Here's the first thing you need to understand. I was in prodromal (early and, as Dr. Bradley might have said, 'putzy putzy') labor for two weeks. TWO. WEEKS. Yeah, see, that part? Not so much with the fun. Day after day of 'is this it?', holding my figurative breath and waiting, only to get...nothing. Nada. Zippo. The emotional toll is rough enough...add to that the quite painful contractions that went on and on and on and on...well, you get the point. By the time the week of our first predicted due date rolled around, I was exhausted and more than a little rattled. This would prove to be a problem later. On Thursday, June 20th, my midwife stripped my membranes in the hopes of getting labor
started since we were facing a potential induction (I had gestational diabetes, and with that comes the concern of early placental failure, a real risk that I was afraid to face) and she knew I
wanted a totally natural childbirth (NUCB). Immediately
afterward, I began having strong contractions, so we got excited that it might
have worked. After an hour or so, the
strength wore off, though the contractions kept coming in an uneven rhythm and
lacked any feeling of pain. In fact,
they felt good—tingly and warm. I
figured if this was active labor, I was set!
I knew there was more to come, however, and settled in for a long
labor. As the day went on, however, the
contractions really died down, and by that night, they had completely
stopped. I was heartbroken and
incredibly disappointed because I’d been so excited. I cried myself to sleep that night thinking
that was the end.
Friday, my husband’s office threw us a baby luncheon/shower
at a local restaurant, and everyone commented that I looked like I could go
into labor at any moment. I tried to joke
along, but I was feeling really unwell and not feeling a lot of fetal movement,
so I was getting concerned. After the
luncheon, I went home to rest and see if I began to feel better. I got home around 12:30pm, and at 1pm on the
dot I was suddenly slammed with rhythmic, cramping back pain that took my
breath away. It became clear pretty
quickly that these cramps had a nicely established pattern—5 minutes apart,
lasting 60-70 seconds. I called my
midwife’s office and left a message for the nurse, then called my husband at
work. I kept timing the cramping and
realized quickly that I was having real back labor (hooray). For those of you who don't know, back labor is usually the result of the position the baby is in as it drops, and it feels exactly the way I would imagine being rhythmically clobbered with Thor's hammer might feel. (I am only mildly exaggerating.) Again, this point--and the cause behind it--becomes important later. The
midwife called back right away and told me that despite my plan to stay home as long as I could tolerate the pain, she thought I ought to head over to labor and delivery because she
was sure I was in active labor and it was progressing fast. Thomas hustled home, and we put our bags in the car and headed to the
hospital. I should also point out that during this time, I talked many times to my sister, Melissa and Kathryn, all of whom were very excited and incredibly supportive. Thanks, guys! :)
We arrived at the hospital, where I got to declare, grinning through the pain, 'I'm in labor hooray'. Thomas and I were escorted to triage and hooked up to a contraction monitor and a fetal heart rate monitor. A nurse checked me (ouch) and
told me I was 4cm and 80% effaced.
Charlotte’s head was also low, but not low enough. She told me she figured I would go home and
come back when things got really rolling, but that my doctor would be in soon. An hour later, my doctor came in and checked
me. I was now a solid 5cm dilated but
still only 80% effaced. Charlotte’s
heart rate was still holding steady, but my doctor was concerned about the lack
of accelerations. She told me that I was
experiencing dysfunctional labor and that we could do one of two things: either go home and wait it out, or let her
break my water to try to establish a consistent pattern. I was overwhelmed by both ideas—I was ready
to move forward and get to “real” labor, but I also wanted to allow Charlotte
to be in charge of her own birth. I was
confused and a little scared, so I started to cry. I asked my doctor what she would choose in my
place, and she told me that she would choose to have her water broken and in
fact had when she was in my shoes during her own natural labor. My contractions were still coming hard and
steadily, and she was sure this would help me progress. Thomas and I asked for some time to
discuss our options, and in the end decided to trust my doctor’s extensive
knowledge and have my water broken. Off
we were sent to a labor room to settle in.
We went over our birth plan with the nurses that were there, even though
they were about to change shifts at 7pm.
The primary nurse was incredibly skeptical of the plan to go natural and
even told me that she’d never seen a first time mom come in with that plan and
follow through. I was glad she was about
to leave! She set me up with a Heplocked
IV (after the 3rd attempt, she called another tech, thankfully!) and
then my doctor came in to break my water.
She told me it wouldn’t hurt—liar!
Well, the breaking of my water didn’t hurt, but having her hand where it was did! Then, the contractions
exploded, and I was scared I couldn’t go through with the NUCB. I started crying and telling my husband that I
wanted the epi, and he did exactly as I had asked him during our childbirth
classes—get me to try “just one more thing, just one more contraction”, and
then we would decide on the epi. He
calmed me down just in time for the arrival of my doula and my new nurse, who
was a huge fan of the idea of natural childbirth and made it her mission to see
me through. By then, the rest of both sides of the family had arrived, and things
were moving along slowly, but moving.
