In honor of Pearl's due date today, I thought I'd post her birth story ...
It all started as a mid-March thunderstorm rolled in across our neighborhood.
Contractions.
Definitely not was I was expecting to wake up to. Definitely not part of "my plan" for the day. My due date was still twelve days away, but since my doctor's appointment the afternoon before (which included a routine internal exam), I had been sporadically leaking something ... Just a drop here or there. Certainly nothing to be worried about! And certainly something that could be discussed over the phone once the doctor's office opened again at 8:00 am.
But, there they were at 5:00 am.
Rumbling on in just like the thunder.
Contractions ... Strangely familiar and foreign all at once.
After hearing my husband moving around and getting ready for work at around 6:00 am (we'd been sleeping in separate rooms for a couple of months since he is a light sleeper couldn't handle my pregnant snoring), I decided to drop the bomb on him.
"I hate to do this to you again, Honey," I prefaced, remembering that the scenario was very similar the morning Malcolm decided to join the world. "But I think we're having a baby today."
His reaction was the same as last time, too ... A sleepy and stunned "What? Are you kidding?"
I told him that I wished I was ... Having a baby was not even close to being on my "To Do List" for the day! But we'd (obviously) both have to adapt ... He waited until about 7:00 am to call work and let them know that he wouldn't be in. Then the scrambling began ... I sent some emails to my students and coworkers, I hopped in the shower, he canceled a tax appointment, we packed hospital bags and cameras, and laptops, I called my Dad to let him know that a second grandchild was on the way (Malcolm had serendipitously been spending the night with my parents so we didn't have to worry about sending him off).
And then we waited.
At about 8:30 am I called my doctor's office to let them know the situation. They called ahead to the hospital and gave us the "okay" to head over.
The fifteen minute drive there was just as I remembered it ... Too bumpy with too many traffic lights. I remained as focused and calm as I could, sitting straight up in the passenger's seat and breathing slowly and calmly. The contractions had been painful and regular since about 7:00 am, but I couldn't shake the feeling that we'd get to the hospital and they'd tell me I had only dilated one centimeter (like last time) ... So I tried to visualize the baby, in the right position, head pressing down where it was supposed to as each contraction began. Despite not being "in the mood" to have a baby, I felt like I was handling the contractions better this second time around and felt much more in control than I had with Malcolm.
Once at the hospital, we headed up to triage and were placed in a room. Since I wasn't sure if I had broken my water or not (What was the leaking from the night before?), we had to wait for the house doctor to check me ... But she was currently in surgery. So, from about 9:00 until 11:00 am, I did whatever I could to stay "comfortable" in the tiny room as the contractions progressed.
Finally, the doctor arrived, and as I moved from my all-fours position on the hospital bed, my water officially broke ... All that waiting for nothing!! But, upon finally being checked (by the nurse), we found that I was already six and a half centimeters dilated!
More than halfway there! A small victory!
And, with that, we were off to labor and delivery.
I did my best to remain composed and focused as I was wheeled through the waiting room (full of expectant grandparents and family members) and then into my delivery suite. I sat on a birthing ball and rocked through my contractions as the nurse went through the customary questions to get my information into the computer. Between deep breathing and lots of "yes" and "no" answers (to her questions), things really started to speed up.
I mentioned that I was feeling some pressure, so the nurse had me climb onto the bed and checked me again.
Eight centimeters.
Then the chaos began.
More nurses came into the room and there was a flurry of activity as they tried to set up the instruments and materials they might need during the delivery while I was in transition. As things were being unwrapped, the on-call doctor was called to the hospital. My main nurse mentioned that I still needed an IV to be started ...
I was still feeling a lot of pressure so I was checked again.
Nine and a half centimeters.
At this point, the pain had become pretty severe. I was told to push if I wanted ... But just little pushes to help me get through the contractions. This was fine for a while, but suddenly, the next contraction rolled through, taking me by surprise because it was stronger (and the pressure I was feeling was more intense) than all the rest. It didn't help that, when having Malcolm, I had absolutely no urge to push ... So the feeling of needing to push was so otherworldly.
I shouted (I don't remember yelling, but that's what my husband says I did) "This one is different!" as I pushed again.
Much to everyone's surprise, with that single push, the baby's head had become visible ... The nurse, knowing that the on-call doctor wouldn't make it in time, called for the house doctor (who had come to check me only an hour or so earlier). I kept pushing with my contractions as stirrups were pulled out of the bed and was instructed to "slide down" closer to the edge. My husband was bracing one leg, and a nurse had another, when the house doctor walked into the room. She was given a quick recap of what had happened since she last saw me and she literally had enough time to put on gloves and help coax the baby's head and shoulders out and into the world.
At 12:01 pm, just about three hours after we arrived at the hospital, the baby was (already!) out ... So incredibly different from our previous birth experience with Malcolm. And so incredibly amazing!
"What is it?" Both my husband and I asked, neither of us able to see the baby's telltale parts.
"It's a little girl!"
We exchanged glances of disbelief (I think both of our guts were telling us "boy"), but were excited that our little "pearl" had arrived ...
And all before lunch!
Even though it's been almost two weeks, it's still hard to believe that she is really here, that her birth day actually happened, and our little family of three has grown to become a family of four ... Yet, somehow, it feels like we've had her all along.
Showing posts with label natural birth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label natural birth. Show all posts
March 27, 2012
March 12, 2012
bring on the birthing ball
As the big "birth day" approaches, I find myself getting strangely excited.
Not excited for the arrival of my second child, necessarily (although I certainly am), but excited for the challenge of getting a second shot at laboring and giving birth naturally. Much like a marathon, the whole "natural birth" thing isn't exactly fun, but yet, in some odd way, I actually enjoy getting the opportunity to do it.
