Our birth teacher told us to picture how our perfect labor experience would be. It probably wouldn't be anything like it, but it might.
The rest of our class spoke of spending "early labor" walking along the beach, or strolling through a bookstore or a museum.
I thought that a great early labor distraction would be unpacking the kitchen in our new home.
I thought for sure that moving two weeks before my due date would make something happen right? I packed up our old place feeling braxton hicks the whole time, I started hurriedly unpacking boxes at our new house the contractions sometimes being a little painful sometimes not. Days went by. I kept unpacking. People kept saying "haha you won't be unpacked until the baby is 3 years old". Not the case, I unpacked every box, 9 months pregnant. I had stopped painting, what else was there to do.
My due date came, I went to an art opening at a gallery that was displaying my work, because this conversation is fun:
"Oh you're the artist! And you're expecting a little artist, when are you due?"
"today"
Zach and I started going on long walks because supposedly that helps get things moving. We would walk to downtown Carp, where we would stop and get ice cream. I had to have some motivation for walking that far! And I was craving ice cream like you wouldn't believe. During the last few days I was eating ice cream multiple times a day...a model of healthy eating during most of my pregnancy, but after I was late, whatever, give me ice cream.
Finally I ran out of things to do during the day so I decided to paint a VERY large painting for our living room. I spent all day in the garage and I pretty much finished the sucker. Looking back at photos my belly really
was huge, no wonder the guys still working on our house were afraid of me. People kept stopping by all day, our neighbor to give me a boppy, the guys working on the....counterops? I can't even remember, a lady coming to buy the dishwasher we posted on craigslist. I must have looked ridiculous.
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| "our new bathroom, with no counter, sink or mirror yet" |
That night I was super tired, maybe working all day wasn't such a great idea I thought. We still went on an evening walk, then watched an episode of White Collar, then ate ice cream (of course) and went to bed.
I woke up at 2:30 AM, I couldn't figure out why at first. Oh, something hurts. Why does something hurt? Do I need to pee? Why am I awake? Ouch cramps. Cramps? I went to the bathroom and hurrah! there it was! Bloody show! (sorry y'all, if that was TMI for you you might want to stop reading because this is going to get graphic). I went back to bed but couldn't sleep, lying down was way too painful. I started timing them, they were 5 minutes apart and lasting a minute each. 5 minutes already? I decided to move to the couch. Zach woke up while I was gathering some pillows. "What's wrong? are you ok?" "yeah, I'm fine, I'm in labor, go back to sleep".
I sat on the couch, in the dark, tried to sleep, couldn't, took the batteries out of the super loud clock, nope, still couldn't sleep. I considered trying to finish reading the childbirth book I was halfway through (
Redeeming Childbirth, I bet the end is just as good as the beginning). I remembered the author mentioned a song in the book that I definitely wanted on my "early labor playlist",
I Surrender All. I downloaded it to my phone. Deciding that sitting in the dark not sleeping was boring and painful I decided I might as well start listening to that playlist.
It was a beautiful time, quietly resting, worshiping through the contractions, watching as the room lit up with early morning light (couldn't help it, we didn't have window coverings yet!).
Our birth teacher said that once we got into active labor we would just want a relaxing playlist (whale sounds and such) because actual music would probably distract or bother us. I didn't find that to be the case. I listened to my "early" playlist all the way through, it was crucial for me. I remember focusing on one song in particular during transition:
"Oceans"
Your grace abounds in deepest waters
Your sovereign hand
Will be my guide
Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me
You've never failed and You won't start now
So I will call upon Your name
And keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise
My soul will rest in Your embrace
For I am Yours and You are mine
It's almost as if this song was written just for women in labor. How many times did I read each contraction being like a "wave"?
I still can't sing this song without crying. It brings me right back to that place, being in so much pain, and just trying to focus on Jesus, who else could help me at that moment?
Anyway, Zach got up (apparently sleeping is hard when your wife is in labor?). I finally texted my doula (Ronda) at around 7:00. She told me to eat a good breakfast and try to rest. I ate a large bowl of oatmeal. I took a bath.
I felt conflicted as whether I should try to rest or try to go about my day, walk around and stay moving. Waking up at 2 AM messes with your head. So I labored around the house (not wanting to bother putting on actual clothes that I would need to leave the house). I had Zach find me funny youtube videos to distract me during contractions (the trust fall, and that little girl who cries because she's going to Disneyland). At one point I sent him to the store because we didn't have any bread and I was craving orange juice. He made chicken fried rice for lunch...I ate a little bit. It felt good to be outside, the sun felt good. I'd lean on Zach when a contraction would come (he sold our patio chairs the day before!)
Eventually the videos weren't working anymore, it hurt to laugh. Back inside I labored backward on a chair. I was timing the contractions on my phone, they were getting longer, a little closer together, much more painful.
