Rowan's Birth Day

I’ll admit that I grew up fearing the idea of birth. Everyone I talked to made it sound really scary and excruciatingly painful. The screaming and tears of movie births didn’t help. I remember as a young girl asking my mom what it felt like, and her answer had to do with knives stabbing you in places where the sun don’t shine. Screaming, tears, and pain pain PAIN. I knew that I had to change this core belief that birth is inherently out-of-control painful if I wanted a successful natural birth, so I read all the positive birth stories I could find. Almost every day during the third trimester, I listened to these positive affirmations before bed: https://archive.org/details/HypnoBirthing Super cheesy, yes (Warren calls them the “Rainbow Pooping” soundtrack. LOL!), but surprisingly effective. I think hearing these things over and over made me believe them, and it really gave me confidence.

I had prepared for labor like it was a marathon race, keeping in shape and as healthy as possible. Every day before bed or a nap, I practiced relaxing my muscles and breathing deeply, keeping my face calm and my mind quiet. I attended Zumba and water aerobics classes right up until my due date, and went on lots of walks. I was so ready.

But my body had other plans – it was stalling like a car engine stuck revving in neutral. 40 weeks came and went, and I was still having frequent but inconsistent contractions. “Irritable uterus,” they told me. Contractions would wake me up at night, baby had dropped at 35 weeks, dilated to 1.5, but still… things did not move forward. I felt frustrated and impatient. I’m glad my mom was there to keep me company. Those last few weeks of pregnancy were the longest of my life!

At my 41-week appointment, my midwife ordered another ultrasound and began to hesitantly talk induction. She’d been keeping a close eye on baby because I was measuring very small and having a hard time gaining weight, but he passed all the non-stress tests with flying colors. However, hospital policy meant I would be closely monitored every other day and induced by Saturday at the latest.

On Wednesday, we came in for another ultrasound. The on-call OB took a look and said he was concerned that the levels of amniotic fluid were getting low. He recommended induction. I talked it over with family and decided to give it one more night. We scheduled a tentative Cytotec induction for the next day and prayed that he would come on his own first.

It’s funny, I had always planned to labor at home until the last minute (we live 2 min from the hospital) and stagger through the doors breathing dramatically, pausing for a contraction as I got checked in and maybe snapping at someone, like they do in the movies, arriving just in time for the doctor to catch the baby. Instead, on Thursday morning we made waffles, finished packing bags, changed into comfy clothes, and made our way leisurely across the river. We checked in cheerfully at 8:30 and made ourselves comfortable. The nurse wanted to put an IV in immediately “because it’s hospital policy,” but I convinced her to hold off until the moment of induction arrived. Good thing, too, because we waited…and waited… and waited… talking and laughing and napping and eating snacks and watching movies on Youtube, sooo excited to meet our little boy. It would have been much harder to relax with a needle stuck in my arm. I was still having contractions, but they were easy to ignore. Just like they had been for weeks. 

At around 11:00, my midwife Mercedes finally came in and explained the holdup. She disagreed with the OB about the previous day’s fluid levels being concerning, “He’s very…conservative. I would have just sent you home for another day or two.” She also didn’t want to use the pill Cytotec to induce me: “With Pitocin, we can control the amounts, but with Cytotec, once it’s in there, it’s in there.” Especially with my already irritable uterus, she didn’t want to risk hyperstimulated contractions that could stress out baby and make it much more uncomfortable for me. I was conflicted and didn’t want to get induced “just because we were already there,” so we decided to get another ultrasound to check the fluid levels before deciding whether to go back home. However, the fluid levels had dropped much lower overnight, so now even Mercedes was concerned. We decided to go ahead with the induction. I’ll admit that I cried. I was disappointed with my body. I had believed with all my heart that my strong, amazing body could do this, had done everything I could to prepare for a natural birth, and now it was failing me by losing fluid and stuttering to start labor. I was also scared because induction greatly increases the risk that you’ll need further interventions. Pitocin is known to cause extra-painful contractions that can stress out the baby and make mom scream for an epidural, greatly increasing the risk of an emergency C-section. I didn’t want to go down that road, and yet here I was, forced to take the first step.

However, I also felt relief. I had been in limbo for so long, waiting for things to get started, and now we were FINALLY making a move. We would meet our little boy within the next 24 hours! I never wanted an induction for convenience, but I could feel at peace about an induction for medical necessity. When it came down to it, I am so grateful for modern medicine. It’s heartbreaking to think that, had we waited much longer, my little boy may well have been born sleeping (When a baby doesn’t have much amniotic fluid to float in, he can easily compress the umbilical cord and cut off his own life support.) That would have been devastating.

When Mercedes came back in after meeting with a few other midwives familiar with my case, she said, “I’m so sorry about this. I know how much you wanted to do it on your own.” She reassured me that they would all still do their best to give me the birth I wanted, and I was very grateful for their sympathy and support. They “got” it!

