Let me preface this post by saying that it is posted as a story and not a lecture. Personally, I do not care how you delivered, where you delivered, with whose help, with or without what medical help. This is how I delivered and how it made me feel. This is not a blanket statement. It is not to discourage anyone’s future plans. It is not to demean anyone’s methods. It is my story.
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Do any of us even remember the pain of birth? I do remember parts, but I don’t remember a lot. I mean if we remembered the pain involved in having this precious child, would any woman (excluding moms of multiples) ever willingly have more than one child? I remember being in the delivery room and telling my husband (fiancé at the time) that we were not EVER having more kids. I was induced due to polyhydramnios (the doctors told me that I had enough ‘water’ to house 3 babies – no wonder my boy is such a fish when it comes to pools and lakes and ponds). The contractions and discomfort and the actual pushing were bad. They hurt. I did elect to have an epidural, but it didn’t take and after 5 attempts I was really done with holding that position and just decided that I had no other option and women do it all the time so I could do it. And I did.
Having Baby T with full feeling was so empowering. I now know how truly strong I can be. When I try to remember, I do. My point is though, that even though I can focus on and remember his birth I don’t “feel” that pain. I would gladly have another child. Going into this next pregnancy (whenever that may be) I know I can do it. I walked into T’s pregnancy thinking I couldn’t do it and wanted my epi when I was 6 months along. Next time I can walk in knowing I can do it and knowing that the drugs may not work, so why bother giving myself false hope, but knowing that I did deliver T and an hour later walked to my recovery room and that I can do it again.
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So here’s the full story from what I remember.
I was due on September 28, 2013. Starting at 23-25 weeks I started getting this awful back pain. The first time it happened I seriously thought I was having a heart attack. My chest tightened and everything felt heavy. I had shooting pains all along the top of my back. Stupidly I didn’t go to the doctors. I should have rushed right to the ER. Who thinks they’re having a heart attack at 24 years old, 6 months pregnant and doesn’t go to the doctor? Anyways, I walked. I walked and walked. I sat. I laid down. And then it got worse. We were living with my dad at the time and he suggested a warm shower. My entire pregnant belly hardened and stretched. It was scary. I cried. Mr. K got me in the shower and it did help to a point. I mentioned it at my doctor’s appointment and they said they couldn’t do much for me now because nothing was happening, but the next time it happened to go to the ER and they would take care of me. So a week later it happened again and away we went. They put those heart monitor pads on me and the ER doctor (not an OB/Gyn) made me feel like an idiot. They said with the summer heat I was probably just dehydrating, pumped me with fluids, and sent me home with the promise that I would drink double the water. These episodes kept happening and I kept pushing through with showers and rotating hot and cold on my back.
At 35 weeks we were out getting frozen yogurt with my dad and a couple friends. It started happening again and I couldn’t handle it. It was too painful. It was worse than the other times. When we got to the ER Mr. K made me wait in the car so he could get help. I had a flood of nurses and transporters outside in a couple second. The L&D nurses thought it could be back labor. The doctor said it wasn’t and asked if I thought it was my gallbladder. I’m not a doctor, but if that’s what you think let’s go with it. (He was the only doctor I really didn’t like in the rotation) So away I went for an ultrasound on my gallbladder. It was my gallbladder. So I was told to avoid just about everything beside BRAT foods and I would be fine.
At my 37 week appointment I was scheduled to have twice weekly NSTs because they noticed I was measuring ahead and my waters were a little high. So I went in for my first on a Tuesday (September 17). I was there forever because Baby T would not stop moving and kept knocking the monitor off. He had a vendetta against anything on my belly. I couldn’t rest a glass there, the Doppler, ultrasound wand, etc. he would kick it off. I was sent to a BPP to check my water levels. The tech said my waters were back to normal. She measured my waters at 18 which was the very highest point of the “normal” scale. The doctor wanted me to do a 24 urine collection and come back the next day for a level 2 ultrasound with a pregnancy ultrasound tech, as opposed to the tech who did my BPP and also my gallbladder scan, different skills I assume.
On Wednesday September 18th I went in for my level 2 ultrasounds and the doctor immediately admitted me to be induced. The ultrasounds tech grabbed her supervisor thinking she was reading something wrong. The doctor supervising came in and redid the entire ultrasound and told me “[they] needed to get the baby out of me immediately or [I’m] risking fetal death.” I was terrified. They then explained to me that they do not what the tech from the night before saw but my levels were no where near lowered and were extremely high. I do not remember the exact number but it was between 40 and 48, average being 8-18.
So upstairs to L&D I went, crying hysterically. I was on my lunch break at work so I called my boss and told her I wasn’t coming back and briefly explained why. I tried to get ahold of Mr. K, my boss tried, repeatedly. I finally got ahold of my dad who went and got Mr. K.
My induction started at 3pm on Wednesday September 18th. They inserted cervadil, started Pitocin, tried to get the epi port in (they were worried once my water broke they would need to do an emergency C-Section because his cord could rip down with the breaking of my water). After 3 unsuccessful attempts I stopped them and said they would find another way if I needed an emergency C. Not much progress. I was only at 3cm and not going anywhere quickly.
They had me bounce on a yoga ball, lay with a peanut ball between my legs. At noon on Thursday they were going to just put a pin sized hole in my water and let it slow leak to relieve pressure and hopefully make it so his cord wouldn’t come ripping down and injure him. The failed and broke it completely. Soaked myself, the bed, the sheets, the padding, the doctor, and a nurse. Everyone went to change. Someone helped me change jonnies.