After laboring at home for 12 hours Ronda convinced us we should head to the hospital. I had been nervous about going too early, what if labor stopped? I did not want to be at the hospital longer than I had to be. I was trying to convince myself that I didn't need to go yet when I had a contraction in our hallway that changed my mind.
We left with bags, cooler and carseat. I was super classy wearing a pair of Zach's old boxer shorts and old t-shirt, clutching a robe and my water bottle.
I was dreading the car ride, but only had 2 or 3 contractions on the way over. I remember everything looking surreal, too bright, like everything was more colorful than normal.
We pulled up to the hospital, Ronda met us and parked the car for us. Zach grabbed the bags and headed inside. I had to stop on a bench outside for a contraction...I looked just awful, but didn't even care about the strangers watching. Inside they offered me a wheelchair, but I declined, walking is good right?
I got to the labor room, they gave me a gown, a monitor belt thing, put an IV port in, and asked me a million questions...I just kept thinking "why are they asking me and not Zach? I can't really form sentences right now". The nurse checked me, and then told me she wanted to have her intern check me afterward....ummm, no. I'm in labor, I'm not your science experiment, I don't need anyone else's hands up there.
She said I was a "stretchy 4cm" and then stretched me to 5 (still not clear about how that works, but whatever). Ronda said "that's great! the first 5 take the longest, things could really get moving now".
I stayed on the bed for a few contractions so they could monitor the baby. The nurse decided to give me some fluids to "wake the baby up" so they could get a good read on paper.
If I had known that I'd spend the next 3+ hours freezing cold, I would have protested. She gave me the refrigerated fluids...apparently they had room temperature ones but she decided not to use those? So now I'm on the bed shaking uncontrollably, hating lying down, waiting for them to finish so I could get in the tub. The tub, where it's warm.
I guess a lot of women love laboring in the tub or pool or what have you. For me it was where my contractions were the hardest, I only stayed in as long as I did because I was still freezing. And I thought "the tub is supposed to make things better, how bad would it feel if I wasn't in here?". Zach was in the tub with me, praying out loud for me during each contraction. I don't know how I would have managed without that, it was the best kind of pain relief. My contractions were really long at this point and they were coming right on top of each other. This was also the point where I threw up (I think that was the only time though).
Eventually I just felt like I had to move. I labored around the room for a while, swaying, leaning on Zach. I labored backwards on the toilet, with Zach rubbing my back and still praying, this was a good position for me. I felt like my body wanted to start pushing so Ronda said go for it just don't let the nurses see (in hindsight I think this feeling was a pressure, like I needed to move around more). Anyway the nurse caught me and then wanted to check me again. Up on the bed, she said "after the next contraction I'm going to check you ok? Is it done?" In my head: "no, yes! but you better be fast because the next one is already starting, nevermind uuuugggghhh". I couldn't verbalize this though, and she seemed slightly annoyed that I couldn't carry on a conversation.
She kind of blurted out how many centimeters I was. A stretchy 6. And my water must have broken in the tub because she couldn't feel it.
6?
We had been at the hospital for six hours at this point. Six hours later and only one more centimeter than when I got there?
No. I can't do this. I remember our birth teacher saying that you'll reach a point where you want to give up, and it's usually in transition. But this wasn't transition, I was only a 6! This could go on for days!
It was a weird kind of feeling. I didn't want an epidural, because that wouldn't be fast enough, and I'd still have to push. I didn't want a c-section. I just wanted to stop. In my head I thought "No. I'm not doing this anymore" ...my body had other plans.
I cried. Ronda talked me through it. Told me it was ok to cry, let it out, I just got some really hard news, now it was a mind game, things could still move quickly. I told her I couldn't do it. And I kept thinking why is she not listening? I can't do this.
She told me that I had to move more, lots more, large sways, duck walks, to move the baby down. "Get mad" she said. I decided to give moving a try. Getting mad wasn't a problem, I was mad at Ronda and Zach for not letting me give up, I was mad at the nurses for being obsessed with the equipment, mad at my cervix for not opening up. I must have been a sight, Zach still likes to make fun of my "mad labor stomps".
Just when I started getting my "groove" on the nurse came back in and told me I had to get back on the bed to get more fluids and to be hooked up to the monitors with wires (so, no moving) because the batteries died in the wireless one (are you effing kidding me? there are no back up batteries?).
At this point I gave up again, everything hurt SO much more on the bed. Something inside of me said this was from the enemy, I felt attacked and I rebuked like I've never rebuked before. Now I was super mad! How dare he try to take this from me!
At some point I got off the bed, probably to the dismay of my nurses. They were concerned that baby's heart rate was dropping during contractions (but it always came back up) I knew she was just fine, God really protected me from that unnecessary fear. Which was something I had been praying about since the beginning of my pregnancy, Psalm 34:4-7 was in continually on my mind:
I prayed to the Lord, and he answered me.