It is a true test ... A way for me to really be in tune with myself, to shut out the rest of the world, and just concentrate on one thing for once.
No more worries about teaching, or grading papers, or cleaning the house, or making dinner, or even taking care of Malcolm.
Nope.
Just me. Focused. In the zone.
Let's get this baby out.
I would have to say that much of the excitement this time around, also comes from the fact that I have so much support from my husband (he's totally on board now that we've experienced the whole process before), the rest of my family and friends, and, of course, my doctor.
I'll be going to a traditional hospital again (I don't think a home birth is for me), but I am confident that I will be taken care of. My doctor, the midwife working with her, and the hospital staff that I have encountered so far are all very open to women giving birth naturally. In fact, from the moment I was brought into the labor/delivery suite on the day Malcolm entered our lives, I was blown away by how things were able to progress the way that I wanted them to ...
Bathtubs were filled with hot water.
Birthing balls were unwrapped and rolled into the room.
Hot bags of saline were used as compresses when the back labor kicked in.
Hydration was achieved by water bottle instead of IV (so that I could move around).
Monitors for baby heart rate and strength of contraction were used and then removed (again, so that I could move around).
A random midwife (whom I had never met before and was only on the maternity floor to get signatures for a cord blood study) kept checking in on me to assist in whatever way she could.
Malcolm was handed right over to nurse as soon as he was weighed and measured ... And our new family was given time to bond before any visitors (my parents and one of my sisters had been setting up camp in the waiting room) we allowed to see any of us.
Throughout the entire experience (both during and after the birth process), I felt very cared for and encouraged ... I was never pressured (or even casually asked) about pain killers or any other medication. I was allowed to do what I wanted, what felt right for me and my family, without any questions or judgment.
By the end of the night, I felt like a rockstar ...
First, because I had just succeeded in my goal of giving birth naturally (and my baby was darn adorable to boot!). Second, because all of the staff and nurses on duty that night actually cheered their congratulations as I departed for my post-partum room.
To say that I was on cloud nine would be a vast understatement.
Having had such a positive experience (despite the "complications" of back labor), it makes me sad when I hear about other women who are pressured to give birth a certain way (barring medical emergencies) or made to feel poorly for the choices they make regarding their bodies. For one thing, had I personally been discouraged from laboring naturally by the hospital staff, or had I been pressured into receiving an epidural, I may have found myself receiving a C-section due to my son's posterior positioning. Doing things my way actually saved me from major abdominal surgery!
That's not to say that doctors can't be right.
I'm sure there are times when an epidural is warranted and may contribute to a safe delivery ... However, I do not understand why, for many, the pain of labor is seen as something unnatural ... A side effect that should be numbed and removed from the equation. I am not an "Earth Mother" type by any stretch of the imagination, and I don't shout the benefits of natural birth from the rooftops because I believe it is a very personal choice. Yet, I truly feel that the pain felt during a natural birth process serves to make the end result that much more miraculous!
(And they aren't lying about the "mother's amnesia" that sets in after birth ... Birth? What birth? This baby just magically appeared in my arms!)
Not only was the experience good for me, even my husband felt like he had accomplished some great feat the night Malcolm entered our lives ... He was so proud that he had been able to assist me, to be an active part of the event and not just a bystander that watched as I lay comfortably in my hospital bed until it was time to push.
The birth of a child is obviously such a personal experience ...
One that is different for every woman and situation.
One that I, personally, choose to embark upon without the assistance of drugs ... Although I could certainly do without the back labor this time around!
I guess we will see what happens when Baby #2 decides to make his/her appearance.
Only two weeks to go ...
Not excited for the arrival of my second child, necessarily (although I certainly am), but excited for the challenge of getting a second shot at laboring and giving birth naturally. Much like a marathon, the whole "natural birth" thing isn't exactly fun, but yet, in some odd way, I actually enjoy getting the opportunity to do it.
It is a true test ... A way for me to really be in tune with myself, to shut out the rest of the world, and just concentrate on one thing for once.
No more worries about teaching, or grading papers, or cleaning the house, or making dinner, or even taking care of Malcolm.
Nope.
Just me. Focused. In the zone.
Let's get this baby out.
I would have to say that much of the excitement this time around, also comes from the fact that I have so much support from my husband (he's totally on board now that we've experienced the whole process before), the rest of my family and friends, and, of course, my doctor.
I'll be going to a traditional hospital again (I don't think a home birth is for me), but I am confident that I will be taken care of. My doctor, the midwife working with her, and the hospital staff that I have encountered so far are all very open to women giving birth naturally. In fact, from the moment I was brought into the labor/delivery suite on the day Malcolm entered our lives, I was blown away by how things were able to progress the way that I wanted them to ...
Bathtubs were filled with hot water.
Birthing balls were unwrapped and rolled into the room.
Hot bags of saline were used as compresses when the back labor kicked in.
Hydration was achieved by water bottle instead of IV (so that I could move around).
Monitors for baby heart rate and strength of contraction were used and then removed (again, so that I could move around).
A random midwife (whom I had never met before and was only on the maternity floor to get signatures for a cord blood study) kept checking in on me to assist in whatever way she could.
Malcolm was handed right over to nurse as soon as he was weighed and measured ... And our new family was given time to bond before any visitors (my parents and one of my sisters had been setting up camp in the waiting room) we allowed to see any of us.
Throughout the entire experience (both during and after the birth process), I felt very cared for and encouraged ... I was never pressured (or even casually asked) about pain killers or any other medication. I was allowed to do what I wanted, what felt right for me and my family, without any questions or judgment.