Slow progress. Went through change of shift in nurses and on call doctors.
Still nothing much going on.
Couldn’t sleep because I was in pain. Couldn’t eat. The last thing I really ate was dinner on Tuesday night. I was allowed to eat something light on Wednesday night, but I threw it up.
By midnight I was begging for a C Section because I couldn’t handle the pain. They offered me another epi because my water was broken I might be able to bend more. So I did. They got it in on the first try. Everything was going good. I was told it would take effect in 20 minutes, fully. 20 minutes later in comes a nurse, one I didn’t like. She cathed me. That’s when I realized it hadn’t taken effect. That hurt. And I felt like I had to pee, but I couldn’t. I yelled at her. She did nothing about it. I finally got a nurse to listen and realize it had not taken. She gave me a booster shot. Nothing happened. She called back the anaesthesiologist and had them recheck, flush lines, etc. Still nothing. 5 tries in total and I wasn’t numb.
At 5am Friday morning I was in so much pain. I writhed against the bed and holding the edges holding in screams. At 7am there was a shift change and in walked Nurse Nancy. Nurse Nancy is one of my favorite characters in this story. She stayed with me, not leaving my side and helped me through each contraction. She had me chanting “hot hot hot hot haaa,” and I had to enunciate the “t” welcoming back my high school drama days. We made it to 8am when I measured 7cm. At 9am I told Nurse Nancy I HAD to push. She told me to bear down and she would get the doctor. The doctor checks me and I’m at 9.5cm. She goes to scrub in and says I can push at 9:30.
I need to push.
I tell Nurse Nancy I’m pushing. She says to bear down. I push. I’ve never pushed a baby out before. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I’m doing it. My body does what it needs to do. Nurse Nancy says she can see the head.
The doctor comes back, ready for action. My body already has this going on.
There’s a student nurse in the room. This is her first delivery. She gets assigned my right leg. Mr. K has my left. I have both of my thighs.
I got a leg cramp in my right leg and told everyone I refused to push.
The cramp passed and I was back to pushing.
2 pushes and it burned. It burned. I put my hands behind my back and half sit up telling the doctor it hurt. It burned. She told me she knew but one more push and his head would be out.
I pushed. They counted to 10. I pushed til 15. I needed this to be over.
His head was out.
1 more push and he’ll be out. You have this.
I take in my best breath and push when I feel it. His shoulders are out. She pulls the rest of him.
10:17am.
He’s here.
I want to hold him. I should speak up, but I’m so tired. They weigh him and clean him and do their usual routine. In the hallway they play a lullaby signifying a baby has been born. Then comes the part no one warned me about. I knew I had a placenta. I know where babies come from and what’s in there, but no one told me it was like giving birth again. Its out. I get stitched up. Just a small tear and an abrasion that she cannot stitch, probably from the cath.
I finally get to hold him.
This boy who has kicked me and I’ve felt move for so long. I finally get to kiss his face. He’s soft and tiny. He’s perfect.
He latches almost immediately. I’m proud that he knows what to do. I’m so tired. I haven’t slept since Tuesday night besides ten minute cat naps. I’m dozing.
Someone brings me food. The most delicious grilled cheese and tomato soup I have ever had.
An hour later we are ready to give up this room and move to recovery. They bring me a wheelchair. I need to walk though. I’ve been mostly bed ridden for three days. They follow me with the wheelchair, but I walk the whole way.
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I’m utterly sure that more occurred in this story. I’m sure I’m forgetting details. I have written this story out so many times and every time there is a new detail added or one removed.
I love my birth story because it is mine. It belongs to me. When I look back almost a full year later and rewrite, reread, and remember this birth I feel such a sense of pride. Obviously, there was help from others from the beginning stages, but I grew a human baby inside of me. It was my nourishment he thrived off of. It was my ribs he lodged his foot in. It was my body he stretched. It was my body he exited. It was my pain to bear and mine alone. I felt every contraction. I pushed him out. No one did that for me. They encouraged me and talked me through it. They held my hand and wiped my brow. They listened to me scream. They saw me cry. But I did it.
For future births I have learned my body. I know how my body reacts to things. I know more of what to expect. I have different expectations going into another birth than I did going into Baby T’s. Going into his birth I figured the doctors and nurses knew what needed to go on and they would direct me. I know his birth was different because it was an induction, but no matter what some factors will not change. I will tell them when I am pushing. I will tell them when I am ready. My body knows. My body can tell me. They only know what usually happens. They don’t know my body. I will know that the epidural did not take and that I was still able to deliver my child. So next time I will not even get the epi because it is not worth it to me. I will tell them that I want my baby immediately. His weight and height will not change in that 30 seconds of cuddle time I take. I don’t care if he’s “dirty” or “slimy.” Its my “dirt” and “slime.” Most importantly, I want a mirror. I want to see what is going on with my body. I don’t want to doctor to tell me she can see the head, I want to see the head. In the future I may even decide I do not want a hospital birth. I may give birth in a tub or on my bed or in a field. But, I know my body and my body will tell me what is right and how this whole shebang is going to happen because my body is strong and smart and is a mother’s body.
So on September 20th when I wish my son a happy birthday; I am also going to wish my body a happy birthday because without its strength and intuition who knows where we would be.
FlipFlopsAndFastFood 