Labor Eventually Turns to Birth!

Great birth story: prodromal labor, active labor halting, natural waterbirth at home.  A little bit of everything!

http://mamabirth.blogspot.com/2012/04/week-of-labor-and-totally-intervention.html

I find this encouraging that other women labor this way, and that all those contractions help, even though they may drive mama to the end of her rope.  A challenging way to labor, but with pluses as well.  Kudos to this mom for outlasting the ups and downs of prodromal labor!

I Know, I Know. I'm Lame. . .

Mosey on over to my (Feb 5, 2012--edited to remove link.  I cannot in good conscience direct traffic to a site for a business that scams its participants) to read Tara's article about not "white-knuckling it" for a natural birth.  For ages now, I've meant to write a similar article here, but alas, I haven't done much writing at all lately (as is obvious, I know you know).  Since it will likely be another . . . while . . . before I do touch the subject of why women choose natural birth (or before I touch this blog altogether, possibly), I'll send you (edited) for a good read.

Who knows?  It just might catapult a woman who has never considered birthing naturally into looking into her options, getting informed about her choices, preparing her mind and body for the upcoming athletic event, and surrounding herself with great support.  And that wouldn't be half bad, now would it?  Go on.  Have a look see.

I felt terrible for un-linking to this great article, but as I remembered, several authors of articles on their site removed permission for the business to continue using them, so they don't even exist at that site anymore.  (Surprisingly, they actually complied, which is what they haven't done when it comes to eductors asking to be taken off their directory--it inflates the perceived value of the company).  If I find Tara has posted her article elsewhere, I will replace the link.

Another Outlet for My Passion on Natural Childbirth

To say that I have a passion for natural childbirth is an understatement. My passion for natural childbirth (which I define as unmedicated and without the routine use of interventions) causes me to be so strongly opinionated that I simply must have an outlet!

That's where this blog comes in. I care for my family and friends enough to not want to rock the boat too much on this subject if it seems we are not on the same page. (My hubby is usually much more expressive of his opinions on birth than I am--he volunteers enough information for both of us. It tickles me how passionate he is.)Of course, I am more than happy to discuss the subject with anyone who genuinely wants to learn and asks me (and if you have done this, you have probably received much more than an earful--sorry).

However, I will not usually initiate much when it comes to a woman's (family, friend or acquaintance) pregnancy, except to ask who her provider is and where she will birth. This usually starts a conversation that does not necessarily include me sharing any of my opinions, though I may mention that I know someone who has used that provider, etc. Through just a couple simple questions, I am able to see a little of the woman's birth ideas. Sometimes, I will continue to ask questions to get a feel for what kind of philosophy she has regarding pregnancy and birth.

If she is cavalier, disinterested, ill-informed (and content to remain so) or in other ways seems to have an attitude of "I just do what the doctor tells me," I will often just leave the conversation at that. If she shows interest in learning all she can and researching her options and the benefits and risks that go with them, my side of the conversation may turn a little more into the information-giving kind, as opposed to just information-receiving. Again, those of you who have fallen into this category will probably note that it can turn into a whole-lotta information giving once I get going. (I am trying to regulate and express myself more via other means in order not to do this so much--see below!)

Yes, I am a strongly opinionated person when it comes to birth, and yet the majority of my casual friends or acquaintances have no idea my feelings on the issue. (In order to be perfectly honest, I should mention that this may have changed slightly in the past few months, as I have started the certification process to become a Bradley birth instructor, and have mentioned this to a few people, but even then, I haven't usually introduced the subject.)

Most people who are not close friends of mine have no idea that I have birthed three children naturally, very few know that I have birthed my last two babies at home, and even fewer know that I feel so passionately about the subject that I continue to read, research and study about it even when I am not pregnant. In fact, my husband is more than supportive of my pursuing certification as a Bradley Affiliate, since at least then I will have something to show for all the time I put into researching birth (besides my own satisfying birth experiences, which is worth it to me)!

When given the opportunity, I will not shy away from discussing the issue, but I work hard to get a feel for a woman's interest in informing herself before laying it all out there. In fact, most women will have to come out and ask me about my thoughts on birth. Sharing such things is rarely unsolicited. And when I am asked, it is not uncommon for me to give a bit of a warning on where I'm coming from (that I feel strongly and don't mind telling it like it is).

God willing, a few months from now, I will have another means of sharing the information I continue to learn on a daily basis. My excitement in becoming a birth instructor grows as I study and research more and more (yes, Casey, it is possible for me to research more!).

As to my specific birthing philosophy, I will need to do a whole other post to express the why of my passion. I don't believe in going natural for the usual and customary reasons (a women's rights issue or a get-in-touch-with-your-inner-animal idea, or to prove toughness or achieve a rite of passage, to name a few).

Baby Born to Exhausted, but Happy Mama!

A while back, I asked a woman I'll call Elle if she would write out her birth story for my blog. I had been inspired by what little details I knew of her long and wonderful labor, and wanted to share another positive, hopeful prodromal birth story with my readers (i.e., prodromal birth is totally doable!).

I should mention that this woman and her husband had several things going for them, which contributed to her joyous completion of several days of labor with no pain meds and little intervention! Ladies, if she can do it (not a self-proclaimed "tough" person), you can, too! Elle and her hubby had taken thorough classes from an independent teacher (not a hospital--perhaps some day I will post on why this is important) that gave them many good tools for handling the labor she experienced. She had also chosen a midwife for her care, and I have to say, I was impressed that the medical staff encouraged her to go home several times, and that she was smart enough to do it!

Read on for a truly inspiring prodromal birth story! Oh, and of course, I LOVE how she starts it. Isn't that the truth about prodromal labor?!
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“I’m not sure when I would say that I “went into labor.” I started having contractions on and off as early as 4 months pregnant. Sometimes I would have them for an hour or two coming as quickly as a couple minutes apart, but then they would stop. About two weeks before my due date, I decided to have my midwife check to see if I was dilated and I was 3cm dilated and 80% effaced and the baby’s head was at 0 station in my pelvis.

"Three days before I had the baby, I started having contractions again around 7PM. I was excited and hoping the contractions would stay this time, so I decided to march around the room to see if they would get stronger. The contractions started to get stronger and closer together, sometimes lasting a minute long and being about 3-4 mins apart. I knew I wanted to try to labor as long as I could at home before I went to the hospital, so I kept watching for the Emotional Sign Posts that we learned in Bradley Class. I still felt like I could pretty much talk through the contractions, so I knew I still had time. That night I woke up on and off with contractions.

"At one point I couldn’t sleep, more out of excitement that my contractions were lasting all night, and I decided to march around the living room some more. Our cats came down and sat on the stairs and watched me like I was crazy. The next day we decided to call my midwife to let her know I was still having contractions every 3-4 min and they were lasting about a minute each. Even though I didn’t feel like it was time yet, they asked me to come in to just be checked and see where I was at. I was about 4 cm dilated now. The midwife told me to go home and get in the bath tub to help me relax and let my body work. I was hungry though and we decided to stop at a local pizza place across the street from her office.

"We started out at a booth inside, but I was so hot from all the contractions I had to go outside in the winter air and cool off. So we ended up being the only people out on the patio. My husband said the people inside were watching and sort of smiling but concerned at the same time as he had to keep getting up and rubbing my back through the contractions. I got about half my slice down and then I just knew I had to get home so I could really relax. My husband ran inside and grabbed a box for the pizza and we took off.

"We ended up going to my mom’s house, which was a little closer to the hospital. The bath felt so good that I ended up staying in it for about 4 hours while my husband and mom took turns rubbing my back through each contraction. My contractions were just as strong and close together as earlier, but the water seemed to lighten the pressure from my back labor a bit. It also helped me rest and conserve some energy for later. Around 5 p.m., my family thought I should check in to the hospital. I didn’t really feel like it was time yet, but I agreed to go since I couldn’t talk during contractions anymore and I figured it must be soon.

"We stopped at a health food store for some popsicles and honey sticks. I had about two more contractions as I hurried through the store to get what I wanted. Then we met my dad who was just getting off work at a burger place to get some food for everyone. I was the one who wanted to go get food, but I ended up regretting the choice and just wanted to leave. We made it to the hospital around 6 p.m. and the midwife on call checked me and I was still only about 4-5 cm dilated and my contractions seemed to slow down a little while I was there. Both sides of the family had come to the hospital and now I was feeling bad like I needed to do something for them. We tried to walk around and see if they would pick up again, but they were only about 6 mins apart now.

"The midwife knew I wanted to try going natural so she said the best thing for me would be to go home and try to get some sleep so I would have energy in the morning to have the baby. So we ended up back at my mom’s house to spend the night. I’m not sure I got any sleep that night as my contractions started to get really strong and close together.

"At 4 a.m., I got back in the tub and my husband would “wake up” every 4 minutes and rub my back or feet. I’m not sure he really was awake: he started to fall into the tub once as he was rubbing my back! I stayed in the tub most of the morning so I could try to rest between the contractions to make up for the missed sleep the night before.

"About 10 a.m., we went outside in front of my mom’s house and walked around a bit. My contractions were getting very strong so we decided to call our midwife again. They were booked at the office, but were able to squeeze me in with one of the OBGYNs to see where I was at before we drove all the way downtown. I was now a good 5, maybe 6 cm and the OBGYN said he thought I would probably have the baby that night or early the next morning. He told me to go get something to eat and go check in the hospital whenever I felt ready.

"We decided to go back to my mom’s house one more time. I have low blood sugar, so I knew I wanted to get as much protein and energy in before I went to the hospital, where they have you stay on a liquid diet during labor. I went to lie down and read a Psalm as I tried to stay relaxed while my husband, mom and sister all ran around the kitchen trying to find foods that would be good for me. I could hear the excitement in their voices and sort of resented the fact that they were excited. I’m pretty hospital-phobic and by now I was starting to feel like it was too much for my body, I just felt like crying. But I was encouraged and reminded that God was going to give me strength.

"By the time they brought me food (around 4 p.m.) I knew it was time to go. I was in the serious stage sign post and I really wasn’t in the mood to eat, although I did force myself to eat a little since I knew I would have a blood sugar crash from not eating dinner. My mom drove us so that my husband could stay in the back and help me through contractions.

"We arrived at the hospital around 5 p.m. We checked into Triage where they got my IV ready for the antibiotic to kill the GBS [Group B Strep] that I had (which my husband and I now sort of regret accepting). The first IV the young nurse accidentally “Blew up my vein” she told me—a needle/blood-phobic person. My husband sort of whispered to her and told her not to talk out loud about it and tried to get her to fix it without letting me hear details so that I wouldn’t panic. Another girl came in to take a blood sample and then the young nurse came back and tried the IV again. My mom thought it looked funny and it felt weird to me, but the nurse assured us that it was right.

"She took us to our birthing room where I saw the most beautiful tub I’ve ever seen! I wanted to get in there right away, but the nurses wanted to get a dose of antibiotic in first. My mom and husband saw the little bed with the baby hat and blanket in it and were almost in tears with excitement that our baby would soon be here! I was excited too, but at that moment I just couldn’t look at it. I couldn’t think about anything else besides relaxing through the contractions.
"Well, it ended up that the IV wasn’t even in a vein and after almost getting a full bag of antibiotic fluids, we realized it was just going into my arm. My arm swelled to double its size and I realized I was trying to take deep relaxing breaths not for the contractions but because my arm was killing me. They brought in a good nurse who took out the bad IV. My veins were really constricted now so it took her two tries before she got a good one in. I was so thankful once the IV was in and it didn’t hurt anymore! I think the whole IV fiasco slowed me down a little, but they let me get into the wonderful tub and I stayed in there for quite awhile. I think I would have stayed there forever if they would have let me, but they encouraged me to try to get out for a little bit and move around to see if things would go faster.

"I loved the nurse and midwife I had that night! They just sat there with us in silence and let us relax. The midwife would rub my back or head to help me relax. Every once in a while she would give me suggestions for different laboring positions. I don’t really remember time periods anymore, but I know about 10 p.m., the midwife came in and checked me and I was about 7 cm dilated. She could tell I was getting really tired. She asked us if we would want her to break my bag of waters. At first I didn’t like that idea at all and wanted to experience it breaking on its own, but my husband and I talked and prayed and decided it would be good. So at around 10:30 p.m., they broke my water.

"Right away, I went into transition. I felt like I was on some kind of weird ride. It felt good to have the warm water empty out with each contraction, but it was also strange to feel so out of control of my body. I remember holding on to the bar of the bed and almost feeling like I was on some kind of swaying ship. I threw up once, but then felt fine in my stomach.

"Probably about an hour later I had an urge to push. I told the midwife and she checked me and said I was about 7-8 cm. She told me to make some grunting noises as if I was pushing to keep me from really pushing. It felt like only seconds later that I was telling them that my body was pushing and I didn’t know how to stop it.

"The midwife, who was about to leave, ran back to me and checked and said I was almost at 10cm. She told me I could start pushing with the contractions gently. Pushing felt so wonderful! My husband later told me he was sympathy pushing with me. :o) The midwife used her hand to help the cervix gently come over the baby’s head so that it didn’t tear. It felt a lot better once her head was past that point.

