Let me preface by saying that I was very much wanting a "natural" birth. As natural as can be in a hospital setting. I had "made up mind" to not get an epidural but secretly kept it as an option in case the pain became unbearable (go ahead and laugh, trust me, I don't remember one person I told throughout my pregnancy supporting my decision!). I even had a birthing ball loaded up in the car, people. I wanted my soon-to-be sister in law in the delivery room to capture the first moments of our sweet baby entering the world and our first moments as a family of three. I wanted to help pull her out (yes, really) and bring her to my chest, but if I wasn't able to, then Adam would. Once a few pictures were taken, we would be left alone for "the magic hour" where the three of us would bond, baby would lay on my chest and hopefully start to nurse. A couple hours later, we would receive a few visitors at a time, nothing too overwhelming. I would take in each family member's reaction to seeing our sweet girl for the first time and beam with pride.
I tried to keep an open mind knowing that things may not go exactly how I wanted them to. I was prepared for any scenario, or so I thought...
On Thursday, the 18th I went in for my 39 week appointment and was told my cervix was thinning a little, but I hadn't dilated any. Yay for a little bit of progress! I was scheduled to be induced the Wednesday, September 24th just in case we chose to go that route (this would eliminate my "natural birth" plan.
The following Tuesday (the 23rd), I went to my 40 week appointment to see how I was progressing, if at all. I was told that my cervix was 90% thinned out and I was dilated about a centimeter. I decided against being induced the next day (Wednesday) because I felt confident she would come on her own. I decided to give her another week and push the induction off to the next Tuesday if I still wasn't progressing.
I was very crampy all Tuesday afternoon and throughout the night. I assumed it was from my exam that day. I woke up the next morning still cramping. I wasn't able to tell if I was having contractions because it all felt like a dull pain with no start or end.
I got up and started finishing up things around the house in case this was it (baby girl had given us some false alarms in the days prior). I ate a decent breakfast because I was scared to death of going into labor and not being able to eat in the hospital.
By 9:00 a.m. I was almost certain I was in the early stages of labor. I didn't know if I would deliver that night or in the following days, but I could tell my body was getting ready to have this baby! I sent a text to all of the grandmas giving them a heads up. The pain continued to be noticeable, but it wasn't unbearable.
By 11:00, the cramping was becoming a little more intense to where I'd have to pause and breathe through it until it would pass, but still nothing like my idea of a contraction. I asked my Mama to come over and help me with some things on her lunch break. She came over right away. My mother-in-law came over (from across the street) to check on me before my Mama made it to the house. Some time between 9 and 11 I started leaking fluid, but I didn't think it was my water. After all, that was supposed to burst like a balloon in the middle of Wal-Mart, right?
By 12:00 my Mama and MIL were urging me to go to the hospital. I didn't feel the need to rush because I was wanting to labor at home for as long as possible, but at the same time I didn't know what to expect because I had never done this before! I sent a text to my sweet, friend who is a nurse and asked if she could check my progress before driving all the way to Macon. At this point I was having stronger cramps, but still nothing like what I'd expect a contraction to feel like. She checked me and told me my water had broken and that I was dilated 3 cm. Say what?! I remember her exact words, "You need to go to the hospital. You're gonna have a baby today!" she said in the sweetest, most calm tone. I have never felt more scared as I did in that moment. There's no way she didn't see the fear and uncertainty in my eyes. This was it. No turning back. And I was second guessing my ability to actually get this baby out. This friend is a natural encourager. She reassured me that I would be great and I thought to myself, "Can I just stuff you in my hospital bag and take you to the hospital with me?"
Well, this was it. I was headed to Macon.
Adam was out of town working on a job that he had been putting off because we thought Ava would have come by now. We even joked around the night before as he talked to her in my tummy telling her, "You can't come tomorrow!". I had been keeping him updated all morning, but assured him he didn't need to come home because this was probably just another false alarm. So, I felt awful having to call and tell him I was headed to Macon. I don't think either of us planned on things going like this. We were supposed to be together. I was supposed to scream all the way to Macon (except I was taking these contractions like a champ) and he was supposed to help me breathe through them. Every time I'd talk to him on the phone I almost didn't recognize his voice. I'm not sure what it was, but he sounded so different. I can't imagine what all was going through his mind.
