If you missed the first part of this post, you can read it here.
*WARNING: As stated previously, this blog post discusses BIRTH. So if the word “placenta” makes you cringe, you may want to skip this one. Having trouble deciding? Here’s an amazingly cringe-worthy music video to help you out. If you can make it through this whole video without screaming, you can definitely read anything I have to say about birthing my child. In fact, listening to this song could be almost as painful as giving birth…you’ve been forewarned.
Are your ears bleeding yet? I hope not. Now, on to my post.
I successfully made it through the hot month of August in Texas. The pregnancy was going perfectly and I’d met with my new midwife several times. About half way through my 34th week, however, I started feeling funny. My back was aching and my lower abdomen cramping. It may be hard to believe, but I didn’t know that I was having contractions. With my son, I never had (or didn’t notice) my early labor. If fact, I woke up during my 35th week with strong, easily identifiable contractions. They seemed to come from nowhere and less than 10 hours later, I was holding my son in my arms. So this time around, I wasn’t sure WHAT I was feeling…but I knew it wasn’t right. After about a day of worrying, I finally texted my midwife to ask for insight. She wanted me to come in right away to see what was going on. A baby born at 34 weeks would probably weigh less than 5 pounds and could have other problems, especially if her lungs aren’t fully developed. Needless to say, we anxiously hurried to the hospital. Once in the Labor and Delivery unit, I was taken to triage and hooked me up to a special machine to monitor my baby and uterus. Long story short, I was, indeed, having early labor contractions. Fortunately, my cervix hadn’t started dilating yet. There wasn’t much we could do but wait and see. I was told to do “bedrest” as much as possible (pretty difficult with a toddler).
The next several weeks were frustrating. In the beginning, I was extremely anxious, worrying that my baby would come too soon. Everyday, it seemed like my contractions would start up and grow stronger. They were no longer “just cramps,” but full blown contractions. Just when they would get close enough to make me think we needed to go back to the hospital, they would stop again. My mom came to Texas to stay with us so that I could actually rest instead of chasing Firstborn around all day. We waited and we waited. 35 weeks came and went…36 weeks came and went…37 and 38. By 37 weeks, I was relaxed and relieved. Baby Girl would likely be safe from premature complications. But as we moved closer to 39 weeks, my previous anxiety changed into frustration. For over a month I had been prepared for labor. While I was glad I had made it past the “danger zone,” I was more than ready to have my baby. My poor mother (who’d be staying with us for over a month) was very ready as well.
Thursday morning, Oct. 3, I had my first “bloody show” (I know, gross right?) This was a good indication that my cervix had begun to dilate. It continued all day, and I was sure my real labor would start any minute. I made sure everything was packed and ready to go, informing Tyler and mom that “this was the day.” The minutes went by and no contractions followed. Day turned to night, and I went to bed disappointed. Around 1 am, I woke up with strong contractions about 7-8 minutes apart. For two hours I laid in bed excited, waiting for them to get closer together. Around 3:30, I woke Tyler and told him he might want to take a shower and start loading the car. He was less sure than me and decided to wait a little while longer before getting out of bed. (I can’t say that I blamed him, as many “false starts” as we’d already had. Meanwhile, I remained in bed listening to my Hypnobabies CDs and tried to stay calm. To my surprise (and utter dismay) my contractions started to spread out…first 10 mins apart, then 15…until finally they dissipated altogether. Le sigh. ANOTHER false alarm. It’s a funny thing how pregnancy effects your thinking. By the 9th month you really start to believe you will be pregnant FOREVER.
The next morning, Tyler decided to stay home from work to see if things would start back up. We went for a walk; I did housework; we waited. Nada. By lunch time I hadn’t had a single contraction. Tyler left for his afternoon lectures and laid down to take a nap. About an hour later, the contractions began. They were only 10-12 mins apart, so I tried to ignore them. When the contractions got 7 min apart, I decided I should text my midwife and let her know. Before I could hit “send,” I felt a really strong contraction that ended in a popping sound (like the sound of your hip popping)…my water had broken. It was finally time to head to the hospital. (As a side note, I would have preferred to do most of my labor at home. However, since I tested positive for Group B Strep, I had to receive antibiotics during labor. The hospital likes you to get two doses of antibiotic four hours a part to protect the baby. Hence, we needed to go in with enough time for all of that to transpire).