"The midwife asked me if I thought I could get up and sit on the toilet for awhile to push. I stayed there for about 3-4 contractions. We tried some squatting too, but after a little bit I was too tired and they had me sit up in the bed. They gave me some oxygen between pushes for extra energy. They also brought in the mirror for me so I could see my baby as she was crowning.

"I reached down and felt her head and saw the first little glimpses of her! They asked my husband if he would like to catch our baby. He looked a little unsure, but decided to do it. They told him to go wash up and get gloves on and right as he left the bed to do that I felt another pushing contraction and was a little worried he was going to miss it! But I still had a few to go.

"During the pushes I couldn’t seem to talk or look at anything. I felt this amazing rush of all my energy go into each push. At one point I tried to look as I pushed, but everything went black. I wasn’t scared though. It just felt so powerful and amazing! Birth really is such a miracle! After about an hour of pushing and 54 total hours of labor, our little girl was born at 1:05 AM January 16th, 2009. They placed her on my stomach and I looked down at her and she opened her eyes and looked up at me. It was love at first sight!"

Guess What I Did Today

Just got back from the first labor I've attended since my own births and I am pumped!

Mom did stupendously and made it through a 25 hour labor (start-to-finish) with no medication whatsoever. She made it look easy. As labor progressed, she got better and better at handling the contractions. I was impressed.

Baby came out at 10:52 p.m. on Sunday (with the cord around his neck--no biggie) weighing 7 lb, 15 oz and 21 inches in length (13" head).

Mom and baby are doing great and getting established with breastfeeding.

The overarching impression I have from this experience (besides respect for this woman in several ways) is that education, preparation and support can make all the difference in whether a woman can "do" natural childbirth. Oh, and a steeled resolve to NEVER AGAIN have a baby in the hospital. It was good to be reminded why I went home to birth.

Thank you, all of you who gave me input and advice on labor helps. I don't know how I did with it all, (you'd have to ask her) but I know your suggestions helped me a great deal.

Haley Kay's Birth Story, Part 5 (and FINAL!!)

The midwives tried to get situated between my contractions, pausing and not asking anything of me or Casey during contractions. Aimee sat on the floor next to me, waiting for a moment between contractions to check the baby’s heartbeat with the Doppler, while Barb (kneeling, using the bed as her desk) observed my behavior and took notes. I was in transition during the videos here, as well as the video on the last post. For about 30 minutes or so, the contractions were so overpowering and strong. The best way I can describe what it was like is that it felt like a very dark and heavy cloud of seriousness would descend on me as a contraction began. I would remain in that dark cloud for a minute or so, all other thoughts overshadowed by the intense sensations I was feeling. Then, as the contraction began to subside, it was if the cloud lifted and I was “me” again. I could talk, smile, whatever. {I point this out because women labor differently and I had heard that if a woman smiles, she’s not very far along in labor. This is just my way of saying: when you hear things like this, consider who you are and what you are like. That plays a great part in what your labor will look like. Though in general the emotional signposts are more accurate at gauging labor progress than something like how far apart contractions are or how dilated the cervix is, emotional signposts are not always very accurate, either; especially if you adjust quickly to change, are self-conscious or have a tendency to downplay what you are feeling.}

Casey left my side for a moment as Aimee started to check the baby’s heart rate. A severe contraction began and I suddenly needed Casey with me. I told him so and he came to me, knelt beside/behind me and supported me as I relaxed. Aimee stopped looking for baby’s heart, backed off and she and Barb sat in respectful silence as Casey held me through this forceful contraction. As it subsided, he prayed, whispering in my ear as we sat there together, alone in this moment of intensity. I don’t remember what he said, just that it was wonderful to have all those components together: my midwives present and watchful, everything in order, labor progressing beautifully (as obvious by the strength of the contractions), my husband very near and literally supportive to me and the mental corralling of my thoughts as he acknowledged God’s hand on this birth and this baby, asking His blessing on both. I was overwhelmed from the awe of birthing with all of these important pieces together. Words cannot describe my state of elation while smack-dab in the very “worst” of labor! It was wonderful.

I felt great (in comparison) between contractions and though they were the most intense ones in the labor, they were still doable because there were breaks. Casey gave me the third and final dose of herbs and vitamins, and I downed the Emergen-C much too quickly. Even though it was less than 4 ounces of liquid, I should have known better than to down it that fast at this stage of labor. (I find it funny that even when I’ve learned something by experience, it doesn’t mean I “know” it so well that I remember it at the time it would serve me well to remember it. I downed liquid too fast in Ruby’s labor and paid for it, and if you asked me a few big things I learned to do or not to do from that labor, the wisdom of sipping—not drinking—water that late in labor would have surely made the list. This is precisely why I believe one cannot be too educated or prepared for any labor—even the third! There will always be things that one reads—or in this case, knows by experience—that will escape one’s mind when in the heat of labor.)

Soon after this, we got on the subject of the woman (Dolly) who was in labor with me when I had Claire, who was due in a couple weeks. She lives south of us, and as soon as I had learned she was also expecting again, I began joking that we’d need to arrange a day to have our babies back-to-back so Barb only had to take one trip south. Within less than 30 minutes of Barb’s arrival to our home, Dolly and another woman called to say they were in labor! Apparently, today was the day, and we got the memo first. I didn’t feel guilty. We don’t ask much of Barb on labor day; just basically to get there in time to catch the baby. So these two women could hold off, I thought. (Really, though. It wasn’t like they were about to deliver or anything. We had time, and Barb wasn’t rushing.)


We got through a few more contractions as I knelt by the bed, assuring Barb that my knees weren’t sore yet and it felt best to be there. Sandy had brought the girls upstairs and put them down for their naps just as the midwives arrived, and Claire wasn’t too happy about it, as is noticeable in the background noise of the video. It was beginning to take longer to come out of the haze and recover from a contraction, and I became more vocal; “sounding” through them again. We were back on track after all the hoopla of the midwives arrival.
Between a couple transition contractions, I began to feel more nauseated, and Casey fetched a trash can. No sooner than he gave it to me, I threw up a few times. This was not so bad. I felt fine after it was over. The only bad thing I remember about it was thinking now my breath was going to stink. I knew it would affect my relaxation (same reason I took a shower earlier). I am very self-conscious, and things like this and modesty don’t necessarily go away totally (I have to make a conscious decision to not think or worry about these things—even at the very end) like they say they will at some point in labor (again, it depends on who you are). A little while later, I mentioned my concern, and Barb gave me a little mint so I could breathe through my mouth if I needed to.

I asked Barb to check me to see if things really had progressed as I thought. She checked me between contractions and said I was complete. As much as my tailbone had protested, I eventually made it onto the bed in the “frog-in-the-lounge-chair” position we’d used in Claire’s labor, (legs bent slightly, widely splayed and resting on Casey’s legs) Casey behind me, supporting me, whispering words of encouragement to me, stroking my arms. Strangely enough, this was not excruciating like lying down had been. But even so, I was not ready to push. I believe the broken tailbone had more mental ramifications than physical at this point, and though I wasn’t consciously thinking “I don’t want to hurt my tailbone more,” I must have had it in the back of my mind, because I was not ready to engage in the labor the way I needed to, now that I was nearing the end.

I kept my eyes closed more and though I still talked now and then between contractions, I stayed serious and relaxed, and it was obvious when one was starting to get going, because I would suddenly start breathing very deeply and “Oooh!” ing or “Uuh!”ing as I exhaled. It was easy with these sounds to get a little too high-pitched as time went on and Barb would remind me to “keep it low” so my voice would help my body push down instead of tensing up. I kept asking the ladies if it was okay that I didn’t want to push yet. We made it through a dozen or more contractions with me just breathing through them, letting my body do what it needed to do. Aimee encouraged me that she could tell my contractions alone were pushing strongly: I was staying “open” between contractions. The baby was on its way whether I pushed or not! Somewhere in here, I was in the middle of one of these strong contractions when I heard the musical chime of our dryer downstairs and thought, "Laundry's done." I mentally shook myself and lassoed my thoughts back to the task at hand. My mind was no longer interested in what my body was doing. I bring this up, because this is how I am in everyday life: extremely sidetracked. Some people talk of being totally into the task of labor at the exclusion of everything else, and I have yet to labor that way. I really have to work to stay focused.

Suddenly, my body took over and started to push on its own. I grunted and that was the end of ladylike behavior. (Oh, wait; who am I kidding?) I have never been great at the whole “chin to chest” pushing thing. It just doesn’t feel right to me; especially in this case. My position wasn’t optimum for several reasons: I was slouched down a little too much (probably because of my tailbone) and didn’t feel like I could breathe well without throwing my head back. I still had a dry/scratchy throat from the cold I’d had a month before. My voice would catch, and when I pushed, my grunting sounded like machine gun bursts and I found it super annoying that I couldn’t just grunt one long, smooth grunt. We also had several pillows between Casey and I, and he couldn’t see much over the pillows (nor can I see much of his face in the video), which bothers me still (especially for the actual birth). I would have gladly resituated, even between those contractions, if I had known at the time.

The contractions were extremely forceful and this is where the music and the moment collided. There was a particularly intense piece of classical music playing at the height of one of these contractions (the video clip at the beginning of this post gives a little idea of what I’m talking about, only it was more annoying than that, if you can imagine). High-pitched violin screeching was not helpful in that particular set of seconds and I think I could have jumped out of bed and flown to the television and smashed it through the wall if I didn’t think my pelvis just might not come with me. Immediately after the peak, I said I couldn’t really handle the music and asked them to turn it down. At the time, I didn’t think it was funny, but now I do: Barb was the one who got up to turn off the music, only Barb was the only person in the room who is, shall we say, the least technically savvy, so it took her FOR-E-VER to figure out what button to push, and it seemed like an eternity before the horrid sounds were gone. I really was about to volunteer to do it myself by the time she figured out how to make it stop.

Anyway, there I was, pushing. I would lay completely relaxed with my head turned to the side (I could breathe better that way, believe it or not) until a contraction started, align my head with my body, grunt and bear down with all I had in me. Aimee was at the foot of the bed, Barb to the left of me observing/taking notes. The amniotic sac broke during a crazy contraction and the burst of liquid traveled a few feet, but missed Aimee (who was waiting for such an occurrence). There was an extremely short break, (perhaps a few seconds) and I smiled, but that immediately changed, because I then said, “Oooh, goodness. This is very intense!”

Contractions had changed since the sac had broken, and I began to feel as if my baby would explode out of me. “Oh, WOW! I think I need somebody right there,” I told them. I felt too vulnerable and that the baby would burst out and hit the wall ten feet away if someone wasn’t there to stop it. Aimee came to stretch the perineum and Barb said something encouraging. Aimee sat at the foot of the bed, and that’s what I really needed. If she believed I would explode, she would not have sat a foot away from me. It was comforting to know it just felt like I would explode, it wasn’t reality. However, Aimee is an apprentice. I felt saf-er, but not exactly the saf-est. I asked Barb to come to my side. I needed to know that I wasn’t a grenade, and I needed Barb to be near me to assure me that she wasn’t afraid of me, either.

Barb sat on the side of the bed and touched my arm, and Aimee warmed and rubbed my cold feet between contractions. I was having a difficult time relaxing between contractions, and would have to consciously tell myself to relax my facial muscles. Even Barb reminded me at times, by silently placing a finger on my furrowed brow. I asked if it was getting hot in here, and Barb motioned to Case to grab the washcloth. It was heavenly and refreshing on my forehead. They spoke quietly and encouragingly. Barb took the washcloth and spun it around in the air to cool it off, then laid it on my chest and brushed it across my neck. That felt amazing.

I was having a hard time relaxing my legs. Aimee rolled up two towels and put them under each knee, and it really helped. I thanked Barb and Aimee for some encouragement they’d given, and they cranked it up a notch when they realized it was just what I needed, verbalizing what was happening and reminding me to “keep it low.” Casey took the cue and said some more encouragy, coachy things, too. “Good job. Down low.”

Haley’s head was crowning and though it only took a little over two minutes, it seemed like the longest head on earth. I kept thinking, “Is that seriously still the head?” Anyway, right before the “ring of fire” (which Casey says really “doesn’t sound too bad”—HA!), Aimee and Barb were distracted with something for the delivery and I exclaimed, “Ow. OW.”“Help me, help me, help me, help me. PLEASE HELP ME!” as Barb said calmly, “Laaaaauts a pressure.”

I squealed, “OOOOWWW!” and immediately knew that wasn’t helping, so I pushed it down a few octaves and grunted: “Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh, Lrd. Pls!” (It really sounds like I cut out the vowels in the video.) Barb was coaching Aimee in supporting my perineum, all the while calmly coaching my out-of-controlness.

