Overall, I had a blessedly uneventful pregnancy. About 4 weeks out from my due date, though, I had had it. I was HUGE and supremely uncomfortable. I had started dilating and was 50% effaced, which offered a glimmer of hope that the baby would arrive soon - but it turns out that doesn't actually mean much. So we waited...and waited...and waited. September 22nd came and went. Other people whose "due dates" were after ours started having their babies. My low point came with a visit to a midwife who was particularly eager to schedule an induction we were hoping to avoid, and having to return to work one Monday to be greeted by the news that my coworker (due the day after me) had had her baby over the weekend. I was obviously happy for her, but nearly burst into tears, and spent most of the day having people stop by my office to pity me.
Dan and I finally let our employers know we were officially going on parental leave as of October 2nd. That alone was an amazing mental relief. Days and days of "you're still here?" and "no baby yet?" is enough to drive anyone insane, particularly if that someone is 41 and a half weeks pregnant.
I spent a couple of hours that Saturday morning cleaning the interior of my car, which is when I felt my first “real” contractions, though they hadn’t established any patterns at that point. On Sunday after dinner, though, they were coming pretty regularly. Dan and I stayed up until about 3:00 a.m. Monday morning timing them – they were coming at about 7 or 8 minutes apart when Dan looked over at me, noticed I was exhausted, and suggested we try and get some sleep. I was doubtful I’d be able to, but after awhile my contractions slowed and I slept until around 9:00 a.m. When I woke up, they had more or less stopped completely.
We had an appointment with our midwife later that afternoon to start the first non-medical induction efforts. When she checked me, I was already fully effaced and 4 cm dilated. She stripped my membranes, which means that she used her finger to separate the bag of water from my cervix. It sounds more painful than it was, given that my cervix was already very thin and stretchy. The jury is sort of out on whether or not stripping membranes is actually an effective induction method, particularly with first time moms, but for whatever reason, around the same time Monday evening my contractions started up again. We popped in Arrested Development on DVD and hit “play all.” Around midnight, I started trying to sleep between contractions that were 7 to 10 minutes apart. When I’d have one, I’d just mutter “Contraction!” at Dan and he’d write it down. About 3:45 a.m. on Tuesday morning, Dan finally fell asleep and I took over writing down contractions. By 4:30 a.m., they’d been 5-6 minutes apart for about an hour, and I woke Dan up and told him I thought it was time to go to the hospital. We called our doula and asked her to meet us there, and checked in just before 5:00. When they checked me in triage, I was 6 cm dilated. Our doula arrived and we spent much of the next couple of hours walking up and down the hallways. After the shift change at 7:00 a.m., they moved us to a delivery room, and the new midwife on call checked me again, finding me at 7 cm. We walked the halls some more, stopping to breathe through contractions, and did some different positioning to help make room for baby, but from 7:00 a.m. on, 7 cm is where I stayed.
Sometime in the late afternoon, our midwife started pushing to get things going by breaking my water and starting Pitocin. My blood pressure had been pretty high, and concern for that coupled with our exhaustion factor made labor augmentation a priority. Our doula immediately started advocating for our birth plan, in which we stated we wanted to avoid interventions. Neither Dan nor I had gotten any significant rest since Saturday night, and we were both exhausted. We asked our midwife to give me something to help us get some rest for an hour or so before we made the decision, so they gave me some fentanyl and we napped for an hour. When we woke up, I said they should give me the Pitocin and break my water and give me an epidural. I was pretty terrified of Pitocin. I’d read a bunch of books and seen a bunch of movies about how it can make contractions longer and stronger, and I was pretty convinced that once they started it, I would lose my composure for managing contractions. Both the midwife and my nurse said they didn’t think I needed an epidural – using Pitocin to start labor versus using it to augment it are apparently two very different experiences, and they said I’d been managing contractions so well that they didn’t think I needed it. So, they started the Pitocin and broke my water. In fact, the Pitocin made my contractions MORE manageable…they were stronger, but shorter, too, so there was more time to rest between them. But a couple of hours later, I was still 7 cm dilated. A while after that, contractions were right on top of each other with no break in between. My midwife checked again, and I was still 7 cm dilated. I almost cried when she said it. At that point, she wanted to insert an internal monitor to measure how strong my contractions were and determine whether or not they would be strong enough to push the baby out. They could increase the Pitocin in conjunction with the monitoring to try to strengthen the contractions. Otherwise, we’d need to “consider other options.” Nobody said Cesarean, but that’s what she meant.