By the end of the night, I felt like a rockstar ...
First, because I had just succeeded in my goal of giving birth naturally (and my baby was darn adorable to boot!). Second, because all of the staff and nurses on duty that night actually cheered their congratulations as I departed for my post-partum room.
To say that I was on cloud nine would be a vast understatement.
Having had such a positive experience (despite the "complications" of back labor), it makes me sad when I hear about other women who are pressured to give birth a certain way (barring medical emergencies) or made to feel poorly for the choices they make regarding their bodies. For one thing, had I personally been discouraged from laboring naturally by the hospital staff, or had I been pressured into receiving an epidural, I may have found myself receiving a C-section due to my son's posterior positioning. Doing things my way actually saved me from major abdominal surgery!
That's not to say that doctors can't be right.
I'm sure there are times when an epidural is warranted and may contribute to a safe delivery ... However, I do not understand why, for many, the pain of labor is seen as something unnatural ... A side effect that should be numbed and removed from the equation. I am not an "Earth Mother" type by any stretch of the imagination, and I don't shout the benefits of natural birth from the rooftops because I believe it is a very personal choice. Yet, I truly feel that the pain felt during a natural birth process serves to make the end result that much more miraculous!
(And they aren't lying about the "mother's amnesia" that sets in after birth ... Birth? What birth? This baby just magically appeared in my arms!)
Not only was the experience good for me, even my husband felt like he had accomplished some great feat the night Malcolm entered our lives ... He was so proud that he had been able to assist me, to be an active part of the event and not just a bystander that watched as I lay comfortably in my hospital bed until it was time to push.
The birth of a child is obviously such a personal experience ...
One that is different for every woman and situation.
One that I, personally, choose to embark upon without the assistance of drugs ... Although I could certainly do without the back labor this time around!
I guess we will see what happens when Baby #2 decides to make his/her appearance.
Only two weeks to go ...
October 7, 2011
doing things the hard way
I have always been a pretty stubborn person ... Just ask my husband and (I'm positive) he'll have many examples at the ready ... So, "planning" for the birth of Malcolm over two years ago was cause for much drama in our house.
I vividly remember shedding tears of frustration during a conversation about how I wanted the birth to go ... My husband just didn't (couldn't) understand that I, in no way, shape, or form (barring an emergency situation), was going to allow an epidural within fifty feet of my body. He didn't understand that the option of receiving an epidural wasn't an option for me.
As far as I was concerned, it didn't even exist.
"Why can't you just say that you'll consider it?" He kept asking. "That you'll get one if things get really bad?"
Really bad. Ha!
(I definitely am familiar with "really bad!")
I know now that his concern was out of worry that he'd be unable to watch me go through the painful lows of labor without any drugs to assist me ... But, even so, I wasn't thinking about my husband or his feelings on the big event at all ... My mind had been set. And when I set my mind to something, I do not change it.
So, Malcolm's birth came and went without the epidural despite intense back labor ... And I suddenly went from feeling like death run over, to being on the top of the world.
Total validation.
It didn't hurt that I immediately became "Superwoman" to many of my family members and friends either ... And, to this day have become the resident question-answerer about how to make it through a natural labor and delivery (in fact, I was called for "advice," earlier this week while my cousin was in labor with her third child).
Natural birth is like a little feather in my cap. A trophy on the shelf. My own personal marathon. I could never (nor would I want to) run 26.2 miles in one day ... But I can push out a baby using my own mental prowess and determination.
"Mind over matter" they always say ...
So, this second time around, I really hope to accomplish the exact same thing (although the absence of back labor would be nice).
Again, barring an emergency situation, I am planning on delivering another human being into the world without numbing my body from the waist down. As with Malcolm, this choice isn't so much about "what's good for my body" or "what's best for the baby" as many types of natural birthing literature would have you believe (although I look at those things as an added benefit) ... It is, somewhat selfishly, more about me. It's about setting my mind to a goal and then going out there and achieving it (pain and suffering be damned).
If I did it once, I can do it again ...
However, one difference this time around, is that I'll be working with a midwife every step along the way.
In fact, my usual OB/GYN (who works in tandem with her, something that is new since my pregnancy with Malcolm) was on vacation during my first prenatal appointment ... So that first visit consisted of my little family (Malcolm included) and the midwife.
I'm very excited to see how this will impact the progression of the pregnancy and the ultimate birth of Baby #2 in March. I may have gone through the motions once before, but I know that there is still a lot to learn. Strange as it sounds, there's a part of me that actually enjoys the experience of birth (pain notwithstanding) and I am so thankful that I am being given the opportunity to go for it all over again!
I vividly remember shedding tears of frustration during a conversation about how I wanted the birth to go ... My husband just didn't (couldn't) understand that I, in no way, shape, or form (barring an emergency situation), was going to allow an epidural within fifty feet of my body. He didn't understand that the option of receiving an epidural wasn't an option for me.
As far as I was concerned, it didn't even exist.
"Why can't you just say that you'll consider it?" He kept asking. "That you'll get one if things get really bad?"
Really bad. Ha!
(I definitely am familiar with "really bad!")
I know now that his concern was out of worry that he'd be unable to watch me go through the painful lows of labor without any drugs to assist me ... But, even so, I wasn't thinking about my husband or his feelings on the big event at all ... My mind had been set. And when I set my mind to something, I do not change it.
So, Malcolm's birth came and went without the epidural despite intense back labor ... And I suddenly went from feeling like death run over, to being on the top of the world.
Total validation.