Around 12:30, I finally let the nurse poke me (lol) and they started a low dose of Pitocin to see how my body reacted. Contractions really didn’t change much from what they had been like for weeks. If anything, they just came at more regular intervals. So I took a nap (baby liked to have a dance party from 11-2 every night, so I was exhausted), listened to music, talked with Warren, and drooled over the room-service menu. It felt like we were on vacation at a Bed ‘n Breakfast or something! Knowing how my body reacts to physical stress, I ordered a light lunch of salmon, kale, quinoa and grapes- things that wouldn’t be too bad coming back up. (Eww, I know. But if you think this is TMI, just stop reading here. It gets…better!)

At 3:00 I decided I couldn’t stay in bed any longer; I needed to be up and moving to cope with the increasingly intense contractions. Warren and I walked around the hallways, dragging the IV pole behind us. We talked and laughed and made jokes about waddling leashed to poles, smiled at the nurses and turned around to do it again. (They were short hallways.) After a few laps, I had to stop talking through the contractions and concentrate, keeping my face calm and my breathing steady. It felt good to lean against the handrail and stretch out my back. I recalled my days of Track and Field running the grueling 400 meter dash race. The race seemed long while you were running, but in the end it was only 60 or so seconds of discomfort, and then you could rest. Just like the race, I knew every contraction had an end. Those breaks in between made a huge difference. I felt like I could endure anything for a minute or two at a time.

By 4:30 we had gone back to the room to rest a few times, and I was feeling pretty tired. Warren turned on my Zumba playlist for a pick-me-up and I moved my arms and swayed to the familiar rhythms, then paused and breathed for a contraction, then smiled and grooved again. The nurses chuckled as they listened. Apparently I was known as “That Zumba Girl;” they couldn’t believe I was in such a good mood while in labor. Not full-on dancing, mind you – I wanted to conserve my energy – but I was definitely enjoying myself. . This wasn’t so bad, and I would meet my baby soon! I sat on the edge of the bed, leaned against a table, used the ball a bit. I began to feel sick and dizzy, and lost my lunch. (Called it.) Warren offered me water and honeysticks, but I had no desire for either. When I returned from the bathroom, the usual “pregnancy discharge” had increased. Not a huge amount, but a tiny trickle. They tested it, and my water had broken. Good sign!

They had only upped the dose of Pitocin once by 5:30pm, but that increase made contractions come only 2-3 min apart. Too fast. They decided to turn off the Pitocin and see if my body could take over from here. Happily, it did! Looks like I just needed a little jumpstart to really get labor going, and I could now get off the road of interventions. I was so relieved, but very tired. And restless, because the surges were getting even more intense. Leaning against the bed just wasn’t doing it anymore, so now that I was unhooked I asked to go to the tub. Oh my goodness was that marvelous! I felt so much lighter buoyed up by the water, and the soothing warmth cut the discomfort immensely. I asked Warren to switch to calmer music, swayed my hips in the water, moved and breathed through each surge, switched positions, added more hot water every once in a while, sipped from my water bottle, sucked on honey sticks, rested in the warmth. I asked for the music to be turned off and the lights dimmed; it suddenly felt too noisy and bright. I was sooo tired. Even talking took so much work. I felt annoyed when someone asked me a question in the middle of a contraction – but then again they could barely tell when that was happening because all that changed was the rhythm of my breathing and swaying.

I was definitely in my own little world at this point. As each surge built up, I dove inside myself to meet it. I had read of women picturing each contraction as a wave, and riding it. I tried to “ride the wave” but immediately felt too out of control—like the wave was sweeping me away with it, me on a boogie board at the mercy of foaming, roiling currents. I started to get panicky inside and couldn’t handle the pain as well; it threatened to engulf me. So instead of riding the wave, I focused on diving into and through it. Then I could stay calm and in control, in the quiet strength below while the chaos rushed above. I didn’t expect the mental work to be so exhausting. I’d never before focused so fully on something. In the middle of a contraction, it was like the other people in the room weren’t even there; if they spoke to me, their words tumbled in the noisy froth rolling over me because I couldn’t spare the strength to reach out and grasp them. 

Just before 7:00, the space between contractions shrank suddenly. The waves crashed one after another. I had no time to come up for air. That was the first time I faltered. Could I really do this? I remember thinking, “This whole natural birth thing is great to do once and get my badge, but I think I’ll just take the epidural from the beginning next time!” I threw up again, and it took everything in me to keep my face calm. I remembered all the birth stories I had read talking about this moment. “Transition. This must be it. When you think you can’t, when you feel scared and angry and defeated, you’re almost there.” I breathed through one last contraction, and then my body settled down to rest for a few minutes. I felt exhausted but ecstatic. I had made it through active labor! I knew what came next- pushing and then my baby! Easy peasy, right? Ha.

