Here goes the birth story.
At about 6:15 in the evening on Thursday (the 8th), I was rolling my hips around, knees on the ground and chest on the birthing ball, and stood up to a little gush.
"Oh!" I stopped, looked at Zack, and ran to the bathroom. He tore after me, but not before I could lock the door.
"No!!! Don't lock the door- I wanna see!"
"I'll let you see if I see it's not just nasty stuff, hang on!"
And there were my favorite leopard-print bikini underwear, soaked with clear fluid on the ground. I opened the door and pointed at them. Looked at Zack.
"My water broke."
I called the midwife and announced it once again, so proud-like! She said that that was exciting (exciting is not the term-too mild!) and asked about my contractions... of which there were none. I'd been having bloody show since the day before, when I had my membranes stripped a second time. But no contractions. She said I could walk around, play with nipple stimulation, try to get things started- but not to take more than 4 hours in getting to the hospital.
Zack and I called our parents and went to WalMart, to walk around and for me to get him a small present for when the baby came. We got back home, I copied down the letter I'd written to him, put it in his gift basket, and we took off for the hospital. Checked in at about 10:30... and waited in the waiting room for a LDR (Labor, Delivery, & Recovery) room. Well... they waited, and I walked the halls. Still no contractions
.
Oh, by the way? Zack's aunt and cousin from Mississippi drove in to hang out in the waiting room. Also present at check-in were his mother, father, my mother, Gwenna's godmother, and her godfather. Support system, go.
An hour or so later, we got our room. I declined wearing the hospital gown and put on my bathing suit- a dress-like one-piece with the bottoms cut out (but everything covered up). This first nurse was wonderful. We went over my birth plan. IV hep lock instead of the pole, birthing tub to be set up by Zack when I approached 5 cm, intermittent monitoring instead of continuously being hooked up to the monitor, no use of the word "pain' while I was in hypnosis,quiet and dim room during labor and delivery. I had a natural birth planned. I'd taken any steps I could to reduce my risk of induction, c-section, and needing epidural anesthesia (birthing tub rental and hypno-birthing tracks). She was fantastic and supportive and so helpful.
After another hour of walking around, rolling around and bouncing on the birth ball, more gushes of amniotic fluid... nothing. Not a single contraction on my little monitor strip.
The midwife came in and talked to me about cervadil (to help me dilate- the previous day I was at 2 cm, and needed to be at 10 before attempting delivery) and pitocin (to start the contractions). I had spent weeks obsessing about how much I did NOT want any interventions like that. Especially pitocin- the drug is called "hell-in-a-bag" by experienced users and is reputed to be terribly uncomfortable for the baby; not to mention, this drug routinely starts off the chain of interventions that goes something like
pitocin > greater need for pain relief and rest> epidural anesthesia> greater chance of stalled labor and/or impaired delivery due to numbness> greater chance of c-section surgery
Still, I knew this was necessary because the rule of thumb is that a woman in labor should not be still pregnant 24 hours after the water breaks, because the longer the membranes have been ruptured, the more at-risk she is for serious infection, along with her baby. Taking that into account and the fact that first-time moms' labors are usually pretty long, she wanted to get started on the process right away. I wasn't bitter or terribly upset or even discouraged about how well I'd be able to handle the pain, because I knew my midwife was doing everything she could to give me the birth I wanted while looking out for the baby's and my health.
At about midnight she inserted the cervadil, and the plan was to come back at 6 AM to start the pitocin. She said if I got really uncomfortable to call her back to the hospital, because she was going to go home and try to rest. I wondered how I would know if I really needed her there, and she said, "You'll know! If you wish I was here, that's when you call."
So I kept moving around on the birth ball, and not long after the cervadil was in, I ran the visitors out of my LDR and tried to eat (Pinkberry- this amazing, light sort of frozen yogurt. My favorite!). That was a no-go. About 1 AM,the contractions picked up... and they were much different from how I expected labor to start. From 1-3 minutes apart, an automatic 7 on the pain scale. I thought that early labor would be much different... I was told that everything was supposed to progress from spaced out and short and tolerable to longer, stronger, and closer together. Soon the contractions were coming one on top of the other. Any movement I made triggered a contraction. Laying on my back, standing up, sitting down, all triggered continuous, painful contractions. I got the chance to get in the shower, and I have to say that it was helpful at that early point, and it made me feel hopeful that this labor, which was supposed to increase in pain quite a bit before it was over, cold be managed by using hydrotherapy.