We had a little exchange that went like this:
Me:“Okay, Okay. Ooo-Kay. That really, really, REALLY hurts! (high-pitched, and then back low again): Really hurts. Really. Huuuurts. Oooooooohhhhhhh. . . ”
Barb:“Good. Good. Grunt through it. Grunt through it. There you go. Push your baby down, push, push, push. . .”
Me (in my lowest, gruntiest, robotic voice): “I’m afraid to push!”
Barb: “Goooow ahead.”
Me (sounding very much like Grover): “MMMM!”
Barb: “Little pushes.”
Me: “MMMMM!”
Barb: “Down here.”
Me (higher and higher pitched): “MMMM! MMMM! MMMMM!”
Barb: “Keep it coming. Good job. There you go. Nice work. Push your baby’s head out. Gentle, gentle, beautiful, beautiful.”

There was a lot of “Ow” and “That kills!” as they worked a nuchal cord (meaning wrapped once around the neck) over her head. (Not a comfortable procedure, I won’t lie.)

All at once, Haley’s head and body were born. I had turned my head to the side, (I think I was trying to get away from what was going on) and happened to look back over and was a little stunned to see her all the way out, because, after all, her head was still crowning a second ago. After realizing she was born, I reached down and Aimee and Barb lifted her to me. I immediately brought her to my chest, and Casey and I gasped and he cried, “Oh, the baby!” which made me cry, all before she did! It was 4:24 p.m.; 12 hours since that first very strong contraction. Haley “mewed” a few times, which just tickled us to death. The midwives put a towel over us and after a few seconds, we checked and she was a girl! Her heart rate was a little slow, so they gave me the oxygen mask to hold near her for a few minutes until she pinked up and was not so quiet. We named her Haley Kay immediately and I could not believe how much vernix was on her! She was totally coated in it. White all over. Chunks, even. I’ve never seen that much vernix on a premature baby! Barb suspected she may have breathed some in and that was why her respiration had dropped off a little. We discussed our guesses of her weight. She looked so tiny to me. Claire had had such a fat face and looked like she weighed 11 pounds, but Haley’s face was slim, and she didn’t have the chunky upper body that Claire did, so I was sure she couldn’t be even 8 pounds. Turns out she was 8 lbs, 2 ½ oz and 20 ¾ inches long.

(This was after a good hour or more, with most of the vernix rubbed in/worn off.)
We called out that we had a baby, and after awhile, Sandy came upstairs to ask what the baby was. I nursed Haley and she latched on strongly and just went to town. After the cord stopped pulsing, it was cut. I don’t think the afterbirth contractions were nearly as bad as they were with Claire. They were strong, but not excruciating. I got off the bed and knelt over the chux that Case had thrown a couple hours earlier to try to have gravity help deliver the placenta, and it eventually came out. Barb was pretty tenacious about checking my bleeding and keeping tabs on me. I hopped in the shower, and I swear I could not get some of that vernix off of my belly, where Haley lay for those first few minutes. It was like car wax! Every minute or so, Barb would pop in to see how I was and give me a sip of my Recharge to keep me from passing out. I think it concerned her that I was standing up, since I have had trouble with low blood sugar after delivery. I felt so great. After I was clean, I wrapped my baby girl and me in my robe and reclined on the bed as Sandy brought Ruby and Claire to join us for Haley’s newborn check. They were so excited to see and hold their little sister. I kept hydrated and took a little of the herbal injury/trauma tincture I had by the bed. A friend of mine came to see us. We got lots of pictures and our little growing family hung out on the bed, looking at our little girl.

Haley and Auntie Chrissy

It was dinner time, and I was about to go downstairs and join the family like it was any other day (I really felt that good). Casey wouldn’t hear of it, and brought the beef stroganoff to me in bed. I was ravenous! Haley was so sweet and just looked around, mewing now and then. It was so precious. Barb and Aimee had to jet to the next birth (which happened to be Dolly. . . . on the same day! What are the odds?) and then the next, and, as it happened, the next! As Barb had said hours before, apparently, we started a trend. They were a couple of busy midwives catching 4 babies in three days, with no break in between. Boy, that’s a tough job. Glad I got them fresh this time!

Haley had alert eyes and was very quiet and serious. She made very small noises and just looked back at us as we stared at her. She had a stork bite birth mark on her left eyelid, which was pretty dark for the first couple days, and comes out again when she is really upset. For the first few nights, she slept in the bassinet by our bed and probably spent half the night in bed with us and would just barely make a peep and I would feed her. She was so sweet and contented; we thoroughly enjoyed our babymoon!

Recovery for me was great. I felt like I could do anything within a few minutes after giving birth, but Casey knows that does not speed recovery, so he had me in bed alot, and when I came downstairs over the next few days, he'd have me rest and sit and observe mostly. I had torn just slightly (like the knicks I had in Claire's labor, about 1/4 of an inch) and that was uncomfortable, but it had completely healed by the home visit Barb made at 5 days, so it was no big deal. Sandy and Case were there for several days and took care of all the household chores and cared for the older girls. I am so blessed to have such a helpful mom and mother-in-law! I have never had to deal with the mom who sits on the couch and holds the baby all day while I stand in the kitchen washing dishes or doing laundry. My relatives come to help, and I'm thankful! People from our church and the mom's group I went to brought us meals for the first few weeks. We hadn't had that with our other babies; it was nice for Sandy and Casey to not have to worry about one more thing. I was especially touched by the fact that one of the moms who had cancer signed up to bring me a meal. That she would think of serving others while in such a state (it was very bad, she passed away at the end of the summer) just blew me away. Though I only knew her for a few short months, she has left an indelible mark in my life. I think of her selflessness all the time (especially when I'm struggling, and it's nothing compared to what she went through).

In comparison, I would put Haley’s birth in between my other two girl’s births as far as doability. Not that any of them weren’t doable, but Ruby’s birth (my first) was an extremely difficult experience (not so much the labor, but the whole of the experience), and Claire’s was like a walk in the park. Haley’s wasn’t terrible (I’d say it was pretty great), but the actual delivery with the broken tailbone was no picnic. All in all though, the really extremely intense part only lasted a couple hours, and like I like to say about labor, you can do anything for a day, right?

A few random pics from the first week of Haley's life (in no particular order):

Haley's Birth Story, Part 4

Casey called Barb, who then asked to speak with me. I grabbed the phone. “Barb, Casey says they remind him of when we called you with Claire’s labor.” She asked me if I had checked myself lately. {Barb had encouraged me to check myself those last few weeks to see what was happening. Neither one of us wanted an “official” check. We really didn’t expect much to be happening, and Barb’s pretty hands-off about vaginal exams—even IN labor. (She’s experienced enough to know, based on a woman’s behavior, where her cervical progress may be.) So she asked me now and then what I had discovered. The whole thing was very new to me, and she thought it would be good for me to feel what exactly was going on down there. The few times I checked myself, I wasn’t sure what I was feeling, and I ended up asking Aimee and then her to check me once “while they were there” swabbing for GBS at 37 weeks. Turns out my cervix was still so posterior at the time that it really didn’t matter how effaced or dilated it was. If any really serious change was happening, my cervix would not be so posterior.}

I told Barb I hadn’t checked myself at all today, and she suggested I do so right then and she’d call back in a few minutes. So I hung up, put the phone in my robe’s pocket, and quickly explained to Casey and Sandy. We have a bathroom downstairs, but I felt better about being upstairs to check. I think I might have been a little afraid of what I might find; being mentally impaired enough to not make it upstairs if I did find that her head was crowning or some such craziness. As I was just about to climb the stairs, another contraction started (2:11 p.m.). I started the stopwatch and pretty much ran up the stairs. I didn’t want to get stuck on the stairs, so I hurried to get to the bathroom, where I could rest, before the peak. Barb was going to call any minute, and I didn’t want to tell her, “Sorry, I haven’t even made it to the bathroom yet.” Looking back, I’m pretty sure that would have answered her question quite well! She would have known it was time to come even if I didn’t have a report for her. Ah, the silliness of labor-brain.

Waddling to the bathroom, I could hardly stand it anymore. I was not going to regain a relaxed state in this contraction; survival was all I was going for at this moment. I sat on the toilet and the contraction’s intensity was SO VERY OVERPOWERING that I had to lean waaaay back and figuratively hold on for dear life. I made a note on my contraction chart: Must lean back. (I picture Captain Chameleon in The Tick Versus the Idea Men: “CAN’T! DO! PLAID!”) The contraction lasted 2 minutes and 45 seconds and at least 2 minutes were experienced on the toilet—not a good position at this stage of labor, in my experience. When it was over, I hurried to check myself. Barb was surely going to call while I was checking! In what seemed like the same moment, I jumped up, washed my hands and the phone rang. I answered, shaky and nervous. “Barb, I don’t feel a cervix, but I think I feel the bag of water bulging.” (And yes, for any smart alecks, it WAS Barb on the phone!) I had felt what I would describe as a thin rubber band around a very pillowy huge squashy round thing. It freaked me out. I told Barb I wasn’t sure it was the BOW, but I couldn’t feel anything else, save the rubber band, and I thought it was probably the BOW. “I’m sorry if doesn’t turn out to be, but that’s what it feels like.”

Barb very calmly said if that’s what it feels like, then that’s probably what it is and they’d leave right away. I immediately ran downstairs and into the kitchen to tell Casey and his mom this was it. Casey told me “You need to be upstairs.” I told them since I had gotten a little scared and pitted out, I wanted to take a shower first. We hurried upstairs while Sandy stayed downstairs with the girls. It was 2:26 p.m. Casey got some video while I waited for the water to warm up in the shower. I had another contraction—one that I waited just till after the peak before resuming activity. I wasn’t where I wanted to be, and didn’t want to stop for long. I was sure that when I did stop, it would be for good. I mentioned in the video that I’d need to lie down soon. I had one more contraction while in the shower (2:34 p.m.). When I was finished, I began squeegeeing the shower until Casey reminded me that I was in labor and could leave it this time. One would guess from that detail that I am extremely anal! I'm really not that anal, I just constantly have to work at staying on task. Even when it comes to labor, I am so easily sidetracked!

Out of the shower, I quickly dried off, put on my contacts, some lip balm and my labor nighty. Casey stripped our bed and re-made it with a shower curtain and old sheets while I crawled around on the bathroom floor for the next two contractions (2:38 and 2:41 p.m.). I still had to move around, but couldn’t (or didn’t want to) stand anymore. I think it may have been because I didn’t know how long it would take Barb and Aimee to arrive (remember I still thought they were a good 45-60 minutes away) and didn’t know if we had that much time. I remember being taught and reading about “hands and knees” to slow things down, but I think there were additional reasons I did it: I was afraid my posterior-last-appointment-baby hadn’t yet turned and it felt best to be both moving and avoiding the effects of gravity while waiting for the midwives. (I did not feel comfortable delivering this baby without Barb.)

Casey finished the bed and gave me the go-ahead. He helped me get onto the bed and on my side, where I promptly had a doozie contraction (around 2:50 p.m.) and realized I could NOT lie down. Contractions became sharp and excruciating when I did, so Casey piled a huge amount of pillows on our bed and I got back on hands and knees, leaning over the mountain of pillows. After a few minutes, I felt a little too vulnerable up there on the bed. What if, in all my concentrating and hip-swaying, I fell off? So Casey threw a chux on the floor and I moved to kneeling at the bed, swaying my bottom from side to side. (In my mind, I was fiercely waiving it like a mad woman—possibly trying to get away from it—but it was not so accentuated in real life.) We hadn’t ever gotten to burning a C.D. of labor music selections (I kept getting paralyzed in choosing selections by wondering, “Am I going to find this song/music super annoying in labor?”), so we turned the T.V. onto a classical music channel, complete with picturesque and peaceful photography.

I had another contraction (2:55 p.m.—1 min. 15 sec.) as Casey videotaped for another minute, teasing me for continuing to time contractions. I smiled and said it was “something to do” while waiting for Barb and Aimee. It helped me stay focused on one contraction at a time. I had to keep my mind occupied so I wouldn’t freak out thinking too far ahead. I mentioned in the video that between even these contractions, I still felt “really great.” {I find it very refreshing that in three births now, rarely have I had a great deal of contractions so close together that I have absolutely no break in between (though I have to admit, my “false” labor with Claire was often painful no matter if I was having a contraction or not). These people who talk as if labor is one long, excruciating, 36-hour contraction must gloss over God’s mercy in this area. (Could it be they don’t notice the breaks or they even keep themselves from having breaks because they’re too tense and afraid?) I’m not saying labor is easy or pain-free. I guess I’d say it’s both LESS terrible and horrifying than you’ve heard and MORE work than you’ve ever thought possible—work to stay calm, work to relax muscles, work to keep focused, work to be attentive to your body, work to push your baby out . . . HARD WORK!}

Barb and Aimee arrived at 2:58 p.m. and I hung up my contraction-timing hat (as I did when Barb arrived at Claire’s labor) and began to take a more vulnerable role as a laboring woman. They would now take over as the “protectors” of labor—all I needed to do was concentrate on the task at hand. I find this transfer of responsibility very important for relaxation of mind and body at the end. I don’t know how women can purposely do unassisted birth. I need to focus entirely on the work of giving birth, and I have absolutely no room in my mind for also making sure that everything is okay. I happily give this to the birth attendant, and Barb’s knowledge, experience and peaceful manner are just what I need to get my job done.