It didn't hurt that I immediately became "Superwoman" to many of my family members and friends either ... And, to this day have become the resident question-answerer about how to make it through a natural labor and delivery (in fact, I was called for "advice," earlier this week while my cousin was in labor with her third child).
Natural birth is like a little feather in my cap. A trophy on the shelf. My own personal marathon. I could never (nor would I want to) run 26.2 miles in one day ... But I can push out a baby using my own mental prowess and determination.
"Mind over matter" they always say ...
So, this second time around, I really hope to accomplish the exact same thing (although the absence of back labor would be nice).
Again, barring an emergency situation, I am planning on delivering another human being into the world without numbing my body from the waist down. As with Malcolm, this choice isn't so much about "what's good for my body" or "what's best for the baby" as many types of natural birthing literature would have you believe (although I look at those things as an added benefit) ... It is, somewhat selfishly, more about me. It's about setting my mind to a goal and then going out there and achieving it (pain and suffering be damned).
If I did it once, I can do it again ...
However, one difference this time around, is that I'll be working with a midwife every step along the way.
In fact, my usual OB/GYN (who works in tandem with her, something that is new since my pregnancy with Malcolm) was on vacation during my first prenatal appointment ... So that first visit consisted of my little family (Malcolm included) and the midwife.
I'm very excited to see how this will impact the progression of the pregnancy and the ultimate birth of Baby #2 in March. I may have gone through the motions once before, but I know that there is still a lot to learn. Strange as it sounds, there's a part of me that actually enjoys the experience of birth (pain notwithstanding) and I am so thankful that I am being given the opportunity to go for it all over again!
September 23, 2010
one year ago (part 2)
And the drama continues ...
At around 4:00 pm, I was given a real room, a nurse (Dawn, who was awesome) and, of course, a paper gown. After having a moment to settle in and get comfortable in my gown, Dawn hooked me up to a blood pressure cuff (for me), a heart rate and contraction monitor (for the baby), got an IV port ready in case I'd need any medications or fluids during the delivery, and then we went through a massive list of questions covering my health history and my plans for the labor and birth. She didn't bat an eye when I said I was going to do things naturally, but told me we'd have to talk with the anesthesiologist anyway, as it was hospital procedure.
When the anesthesiologist arrived, he was a bit more skeptical of my "natural birth" intentions. He took about fifteen minutes explaining the procedure and going through his memorized list of procedural steps and potential side effects with little gusto. I agreed to sign the paperwork, in case an emergency situation would require me to have an epidural, but mentally told myself that I wouldn't be seeing him again.
With all of our pre-birth "business" taken care of, Dawn got the room's bathtub ready for me ... and I (finally!) got in. By this point, my contractions were pretty strong and very uncomfortable, so the warm water and whirlpool jets felt really good and did a great job at easing the pain. Unfortunately, my moment was short lived because my doctor arrived at around 5:30 pm and wanted to check me. Begrudgingly, I climbed out of the tub and made my way back to the bed.
As she announced that I was five centimeters dilated and 80% effaced, I felt some pressure and then a gush of fluid. My water had broken ... No more whirlpool tub for me! Instead, I tried standing in the shower and using the shower's hand-held sprayer to soothe my back where the pain was becoming the most intense. This was by no means as helpful as the swirling water had been, so I had my husband help me dry off and return to the bed. I stayed there, squeezing his hand with each contraction until I felt like I couldn't sit still. Dawn brought us a birthing ball and I sat on it, bouncing and rocking through contractions. At some point, a nurse/midwife named Sue who had heard that I was attempting a natural birth, popped in and showed my husband how to apply pressure to my hips and massage my back with a bag of hot saline. It relieved some of my discomfort, but only when Sue did it ... My husband was either squeezing too hard or rubbing too lightly. My frustration was nothing compared to pain that was starting to become ridiculous (especially in my back).
I guess I should mention that, by this point, my parents and one of my sisters had made their way to the waiting room. They would page our room occasionally, calling for my husband to give them an update (which he would).
Up until about 8:00 pm, I felt like I was doing okay, for the most part. I was definitely hurting, but the pain was still manageable. I knew I was in trouble when I had a contraction during the singular minute my husband left me to get a pop from the vending machine. Without his hand to hold, I felt lost. The pain was so intense that I felt as if a vice was squeezing me in half. I wanted to scream, but Sue had told me to stay in control by "keeping my sounds low." When he returned he said that my sister wanted to come back and see me to say "Hi."
I vaguely remember thinking that she must be crazy and shouting "No!" at him.
From about 8:30 onward my memories of Malcolm's birth become fuzzy. I do know, however, that during most of that time, I thought that I was going to die. Sue was back and she and Dawn had me moving to try and alleviate some of the pain ... I was rocking on the ball, then on all fours, hunching over the inclined back of the bed. I'd have a small contraction, then a huge earth shattering one. I knew I didn't want the epidural, but I wasn't sure how long I could allow my body to just do what it needed to do. I'm not sure if I just wanted the assurance that things were progressing, or if I just needed something to distract me, but I remember begging to be checked again. Surely I had to be ten centimeters by now. It had been all day! They kept telling me that they'd check again if I felt an urge to push.
I never felt that "urge," but at some point I started lying.
"I'm feeling a lot of pressure," I would say when I could speak. "Can you check me, now?"
When they finally obliged, it still wasn't time. I was 100% effaced, but only eight centimeters dilated ... And the small and big contraction pattern wasn't helping. They gave me some pitocin to help even things out, so from then on, whenever I changed position, I had to fumble around without getting tangled up in my own IV cord. Before I was given the official "okay," I started to push just to survive. I know for a fact that I peed everywhere, but I didn't care. The act of pushing relieved the pressure in my back ... The pressure that was caused from my baby being posterior (or, as they say to make it sound happier, "sunny side up").