Tyler rushed home to pick me up. The contractions were powerful by this point (around 3 min apart). When we made it to the L&D sign-in desk, I could barely stand up. I was using my hypnosis techniques pretty well, but it was getting harder to focus. After signing the paperwork and informing the secretary that I was GBS positive and needed to start antibiotics ASAP, we were told to sit in the lobby and wait to be called. Well, there was no sitting for me. I got on my hands and knees and started moaning through the increasingly intense pressure. 10 minutes, no room…15 minutes, still on the floor of the lobby…40 minutes. At some point, an off duty nurse saw me as she was leaving and tried to hurry things along with the front desk. I really thought Baby Girl was going to be born right there on the floor.
Nearly an hour after arriving at the hospital, I was escorted to triage. Seriously? I spent another 45 minutes in that tiny room, strapped down to a bed while my contractions were monitored. I thought I was going to kill someone. Natural labor requires a lot of movement and position changing to cope with the pain. Being expected to remain still that far into labor is ridiculous. Tyler kept asking when we would get into a room, but nobody seemed to know what they were doing or why it was taking so long. I forgot to mention that my midwife (whom I’d texted more than 2 hours previously) never responded to my texts. You may wonder why I was texting her in the first place…but this is how she asked to be contacted. During my prenatal visits, she told me that instead of trying to plan out everything ahead of time, I should text her and we’d make decisions together as labor progressed. It’s pretty hard to make a decision “together” when you never hear back from the other person! Finally, I was informed that the midwife I’d been working with was unavailable. The on-call midwife would help with my delivery. FINE! Just get me into a room, get me some antibiotics, and let me have this baby! (I didn’t actually say that. I was much more patient outwardly than I felt inwardly).
Once in our room we asked for a birthing ball, squat bar, and mirror (You know, since my midwife assured me that all those things were available). The nurse looked at me with a concerned expression and said that there was only one birthing ball for the whole unit – she’d have to see if it was being used. Are you kidding me? (Thank the Lord it wasn’t being used!) I would never have made it through the labor without it. She also brought the squat bar and mirror…I doubt anyone had used the former in quite some time since the nurse didn’t even know how it was supposed to attach to the bed. My high hopes for a wonderful birthing experience were long gone.
The next few hours are a blur. I bounced on the birthing ball and continued listening to my CDs. Tyler lived up to his “hypno guardian” status by keeping me hydrated, breathing, and focused. He helped put pressure on my lower back during each contraction which help tremendously. At one point, I tried to change positions. After one contraction on all fours, I decided the birthing ball was most comfortable. Because the antibiotics got started so late, I wasn’t able to use the shower. Warm water can work wonders for pain relief! Instead, I was tethered to the IV as I felt myself go into “transition.” Oh my, how I wish I could have been in the shower! It was so hard to get through those last agonizing waves of pressure. Thankfully, things moved quickly. I told the nurse I was feeling “pushy.” By this point, I still had not met the midwife who was supposed to be helping me. The nurse went and got her so I could be check.
A few minutes later, a short and serious looking woman walked briskly into the room. She grunted her name without looking at me and abruptly proceeded to check my cervix. “Well hello to you too!” I thought. “Looks like you’re ready to have a baby,” she announce as she walked away to gown up. I noticed two students behind her (a medical student and first year resident in Family Medicine) and they each introduced themselves before gowning up as well. I told the midwife I wanted to try the squat bar for pushing and she sighed – clearly dissatisfied. She told the students it would be much harder for them to see what she was doing, so they would need to come close. Even though she was clearly reluctant about my squatting, she hooked up the bar nonetheless. I pushed in this position for about 30 minutes (I think), but it was just too intense for me. I felt like I couldn’t control my pushes and was starting to get tired. The IV going into my arm made things that much more frustrating because it kept getting tangled up on things. I won’t go into all the details, but the nurse was struggling at this point. She tried to monitor the baby’s heart rate but kept getting it confused with mine. You could tell the midwife thought she was an idiot – and kept yelling at her impatiently. It was incredibly difficult to focus on pushing with the tension between them. The nurse’s clumsiness made it that much harder. At one point I actually lost my temper with her and told her to “leave me alone!” I can’t remember what she was doing, but apparently it wasn’t helpful. (I apologized to her after Baby Girl was born).
After attempting to push standing up and on my side, I decided to try laying back with my knees pulled in (think squatting while laying down). This worked much better for me because I could rest in between contractions. They positioned the mirror so I could see my progress and that was very encouraging. By this point, I had my Hypnobabies CD playing out loud to help me stay calm during the pushing. I wouldn’t say I accomplished the “Breathe baby out” approach that Hypnobabies teaches. It was more like “yell and moan baby out,” but I was doing well managing the intensity (I never begged for drugs or for Tyler to “just cut the baby out” like I did with Firstborn).