When the contractions started up again, they seemed to shift gears and move lower. During one surge, I suddenly felt what can only be described as an upside-down sneeze. Could that be my body pushing, already? Next contraction, I tried pushing a little, and was surprised to feel the discomfort actually lessen! I told Warren about the shift in gears and he went to find Mercedes. Another woman had just come into the hospital, already in labor and more dilated than me. They joked that the race was on!

At around 8:30, Mercedes and the nurse set up dim, warm lights and brought towels into the cozy bathroom. Seeing this definitely boosted my spirits. They were getting set up to catch the baby – MY baby – this was it! Whereas before, my team had quietly watched me do my thing, they now began to cheer me on. They said, “He’s right there! So close!” I gingerly put a hand down and felt his head just a few inches from the outside world. So weird! But he was hung up on my bony insides. After a while of pushing gently and “breathing down” with no noticeable progress, we tried different positions and stronger pushes. Up until then I’d been silent as usual, but Mercedes encouraged me to growl to release some tension and focus the push. I tried it out, but it just felt like my throat was straining (and Warren to this day teases me about how not-fierce it sounded. LOL). Time passed, and baby was hardly budging. I pushed with every muscle in my body. It felt like my insides were going to turn inside out. Still mighty uncomfortable, but the contractions were much more bearable when I pushed against them for some reason than when I tried to dive in and sway. Some pushes didn’t seem to do much. But during others, I suddenly felt my body engage to a whole new level and take over. It was the weirdest, coolest feeling.

By 9:15, I was getting soooo tired. More blood tinted the water pink, and Mercedes set out the instruments and donned her apron. Apparently they could see baby’s head sometimes now, but it kept slipping back in. I felt buoyed up by their encouragement: “So close! Do it one more time! Yes! You can do it! Good job! Just like that! Oh, he’s so close! There it is!” Every push, I thought, “This is it!” And then… it wasn’t. There was the intense discomfort of contractions, and a new stingy-burny feeling as everything stretched…And… nope. Mercedes recommended a few different positions, using the bars on the tub as support. I let them know when a contraction was coming so they could be ready to catch as I pushed. Baby head pushing out…and back in. So close! One more time, out…and back in. At this point, my eyes were closed because it just took too much effort to hold them open. My right leg involuntarily shook up and down as I pushed, and I felt crampy and dizzy all over. Finally, I asked, “Can I… can I just go lean against the bed to rest for a bit?” I really wanted a water birth, but I just couldn’t get comfy enough to relax in the tub and I was SOOOO tired. One more contraction, and then they helped me stand up. As I left the buoyancy of the water, I instantly felt so much heavier. “Oh no, gravity – is – increasing – upon – me!” I laughed, quoting a line from Lilo and Stitch. (Mercedes later said that she couldn’t believe my “amazing disposition,” that I was joking and smiling instead of snapping at people and screaming like most women at this point. It honestly wasn’t as bad as I had expected, and I was so excited to finally be meeting my baby that I couldn’t help but smile.)

Another contraction, leaning against the bed. I realized I couldn’t stand up after all because my legs were crampy jello, so I asked for help into bed. Oh my, it was so soft and fluffy and comfortable! I melted back against the pillows, laughing at myself because I had always sworn that I would NOT deliver lying in bed, but it was exactly what I needed at the time. My attendants continued their warm encouragement and became more animated than ever as baby’s head reappeared. My calm face cracked into a grimace once or twice as I felt the stingy burn of the Ring of Fire over and over, but I kept breathing and focused everything on pushing. His head went out, then back in. I pushed hard, but that new pain of crowning held me back from giving my all. I felt panicky for the first time, because my body wouldn’t/couldn’t push through that. He was never coming out! I asked if there were anything to help the burning, and Mercedes rubbed some lidocaine onto the area. I rested on that comfy bed, trying hard to relax and breathe and not think about how I felt like I was tearing apart down there. Next contraction, I pushed for all I was worth…and the baby’s head slid out further than ever- then back in. Aaaaaaaaarrrrghghhgh!!!!!

Finally, I pushed with all my might, squeaky noises escaping my wincing lips, and his big head burst forth at 9:49 pm. Cheers all around! With the next contraction, I felt his body slide out (and that hurt more than I expected!) They wiped baby off a bit and placed him on my chest. He seemed HUGE to me! Bright pink, grunting and squinty-eyed, he tried to lift his big head up and squirmed his legs on my deflated tummy. It was so weird to feel his movements on the outside. He finally let out a small cry, bewildered at this bright and cold new world. I snuggled him close and whispered, “It’s okay, your mama’s got you.” 

Mama. Surreal. I’m a mom!