Back labor.
Lovely.
At around 11:00, it was finally time! The baby had turned to an anterior position (or so they had thought). I started pushing, first from my back with my husband and Dawn bracing each one of my legs. Then I was rolled to my left side to push. Then I was instructed to get on all fours again and lean over the back of the bed again.
My husband recalls how proud he was of me for being so agreeable and moving when they asked me to ... But, the truth is, by the time I was able to push I felt no pain. I'm not sure if I've just blocked it all out, but I honestly don't remember any pain once I was pushing. There was no "ring of fire" either. Everything about pushing felt good ... It was certainly frustrating and exhausting, but much more comfortable than my contractions had been for the past two hours or so.
It was 11:54 pm and I was on my left side again, legs braced by my husband, Dawn, and Sue, with a room full of nurses wanting to see the crazy woman give birth naturally when a head (finally!) emerged (looking up at his dad instead of down at the floor, like a good baby should) and a slippery body came bursting out. The sensation was really strange and surreal ... And I'm glad that I got to actually feel it happen.
"What is it?" I asked my husband, in disbelief that the baby had just entered the world. "Did they say what it is?!"
"It's a boy!"
So now he was here!
I had just pushed out a six pound, eleven ounce baby boy ... Without any drugs! Crazy!
I spent the next few moments watching my baby boy get cleaned and weighed as my placenta was delivered (I didn't look at it, but I hear they look like monsters) and I was stitched up. I felt a little shaky (and tired), but otherwise great.
Seriously. I felt great.
I was on such a high that I felt like I could literally do anything at that very second. As cliche as it sounds, I immediately forgot about all of the pain I had just experienced as soon as my swaddled baby was put in my arms for his first meal ... And I said as much to my doctor, who just chuckled at me. The little guy was so alert ... Absolutely the most beautiful, perfect baby I had ever seen. The feelings of love and contentment pouring out of me were so overwhelming that, to describe them here, wouldn't do them justice. I could have just stared at him and stroked his little cheeks for hours ... It was difficult to hand him over to my anxious family members when they were let into our room at around 1:00 am.
Malcolm Anthony.
I can't believe it's been a whole year since you arrived.
At around 4:00 pm, I was given a real room, a nurse (Dawn, who was awesome) and, of course, a paper gown. After having a moment to settle in and get comfortable in my gown, Dawn hooked me up to a blood pressure cuff (for me), a heart rate and contraction monitor (for the baby), got an IV port ready in case I'd need any medications or fluids during the delivery, and then we went through a massive list of questions covering my health history and my plans for the labor and birth. She didn't bat an eye when I said I was going to do things naturally, but told me we'd have to talk with the anesthesiologist anyway, as it was hospital procedure.
When the anesthesiologist arrived, he was a bit more skeptical of my "natural birth" intentions. He took about fifteen minutes explaining the procedure and going through his memorized list of procedural steps and potential side effects with little gusto. I agreed to sign the paperwork, in case an emergency situation would require me to have an epidural, but mentally told myself that I wouldn't be seeing him again.
With all of our pre-birth "business" taken care of, Dawn got the room's bathtub ready for me ... and I (finally!) got in. By this point, my contractions were pretty strong and very uncomfortable, so the warm water and whirlpool jets felt really good and did a great job at easing the pain. Unfortunately, my moment was short lived because my doctor arrived at around 5:30 pm and wanted to check me. Begrudgingly, I climbed out of the tub and made my way back to the bed.
As she announced that I was five centimeters dilated and 80% effaced, I felt some pressure and then a gush of fluid. My water had broken ... No more whirlpool tub for me! Instead, I tried standing in the shower and using the shower's hand-held sprayer to soothe my back where the pain was becoming the most intense. This was by no means as helpful as the swirling water had been, so I had my husband help me dry off and return to the bed. I stayed there, squeezing his hand with each contraction until I felt like I couldn't sit still. Dawn brought us a birthing ball and I sat on it, bouncing and rocking through contractions. At some point, a nurse/midwife named Sue who had heard that I was attempting a natural birth, popped in and showed my husband how to apply pressure to my hips and massage my back with a bag of hot saline. It relieved some of my discomfort, but only when Sue did it ... My husband was either squeezing too hard or rubbing too lightly. My frustration was nothing compared to pain that was starting to become ridiculous (especially in my back).
I guess I should mention that, by this point, my parents and one of my sisters had made their way to the waiting room. They would page our room occasionally, calling for my husband to give them an update (which he would).
Up until about 8:00 pm, I felt like I was doing okay, for the most part. I was definitely hurting, but the pain was still manageable. I knew I was in trouble when I had a contraction during the singular minute my husband left me to get a pop from the vending machine. Without his hand to hold, I felt lost. The pain was so intense that I felt as if a vice was squeezing me in half. I wanted to scream, but Sue had told me to stay in control by "keeping my sounds low." When he returned he said that my sister wanted to come back and see me to say "Hi."
I vaguely remember thinking that she must be crazy and shouting "No!" at him.
From about 8:30 onward my memories of Malcolm's birth become fuzzy. I do know, however, that during most of that time, I thought that I was going to die. Sue was back and she and Dawn had me moving to try and alleviate some of the pain ... I was rocking on the ball, then on all fours, hunching over the inclined back of the bed. I'd have a small contraction, then a huge earth shattering one. I knew I didn't want the epidural, but I wasn't sure how long I could allow my body to just do what it needed to do. I'm not sure if I just wanted the assurance that things were progressing, or if I just needed something to distract me, but I remember begging to be checked again. Surely I had to be ten centimeters by now. It had been all day! They kept telling me that they'd check again if I felt an urge to push.