For Part 5 (The Concusion!), click here

Haley's Birth Story, Part 3

We hung out downstairs as a family. Casey got some video that included a 2 minute, 45 second double-peaking contraction that I recall being very strong and difficult. Casey and I had talked about trying to get more video during this labor, partially because it would take some of the work out of trying to remember everything that happened, and also because it is really interesting for me to see my labors/births from an outsider’s perspective. I was struck by this in watching the precious little video we had of Claire’s labor day, and how I appeared—even to myself (who knew better)—like I wasn’t experiencing much discomfort, knowing that in reality for one of those contractions, I was mentally hanging on for dear life in sheer panic at that moment. This video segment was similar (though the contraction was much less of a doozie than that one recorded in Claire’s labor) in that I remember feeling like tossing Claire off my lap, snapping at Ruby to "just get the cookie cutters, for pity's sake!" and ripping off my robe for parts of the contraction(s). I was feeling very peeved and annoyed at the fact that Claire was not only on my lap, pinning me to the floor (if she had not been, I would have immediately taken to all fours), but once I leaned back—er—to the side (tailbone)—to get away from her a little and give my belly room to harden and expand, she began rocking back and forth, trying to bounce off of my belly. Yet what I see transpire in that few minutes of video is me calmly talking with Ruby, leaning back and holding my hand in front of me so Claire can bounce against my hand instead of my belly, almost seeming like I’m playing a game with her. The reality was that here and there during the contraction, I was peeved and out-of-control (in my own mind). I wonder if other women have noticed feeling very different than how others observe them or what they see in their videos or pictures.

I have a theory as to why this happens (at least for me). It is imperative that my voluntary muscles remain relaxed during strong contractions, or they become much too painful to bear. If I begin to lose it emotionally and tense up, it is everything I can do to get through even one more second, and it is virtually impossible to regain a relaxed state until the contraction subsides. Therefore, though I may be irritated or upset, I refuse to give in to this derailment to relaxation. I think that is also one of the reasons why I don’t snap at my husband while in the heat of pain as is so commonly the labor “thing to do” (though I must admit a lot of it has to do with his not irritating me in the first place!). I truly don’t believe you can both be relaxed and scream in anger. Hmmm. Now if only I could get the same sense of urgency to stay on an even keel for every other day of my life. . .

Okay, back to the birth story! Since the “nap” that morning, contractions were anywhere from 12-32 minutes apart. When they came, they were so intense, but again I wasn’t sure about their intensity after a moment’s break. Around 10, after the last 2 contractions were a half-hour apart, I decided to stop timing altogether. I apologized to Casey for having him stay home, since it was apparent that labor wasn’t going anywhere soon, and may peter out altogether. We talked about the possibility of him going in to work after all, but he said they weren’t busy enough to really need him, and it was a long weekend already (being Memorial Day weekend and his Friday off)—he was happy to start it a day early even if I didn’t end up having the baby.

Sandy and Ruby left on their date to go to Wal-Mart somewhere around 11 while Casey, Claire and I napped in our bed. When contractions hit, I awoke, but could sleep between them. Barb called at 11:42 from her office to check on the contractions. I don’t really remember having the nap interrupted by her calls, so I’m not sure what the exact timing was, but caller ID says she called again at 12:19. I know by then I had given up on napping, because I answered that call in the office.

She was calling to say that she was going to her grandson's, but to call her cell if things got going. I somehow misunderstood what she said, because I had it in my mind that her son/grandson lived in the East Mountains. It was probably one word she said, like “I’m going to head up there” or something. So I thought she’d be a little ways away if we did end up needing her. (It turned out they live in the south part of ABQ, so she was actually closer than she would have been if she was at her office.) Anyway, this part is a little confusing to me now (as it was then), because I remember having a pretty restful nap, and fairly long (at least an hour), so I don’t have any idea what the timing was here.

As all labors are, this one was different than my other two in several ways. One of those differences is that for most of the day, contractions were overpowering if I was lying down and trying to relax (on my side: it had been a couple months since it felt “good” to lie on my back). I just could not handle their intensity. I really felt like I had to move during them to deal with the pain. A little strange from what I’m used to. Some of that may have had to do with my tailbone injury. Since the injury, even lying on my side was painful. Not as much as lying on my back, but it still put pressure on it. (The least painful position those first few weeks was standing.)

At some point (in the nap I believe), a monstrous contraction 3 or more minutes long made me want to get up and do something so my mind would be distracted from how strong the contractions were. I had found that morning that I coped with them better if I stood and swayed my hips from side to side or in circles. Another difference was that “sounding” was very helpful all day for the pain—not just at the end of labor (in my other labors I was pretty quiet during most of the hard contractions)—so there I was, walking around in between contractions, then stopping to lean on the counter, couch, whatever was near, and sway my hips, moaning or “huuuu. . .” -ing as I exhaled (like an audible sigh when you’re frustrated, only I wasn’t—it just felt better to make that patronizing sound) until it came to a peak, then resuming walking around after a breath of recovery. After waking from this nap, contractions were 10 minutes apart and as strong as they had been.

Claire awoke, and I went upstairs to get her before she woke Casey. One of us should get a good nap, I thought. Who knew when things would really get going and how long we’d be doing this? After a little while, Sandy and Ruby returned, and Sandy went to work preparing quesadillas for lunch. It was probably around 1 p.m. and I was getting pretty hungry. I really wasn’t at full mental capacity here (don’t know if I can remember when I last was!) and I remember talking to Sandy and wondering how she was going to make the quesadillas (why did it matter?), but at some point, she must have just done what seemed best to her, because I was soon eating one. (I tended to drift off mentally for contractions, and conversations would just trail off.)

Casey got up from his nap and came downstairs after we had finished, and ate his lunch while standing in the kitchen. I had resumed timing contractions at 1:05. After having one contraction, several more came but weren’t strong, so I didn’t count them and a ½ hour passed before another decent one came, so it really seemed like things were slowing down, even though in general they were still 10 min apart and around 1 min. 20 seconds duration. In hindsight, that half-hour break (probably around when we ate lunch, how handy :) was the calm before the storm.

I was sitting on the love seat, continuing to time contractions, Claire by my side. Sandy had stepped out of the room and Casey was doing some dishes. At 2:03, a contraction began that nearly knocked me out. I could tell from the get-go it was going to take everything I had. I took off my glasses and put them on my lap, threw my head back and just tried to BREATHE. Apparently, Claire grabbed my glasses and was putting them on (rather roughly—almost everything she does can be classified that way). Casey (from his perspective I was resting) saw her and thought she had Sandy’s glasses and started yelling (not quite): “Mom! Sarah! Mom! She’s got your glasses! Mom! She’s going to break them! Sarah! Take them away!” But I really couldn’t have cared less at that moment. It took everything in me—and more—to just stay conscious and breathing. After the peak, but while the contraction continued, I explained that I wasn’t ignoring him, I was just busy with a contraction. When Casey realized that I had heard him, but was that pre-occupied with a contraction, he said, “This reminds me of the end of Claire’s labor. You need to call Barb.” I told him I wanted him to call her. And a light bulb went on as we looked at each other. We knew things were getting intense.

For Part 4, click here

Haley's Birth Story, Part 2

Of one thing I was certain: I wouldn’t miss the birth of my own baby! Even though I had a history of not recognizing labor until well into it, I knew it was unlikely that I would remain unaware of labor ENTIRELY, and that, if the contractions I was having finally BECAME labor, at some point I’d be aware of that fact. I wasn’t concerned that I may not recognize “the real deal,” and it turns out that this time, I really didn’t have to be. Because one day, the contractions REALLY. CAUGHT. MY ATTENTION.

Thursday, May 22, 2008 (one day before “due” date): around 4:30 a.m. An extremely strong contraction upon waking made me eager to have it over with so I could run to the restroom and then get back to sleep. However, I kept having contractions that same strength once I got back into bed. After having 3 in 15-20 min. (that required my total concentration and relaxation to keep breathing and not be swallowed by their severe intensity, reaching out to Casey in silence as I struggled through the last one, not able to speak—I mean SERIOUS contractions!) I woke Casey to let him know what was going on. I told him the pain might be aggravated by nausea, and that I was going to get a snack and time contractions. He made sure that I would come back to bed soon, then went back to sleep.

So around 5 a.m., I went downstairs to get some yogurt and applesauce and had a cup of hot Chamomile tea (the "soothing," instead of the "toning,"--and possibly intensifying? I wasn't wanting to find out!--choice of teas). While snacking, I also posted a quick note to my blog that I wondered if I was in labor today. I also took some herbs for my GBS. (Supposed to take them every 4 hours starting at the onset of labor.)
In the time I was downstairs, contractions were 5-20 minutes apart lasting 1 – 2 minutes. Averaging out, they were 11 minutes apart, 90 seconds duration. (Not very neat: 8, 11, 13, 11, 20, 5, 8 min apart; 1:30, 1:30, 2:00, 1:00, 1:50, 1:20, 1:20 minutes long.) While walking around the kitchen, stopping for contractions, swaying and concentrating, I thought, “If this is how the textbook labor is supposed to start, I can see why women wouldn’t have trouble recognizing it.” They were SO STRONG from the get-go. Just about as intense as they got toward the end with my first 2 labors. So I had this thought about having NO doubt this was it, but then again, I felt absolutely fine between contractions and they were far enough apart (most of the day, in fact) to cause me to doubt their intensity until the next one started. I would doubt myself after only seconds had passed since a contraction, thinking my memory must be making them seem stronger than they really were.

I went back upstairs around 6:20 a.m. and tried to sleep, but the nausea hadn’t gone away (it didn’t the whole day) and I had 3 more contractions strong and evenly-spaced-enough in 40 min. to not get to sleep between them.

Finally, at 7:00, not being very successful at relaxing in my “sleep imitation,” I decided to pull out the big guns for labor and drew a bath in our beautifully deep garden tub. I added some lovely-smelling bubbles and began to review Dr. Bradley’s book, Husband-Coached Childbirth (not a must-read in my opinion, but I had just gotten it back the week before from my sis and since it had been awhile since I’d leafed through, I thought it might be interesting). I opened the blinds slightly to enjoy the natural light and discovered that it was drizzling outside. Ahh. . . what a relaxing day to labor! How peaceful to sink into a warm bath while watching the overcast sky and hear the rain fall gently against the window.

Ruby and Claire soon made their way into the bathroom (the morning tradition is to awake and come see Mommy) and, seeing me in the bubbly tub, asked to join me. I brought them in, but the water was so deep that they had to sit on my legs to keep their heads above water. They spent a good 15 minutes or so in the tub with me playing with the bubbles as we talked about the baby coming today, and then Sandy (MIL—she flew in from Portland 2 days before to help with the new baby) offered to take them and dress/feed them. Contractions were still very strong in the tub, but they spaced out a bit and it felt good to be in the warm water. I decided that I would not want to actually birth in the tub. It was hard to feel “grounded” in such a big place. I had to work hard to keep from slipping in completely. I don’t know how I would have pushed in there. It’s really important to me to be able to relax all my muscles, save the pushing ones, and I would have had to hold myself onto the side of the tub with my arms while trying to push. Too much work, I thought.

Anyway, a side (or bottom, as the case may be) issue comes up here and I must digress. The Thursday before, as my sister and her family were here, we were enjoying an evening playing Wii games. We were bowling and I stood up, took my turn, and backed up to the couch to sit. I didn’t look, and should have taken another step before plopping my heavy prego self on the couch, because I missed the cushion and landed extremely hard on the wood frame of the couch, breaking my tailbone. (Even 5 weeks after the fact, my tailbone was still sore and I had to sit carefully and after having sat any length of time I was very sore—especially driving, and finally, 9 weeks after the injury, I was able to sit in any position I so desired without discomfort.) As would be expected, this tailbone thing affected labor and birth. I don’t think I really have any idea how much so, since there is no way to go back and experience Haley’s birth without a tailbone injury.

So, exactly a week after the injury, in the tub, I find there are only a few positions that don’t hurt—even in the water. I need to kind-of sit on my hands to protect my tailbone or float along in a “push-up” position, belly down, my arms straight down to support me, or sit very much forward—not on my bottom at all—in order to not be in pain. The usual tub position is out of the question. I think this had to do with me nixing the tub-for-birth idea.

I stayed in the bath for at least an hour, timing contractions, reading, relaxing. When I got out, I put on my pretty pink labor nighty, which I had decided to get because I knew it would affect my outlook on the beauty of the day I brought my child into the world, as well as help me to relax when I looked down and saw something girly that acknowledged my extremely feminine state and not my husband’s dark shapeless t-shirt. And I knew it would make a better memory in my mind.

A pancake breakfast and some family time downstairs followed.

For most of the day, it really was boring in between contractions. Too much time between them to really hold onto how difficult they were, but too little time to rest or get something done. At 8:48 a.m., I called Barb to let her know I might be calling her to come today. I made sure to call immediately after a contraction, while I still felt absolutely certain these HAD to be labor contractions and before I started wondering again. If I waited too long between, it seemed silly to call at all. (What would I say? "Barb, I just wanted to give you a head's up that we might call you in the next few days?") "Here we go again," I thought.