To be honest, at that point, I really didn’t care what happened. I needed to be done. I was exhausted and losing confidence. Our doula quickly resumed her role as birth plan advocate, and repeatedly told us that we could have them turn off all the medications and go home to labor there, and come back when it was time to push the baby out. Neither Dan nor I could imagine leaving the hospital without a baby. We’d been up for three nights in a row. Exhaustion for both of us and discomfort and pain for me were making interventions sound really good. And despite all the warnings from the books and films I’d seen about women being forced into unnatural situations, I didn’t feel pressured at all. We were still involved in decision-making, but I trusted our nurses and midwife. We okayed the internal monitor and I reiterated my desire for an epidural, this time giving Dan our secret word so he knew I meant business. Half an hour later, I was all wired up, painless, and blissfully asleep. When I woke up from the most sleep I’d had in days a couple of hours later – about 24 hours after we checked into the hospital – I was fully dilated, and it was time to push. Without that sleep, I’m not sure what would have happened.
But this is also when the drawbacks of the epidural became evident. I couldn’t change positions, since I couldn’t feel anything below my chest. I also couldn’t feel contractions, so the midwife had to tell me when to push. All the benefits of natural childbirth pay off at this point, and there I was on my back, just like I hoped to avoid. Fortunately, they turned off the epidural after I started pushing, and I started to regain some feeling. My body started to instinctively know when and how to push. I’d asked for a mirror so I could see what was happening, but pushing with your eyes open is like sneezing with your eyes open – impossible. I had a great cheering section, and after awhile the midwife could see the baby’s head. I was getting tired, and pretty sure the baby was never coming. I remember the midwife saying we were past the point of a Cesarean. It was all me. Uh oh.
I pushed as hard as I could with every contraction. Before long, I could hear Dan saying “I see her!” and pushed harder. I felt a strong, burning sensation as the baby’s head came out, and felt the midwife pull the rest of the body out. “She’s here!” Dan exclaimed. We both burst into relieved and happy tears as Charlotte’s first cries filled the room. It was 6:27 a.m. on October 6 – about 36 hours after labor began. Dan cut the (lengthy!) umbilical cord and the nurses placed the baby on my chest. My universe shrunk to a short radius surrounding me, Dan and the baby. I have never felt love like that before, and don’t have words to describe it.
The weeks following have been exhausting and have taught me a wealth of patience I didn’t know I possessed. There’s been a fundamental shift in how my world operates. I look at my amazing daughter and nothing has ever been more worth it.
Dan and I finally let our employers know we were officially going on parental leave as of October 2nd. That alone was an amazing mental relief. Days and days of "you're still here?" and "no baby yet?" is enough to drive anyone insane, particularly if that someone is 41 and a half weeks pregnant.
I spent a couple of hours that Saturday morning cleaning the interior of my car, which is when I felt my first “real” contractions, though they hadn’t established any patterns at that point. On Sunday after dinner, though, they were coming pretty regularly. Dan and I stayed up until about 3:00 a.m. Monday morning timing them – they were coming at about 7 or 8 minutes apart when Dan looked over at me, noticed I was exhausted, and suggested we try and get some sleep. I was doubtful I’d be able to, but after awhile my contractions slowed and I slept until around 9:00 a.m. When I woke up, they had more or less stopped completely.
We had an appointment with our midwife later that afternoon to start the first non-medical induction efforts. When she checked me, I was already fully effaced and 4 cm dilated. She stripped my membranes, which means that she used her finger to separate the bag of water from my cervix. It sounds more painful than it was, given that my cervix was already very thin and stretchy. The jury is sort of out on whether or not stripping membranes is actually an effective induction method, particularly with first time moms, but for whatever reason, around the same time Monday evening my contractions started up again. We popped in Arrested Development on DVD and hit “play all.” Around midnight, I started trying to sleep between contractions that were 7 to 10 minutes apart. When I’d have one, I’d just mutter “Contraction!” at Dan and he’d write it down. About 3:45 a.m. on Tuesday morning, Dan finally fell asleep and I took over writing down contractions. By 4:30 a.m., they’d been 5-6 minutes apart for about an hour, and I woke Dan up and told him I thought it was time to go to the hospital. We called our doula and asked her to meet us there, and checked in just before 5:00. When they checked me in triage, I was 6 cm dilated. Our doula arrived and we spent much of the next couple of hours walking up and down the hallways. After the shift change at 7:00 a.m., they moved us to a delivery room, and the new midwife on call checked me again, finding me at 7 cm. We walked the halls some more, stopping to breathe through contractions, and did some different positioning to help make room for baby, but from 7:00 a.m. on, 7 cm is where I stayed.