I never felt that "urge," but at some point I started lying.
"I'm feeling a lot of pressure," I would say when I could speak. "Can you check me, now?"
When they finally obliged, it still wasn't time. I was 100% effaced, but only eight centimeters dilated ... And the small and big contraction pattern wasn't helping. They gave me some pitocin to help even things out, so from then on, whenever I changed position, I had to fumble around without getting tangled up in my own IV cord. Before I was given the official "okay," I started to push just to survive. I know for a fact that I peed everywhere, but I didn't care. The act of pushing relieved the pressure in my back ... The pressure that was caused from my baby being posterior (or, as they say to make it sound happier, "sunny side up").
Back labor.
Lovely.
At around 11:00, it was finally time! The baby had turned to an anterior position (or so they had thought). I started pushing, first from my back with my husband and Dawn bracing each one of my legs. Then I was rolled to my left side to push. Then I was instructed to get on all fours again and lean over the back of the bed again.
My husband recalls how proud he was of me for being so agreeable and moving when they asked me to ... But, the truth is, by the time I was able to push I felt no pain. I'm not sure if I've just blocked it all out, but I honestly don't remember any pain once I was pushing. There was no "ring of fire" either. Everything about pushing felt good ... It was certainly frustrating and exhausting, but much more comfortable than my contractions had been for the past two hours or so.
It was 11:54 pm and I was on my left side again, legs braced by my husband, Dawn, and Sue, with a room full of nurses wanting to see the crazy woman give birth naturally when a head (finally!) emerged (looking up at his dad instead of down at the floor, like a good baby should) and a slippery body came bursting out. The sensation was really strange and surreal ... And I'm glad that I got to actually feel it happen.
"What is it?" I asked my husband, in disbelief that the baby had just entered the world. "Did they say what it is?!"
"It's a boy!"
So now he was here!
I had just pushed out a six pound, eleven ounce baby boy ... Without any drugs! Crazy!
I spent the next few moments watching my baby boy get cleaned and weighed as my placenta was delivered (I didn't look at it, but I hear they look like monsters) and I was stitched up. I felt a little shaky (and tired), but otherwise great.
Seriously. I felt great.
I was on such a high that I felt like I could literally do anything at that very second. As cliche as it sounds, I immediately forgot about all of the pain I had just experienced as soon as my swaddled baby was put in my arms for his first meal ... And I said as much to my doctor, who just chuckled at me. The little guy was so alert ... Absolutely the most beautiful, perfect baby I had ever seen. The feelings of love and contentment pouring out of me were so overwhelming that, to describe them here, wouldn't do them justice. I could have just stared at him and stroked his little cheeks for hours ... It was difficult to hand him over to my anxious family members when they were let into our room at around 1:00 am.
Malcolm Anthony.
I can't believe it's been a whole year since you arrived.
September 22, 2010
one year ago (part 1)
In the wake of my baby's first birthday (TOMORROW!!), I have been doing a lot of thinking about how we got to this point in the first place. This past year has felt like an instant and an eternity at the same time, so it is really difficult to believe that my child's entrance into the physical world took place only one year ago.
Really, I can barely wrap my mind around it.
To commemorate that magnificent event, and to truly join the ranks of "mommybloggers" everywhere, I wanted to share my birth story.
I hope you don't mind reading about it ... If you do, you have been forewarned.
I woke up at about 1:00 am on September 23, 2009 with some minor stomach cramping. My husband had taken up residence on the couch during the night for the past month or so (he couldn't sleep with my pregnant snoring), so my tossing and turning was frustrating only to me. When it became evident that I wasn't going to fall back asleep anytime soon, I wandered into our computer room to putz around until I became tired again.
Being in actual labor was the farthest thing from my mind. I had taken the following day off from work for a routine doctor's appointment and had joked with my coworkers that, although I'd see them soon, they should start taking bets on when and what I'd be having (we wanted to be surprised) since my due date was less than a week away. So, at 1:00 am, I tinkered on the computer for a little while, using Google to research things like "Braxton Hicks" and "bloody show."
Note to self: In the future, steer clear of Google images!
Satisfied that I wasn't experiencing either of those events, and that it was probably just the previous night's chili dog dinner that was haunting me, I returned to bed and actually fell asleep.
At around 3:00 am, I woke up again. This time, the cramps were feeling a little bit more uncomfortable and they were making me feel like I had to go to the bathroom. When I did, I noticed that I had begun spotting ... Weird. I Googled "bloody show" again.
Second note to self: Seriously. Steer clear of Google images!
I returned to the computer, keeping track of the timing of the "cramps" on a scrap piece of paper. Then I sent a friend a message on Facebook. She always said she was an "insomniac" and with a daughter of her own, I thought she might be able to give me some information that Google was apparently withholding. Unfortunately, she must have chosen this particular night/early morning to sleep ... And, with no response, I went back to bed and tried to get some rest. If I was in labor, I knew it was going to take a while and I didn't want to be awake for twenty-four hours straight ...
After a mostly sleepless night of tossing and turning, I waited until my husband woke up at 6:00 am to get ready for work. When I could hear him in the kitchen, eating his breakfast, I wandered downstairs to drop the bomb on him.
"Honey," I remember saying. "We might be having a baby today."
The look on his face will never disappear from my mind. It was equal parts sleepiness and shock. I'm pretty sure he almost choked on his cereal before muttering a feeble. "What?"
I repeated that I thought I might be in labor, but that he should go to work anyway. Since I wasn't in any serious pain, I was going to call my doctor's office when it opened at 8:00 am to see what the nurses recommended. I would be okay and there was no use having both of us, nervous and pacing the house ... If things started progressing, I'd give him the okay to hurry home.