For Part 3, click here

Haley's Birth Story, Part 1

In September of 2007, Casey and I found out we were expecting our third baby. Braxton Hicks presented crampy and strong at six weeks of pregnancy (the earliest so far) and instead of being afraid or annoyed, I embraced them as one of my best preparations for childbirth. After Claire’s easy-breezy birth, due partially to the fact that it felt like I had been in labor for a month (the other part having to do with a very challenging first birth experience which I was prepared to repeat), I decided to rejoice in how God made me and the things my body seems to deem necessary to get a baby born. I equate my body to an old car on a frosty morning: it takes several attempts to start—as well as some revving in those attempts—before a continued and lasting, no-going-back start is achieved.

From the last two births, I had had a mental list going on what I would like to do the same or differently. One of those "same" things was have a home birth. There is just no comparison to the atmosphere one encounters in a hospital versus home. So after some finagling, our wonderful midwife agreed to take us on as clients once again. She had planned to take the year off and do some traveling, but decided to take on a few clients within a specific window, and we were due in that time! She went to Africa for about 6 weeks during my second trimester. All went well with the pregnancy, and we did the usual and declined most of the tests, etc. throughout. Barb was very supportive. How the girls and I enjoyed those hour-plus appointments!

Casey and I are practical; we enjoy finding out the gender of our babies before birth day. Not having yet been with a home-birth midwife for an entire pregnancy, I asked Barb if she ever ordered ultrasounds and she said not unless there was a medical reason. (How funny that insurance companies won’t pay for ultrasounds except for a “medical” reason, yet I don’t know one woman birthing in a hospital nowadays—including me—who has not been offered at least 2 ultrasounds in her pregnancy.) I guess Barb is much more conservative than the average doctor or hospital midwife in what qualifies as a medical reason (i.e. not to “check dates” or “size” or whatever other reasons my ultrasounds have been for), and I respect her for it. But it was a little bummer that we’d have to wait to see what this baby was. We just don’t get the whole “What better surprise is there?” thing. It’s a surprise no matter what, right? So what if you find out early? It’s still a surprise at the time. And there’s still the surprise of “when,” unless you are inducing or scheduling a c-section, but I digress.

A few of the things on my list that I wanted to try differently included Casey A) being present for more than a few hours of labor and, therefore, B) helping me through contractions when I needed him. We discussed and practiced several ways he could help me through contractions and things he could do in labor in general to assure me of his presence and support.

My “different” list also included some trivial things to try, like a relaxing and calm atmosphere for labor (complete with music and a pretty labor nighty—not a tank top or Casey’s big, ugly t-shirt) and naps and a bath—I wanted to take advantage of the “midwives’ epidural” this time. You'd think my labors were only an hour long the way we haven't taken advantage of some common labor techniques in the first two births. The problem is, prodromal labor can have the same effect as a really short labor in that it lulls one into thinking, "this baby isn't coming anytime soon," until it's too late to do anything but have a baby.

It was also important to me to focus on the beauty of the gift of birth and what a miracle God does in bringing a baby into the world. I wanted to make the day of labor worshipful by being mindful of His handiwork in making this baby and my body, and His sovereignty over what may happen in childbirth. This is crucial to relaxation for me—to trust God. I simply cannot just trust “birth” or my body. Those things can (and often do) fail. God is always the same. And He is always trustworthy.

Throughout the pregnancy, I practiced relaxation with my Braxton Hicks. One difference with these B.H. this time around was that they were very crampy, and thus, even more like “real” contractions than ever before (I have a hard time distinguishing “real” ones as it is). I did not keep track of my contractions this time like I did in Claire’s pregnancy. That served a purpose, and I no longer needed to figure out why I couldn’t discern “real” labor. There were a few times when I thought—based on the strength, duration and frequency of contractions—that I might be going into labor, but this time I didn’t pay enough mind to them to really wonder. Most of the really strong, long and close together bouts lasted a few hours or less this time, so I didn’t have much time to start wondering before they tapered off again, and the few times that they were like that for an entire day, I took them in stride and figured (based on my previous birth experiences) that I’d most likely discover “this is it” before the baby was born. I wouldn't miss the birth of my baby.

For Part 2, click here

Deb's Birth Story

My sister had her baby boy Friday, March 28th at 11:40 p.m. He weighed 7 lb, 11 oz and was 20 inches long. She and her husband were very well educated on birth and options and risks and such, and it shows in her great hospital birth experience. It isn't often that I get to read such an encouraging birth story, since so few people take the responsibility to educate and prepare themselves for a great birth. (It takes a whole lot more than leafing through "What to Expect When You're Expecting" to be truly educated. :) I got her permission to post the birth account she recently wrote.

Deb kept the story mostly to facts and didn't express too much of what her thoughts and emotions were doing during labor. I believe it is very helpful to know in particular the mom's perspective of birth, because that's where I find I need most of my preparation for birth: on the mental side of things. I find that the physical part of labor can be made much easier if the mental and emotional parts are kept in check (relaxation is key, and one cannot relax very well physically without first relaxing mentally and emotionally). This is why I look forward to her visit next month--hearing all the juicy specifics on what was going on in her head in those hours and hours that are succinctly summed up in a few paragraphs.

And without further ado: The Story:

I started labor sometime in the very early morning on Friday the 28th (due date was approx 3 April) maybe 2 or 3a...was awakened by a couple of mild contractions and then every 10 or so minutes I would have another. I kept getting up and walking around. Brett went to work that morning. I labored with some moderate contractions all morning, took a bath, drank a lot, had some snacks tried to sleep. B came home for lunch. By then my contractions were getting pretty intense and I wasn't in the mood for much. I tried to sleep in between contractions and I watched a movie. I still wasn't sure if this was the real thing so I didn't want B to stay around for nothing, so he went back to work.

All afternoon I tried so hard to relax and breath through the contractions, they were so intense though. It took me a while to figure out the reason they were so intense was that I was having some significant back labor. So much so that I didn't really feel the contractions in my uterus...just my lower back. I tried another hot bath and warm packs to my back which did help a little. About 4:30 or so I texted B to ask him to come home after work instead of heading to the grocery store like we planned. He got home about 5:30 and I was upstairs on all fours laying on pillows and crying.

We labored for a few more hours, B gave me firm counterpressure on my lower back during contractions which helped a ton. I wished I had asked him to come home earlier, but I still wasn't sure where I was in this little marathon. B called the doc on call (our midwife had just left town that evening). He said to head in when any of three things happened - water breaking, bloody show or contractions 5 minutes apart or less. B and I walked around the house a bit. I went to the bathroom and what do you know...there was the bloody show. My contractions were still a bit erratic, some 7 minutes apart, some 2 or 3.

Here's the part where we show how truly organized we are. B and I had made a couple of changes to our birth plan and had kept meaning to print off the new one. B had it saved on his work hard drive which of course can't be accessed from home. We knew we should start heading to the hospital soon and of all things important to bring with us, the birth plan was it. So there is B upstairs typing frantically from our draft. I came upstairs sat in the office, had a contraction and then ran to the bathroom to throw up 4 times. So then we decided it was definitely time to go. As we jumped into the car and headed north, I was actually feeling a bit better having vomited. I was a little more talkative and excited, so I thought in my head, "oh great here we are on our way, and we are way too early...we're going to sit in the hospital for hours and hours!"

We got to the birth center and were put in a triage room about 9:45 or so. The nurse came in, checked me and I was 7 cm!!! We were very relieved...I thought she would say 2 or something. So we walked over to the LRD room. When we walked into our room, I saw two of my college classmates who were our nurse and the charge nurse. I was glad to see someone I knew. I sat down on the bed. B ran downstairs to get our stuff and park the car. My nurse and I started the admission history. She was very good (she'd have to be since she is a Beth-El grad:)). She told me, "I am going to be asking you questions, but when you have a contraction, just do what you need to do."

I had about 4 or 5 contractions while B was getting things settled and they were getting more intense. I kind of wish looking back on it that we had gotten to the hospital just a little bit earlier, so B could be helping me instead of having to worry about our stuff. Then I told my nurse "I either need to have a bowel movement, or I need to have a baby."

My nurse checked me and I was 8 cm and she could feel the head. We walked to the bathroom. I sat on the toilet for two contractions and those were wammos! B was done getting the stuff and back in the room now. We walked back and I sat on the birth ball and leaned over the bed for 3 or 4 contractions. Those were even more intense, but it was still mostly in my back. I was shaking and saying "Oh God, oh Lord help me!" over and over..I wasn't taking the Lord's name in vain...I really meant it!:) I was feeling even more pushy now. I told B "I can't, I can't," and he knew exactly what that meant.:) I was close! My nurse checked me again and I was complete!!! In this case having frequent exams was fine and helpful, since I was progressing so quickly.

The charge nurse went to call the doc and I got into the bed. After all this back labor, the last thing I wanted to do was lay on my back, so even though it was awkward, I was on my side, clinging to the bed rail to support myself. B had my top leg. By this time I was burning hot and any clothing I may have had was long gone. Instead of pushing B away like I thought I might, I hung onto his neck and pulled on him so hard. Poor guy, good thing it didn't last too long. The charge nurse came back in and said "the doc is on his way, but he's 20 minutes out, so try to hold off on pushing." HA! What a ridiculous thing to tell a laboring woman. I had a couple of pushing contractions and on one of them my water broke just like a water balloon. It made such a distinct pop that it surprised everyone in the room.

I tried as hard as I could to breathe through a couple of contractions and not bear down, but it was impossible. B whispered to me so the staff couldn't hear, "just let your body do what it needs to." We knew there was an on call in house OB who was prepared to deliver if ours didn't make it in time. Brett told them something like, "listen, we don't really care who delivers, because it's happening regardless." They got the on call OB who came in and started helping stretch my perineum. About 5 minutes later our covering OB came in. I was very relieved to see him. I had about 4 or 5 pushes before the head was out.

There was this battle in my head, "I don't want to push, because it is hurting when I do, but I want my baby and I want this to be done!" I tore very superficially when the head came out. The rest of his body practically slid out. Active pushing was maybe about 15-20 minutes. They suctioned him and put him on my belly. I hadn't heard the OB when he said it was a boy, so as soon as I got him, I spread his legs to see what in the world this baby was. Apparently Caiden urinated when he came out. He was a little blue from the cord being wrapped around his neck once, so they gave him a little blowby O2 and he let out a big cry. It was an awesome sound. Nothing prepares you for those emotions.

He was able to latch on for a few minutes. They did all his measurements, bath, and assessment at the bedside. We did a lot of skin to skin to keep up his temp after his bath. He stayed in the room with us the duration of the stay. Right after my stitches were done, I had the worst shakes. I was so cold, but it resolved quickly with warm blankets. I had my OJ, ate some food and got up to go to the bathroom.

I have to say something about our hospital experience. Our nurses were wonderful. Besides the whole "hold off on pushing thing," they were so accommodating. They made sure I had plenty of juice for B to give me, that I could move around. They said they would bring pain meds only when I asked and wouldn't push them on me. I was able to be on and off the fetal monitor as needed. They let me choose whatever position I felt most comfortable in. I do wish I was able to push when I needed to and that my midwife was able to be there. There were a couple of the routine newborn meds/interventions that we decided to either forego or wait on and they didn't argue with me. Overall it was a wonderful, doable experience. Hooray for no meds! However, I have decided something, I don't like back labor. All in all the labor was about 20 or 21 hours, but it really didn't seem that long.

And to this I add from my soap box: as a nurse, can I make a request to please be kind to your nurses?! They are people who have feelings and work 12 hours shifts (some of them are 9 months pregnant) taking care of often grumpy and demanding families. Please don't go looking for a fight with the hospital staff. Remember you are coming into a hospital where the focus is not on what should normally happen, but preparation for what might go wrong. This is not a bad thing, it's just the nature of birthing in a hospital versus home or a birth center. Healthcare professionals are bound by lots of protocols, liability and concerns for your safety, so don't be too hard on them when they are overly cautious. You may be very educated in natural birth and the Bradley Method, but they have gone through years of education and experience. Just respectfully and kindly make your requests as a team collaborator and not a demander. When you interact with your nurse, picture me 9 months prego taking care of you.:) Several of us have wonderful husbands who are great advocators. Please share this part with them as they will be the ones interacting with the staff. It may bug you to have the staff around, but if something were to happen with you or the baby, you'd better believe you want them there! There, I am done.

Recovery has been pretty good. Sore off and on. My lumbar area has been the most sore. I haven't been afraid to take Ibuprofen! I have taken a hot bath every day and that is wonderful. If I try too much activity in a day, then I pay for it later, but for the most part I have felt pretty good. One thing B and I found the first week was that we needed a daily outing. We would go to sonic and get drinks, go hang out at my parent's house. One night we spent 3 hours at a coffee shop (our first date). It's been very good for my spirits and good for our marriage.

Breastfeeding is going really well. I was afraid of the day my milk came in that I would be a basket case, but it turned out to be okay. Just a little weepy:). Caiden has been a little jaundiced so I've been feeding him frequently and putting him in the sun for a little while everyday. Nights are doable. It's incredible the grace God gives you when you need it. I really don't feel put out having to wake and feed. I forget how tired I really am. A few times I have had to wake him up because he would try to go 4+ hours between feedings at night. I told him, no sir, we are going to get rid of this jaundice and then he cooperated.