Sometime in the late afternoon, our midwife started pushing to get things going by breaking my water and starting Pitocin. My blood pressure had been pretty high, and concern for that coupled with our exhaustion factor made labor augmentation a priority. Our doula immediately started advocating for our birth plan, in which we stated we wanted to avoid interventions. Neither Dan nor I had gotten any significant rest since Saturday night, and we were both exhausted. We asked our midwife to give me something to help us get some rest for an hour or so before we made the decision, so they gave me some fentanyl and we napped for an hour. When we woke up, I said they should give me the Pitocin and break my water and give me an epidural. I was pretty terrified of Pitocin. I’d read a bunch of books and seen a bunch of movies about how it can make contractions longer and stronger, and I was pretty convinced that once they started it, I would lose my composure for managing contractions. Both the midwife and my nurse said they didn’t think I needed an epidural – using Pitocin to start labor versus using it to augment it are apparently two very different experiences, and they said I’d been managing contractions so well that they didn’t think I needed it. So, they started the Pitocin and broke my water. In fact, the Pitocin made my contractions MORE manageable…they were stronger, but shorter, too, so there was more time to rest between them. But a couple of hours later, I was still 7 cm dilated. A while after that, contractions were right on top of each other with no break in between. My midwife checked again, and I was still 7 cm dilated. I almost cried when she said it. At that point, she wanted to insert an internal monitor to measure how strong my contractions were and determine whether or not they would be strong enough to push the baby out. They could increase the Pitocin in conjunction with the monitoring to try to strengthen the contractions. Otherwise, we’d need to “consider other options.” Nobody said Cesarean, but that’s what she meant.
To be honest, at that point, I really didn’t care what happened. I needed to be done. I was exhausted and losing confidence. Our doula quickly resumed her role as birth plan advocate, and repeatedly told us that we could have them turn off all the medications and go home to labor there, and come back when it was time to push the baby out. Neither Dan nor I could imagine leaving the hospital without a baby. We’d been up for three nights in a row. Exhaustion for both of us and discomfort and pain for me were making interventions sound really good. And despite all the warnings from the books and films I’d seen about women being forced into unnatural situations, I didn’t feel pressured at all. We were still involved in decision-making, but I trusted our nurses and midwife. We okayed the internal monitor and I reiterated my desire for an epidural, this time giving Dan our secret word so he knew I meant business. Half an hour later, I was all wired up, painless, and blissfully asleep. When I woke up from the most sleep I’d had in days a couple of hours later – about 24 hours after we checked into the hospital – I was fully dilated, and it was time to push. Without that sleep, I’m not sure what would have happened.
But this is also when the drawbacks of the epidural became evident. I couldn’t change positions, since I couldn’t feel anything below my chest. I also couldn’t feel contractions, so the midwife had to tell me when to push. All the benefits of natural childbirth pay off at this point, and there I was on my back, just like I hoped to avoid. Fortunately, they turned off the epidural after I started pushing, and I started to regain some feeling. My body started to instinctively know when and how to push. I’d asked for a mirror so I could see what was happening, but pushing with your eyes open is like sneezing with your eyes open – impossible. I had a great cheering section, and after awhile the midwife could see the baby’s head. I was getting tired, and pretty sure the baby was never coming. I remember the midwife saying we were past the point of a Cesarean. It was all me. Uh oh.
I pushed as hard as I could with every contraction. Before long, I could hear Dan saying “I see her!” and pushed harder. I felt a strong, burning sensation as the baby’s head came out, and felt the midwife pull the rest of the body out. “She’s here!” Dan exclaimed. We both burst into relieved and happy tears as Charlotte’s first cries filled the room. It was 6:27 a.m. on October 6 – about 36 hours after labor began. Dan cut the (lengthy!) umbilical cord and the nurses placed the baby on my chest. My universe shrunk to a short radius surrounding me, Dan and the baby. I have never felt love like that before, and don’t have words to describe it.
The weeks following have been exhausting and have taught me a wealth of patience I didn’t know I possessed. There’s been a fundamental shift in how my world operates. I look at my amazing daughter and nothing has ever been more worth it.
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