He didn't take much coaxing and agreed. He was out the door by 6:30 am and I was alone.
In the hours that followed, I packed our hospital bags: one with granola bars, some CDs, and a change of clothes for him should labor/delivery last into the night, and an overnight bag with toiletries, clothes for me to wear home, and clothes for the baby we'd soon be having. I spent more time on the computer, searching the familiar keywords and checking my email for a response from my friend.
When 8:00 finally rolled around, I called the doctor's office and explained the situation. The nurse essentially canceled my appointment and told me to call back if the contractions (she actually used the word contractions ... This labor thing was becoming more real by the minute) progressed to five minutes apart, if my water broke, or if I was in so much pain I couldn't handle it.
Excited yet nervous that today seemed to be the day, I called my mom at work to tell her the news and to cancel some plans that we had had for later that afternoon. She didn't seem very enthusiastic.
"Are you sure you're in labor?" she kept asking. "What did the doctor say?"
She seemed skeptical and didn't think it was the real thing. The due date was still four days away ...
The hours just dragged by and the contractions, while somewhat uncomfortable, didn't really change. They continued as they had been since 3:00 am. I tried to practice my breathing, took a long, hot shower, and sent my friend an update (coincidentally at 9:23 am) that I really was in labor.
At 11:00 am, my husband returned from work after calling in half of the day. We sat and watched "The Price is Right" together, me bouncing on my exercise ball each time a contraction began. For about the entire hour that we watched the show, my contractions were very regular, coming at every five minutes and lasting for about one.
When a nurse called at around 12:00 pm to check in on me, she gave us the go-ahead to leave for the hospital and said she'd alert them that we were on the way. With that, we grabbed our overnight bags and got in the car.
It was during that drive that I realized how uncomfortable (and dare I say painful) the contractions were becoming. While in the passenger's seat, there was really no way to position myself the way I needed be in order to get through them comfortably. Every little bump the car drove over was irritating. All I wanted to do was lower myself in a nice, hot bath ... Something birth classes told us I'd be able to do in the labor/delivery room as long as my water hadn't broken.
When we arrived at the hospital, my husband dropped me off at the designated entrance and I called the maternity ward from the hospital's "stork line" to let them know that I was on my way up. The security guard nearby asked if I was okay and if I needed a wheelchair. I declined, and when my husband joined me at the entrance we headed for guest check-in (as we had been instructed to do in our classes) and then to the third floor maternity ward.
When we arrived at triage, we were escorted to a tiny room the size of a large closet. There was a chair for my husband and a gurney-like hospital bed for me. At around 1:00 pm, I was checked for the first time and deemed to be only one centimeter dilated.
ONE. MEASLY. CENTIMETER.
All of the cramping and contracting since 1:00 am (twelve long hours) and my body had barely changed.
I felt somewhat deflated ... I had been hoping for at least three or four! What was the point of even being in the hospital so soon? We waited and felt mostly ignored for an hour or so while the nurses got in touch with my doctor. After (finally) talking with her, they instructed us to walk up and down the triage hallway for an hour. If I made any progress, then I'd be admitted.
If not, we'd be sent home.
Feeling like my cervical dilation was now some sort of strange competition, I was determined to stay. So my husband and I dutifully began to walk. We walked ... and walked ... and walked some more. For the first half hour or so, we laughed at how stupid we must have looked. We'd pass the same doorways, see the same patients inside (and they'd see us), then come upon the nurse's station and make our way back again.
At the far end of the hallway, there was a gurney with a CPR dummy on it. It was covered in a sheet and looked like a dead body. Each time we passed it, my husband (a huge horror movie fan) couldn't get over how creepy and weird it was. He even touched its sheet-covered foot and reveled in how life-like it felt. As time went on, these minor distractions were funny and welcomed, because during each pass of the hallway, I noticed that the contractions were becoming more intense. Soon, about twice during each pass, I'd have to brace myself against the wall to keep myself from doubling over in pain.
I hoped like heck we were making progress.
After our hour was up, at about 3:00 pm, we headed back to our cozy, little "closet" and waited. Again, it seemed to take forever, but finally someone came to check me ... Now, I was two centimeters ... Really?!
TWO. MEASLY. CENTIMETERS.
But at least it was enough. My cervix had accomplished a small triumph! We could stay!
Really, I can barely wrap my mind around it.
To commemorate that magnificent event, and to truly join the ranks of "mommybloggers" everywhere, I wanted to share my birth story.
I hope you don't mind reading about it ... If you do, you have been forewarned.
I woke up at about 1:00 am on September 23, 2009 with some minor stomach cramping. My husband had taken up residence on the couch during the night for the past month or so (he couldn't sleep with my pregnant snoring), so my tossing and turning was frustrating only to me. When it became evident that I wasn't going to fall back asleep anytime soon, I wandered into our computer room to putz around until I became tired again.
Being in actual labor was the farthest thing from my mind. I had taken the following day off from work for a routine doctor's appointment and had joked with my coworkers that, although I'd see them soon, they should start taking bets on when and what I'd be having (we wanted to be surprised) since my due date was less than a week away. So, at 1:00 am, I tinkered on the computer for a little while, using Google to research things like "Braxton Hicks" and "bloody show."
Note to self: In the future, steer clear of Google images!
Satisfied that I wasn't experiencing either of those events, and that it was probably just the previous night's chili dog dinner that was haunting me, I returned to bed and actually fell asleep.