At some point I got really pissed off at Zack because he noticed the ipod was dead and made no move to tell me or to send someone for the charger at our house, and my hypnobabies stuff was on there. My mom ended up going to get the charger and we tried to put on hypnobabies... but it was too late. I couldn't relax enough to put myself under; I was shaking, and vocalizing to the point of purely screaming through the harder contractions. The pains now came one on top of the other. Even though the pain was now a 9 on the pain scale, and breathing through contractions was no longer working, as soon as one contractions was over, my mind was instantly relaxed and I was ready for another one. Never once during this time did I think, "I am not going to make it without some sort of relief." I just kept taking them one at a time, and I really felt good about getting closer and closer to the delivery. I even slept between contractions, seconds at a time, and sometimes a couple of minutes... they'd given me benadryl with the cervadil so I could sleep before the pains became too intense... hah. I hadn't gotten more than 6 hours of sleep in a day for several days, and I did of course need my rest, but the benadryl was not a good idea. My mom said at one point I was on my way back from the bathroom (with help) and I fell asleep.
We'd called the midwife, maybe about 3 AM. When she got there she said we'd take the cervadil out (as it was hurting more than helping- my "contractions" were irregular, needlessly painful, and not helping dilation much) and we'd start the pitocin early. Again, I wasn't entirely worried. I'd sat through my sister's labor, and she'd been on pitocin. I knew it was very painful, but I also knew it couldn't be worse than what I was going through. Zack, ever-helpful and caring, asked the midwife if I could rest before they put me on pitocin, after they took out the cervadil. She said that we could wait about an hour, so I laid in bed with Zack, and he fell asleep. He asked if I would be angry if he napped and I said of course not- so he laid in the recliner next to the bed while I continued to take the pains one at a time. At some point, I was angry, because I'd had to vocalize through several contractions and he was sleeping soundly. I yelled at him a few times... still nothing. Threw a pillow at him. Nothing. A few minutes later, he came to, and I told him that I was not going through this alone- if he wanted to sleep now he better go get my mom! So not typical of the both of us- him sleeping while I labored, and me yelling at him (and throwing things?!)... but this was labor, some sort of twilight zone.
At about 4 AM, they hung the pitocin, and neither of us realized what was going on. Me, because I was working through pains, and Zack, because he was still not really awake. After the pitocin was hooked up, I needed to remain in bed to be monitored in case the baby reacted negatively. At some point, Zack asked the midwife if my labor was progressing alright now that it had been going for a while (which was our hope from the beginning- that if I did indeed need the pitocin, my body would pick up labor on its own, and I would be able to get off of it), and she said no... and no one had to tell me this. The contractions were becoming more rhythmic, building up, peaking, letting go... but they were still too close together and shorter than they needed to be. Throughout the hard labor in which I was not drugged, my contractions were 0-3 minutes apart. All 11 hours of it...
I had very few cervical checks, and the only one I remember before 5 cm was when I was 4 cm- and being 1 cm away from the goal I had to meet to use my birthing tub, I asked if we could start setting it up. Then the midwife told me about the underwater monitoring device being misplaced, and me not being able to use the tub while on pitocin because of that. She said we should wait until 6 or 7 cm and see if my body picked up labor enough to stop the pitocin. The contractions were still horrible (and me, I didn't complain about a kidney stone I had until I couldn't breathe and was urinating bright red blood- even then I was walking and talking- and my eardrum ruptured twice, I had a staph infection that nearly warranted amputation... I know pain!) but we were close. 1 or 2 cm more and I'd have relief. I was still tired beyond belief and still falling asleep between waves. But we were close.
The shifts changed at about 7 and I got a new nurse. Before I was properly introduced to her, she came in to check on me and was really alarmed at the amount of pain I was in. She tried to move me and I tried to explain that any movement triggered pains and this had been the best position so far, on my side.
The midwife then came in and introduced her to me. She said that she assigned herself to cases where the mother was going for a natural delivery. I instantly fell in love with her, felt more at ease and even a little proud, because my efforts so far had earned me special attention from someone who had been there and wanted to be supportive. Esther caught me in a contraction and immediately after, moved me next to the bed on the birthing ball and coached me through some hard breaths and rocking on the ball. I no longer had to vocalize through the contractions. They felt exactly like what I thought they'd be- rhythmic, hard, manageable. The nurse said I may have been in a position that was compressing nerves or putting too much pressure on my uterus or cervix, causing extra irritation, while I was laying down. I looked at Zack and said, "I can do this!" Not that I'd doubted myself before- but suddenly, dealing with the pain that was sure to increase had a much better outlook.