He freed me from all my fears.
Those who look to him for help will be radiant with joy;
no shadow of shame will darken their faces.
In my desperation I prayed, and the Lord listened;
he saved me from all my troubles.
For the angel of the Lord is a guard;
he surrounds and defends all who fear him
I started doing duckwalks on the floor. It felt good, it felt right. It still hurt but it was better to be active. I stretched those duckwalks as far as I could, feeling more limber than I thought I could be. Ronda was encouraging, "this is the best way to bring that baby down" she kept saying, "this is the best thing you could be doing". She was spoon feeding me applesauce between contractions, I was suddenly hungry again.
Then during one contraction my water broke, and I mean BROKE, there was a pop and a GUSH all over the floor. I saw it was clear and rejoiced! No meconium! It was so encouraging, and I thought "My water had definitely now already broken, they were wrong! They could be wrong about 6 cm too!". There were absolutely no more thoughts of "I can't do this" after that.
They made me get back on the bed again, I don't know why. I was leaning over the back of the bed trying to ignore the monitors digging so hard into my belly. Ronda said now that my water had broken there would be much more room, nothing was in the way, things could really move fast now. I trusted her and she was right. Suddenly during one contraction I got the urge to push and a noise came out of me that I could never duplicate. Up until then I had been making low groans mostly because that's what people said to do. All of a sudden I was growling and I couldn't control it.
Ronda told me to push so I did, not that I could stop it. I guess I did that for a while. Then Dr. Ramos came in to check me. She told me to stop pushing because there was still a little cervix there. And apparently since I wouldn't obey and stop (
I wasn't pushing my
body was pushing! it was like telling me not to blink) she said she could stretch it the rest of the way during the next contraction. It hurt, but it was worth it to be able to push freely.
Pushing was great. I don't even remember it hurting. I had a role, there was something I could do, the end was coming. I started on my back with my knees up, pulling back on my one knee and Zach pulling the other (and me crushing his hand). Ronda, and even the nurse, were so encouraging while I was pushing, telling me how I was making such progress, that I was strong etc. They probably say that to everyone, but in that moment I totally believed that I rocked at this, that I was the BEST pusher there ever was.
Ronda suggested I move on to my knees facing the back of the bed. I didn't want to move, but I trusted her and did anyway. Pushing that way felt ok, but the monitors were still digging in to my belly, so we moved to a squatting position. Ronda and Zach supported either side of me and would help me roll up to a squat when a contraction came. It was productive but exhausting to be on my feet.
The contractions at this point were different, it was hard to tell exactly when I was having one. Sometimes the urge to push was light, until I went into it and then it became strong. It was in this squatting position that things really started progressing. They let me reach down and feel the top of baby's head (which felt smaller than I wanted it to! I wanted more of her to be out!) I could feel her head bulge out while I was pushing and then ease back in a little while I wasn't (crazy). Until one push where it felt like something stayed. The nurse ran to get the Dr. and they tried to put me in stirrups, but I didn't want them and held both my feet in instead, with Zach and Ronda helping.
Once the Dr. came in the baby came fast! It seemed like after only a couple pushes she was saying "one more push and your baby will be here". The worst part was when Ramos got in there stretched my perineum, it hurt
so bad and made me want to push harder just so she would stop touching me! Maybe it was the baby's head but it sure felt like Ramos just pulling on me. I felt rushed at the end and didn't feel an urge for the "one more push" but pushed anyway because how can you resist that? Once the head was out the body felt like it just shot out too (worth all the pain to feel that craziness). The cord was wrapped twice around her neck but the Dr flipped it off no problem.
They put her on my chest, she was all purple, but pinked up fast while they rubbed her down. She was crying and they kept suctioning her nose and mouth. She was alert and beautiful! With a perfect round head :) She was here, our Lillian Marie, 8 lbs 6 oz, 21 inches. Born at 11:58 PM, 22 hours of labor. It was less than 3 hours from the time they told me I was 6 cm to the time she was born. Praise God.
The placenta came (and was then placed in a bio-hazard bag for my mom to take home). The Dr. said there were membranes (?) left inside, and
reached her arm into me to clear them (could have warned me first!). Zach cut the cord. I tried to focus on baby while the Dr. stitched me up for what seemed like an eternity.
I couldn't sleep that night, my body was shaking from what just happened, my mind was racing trying to process it all, and I couldn't stop staring at my baby girl. Or stop smelling her, she smelled a-mazing. I was so proud of myself, so glad I didn't give up, and also thinking "I don't ever want to do that again!". A few weeks later I could finally start considering doing it again, maybe a home birth next time? We'll see...
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| Lillian and Dad, just a few hours old |