My Baby Sister's Having a Baby!

My littlest sister (8 years my junior) is having her baby very soon! Her husband called at 9:30 to say they were heading to the hospital--she was in labor. I left a message letting him know that whenever she did have the baby, we'd be one of the ones who wouldn't care what time of day or night they called, and he called back saying that he was getting the stuff from the car. She had been admitted and was 7 cm! She's been laboring all day at home (I'm impressed)! How much more fun is it to get to the hospital and be shocked that you're so far along, instead of shocked that you're only 2 cm? Anyway, he said she's coping well w/the obviously strong contractions and hasn't mentioned wanting/needing meds. So far, so good. I hope for her sake that the next few cm are not slow-going. Hubby's totally excited and encouraging; comfortable w/the birthing process and tackling his role in it. Surely that is a help even when a woman experiences really strong contractions. I'm proud of them. Don't know if I can sleep tonight--so excited. Wonder if it's a boy or girl. Casey says girl (just because it bothers Brett to say that).

Ruby's Birth Story--Three Years Late

A special thanks to my mom, who introduced me to how doable and preferable natural childbirth can be. Thank you for your example of peaceful laboring: I hope one day to be as good at it as you!

Also for Donna, who taught me and my husband the ins and outs of the truly daunting feat of accomplishing a natural childbirth in a hospital setting; without whose excellent education and guidance, we would have surely jumped the gun, ending up with many interventions I didn’t need.

And (the reason for posting a story so long after the fact) for Rebecca, my friend-through-blogging, who shares my (sometimes called “freakish”) interest in natural childbirth education with a passion very much like my own (from a few things I have read from your blog, Becca!), with the hope that your soon-due baby takes a much shorter—or at least less exhausting—time to get here than your first one did!

On Sunday, February 6, 2005 at 7:30 a.m. (5 days before due date), I woke to shower and get ready for church. I noticed a slightly pink discharge on a trip to the toilet, and the combination of that plus noticing several contractions during my 15 minute shower made me wonder if this could be “the day.” I woke Casey to ask if we should go to church or not (it is a 45 minute drive). The contractions I was experiencing were my usual Braxton-Hicks (B.H.) ones which I had noticed since the first months of pregnancy (despite what “they” say—that they don’t happen in the 1st trimester—especially with the first pregnancy—I began to notice B.H. before I was 12 weeks along). As the weeks closed in, contractions were longer, stronger and closer together, and it was not strange to be experiencing contractions less than 5 min apart, a minute or so long and attention-getting in intensity.

My midwife, Suzanne, had cautioned me on one of my last visits. I had had a very bad cold/flu 2 weeks before and at the next visit (1 week before), she noticed that I still sounded sick. With a little alarm (which I needed), she said, “You sound like you’re not completely over being sick. Labor is hard work and your body needs to be in good condition to handle it well. You are very close to your due date, which means that every day that you wake up, you need to ask yourself ‘Am I ready to go into labor today?’ and if the answer is ‘no,’ you need to alter the day’s plans accordingly. You need to rest up and get better right away.” (I am paraphrasing, but she was this strong and detailed about it. And though it was a lecture, she had loving concern in her voice, and I appreciated it and took it to heart.)

So Casey and I decided to stay home and rest/conserve energy in case I’d be going into labor that day. After going on a short walk while timing some contractions for ½ hour, he called our pastor around 8:30 or so to let him know we would not be at church so we could rest up. Contractions were 3-5 minutes apart and about 40 seconds to 1 min, 20 seconds long. This was our first, and we had no idea what to expect, but by textbook standards, that was pretty close to start out. By the timing of the contractions, some readers may be wondering why the next thing we did does not include careening off to the hospital at breakneck speed! But thanks to our wonderful childbirth educator, we didn’t rush to the hospital, since we had learned that contraction timing isn’t everything (nor is dilation, etc.). Just having close together contractions was not enough of a reason to go to the hospital yet.

We ran an errand to Wal-Mart to get a digital watch to time contractions more accurately (we’d been using my traditional watch—hard to do). We walked around the store, going down all the aisles we never had time to look in, timing contractions (which were 2-7 minutes apart and still about 40 seconds to 1 min, 20 seconds duration).

They were close together, but not any closer or stronger than I had noticed before. In the past 3 months I’d been having contractions pretty often, growing in intensity, as well as longer and closer together as the weeks closed in. (I distinctly remember going down one of the aisles thinking to myself “Why am I timing Braxton Hicks?” On paper it seems legitimate, but I had been feeling these exact contractions for a long time, I just didn’t bother to time them because I had no reason to think I was in labor. So I see a little bloody mucus and all of a sudden these might be labor contractions that I should time?)

When we returned, I rested for an hour, and didn’t begin timing again until almost 1 p.m. Contractions were 1-8 minutes apart, and 40 seconds to 2 min long. Around 2 p.m., on a trip to the toilet, I noticed more blood-tinged mucus, which I noted to be the mucus plug. (I was wrong: the real deal happened Mon. morning.) I hurried to look at my books for this other event, hoping to get a clue as to if I really was in labor or not. To my chagrin, the only book that helped me in this search was, What to Expect When You’re Expecting—I can’t stand that book! It had proven itself a completely useless waste of space and time up until then. {It seems to me that it is primarily the poorly informed mom-to-be who just loves this book—probably because it’s the only one she’s ever read—it’s generally the first book you’re given. I have never met a woman who really knows her stuff about pregnancy and childbirth who has said anything good about the book, and reviewing it recently, I think it’s because it talks to the reader like a patient who doesn’t want to be bothered with the details, not a consumer with a mind—and a choice—of her own. Saying things like: “Your Doctor may decide to . . .” or, “The hospital may . . . ,” etc., without information on other options, any pros and cons related to the subject, or even eluding to the idea that you have a right and (in my mind) more importantly, a responsibility to be part of the decision of what is done to you or your baby. I liken that book to childbirth classes offered by hospitals: their primary objective is to get you familiar with “the way that it’s done,” not to inform you of different options and the risks/benefits of each.} Even now, I cringe to admit that the book that I found the least helpful of any of the ones I had read was the most helpful when I was looking for a particular event. (Perhaps because of its layout it was easier to use as a resource.) Anyway, all that I found was that the mucus plug could be discharged even weeks before going into labor, and it was one of the least reliable signs of labor. Nice.

At some point, I called my Bradley teacher, Donna, to discuss where I was and what it might be. She said that contractions would be strong, close, long, and regular in active labor. If I wasn’t experiencing all 4, she said she wouldn’t count it as labor yet. (I realized later what a “by-the-book” person I tend to be, because they weren’t regular to me—all the examples I had seen in our class and in books were neat: i.e., exactly 5 minute intervals lasting exactly 60 seconds—very precise. By this standard, I was all over the place. I’d go 5, 1, 3, 2, 6, 8, 5 minutes between contractions, lasting :40, :40, :50, 1:55, 1:35, 1:40, 1:00. Only when I was pregnant with my second did I read that you’re supposed to make an average of what you’re timing, not take it exactly—making what I was experiencing: 4 minute intervals with contractions lasting 1 minute. That would have really been helpful to have known at the time. Do a lot of women just have “neater” patterns and not get hung up on this?)

Over the course of the next 2 days, I would try some Bradley “how-to-tell-if-it’s-really-labor” techniques: changing behavior to see if it affects the contractions. I showered, I walked, I drank something, I ate something, I lay down, etc. Contractions didn’t budge from their haphazard-yet-still-happening way. They didn't change or go away like they’re supposed to if it’s not “real” labor, yet they weren’t hurting enough, either (like one of Donna’s descriptions in class: “menstrual cramps times one thousand.”) From 3 p.m. to 5, they remained 2 to 6 min. apart, lasting 1 to 2 minutes long. They were getting longer, and around 3:45, on another trip to the toilet, I noticed bright red blood. But, I told myself, this isn’t labor. It wasn’t strong enough. I could remember having had menstrual cramps this painful (only a few times had my cramps ever been this bad, but even so, the pain I was feeling I had felt before, so it couldn’t be labor yet, right?).

Right after we went to bed at around 11 p.m. (our usual bedtime), the contractions started kicking it up a notch. {I can say this very definitely in hindsight. However, both that night and the next, I was not as keenly aware of labor progressing to a different level as much as wondering if I was just getting tired of it all and perceiving contractions to be stronger. “Is this water getting hot, or is it just me?” The proverbial frog and I both wonder.}

I lay very still and relaxed, fell asleep and tried to sleep through the contractions. When I no longer could sleep through them, I tried to sleep between them, but by 1 a.m., when I couldn’t do that anymore, I decided to change my activity level to see if things would slow down. I got up and got something to eat (a cup of yogurt & pack of peanuts and 12 oz of Red Raspberry Leaf tea.) The contractions didn’t change.

Around 3 or 4 a.m. on Monday, I woke Casey so we could decide if he should go into work or not. We called the hospital and talked to the midwife on call. She said we were welcome to come in and get checked, but we chose not to go in just yet, as I was still able to cope with the discomfort, so we figured I wasn’t very far along in labor (if I was in labor at all)! Contractions were very similar in timing to what they had been before.

About 5 a.m., we went on a walk to see if things would change. They did. The contractions got pretty mild again. When we got home, we took a nap from about 6 to 10 a.m., (able to sleep through them again at this point). Then Casey went to work.

That day, I stayed home, made some phone calls, cleaned some windows, and took a 45 minute nap. This was one huge downfall. In my mind, I was conserving energy, which probably would have been true had I slept through the previous night, but as it happened, From 7:30 a.m. on Sunday to when Ruby was born at 8:43 on Tuesday morning (over 48 hours), I had had a total of almost 5 hours sleep. (I don’t count when I tried to sleep through the really strong ones that first night, since they were close and long enough that I doubt if I got any quality sleep for the short while I was able to sleep through them.)

What I should have done was sleep all day on Monday (if my contractions would have let me). If I had known that I would get no sleep the next night, too, I would have made a better choice. However, I do think that my experience has its purpose, and it is a testimony to the fact that, even if a woman is sleep-deprived and her body has been working her to death (that is how it felt the second time things kicked into high gear—Enough! Either go or stop, but don’t tease me!), and she is so exhausted she sleeps between pushing contractions, it can still be done without interventions! {The biggest reason for this, I believe, was because we waited SO long to go to the hospital. Had I experienced this labor pattern there, the hospital’s arbitrary stop watch would have been started. They would have wanted to put me on Pitocin once the contractions slowed on Monday, which, if we had consented, would have probably been followed by my request for an epidural, and, because the two work against each other (Pit making the uterine muscles contract strongly and the epi relaxing the uterine muscles and making the contractions sluggish), it is well within reason that, after a cascade of more interventions—the “slippery slope of intervention,” as Donna calls it!—a cesarean may have been the outcome for "failure to progress" or a distressed baby.}

So, what I chose to do re: rest/sleep was due to the fact that I was thinking “maybe it was all in my head” about the previous night. I mean, labor doesn’t get going and then stop, right? So it must not have been labor, and I must just be a wimp to think that it was. I must have no idea what kind of pain I’m in for. I regret that I had these thoughts seconded by people I talked to in these 2 days of confusion. I was given the impression that there was no such thing as what I was experiencing (hence, I’m sure, validating the thought that I was imagining it—it never had been labor—it may be another week or more before I experience real labor).

From 10:45 a.m. Monday until 3:45p.m., (when I took my nap), contractions were 3-13 minutes apart, and 30 seconds to 2 minutes in duration (averaging 7 min. apart w/1 min. duration). Not a whole lot of change timing-wise, but they were back to my normal Braxton Hicks again in intensity.

After my nap, from 4:25 p.m. to 8 p.m., contractions were from 2-10 minutes apart and 45 seconds to 2 minutes duration (ave.: 6 min. between; 66 seconds long) . Wah wah—wah wah—wah wah. (Like the adults sound on Charlie Brown—that’s how I felt about this stuff by then.)

11 p.m. and we go to bed, and guess what? It kicks into high gear again.

I was not able to sleep through or between contractions this time, but, since this had happened the night before, I decided not to wake Casey (I wanted him fresh for when I was actually going to need him). {Another mistake I made: waiting to pull out the “big guns” until I went into labor—I was in labor!—I just didn’t believe it, because it was exactly like last night, which couldn’t have been labor, because it petered out. And I did need Casey. All the things I could have done: baths, showers, massages, encouraging words from my honey, or even having someone over who was experienced enough in such things to observe me and say: “This looks like active labor” would have made such a difference. As it was, I wasn’t relaxing this time, because it “wasn’t labor,” so I shouldn’t take these contractions so seriously. It would only make me crazy, getting my hopes up, only to be dashed in the morning when it petered out again. I wasn’t “letting go,” and “opening up,” like I was taught to do when I went into labor, because, like a broken record: “This isn’t labor.” and “This doesn’t count.”