From around 8 AM to 11 AM, I breathed through contractions and rocked through them. They got stronger and longer. I was getting so very, very tired. I'd been in painful labor for 10 hours. I'd had no rest to speak of in well over 24 hours, and I was looking forward to the end. After a particularly painful contraction, the midwife came in and explained to me that I actually wasn't eligible for a water birth, because a contraindication was premature rupture of membranes- water breaking before labor starts.
I was defeated.
I looked at Zack and told him I couldn't do it. I needed the epidural. I needed rest. I sobbed through whatever happened after that, which I don't remember, and the next thing I do remember was Zack coming back into the room from somewhere else, crying. I asked him why he was upset- I thought it might be because I'd given up. But he said that he was so proud of me, working through the pain for so long and accepting every feared intervention as it came, and that he was sorry that it didn't work out the way it should have. He wished it had been easier, and this wasn't fair. That made me feel infinitely better, and also very touched. I was looking at myself as a failure, and found out after the delivery that Zack wasn't the only one who now held deep respect for me for everything we'd worked through that day. The nurse even told me her story- her first birth came with an epidural. She said it was noting to be ashamed of, and I should be proud of how far I took it.
I labored along for about another hour while I received IV fluids in preparation for the epidural. The anesthesiologist came to my rescue at noon. The epidural placement went perfectly, and one of my trophy moments from the labor and delivery process was how still I kept myself through a contraction while the tube was being placed in my spine. I had no pain from the local anesthetic, and no bothers from the epidural placement. The catheter was placed after and I didn't feel a thing. Almost instantly, I had a fantastic numbness in my legs and my pelvis and across my back and stomach. This relief was blissful.
The midwife did a cervical check after the placement of the epidural, per my request, since I knew the check would trigger an extra contraction and I'd rather have that happen when I wasn't feeling them. Five centimeters.
Five centimeters.
Had my membranes not ruptured before labor began, had the waterproof equipment not been misplaced, had I not been on pitocin, I would have made it to my goal. Even with the added pain of that wacky cervadil response, my water being broken (this increases the pain of contractions, since there is no longer much lubrication between the body inside and the uterus contracting around it), and the pitocin, I would have made it. And that brings me just a little bit of peace.
So here we were, 18 hours after my water had broken, and I'd progressed 3 centimeters. I had 5 to go in 6 hours.
After the epidural, I napped for at least an hour. Zack napped almost 3 hours. He woke up when I got my dad, who'd showed up with my stepmother, to wake him up. I didn't want to wake him, but I was shaking pretty badly and I felt that my center of tension was in my shoulders, and I needed him to help me relax so it didn't get too bad. Shaking is a common side effect of the epidural, so I didn't worry. Not too long after, the nurse came to take my temperature. I had a fever.
Remember how I mentioned the time allowance of 24 hours after membranes rupture before a c-section was indicated? Well... that's because of risk of serious infection, if you'll remember. Here I was, probably 3 hours away from my deadline, with a fever. I believe that the only reason I didn't get prepped for c-section at that point in time is simply that my midwife is an angel, and did everything she could to help me birth naturally and avoid major surgery. Antibiotics were hung on the IV pole and I tried my best to relax.
This cervical check showed me at a "stretchy 7". The nurse could stretch the cervix to 9 cm, but it sprung back, so we called it that. At 5 o'clock, I was fully dilated.
Funny thing about epidurals: they can sometimes facilitate labor. A big fear with epidurals is that they stall labor, and this is often the case. However, when the mind and body are in such a state as to be so tense and stressed that the body is working against its own labor, any relaxation helps. I had taken weeks to dilate to 2 cm, 12 hours to dilate an extra 3 cm, and 5 hours to dilate the last 5 cm. No one can say for sure whether the epidural helped save the day; some labors simply progress more quickly after 5 cm. Even if the epidural had nothing to do with my cervix's race across the finish line, there is no denying that the rest it allowed me helped me through what was coming next.
I wasn't feeling the pressure to push, so the midwife and I decided I could labor down a bit longer, maybe an hour, before trying to push. I still had a fever, but I was allowed to rest and wait.
The shift changed a bit early and I got my original nurse back before I had to start pushing. Hah- 3 shifts of nurses helped me through my labor and delivery. We found out that I wasn't contracting at all anymore. No wonder I didn't feel pressure. The epidural was turned off.
