. For someone independent
as me, that is saying something about the awesomeness that is my partner, best
friend, soul mate, lover, and spouse.
The nurse put my baby on my chest. I held her close and
kissed her wet gooey little head with black hair. She was mine. All mine. I’d
done it. I’d carried her for nine months, felt her kicks, talked to her,
wondered what she’d look like, and now she was here in my arms. They took her
away for a few moments to do her assessments and vitals, but brought her back.
Skin to skin, she lay on my chest. One slow wiggle at a time she made her way
to my breast and within 20 minutes she found my left nipple and latched on
naturally.
While I was enjoying bonding with my daughter, the surgeon
was busy sewing up my perineum. Apparently I had a 3rd degree tear.
I didn’t feel it because of the epidural. I didn’t care, though because I’d avoided
surgery and I had her vaginally. I owe that man a debt of gratitude for helping
me bring my little angel into this world, even if she had a little cone head
thing going on from the vacuum.
Once the drugs wore off, I did care about my condition. I
couldn’t sit, much less walk because of the stitches and my bruised tail bone.
Baby’s head had done a good one on my pelvic area. It hurt like a mother
you-know-what. Oh my, and trying to pee… let’s just say I started wondering
what the hell I had been thinking and if a C-section might have been a better
option. It hurt to pass gas and I started freaking out about actually pooping.
The midwife put me on stool softeners. That helped. Ice packs and good ol’
narcotics helped too. Oh, and did I mention sore nipples. Yes, breastfeeding is
amazing and really great for bonding and the baby’s health, but OH. MY. GOD. OUCH!!!
It didn’t matter to me because I was determined I was going to breastfeed her
even if hell freezes over.
Shortly after I had delivered my baby I spiked a fever. They
put me and the baby on antibiotics. Day two, baby became jaundiced. She spent
12 hours under the bilirubin lights. The third day, when we should be going
home, they check our blood work. I was okay, but baby’s white blood cell count
had gone up. Good news was her immune system was working; bad news was we
needed to stay for another two days so she could complete her antibiotic
regime, even though the blood cultures came back negative. The physician said
it was better to keep her two more days than to go home and becoming ill. A second
hospitalization would be worse. I agreed with her.
So we were transferred to Randall’s Children’s Hospital. It
felt silly having NICU nurses talking care of my baby just to have antibiotics
when other babies where there with much more serious problems. At least they got
one easy patient. However on Saturday, her IV became infiltrated and they
needed to put in a new one. Hubby went home to get a few things and I didn’t
have the courage to watch. They took her into another room. The whole time I
felt like the worst mother not having the strength to be there for my baby, but
I simply couldn’t watch unless they were ready to put one in me and give me a
sedative. ½ hour later the nurse came in and said that they are going to get
the IV specialist. Another ½ hour she said they couldn’t get it in and would be
calling the care flight nurse because she was the best. Well, they couldn’t do
it either. Finally the talked to the doctor to see what other options we had to
administering the antibiotics. It turns out she only needed 3 more
intramuscular shots and that’s it.
The nurse felt awful. I felt terrible when I saw all the band
aids on my baby’s body. Well, if I learned anything from this experience is
that she is one tough cookie and stubborn as a bull, kind of like her mama. :) During the whole
birth, her heart rate stayed good and the five days afterward she took each
challenge like a champ. On Sunday they tested her blood, everything was normal
and they let us go home.
 |
| Baby in her going home outfit. |
Bringing home my baby was the best gift imaginable. We received
the highest rated care possible in the hospital. All the nurses, the midwives, the
lactation specialist and doctors rocked. I am so proud of Legacy and the care
they provide to our community (especially since they are my employer). And if I’m
every crazy enough to want to go through that again, I choose the midwives at Emanuel
clinic because they are goddesses. But there is nothing like being home.
All in all my experience was perfect even if things didn’t
turn out the way I had wanted. The fact of the matter is I’ve got a beautiful
healthy baby girl tucked in the Moby wrap on my chest sleeping while I write
this. That’s all that really matters in the end.
 |
| Sleeping on mom's chest. |
Now begins a new chapter of my life—the adventures of parenting. Thanks for reading.