A few months before, in one of our Bradley classes, there was a couple who had had a similar experience in that she was having contractions 3 minutes apart, yet didn’t have her baby for a month. I don’t know the details—did it come and go—or anything, but I had this in my mind as a distinct possibility. I could do this for weeks before “real” labor started. (Interestingly enough, almost this very thing happened with my 2nd labor, so it’s good to have had in my mind, but it really threw me off at the time.) From what we learned in our classes and the books I had read, what was happening didn’t fit any of the descriptions of what labor can be like. Even “The Putterer”—the description that most resembled my labor—was long and slow, but progressive nonetheless. It didn’t go backwards! Months after Ruby was born, I found a book that had the closest description of what I had experienced: called prodromal labor. Even up until then, I felt so alone in what I had experienced. Until reading an actual definition of what my labor was like, I had never heard of what had happened with me even being a possibility, and there was a sort of disbelief expressed when I would try to explain what my labor experience was like. I even wondered myself.}

I got a few snacks and tried to read things to find out if I was in labor or not. I was getting really tired of this stuff. I ate a few bites and drank a little hot tea, but became very nauseated, frustrated and hopeless. I was mad that I felt like I was going to die, yet I wasn’t even in labor yet. {Again, at this point, an astute outside observer would have been helpful here to recognize the emotional signpost of transition. Things were so slow-going and so long and drawn out that changes weren’t marked to me like they may have been for someone else. I think I may have experienced transition twice: once emotionally (and slightly physically) before we went to the hospital, and once primarily physically—completely devoid of the emotional signs—once we arrived in Triage. Because my labor was somewhat broken up by the trip to the hospital, it may have halted progress, then resumed once my body felt safe to proceed.}

Finally, at 3 a.m. or so, I woke Casey to let him know what was happening (or rather, that I didn’t know what was happening), and we called the hospital again. This time, I wanted to go, just because I wanted this to end. I gave up and admitted it: I was a wimp. There’s no way I could get through real labor if I couldn’t even handle this. I was going to need drugs after all.

Somewhere around 4 a.m., we left for the hospital. I was so happy and relaxed to think that soon I would know what was going on and I don’t think I had any contractions in the 15-minute drive. For the first time in 2 days, I felt great. The moment we parked and I opened my car door, I again started having close and intense contractions. I was still able to walk, though it was very uncomfortable {Another test I had learned about: if you can still walk through the contractions, you’re probably not in active labor. That may work well for your hypochondriac all the way up to your average person, but it’s not fool-proof—or should I say “frog-proof.” I am convinced I could have walked through the pushing contractions if at that point I somehow was still unsure if I was in labor yet! On the way to Triage, through gritted teeth, I frustratingly said to myself, “I can . . . still walk . . . through . . . these ones.” Hindsight makes me laugh at my literalness. And I’m sure there are other exceptions to this test, such as a fire, or some other catastrophe! It’s actually a little humorous to look back on, but boy, was it discouraging at the time! (Seeing a birth video after Ruby was born, I remember watching incredulously as the laboring mother stopped to rest for contractions very early on in an average-length labor—i.e. it wasn’t so fast-moving that they were incredibly intense contractions at that point. I thought to myself: “If she has to stop this early on, how is she going to make it to the end?” I guess that’s one of the luxuries of knowing “this is it!” from the get-go. But I have learned better since then: now I just relax during any bout of really strong contractions, even if I’m 25 weeks from my due date. However, if I stopped what I was doing each time I had a contraction, I wouldn’t get anything done for months!)}

I walked from the visitor parking lot to the elevators and onto the L&D floor, contracting all the way. I remember having a contraction as we reached the nurse’s station, casually hurrying to lean on the counter, trying to remain calm and not let on that I was struggling as much as I was. Nurses laugh at first-time moms who think they’re in the throes of labor and aren’t anywhere near. I was NOT going to be that mom. And I don’t know if it’s true, but something in me figured that if I came in all hot-and-bothered, they’d take me less seriously and actually slow the admittance process just to make a point. (You know what I mean, if you grew up with [or as] a sibling [or a bully!]. Someone shows a little too much feeling and suddenly, you know how to get to them).

{Most details of this story I wrote shortly after Ruby was born, but I didn’t have a good idea on many specifics once we left for the hospital. So, I ordered my records from the hospital, hoping to get some specific information to correlate with what I do remember. One thing I’ve learned from reviewing my chart is that at least some things that may be assumed to be factual can be more of a matter of the perspective of the person charting. Reading studies and statistics on such things will now be with a more critical eye for me. I will expound later.}

So, at 4:43 a.m. on Tuesday, I was shown to Triage, given a gown and a cup and went immediately into the bathroom to change and get a urine sample (whose idea is that?!?). Casey came in with me. About halfway undressed, I began to have monster contractions, causing me to lose last night’s dinner (into the toilet, thankfully), and, between violently vomiting, noticed that I was now also bleeding onto the floor. At this point, I was confused as to which end would be best to be over the toilet, so for a few minutes, I did a little dance, whereby switching vomiting, then bleeding into the bowl. All the while, despite the physical symptoms my body was going through, my emotions were on cloud nine: This MUST be labor! YAY! (I truly believe this was my physical experience of transition, though the numbers don’t agree.)

Once transition was over, I resumed getting into the gown and achieved a sample (which I had to apologize for, because I could not get a clean catch since I was bleeding). I then started to clean the blood off the floor, which Casey encouraged me to let them do. He was thinking a little clearer than I: sure that they had seen this before and that I wouldn’t be rude to leave it. I had a good reason to not clean up after myself today. He was right, but I was too embarrassed. Finally, after I had cleaned most of it, I was able to show my face to the nurses I was about to meet. (They had been checking on me, knocking on the door, wondering why it was taking so long for me to perform two small tasks. Casey had explained what was going on.) I didn’t want to bleed all the way to the bed, so they gave me a towel and I waddled over and we commenced the admittance routine, complete with external monitoring and a vaginal exam (the only one I would get!). Contractions were 2-3 minutes apart at this point; I don’t know how long they were. Unfortunately, my chart says nothing about what station the baby was, which was something I was really curious to know. But I was 100% effaced and 6 cm dilated. For many moms, this would have been devastating news: “All this time and only a 6?!?!” But I was ecstatic: “So it IS labor after all!!!”

Re: transition: many textbooks define the dilation from 8-10 cm as transition. It can be noted to be the most difficult part of labor—the time when many moms give up and want to quit. Most of the time, immediately after transitioning, a woman begins pushing. Even though after it was all over I was only a 6, the physical signs match the definition too well. I chalk it up to labor being different for every woman and stick to my guns on the idea that it was transition, despite the fact that I was a couple hours away from complete dilation. I think in this case, maybe a better definition of transition would be “expedient change in the cervix,” which is surely why I started bleeding so much so suddenly. Perhaps I was only a 4 when I walked in and 15 minutes later I was a 6. Who knows?

I was asked many non-labor questions upon being admitted, even though we had preregistered and the hospital had my medical record (somewhere—but my chart hadn’t made it the few hundred feet from where I had my appointments to where I would birth my baby). Things like if I had a family history of diseases, did I smoke, etc. I told them I was GBS positive.

The admitting nurse asked me when labor started. “Well, on Sunday. . .” I began. “No.” she interrupted. “Women are in labor for hours, not days,” She curtly stated. I was confused. “Oh . . . Hmm . . . maybe. . . well, by eleven last night contractions were strong enough that I couldn’t do anything but labor.” “THAT’S better,” she stated, typing away on the computer. I remember thinking at the time (and wish I had expressed something like it), “For a Triage nurse, it seems like you’d know better than to argue with a woman in labor,” but I kept it to myself. I am an easily swayed person when it comes to impressions and experiences that I’m confused about anyway: I will usually defer to someone else (especially when that someone has more experience or education than I do on a certain matter or is a “professional” in the field). Since she was the L&D Triage nurse, and she said it so emphatically, it must be true. Women don’t labor for days. Case closed. I didn’t bring it up to the medical staff again. (When my usual midwife discharged me from the hospital a couple days later, reviewing my chart, she commented, “So, a ten hour labor. That’s pretty good for a first labor.” I didn’t argue or give her the details about what actually happened. The message I had clearly gotten (again) was that whatever I thought I had experienced couldn’t happen, and therefore, I was imagining it. But I wasn’t totally sold: for months—and even somewhat now—I still was confused as to how long my labor was. It wasn’t ten hours, but how long was it?)

I mentioned earlier about reading studies with a more critical eye after having reviewed my chart. Two things stand out to me in particular about the way my labor was charted. One: first stage is reported to be 8 hours, 20 minutes. This is because I wasn’t allowed to have started labor on Sunday, because the nurse wouldn’t take that answer (not that I myself could say exactly how long labor really was). But if a research group were to review my chart to include in some average or statistic, it would be a far cry from accurate, and I wonder how many other labors are charted differently than they really are? The second thing has to do with pushing, and I’ll get to that when I get to pushing.

At about 5:45 a.m., I was shown into my room, got an I.V. for antibiotics (GBS), and given one dose of Ampicillin. After all my vomiting, I was concerned about dehydration (we had learned in class that the uterus doesn’t perform well if the body is deprived of nutrients or water), so I was drinking quite a bit between contractions. A young nurse warned me: “You might want to go easy on the water. It can make you throw up.” Sure enough, within 5 minutes, I was vomiting again. {I learned so many important things in my first labor on what NOT to do during active labor. Note to self for next time: lots of tiny sips is good, gulps are bad.}

I puttered around the room, rocked in the glider, rolled the birth ball around the floor, finally relaxing through contractions (since I now knew they were “real!”). The nurse who did my I.V. asked me how I would classify the pain I was experiencing from one to ten. I told him, “This is the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life; probably about an 8.” I wanted to give myself room in case it got worse, which was totally a mental thing. Even if it was worse than any other pain I had experienced as of yet, if I was already at 10, where would I go from there, but drugs?

They finally got us settled. Casey ran to get our stuff from the car, then did some videotaping. We met the midwife on call (who guessed by observing me that I was about 9 cm. at this point. She was very encouraging. I wish she could’ve stayed!) and gave the staff a copy of our birth plan, since the copy I had put with my chart was lost wherever my chart was. I’m glad we were warned to bring a copy with us!



Immediately after this, I began to feel like I wanted to push. I asked the nurses (there were still at least 3 staff in our room at this point, fiddling with things) if they could summon the midwife so she could check me. She came in, along with the midwife who was taking over, who I also met for the first time. They told me that if I felt pushy, I should go with what I was feeling. No need to check dilation. So we tried a few different positions, moving around. The shift changed, and one of the nurses (the one who warned me about drinking too much) came to say goodbye. “You’re doing SO well,” she said. This was the last encouragement any staff volunteered the entire time I was in labor there. The new nursing staff we met (soon after she said goodbye) was all business.

Almost as soon as the new midwife took over, she expressed plans to break my water. As we had learned in our classes, Casey took the lead as my (and Ruby’s) advocate and asked what the purpose would be. “So I could see if there’s meconium,” she said. “And what would be the benefit to discovering it now, rather than later?” he asked. “So we could know ahead of time if we needed to suction the baby.”
After confirming that it was standard to have everything ready for any situation no matter what they already knew, Casey responded: “No, we’re not comfortable with doing that just for the convenience of knowing ahead of time.” She didn’t bother us about it again for awhile.

Okay, back-up to starting to push: I had practiced and had in my mind a squatting position, but as I looked around the cold, sterile room of tile and little that seemed comfortable, I didn’t know how to make this happen. I squatted over a sheet on the floor in the middle of the room for a few contractions, but with no support or way to rest between contractions, I didn’t last long. The midwives suggested the squatting bar on the bed and I tried that. It wasn’t much better. In order to truly rest between contractions, I would have to get out of my squat, lay back in the bed, and then—the really tough part—get back into a squat as another contraction came. Contractions were close enough that there wouldn’t have been ANY rest between them if I did all that, and I would wear myself out (I was already on my last ounces of energy). I needed a place to squat where I could stay that way, yet rest between. To trump it all, the midwives had advised me that for truly effective pushing in a squat, I’d need to curl my back into a “C” curve. Trying this for a few contractions, I could not do it. It caused my ribs to dig into my contracting uterus, which was extremely uncomfortable. I told them “It sounds silly, but this hurts.” But again, trusting the professionals, I did not say, “It hurts to do it that way; I’m just going to keep my back straight.” Instead, I just gave up on the squat, because I couldn’t do it the “right” way.