At 6 o'clock, I started to push. We had to get the baby out. After I began to push, the fever broke, and contractions, little as they were, resumed. They continued to be so subtle that I could never tell when one was happening, and nearer to the end I frequently frustrated my poor midwife because I pushed in between contractions, not knowing that was what I was doing- I was just pushing at guessed times along with the constant pressure.
And let me explain the pressure. Something was stuck in my body. I was panicking. I felt that every push I made was ineffective, and I needed something to change. At some point I asked Zack to leave for a little bit (to spare him some of the more gory details of pushing) and to return when it was time to deliver. My mom came back in his place, after his graceful exit. I can't explain what all his support and understanding did for me through this experience, and I'm sure I'm more in love with him now than I ever thought I could be.
At this point, this was all I knew: there was no baby, there was no progress. Just something stuck and an irrepressible urge to move from the position that had me on my back with my knees to my ears, to all fours. Several times, my midwife explained to me patiently that it was dangerous for me to move to that position, because my legs and knees were not dependable after the epidural. I was no longer myself- I'd returned to the Twilight Zone- Delivery Edition. I pleaded to just try and get on my knees. She said okay, we'll try it. She, the nurse, and my mom all draped the tubes and cords hooked up to me around my body in the appropriate places for me to turn. I made my way to my knees, grabbed the top of the inclined hospital bed, and resumed pushing. Quite a bit of the pressure was relieved, and I felt progress- but I was still not completely present, and suddenly in more pain- the baby was coming down. The midwife asked if she should go get Zack and my first reflex was to say no. I actually did say no. Then it sunk in, what I'd just said, and corrected myself. "Yes! Yes I want him here." I was upset with myself for actually allowing the possibility of him not being there for the birth of his daughter- this moment we'd planned so extensively for.
Zack arrived shortly and held my hand. While I screamed and strained a-la Exorcist, he was standing by my side, letting me know how great I was doing, saying that she had such pretty hair, they could see her coming, we were so close...
I was terribly pissed off at my nurse for no reason, at that point. The midwife warned me that the nurse was going to take the catheter out. After that, I felt this incredibly awful sensation in that area, and I thought she might not have done that yet. Then I realized... this was the breaking point for my skin. This was that "ring of fire" as the baby crowned. Several more pushes, and there was the head. Then one more push, and she slipped out. My water gushed, and gushed, just like you wouldn't believe, after 24 hours of it leaking and gushing out of my body. Zack caught the baby.
"You did so good. She's so pretty. You did so good!" I looked at him and there were tears in his eyes.
There was no endorphin rush. There was no urgent pull to look at my baby. I looked down on the bed and saw the dreaded meconium-stained fluid covering the sheets. No baby yet.
Zack held her under me and I saw her beautiful face for the first time. She was very pretty. Gwenna Michele was born at 7:37 PM, September 9, 2010,7 lbs. 14 oz., and nearly 21 inches long- after 18 hours of labor and over an hour and a half of pushing.
It was in my birth plan to delay assessments and immediately nurse her, and bond before any tests were done, and for all the tests to be done in the room rather than the nursery. I knew the chance of all that flew out the window with the meconium. The midwife was once again very patient with me and made sure I knew what was going on in my disoriented state. She delivered the placenta and I begged for a shower. I also got some pain medication for the cramping and what would soon become swelling/bruising. There were no tears... but it still hurts.
Little girl stayed in the nursery while I was moved to my postpartum room, and I missed her until 11:30 that night, when I finally got to hold and nurse the little doll (nothing was wrong with her). She latched on right away, and breastfeeding has been very successful. She's going through a growth spurt right now, which I really appreciate, since it's helping me get my figure back. She's in disposable diapers until the umbilical stump falls off, and I'll be more comfortable diapering her with our prefolds and covers that right now, rub up against her healing belly button. I sleep with her in our Moby wrap, and she loves it, and sleeps all night with the exception of waking up to nurse (and then falling right back asleep). During the day, if I want to get on the computer, I 'll wrap her up then as well. She is spoiling me to death with cuddles. She's been picking up her head quite a bit, and has more wakeful time during the day where she makes funny faces at me and I get to sing to her and read to her. She's a pretty happy baby... and of course, I think that she couldn't be more perfect.
Obviously, the story had a happy ending. But I think it was a happy beginning and middle as well. Even though it would have broken my heart to know ahead of time how things unfolded, I am so grateful that I had my midwife and those wonderful nurses and my gigantic support system to see me through and help me understand that I shouldn't be ashamed. I did good. We all did good.
And hey, there's always next time.
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