At around 3:00 am, I woke up again. This time, the cramps were feeling a little bit more uncomfortable and they were making me feel like I had to go to the bathroom. When I did, I noticed that I had begun spotting ... Weird. I Googled "bloody show" again.
Second note to self: Seriously. Steer clear of Google images!
I returned to the computer, keeping track of the timing of the "cramps" on a scrap piece of paper. Then I sent a friend a message on Facebook. She always said she was an "insomniac" and with a daughter of her own, I thought she might be able to give me some information that Google was apparently withholding. Unfortunately, she must have chosen this particular night/early morning to sleep ... And, with no response, I went back to bed and tried to get some rest. If I was in labor, I knew it was going to take a while and I didn't want to be awake for twenty-four hours straight ...
After a mostly sleepless night of tossing and turning, I waited until my husband woke up at 6:00 am to get ready for work. When I could hear him in the kitchen, eating his breakfast, I wandered downstairs to drop the bomb on him.
"Honey," I remember saying. "We might be having a baby today."
The look on his face will never disappear from my mind. It was equal parts sleepiness and shock. I'm pretty sure he almost choked on his cereal before muttering a feeble. "What?"
I repeated that I thought I might be in labor, but that he should go to work anyway. Since I wasn't in any serious pain, I was going to call my doctor's office when it opened at 8:00 am to see what the nurses recommended. I would be okay and there was no use having both of us, nervous and pacing the house ... If things started progressing, I'd give him the okay to hurry home.
He didn't take much coaxing and agreed. He was out the door by 6:30 am and I was alone.
In the hours that followed, I packed our hospital bags: one with granola bars, some CDs, and a change of clothes for him should labor/delivery last into the night, and an overnight bag with toiletries, clothes for me to wear home, and clothes for the baby we'd soon be having. I spent more time on the computer, searching the familiar keywords and checking my email for a response from my friend.
When 8:00 finally rolled around, I called the doctor's office and explained the situation. The nurse essentially canceled my appointment and told me to call back if the contractions (she actually used the word contractions ... This labor thing was becoming more real by the minute) progressed to five minutes apart, if my water broke, or if I was in so much pain I couldn't handle it.
Excited yet nervous that today seemed to be the day, I called my mom at work to tell her the news and to cancel some plans that we had had for later that afternoon. She didn't seem very enthusiastic.
"Are you sure you're in labor?" she kept asking. "What did the doctor say?"
She seemed skeptical and didn't think it was the real thing. The due date was still four days away ...
The hours just dragged by and the contractions, while somewhat uncomfortable, didn't really change. They continued as they had been since 3:00 am. I tried to practice my breathing, took a long, hot shower, and sent my friend an update (coincidentally at 9:23 am) that I really was in labor.
At 11:00 am, my husband returned from work after calling in half of the day. We sat and watched "The Price is Right" together, me bouncing on my exercise ball each time a contraction began. For about the entire hour that we watched the show, my contractions were very regular, coming at every five minutes and lasting for about one.
When a nurse called at around 12:00 pm to check in on me, she gave us the go-ahead to leave for the hospital and said she'd alert them that we were on the way. With that, we grabbed our overnight bags and got in the car.
It was during that drive that I realized how uncomfortable (and dare I say painful) the contractions were becoming. While in the passenger's seat, there was really no way to position myself the way I needed be in order to get through them comfortably. Every little bump the car drove over was irritating. All I wanted to do was lower myself in a nice, hot bath ... Something birth classes told us I'd be able to do in the labor/delivery room as long as my water hadn't broken.
When we arrived at the hospital, my husband dropped me off at the designated entrance and I called the maternity ward from the hospital's "stork line" to let them know that I was on my way up. The security guard nearby asked if I was okay and if I needed a wheelchair. I declined, and when my husband joined me at the entrance we headed for guest check-in (as we had been instructed to do in our classes) and then to the third floor maternity ward.
When we arrived at triage, we were escorted to a tiny room the size of a large closet. There was a chair for my husband and a gurney-like hospital bed for me. At around 1:00 pm, I was checked for the first time and deemed to be only one centimeter dilated.
ONE. MEASLY. CENTIMETER.
All of the cramping and contracting since 1:00 am (twelve long hours) and my body had barely changed.
I felt somewhat deflated ... I had been hoping for at least three or four! What was the point of even being in the hospital so soon? We waited and felt mostly ignored for an hour or so while the nurses got in touch with my doctor. After (finally) talking with her, they instructed us to walk up and down the triage hallway for an hour. If I made any progress, then I'd be admitted.
If not, we'd be sent home.
Feeling like my cervical dilation was now some sort of strange competition, I was determined to stay. So my husband and I dutifully began to walk. We walked ... and walked ... and walked some more. For the first half hour or so, we laughed at how stupid we must have looked. We'd pass the same doorways, see the same patients inside (and they'd see us), then come upon the nurse's station and make our way back again.
At the far end of the hallway, there was a gurney with a CPR dummy on it. It was covered in a sheet and looked like a dead body. Each time we passed it, my husband (a huge horror movie fan) couldn't get over how creepy and weird it was. He even touched its sheet-covered foot and reveled in how life-like it felt. As time went on, these minor distractions were funny and welcomed, because during each pass of the hallway, I noticed that the contractions were becoming more intense. Soon, about twice during each pass, I'd have to brace myself against the wall to keep myself from doubling over in pain.
I hoped like heck we were making progress.
After our hour was up, at about 3:00 pm, we headed back to our cozy, little "closet" and waited. Again, it seemed to take forever, but finally someone came to check me ... Now, I was two centimeters ... Really?!
TWO. MEASLY. CENTIMETERS.
But at least it was enough. My cervix had accomplished a small triumph! We could stay!
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