I ended up on my left side, pulling on a sheet tied to the squatting bar, Casey holding my leg up for every contraction. This was not ideal: I had to put my leg down in order to completely rest and relax between contractions, but surely it was not advancing the cause of getting my baby out to put my legs together! Nevertheless, I was exhausted and had no energy to try anything different (never could get used to the idea of lying on my back or “sitting” on my bottom while pushing, as so many people do). This went on for what seemed like an eternity, until my left hip was so sore, I had to change to my right side. {The second part about my chart that makes me raise my eyebrows: The time I was charted to have started pushing was at 7:20 a.m. While lying on my right side, it says I started to feel pushy. Yet, I expressed the desire to push before the 7 a.m. shift change, and experimented with several positions around the room before resorting to the bed, and even then, I started on my left side. Perhaps it was 7:20 when I ended up on my right side, on which I delivered Ruby, but I had been pushing for at least a half hour before the chart states that I started to feel pushy. Did my pushing not count as long as I changed positions? Anyway, second stage is reported as 1 hour, 23 minutes on my chart, but from what I can deduce re: the shift change, it was closer to 2 hours.}

Contractions were 3-4 minutes apart (chart doesn’t say how long). On my right side, a nurse took over for Casey and held my leg up during contractions, freeing him to give me spoonfuls of ice chips between contractions and hold my hand during them. I needed to look into his eyes for every contraction in order not to lose it. I was so overwhelmed by the exhaustion and pain (the former probably intensifying the latter). I felt completely out of control. Interestingly enough, even at this point of being utterly spent, the thought of an epidural was more scary than comforting to me. All I could think of was the fact that labor was so slow-going already, why would I want the possibility of drawing it out even longer? Not than an epi would have been available to me at this point, but it was the LAST thing I wanted to ask for (excepting, of course, the c-section).

Many women describe a part in their labor when they are so deep into what they are doing, they have no clue what’s going on around them. I have not experienced this kind of labor. Even being physically exhausted, I was still acutely aware of every sound. Physically I was at the end of my energy, but mentally, my mind was racing with thoughts; even when I was “sleeping” between contractions, my mind was awake and I was listening. It was my body that was resting.

Casey was doing his best to encourage me. He kept saying, “You’re doing great. You’re doing great. You’re doing great.” We were in the thick of things, and he didn’t have a huge repertoire stored away in his brain under the heading: “Things to Say to Encourage Your Laboring Wife.” (Verbal encouragement doesn't come naturally to him, so we had compiled a small notebook of Bible verses and relaxing thoughts he could review with me, but this was not the time to be juggling a book.) This was all he could come up with on the fly. I was so tired, so worn down, and the thing I needed most was communication, most especially the encouraging kind. There were at least half-a-dozen medical staff in the room, including the midwife, yet the only person who was telling me I was doing great was the only person in the room least qualified to do so. The stone silence from all those experienced people in the room screamed at me, “Yeah, right!” Finally, I cried out: “Does anyone else agree with him?!” Suddenly, several voices piped up: “You’re doing just fine.” Then we were back to stone silence again. Everyone was so busy fiddling and “getting ready” that it was as if caring for the actual patient was lower in priority to getting things done. No wonder the medication rate is so very high for laboring women in the hospital! No communication (and especially encouragement) takes its toll after a while. Far from what I had pictured when I chose a midwife to do my care, this midwife was not holding my hand, telling me I could do it, giving me hints on how to more effectively push, or ideas on things to try, or even telling me what on earth was going on with me or my baby. (I refer to her as an Ob in midwife’s clothing.) Periodically, she would get up from the stool at the end of my bed and leave the room without a word as to where she was going or when she would be back. (To believe the best: perhaps she thought I was the usual laboring woman who didn’t notice what was going on.) It told me I was nowhere near the end when the person who would be catching my baby left the room. I don’t begrudge her needing a bathroom break, or even needing to check on someone else in labor, or return a call, etc. The part that was so terrible was that she didn’t ever say anything. If she had only known how important an, “I need to check on another patient really quickly. Pushing is hard work, but your baby is getting closer. Just keep doing what you’re doing, and I’ll be back right away.” would have been.

Beginning when I started pushing on the bed, one of the nurses would hold the external fetal monitor on my belly, pushing it hard into the “smile” of my belly (right where the contractions felt the most intense) for every contraction. This added so much to my discomfort, I finally snapped, “Does that have to be on me?” “Yes,” she said. “We’re having a hard time hearing the baby’s heart.” At the time, I didn’t know that this particular midwife was monitor happy and there was absolutely no medical reason for constant monitoring to be necessary (Ruby’s heart rate was just as it should have been, it was that she was so low in the birth canal that it was hard to find her heartbeat—even that would have been an encouragement if someone had told me). I trusted that there must be a concern for the baby’s safety, and wasn’t about to argue with that. I was too tired to argue, anyway. So for every contraction, she would dig into my belly with the monitor.

For some of the pushing contractions, I would open my eyes as one started and tell Casey that I was “skipping this one,” meaning not pushing. I just didn’t have the stamina to push anymore. I may have skipped every few contractions near the end. I would try to relax through those contractions, storing up energy to push for the next one.

At 8:30, the amniotic sack was bulging. The midwife said so, and that she was going to break it to relieve some pressure. I didn’t waste energy arguing. Besides, I was feeling a lot of pressure. Sure enough, it did relieve a great deal of pressure. It felt so much better when she broke it. But it was definitely under a lot of pressure, too, as it practically exploded and soaked her front. Soon, they could see Ruby’s head, and asked me if I wanted to see it. I tried to picture how I would have to bend like a pretzel to be able to see it in my current position, so I shook my head, “no.” I didn't have a mirror in mind, nor do I think I’d take them up on it if I had understood. I didn’t want to see or touch her. I just wanted it to be over. Casey took a look and mentioned that we would meet the baby soon. I honestly didn’t care. I just wanted to be done so I could sleep.

While “sleeping” between contractions, I heard one of the nurses pick up the phone behind me and quietly say, “Could I have a baby Doctor in room 12?” Suddenly, hearing that, I knew I must be close, if they were bothering to call for the baby Doctor. But my energy was short lived. After what seemed like an hour of more pushing (but was only 10 minutes), I gave up (again). I told Casey I couldn’t do it anymore. I was too tired. The midwife, so very silent through the whole thing, said, “Just give me a couple more good pushes.” I pushed hard, a renewed sense that this might actually end soon. Another contraction came. I gave it my all, and Ruby Sophia came shooting into the world at 8:43 a.m. on Tuesday, February 8th. I saw a red blur rocket out of me in my peripheral vision; then I turned back and closed my eyes. “Finally,” I thought. “It’s over.” Because of my timing on giving up (or, more accurately, a lack of communication) I had a 2nd degree extensive (going deep into the birth canal) tear, as well as many small abrasions (they called them “skid marks”) inside me. To be gracious, I believe the midwife thought she was doing me a favor by telling me to give her really good pushes, since I was giving up, but the reason I was giving up was because I didn’t know what was going on and how close I was to the end. Her complete silence was so discouraging. Had I known I was that close, I could have made it those few more minutes, and it would have been much gentler on both me and Ruby. (As it was, it took weeks for the swelling to go down and my bottom to feel somewhat back-to-normal. I couldn’t stand for more than a few minutes without hurting for those first 2-5 weeks.)

I moved to my back and they put Ruby on me. (She had no name yet. It was between Ruby and Madeline. We decided to wait till she came out to see which name she looked like.) She was mad and tired. Seeing her and holding her, I had a surge of endorphins and started to feel better. I was still physically spent, but a better mental and emotional outlook was showing itself (by the fact that I wanted anything to do with her, for one!).

Another five minutes and the placenta was delivered (by the midwife tugging at the cord. We had requested a natural delivery of the placenta on our birth plan--it may or may not have been "natural." I don't know enough about this to discern if it was fine or not for her to do this. She was tugging, but not outright pulling). They did wait till the cord stopped pulsing, at least, to cut it. The nurses were very rough “kneading” my belly. I tried to nurse Ruby, but she wasn’t too interested, so we decided to let them do the newborn check while I got stitched. I was given a local anesthetic, yet I would have guessed that I was feeling everything. I can’t believe how difficult it is for me to relax for pain after the baby’s born. I was tensing and verbally expressive of the pain I was feeling (not quite yelling, but close) with every pull of the needle and thread.

Ruby was extremely red. (We joked that we’d have to name her Ruby because of it!) She was so red that during the newborn exam, they didn’t even notice an inch-and-a-half long strawberry hemangeoma (a birthmark) on her back. She was 19 ½ inches long and weighed 7 lb. 9.1 oz. Her APGAR scores were fine (8 at 1 min., then 9 at 5 min.), but she was as exhausted as I was. She was not the alert, undrugged baby we had expected after an unmedicated birth. In fact, I believe it took until she was a couple of months old before we knew she was actually looking at us!

Noticing the specific request on our birth plan to not have Pitocin after delivery, the midwife expressed a desire to do it anyway and we declined. She said I had lost about as much blood as she was comfortable with, so she’d be watching it closely. Around 9:30 a.m., the nursing staff told me I’d need to urinate before they could send me to the postpartum room, so I waddled to the toilet, on which I sat for a few minutes with nothing happening. I turned on the bath water. Still nothing. I kept feeling like I was letting it go, but then it wouldn’t come out. Finally, I told them I just couldn’t do it. As I started to stand, I passed out. A bunch of staff rushed into the room to help walk me to the bed. I was put on oxygen and Casey and I agreed to Pitocin. (At the time, we thought I had fainted because of blood loss, but as my home birth midwife reviewed my chart on my next pregnancy, she noted that 500 ml of blood is a normal amount of loss for vaginal delivery. She asked me if by that time I had been fed and given something to replenish my electrolytes. I told her no. “THAT’s why you fainted,” she said.) So, mistaking low blood sugar for too much blood loss, we consented to 2 things that we had not wanted: Pit and a catheter (the catheter because we believed it would be a bad idea for me to get up to try to empty my bladder the “traditional” way after already having fainted once). I don’t know how people can handle being catheterized. It was terrible. I never want to have to do that again.

Ruby nursed around 10 a.m. and latched on well. Sometime after 11:40, we were taken to the postpartum floor. Casey accompanied Ruby to the nursery, where she was bathed and returned promptly. (We had refused the eye ointment as well as the Hep. B shot in our birth plan.) I had an ice pack on my bottom (sweet relief!) and we just sat on the bed and held Ruby. Casey made some phone calls, and I asked him to make excuses to our pregnant friends and not hand the phone to me. I felt like a train had gone through me, and was thinking to myself that Casey had better be happy with the only baby I will ever give him. I felt so horrible and didn’t want to scare anyone who was looking at childbirth in the near future. I had NOTHING good to say about having a baby. I felt a little cheated. I had heard and read all these wonderful stories of non-drugged mothers and babies bouncing back from delivery, walking around (the moms, not the babies—“Wow,” I hear you say, “Natural birth is a miracle!”), feeling great. I have seen drugged moms and babies who fit that description more than we did, and I think our postpartum experience pretty much fit the description of a totally medicated birth—feeling groggy and out-of-it with no energy or spark, and pain being postponed until after the birth (though it wasn’t postponed so much for me as prolonged. It was a far cry from what I had heard a few strangers tell me about the pain being “over” when the baby was born. In some ways, it had just started). Even so, I was still glad that we didn’t compromise or end up with the major things we were purposing to avoid. I guess I want it to be clear that I do not regret going through with unmedicated birth, and that I really think it could have been an even worse experience if we had caved on some of the bigger things. Then I would have had to work through a lot more confusion and discouragement than I already did. It wasn’t natural birth that let me down: it was a lack of knowledge, support, validation and communication,--as well as my timidity--that made Ruby’s birth experience the harrowing one it was. I believe strongly that a couple can’t be too prepared for birth, which is why I still make a great effort to educate myself in regard to it (even when I’m not pregnant).

Around midnight that night, (after we finally decided on her name) I made myself shower, even though I had no energy for it; then promptly went to bed. Now that I think of it, I had not had more than 5 hours of sleep in a total of more than 64 hours. No wonder my outlook was so bleak and I felt so terrible! (The next morning, I felt so exponentially better than I had the day before that I began to think that maybe I could do this again, if recovery was this quick.)

Through that first night and the next day/night at the hospital, I fed Ruby for 10-30 minutes every 2 hours (sometimes more often). I had heard so many horror stories about breastfeeding (especially in the hospital), and refused to let there be any reason for a nurse to even suggest that Ruby needed to have formula or glucose water or needed to be taken away to the nursery. Whether it was a more laid-back hospital re:babies or that I was adequately prepared in what to expect and how to do it, I don’t know, but I’m happy to say breastfeeding was not nearly as much of a fight as I was prepared for it to be. But it was painful. I got blisters and blood blisters those first few weeks, and it pretty much always hurt, even though she was latched on correctly. Upon discharge, she weighed 7 lb. 1.4 oz.—she’d lost less than 8 oz, so my tiredness must not have affected the colostrum much.

Late afternoon on Thursday, the 10th, we were allowed to go home. Ruby showed no signs of GBS and her bilirubin count was fine. They wheeled us out (The hospital has a rule that no one may be both holding the baby and walking at the same time!) to the car, and off we went to start our new life as a family of three!

In the months that followed, I became much more educated re: birth, while trying to work out my confusing experience in my labor with Ruby. I decided to take all the things that I did not like about my birth experience that were within my “control” and make a better experience next time. It has almost become a game to me: “Now which things could have been better had they been done differently? How can I make the next labor even better?” I believe this is one of the main reasons (besides perspective) that my second experience was so much better than my first—because I learned from my history and didn’t have to repeat it! I am very thankful that God brought me through the difficult labor with Ruby and has used it for good, just as He promises his children (Rom. 8:28).