I walked the halls for ages, bounced on the birth ball,
swayed in place and got in and out of the tub, all in an effort to progress my
labor. After a couple of hours, my brilliant doula Lisa suggested using a breast pump to get my contractions into a stronger and more
effective rhythm. My nurse brought it in
and I got started. That worked—a little
too well! My contractions got twice as
strong, and I was struggling to breathe through them. I spent 15 minutes using the pump at a time
and dealing with incredibly unpleasant contractions. I really didn’t want to use the pump
again! It worked, so I would use it
every hour for 15 minutes at a time while laboring in the tub to try to ease my
pain. My nurse checked me again and I
was thrilled to hear I was 8cm dilated. Progress!
At about 1am, endorphins kicked in and I started feeling really
good—like Wonder Woman! My birth team
(Thomas, Lisa, Calley, Melissa and my awesome nurses, Jenn and Jessica) put on a 90’s playlist and
danced and sang. We were really having
fun, and I was breezing through my contractions. My husband and I even slow danced to a
romantic song—just us in the room, dancing together and enjoying a few moments
alone before we became parents. It was
probably the highlight of my labor.
Then, at about 3am, I hit transition—HARD. It was nasty and dark and ugly and I was
feeling out of control and scared. Time
lost all meaning and I remember very few specifics about it. I remember my husband crying to my sister
that he was having a hard time seeing me in that kind of pain, and I remember
briefly seeing my father during one contraction and watching him get upset at the sight of me struggling. The only other thing I remember was
hearing my late mother’s voice telling me that she was proud of me and that I
could do this, not for me but for my baby girl.
Hours went by, and as the sun was rising, I was checked again. 8cm…no more progress. By that point, I was completely exhausted and
my contractions, though still steady, were no longer effective at advancing my
labor. I expressed concern to my birth
team that I was already so tired that I was afraid I’d have no energy to push,
so my nurse suggested something to combat my nausea and help me rest. I agreed and once it was on board, I was able
to doze for a few hours.
Around 11:30am, my doctor came back in and checked me
again. No progress. She did an external examination as well and
told me as best she could tell, not only was Charlotte posterior (hence the back pain and contractions),
but her head was transverse in my pelvis and she had a nuchal hand on top of
it. Remember how I said her position was important? Yeah. She was at an angle in there and was wedged in fairly tightly, and she was sunny side up--face up instead of down. (A nuchal hand just means that her hand was on her head--ever since the moment the child grew her hands, they've been in her face. Even now, she does it.) Because my doctor was such a big believer
in natural birth and knew how much I wanted that, she was upset on my behalf
but advised me that a c-section was the safest bet at this point. My husband and I talked it over and agreed
that this was all we could do. She
called for the epidural and then (I found out later) went out into the hall and
cried out of sadness and frustration. I
got the epidural and had a chance to speak to everyone who was waiting for the
baby’s arrival. The timing could not
have been more appropriate—my blood pressure began to drop and along with it,
Charlotte’s heart rate. Suddenly, the
“this is our best option” became “this is happening NOW”. My family and birth team gathered for a
prayer and I was whisked to the OR. First
cut took place at 1:44pm and Charlotte was born screaming at 1:53pm. 7lbs, 5.6oz, and 20.25” long with a head full
of golden brown hair and the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen. She was and is healthy in every way.
I'm not going to go into all of the issues after her birth--this isn't the time. This is just for celebrating the miracle of my little baby and the work that went into getting her safely--by me, my birth team and my doctor, who I firmly believe saved Charlotte's life. It was an incredible experience from start to finish. I recovered well from the surgery and feel totally fine physically. Emotionally, my recovery has been a little rougher. I am
disappointed and sad about the outcome of my birth experience, but I had nearly
24 hours of natural labor, and I am so proud of what I learned my body and spirit
can do as a result. I got the best of
all birth worlds in one shot! In the end, my daughter arrived healthy and safe, and I am working through my feelings about the birth with the help of a lot of loving and supportive people.
So there you have it--the epic drama of the arrival of my first born child. It was a wild ride, and when I think back on it, I'm happily startled at everything I was able to do. So many people figured I'd never make it without an epidural, but I did until the time came when I had no choice. (By the way, that was one heck of an epidural--I was numb all the way up to my shoulders!) I am more proud of myself for getting through it the way I did than of anything I've ever done in my life. Charlotte is the best thing that ever happened to me, and I'm so blessed to be her mommy. Raising her is going to prove to be the ultimate adventure, and Thomas and I can't wait!