As I worked hard to move Baby Girl’s head down into the birth canal, I began to realize how little I liked this new midwife. She was blunt and bossy and even made fun of the Hypnobabies recording right in front of me! Not only that, but she also refused to honor several points in my birth plan. For starters, I asked for one or more of the following before Adeladie started to crown: counter pressure on my perineum, warm compresses, and/or olive oil (which we brought) for perineal massage – Tyler was ready and willing to help with these things. My biggest fear (as I had discussed several times with my other midwife) was perineal tearing. I had a painful tear with Firstborn, and I wanted to do everything I could to prevent it from happening again. The midwife sternly refused all three. (Mind you, there was no threat to the baby or need to hurry at this point. I had been pushing for less than 45 minutes and all her vitals were fine.) The midwife’s response to my requests? She told me that I should just keep pushing and “let her do her job.” That made me mad. As calmly as possible (which isn’t easy while trying to give birth), I informed her that I didn’t want to tear and thought these things would help. To which she replied, “It doesn’t matter if you tear, just push!” It may not have mattered to her, but it was my rear end on the line! (Quite literally). Aside from shoving her out of the way, there was nothing Tyler or I could do…so I kept pushing. Several minutes later, the top of Baby Girl’s head appeared. I gave one final push and she was out! Oh, and by the way, I tore. Big surprise. 😦
Even though I was furious with the midwife’s attitude, my beautiful baby girl had been born! At 8:24 pm, all 6 pounds 11 ounces of her slimy little flesh made its debut. She was placed on my chest immediately and we began our bonding. Here’s a great picture of her, fresh from the womb. I think she looks like E.T.
The hard work of labor was over, but my struggles with the midwife and hospital were not. First, I told her I wanted to forego routine Pitocin unless there was excessive bleeding. “No way,” she said. “You’re getting it. I’ve kind of got this thing about people bleeding to death.” Her sarcasm was not appreciated. But when you’ve got a newborn baby on your chest, it sort of hard to argue with people (which is why you make a birth plan…which you HOPE will be respected). Next, she starts sewing me up. After the first stitch, she gets one of the students to take over so she can teach her how to do it. WOW. I’m all for medical education, but it would have been nice to be ASKED if a student can practice sewing up my vagina. (Sorry, but I couldn’t write a post about birth without saying “vagina.”)
The rest of the story is fairly uneventful. It took 4 hours after the birth to be placed in a recovery room. For almost two hours of that time we were separated from Baby Girl who went on ahead of us. Around midnight, we finally made it to our room and were reunited with her. Neither of us had eaten since early afternoon, so we were both starving. Because the cafeteria was closed by that time, the only food offered to us was a packet of crackers. Tyler ended up walking to Whataburger to get us something to eat. (Mmmm, Whataburger) I will say that the staff on the recovery floor was great, but we never saw the midwife again. No one came to examine me or check my stitches the next day. Because it took L&D so long to get us in a room and get things going, I did not get the recommended two doses of antibiotics (I barely got one). Consequently, we had to stay in the hospital an extra day so that Baby Girl could be monitored for infection. I didn’t hear from MY midwife (the one who had done me prenatal care) until 2 weeks after the birth…and when she did contact me (via text message) she didn’t explain or apologize for her lack of communication.
So yes, there were definitely some “bad” things about this labor and deliver. Thankfully, there were lots of “good” things too. Moving past the birth, I’ve tried to focus on the good instead of the bad. Though I gave birth in a hospital that doesn’t have many patients opt for natural birth, much of my birth plan was still honored:
- I was able to drink during labor (even though this is technically against hospital policy)
- I only had two internal exams (as requested)
- I had intermittent fetal monitoring instead of continuous
- My privacy was respected and people remained calm and quiet while in my room
- I was never asked to be separated from Tyler
- I was allowed to try different positions for pushing
- I got to see my progress in the mirror
- Tyler cut the cord
- I had immediate skin-to-skin contact with Baby Girl
- I was allowed to bond with her before the newborn procedures were performed
Most importantly, Tyler and I were blessed with a healthy baby. Regardless of what got us there, the outcome was very, very good. And who knows, maybe NEXT time (if there is a next time) I will get my waterbirth.
thejoyfulhearth 