By the time I got to Macon, time was becoming a blur. I don't really remember exactly what happened when. By the time I got to a room, maybe around 2:30, I was 4 cm. I had dilated a whole centimeter just during the car ride to Macon? I didn't even scream! Maybe I could do this drug free after all! I continued to breathe through the contractions and they started to get more intense.
I continued to progress, but baby's head wasn't fully engaged, so they didn't want me to walk around. This was not the plan. I did not want to labor in the hospital bed. That was the point of no epidural--being able to move around! But I understood. I definitely didn't want her cord or an arm slipping out.
Time continued to pass and I continued to progress. 5 cm. 6 cm. Almost 7 cm. By now, the pain was becoming too much for me to handle. I was allowed to get out of bed and sit in the rocking chair, so I tried that for a little while, but I found that it felt better to stand and lean into Adam. I wasn't getting much of a break between contractions and it was wearing me out! Adam did great helping me through them, even though I had a few of those stereotypical pre-epidural moments.
He and my Mama (along with the nurse) had started talking about me getting an epidural. The theory was that maybe if I got an epidural, it would help me relax and therefore my body may progress faster. [I want to say that yes, the pain was intense, but my body was dealing with it. I was zoned out and although I felt it, the slow progression of intensity made it easier for me to deal with. I know they hated seeing me in pain, but I feel like it was worse for them to watch than it was for me to actually go through it. No, I am not saying it was easy, but it's birth, not a cake walk!]
Another reason I did not want an epidural is because I did not want to have to get Pitocin. Sometimes epidurals slow labor down and Pitocin is used to help "speed it back up". Since I was so far along, I decided to go ahead and get an epidural. After all, it was still an option even though I said I had made up my mind. Hopefully I would relax and my body could continue to progress. And honestly, I was more afraid of pushing her head out and feeling every single thing than dealing with the contractions, transitioning, and even the early stages of pushing.
After getting the epidural, the contractions were much easier to deal with. Fast forward a few hours and I'm still at a 7. Pitocin came into the picture and my perfect plan was falling apart quickly. The external monitor showed my contractions to be quite intense and coming in close intervals. The doctor thought I should be progressing quicker than I was if what the monitor was showing was accurate. I had read about this... these doctors will rush you. They want you in and out. This was my fear. He wasn't giving my body enough time to progress. I could do it, just give me time! Since I wasn't progressing quick enough for him, he decided to use an internal monitor to get a more accurate read of how intense my contractions really were, so they would know how much Pitocin was needed. What? Please don't stick anything in there. There's supposed to be something coming out not going in. [Keep in mind, my water had broken around 11:30 a.m. and they were wanting to get baby out within 12 hours to "prevent infection".] I don't know what time it was, but we would be approaching the 12 hour mark soon.
Progress was slow, if anything at all. I was pumped with Pitocin and epidural meds and at this point the doctor had mentioned a C-section if things didn't speed up. I'm pretty sure I shed tears at this suggestion. No. No way. That's not an option for me. I'm young, fairly in shape, and I will push this baby out. This doctor was not my doctor who I had seen for most of my pregnancy; that I trusted. He was one in the same practice as my doctor. And I was not a fan of his. I was the only one there that night in labor and he was just ready to get home. No, C-section was not an option.
Finally, maybe around 11:15 p.m., I was checked one last time. A 10! I was a 10! The doctor said I would be ready to start pushing soon! Carts started rolling in. The nurse started getting things ready. I was about to push! This was it. I had made it. The plan had taken some unexpected turns, but I was finally here. I'd push for a little while, maybe a couple hours, and our baby would be here. I got very excited and I was ready!
Turns out this pushing thing is extremely difficult when you're not sure if the bottom half of your body is still attached. Within the first few tries, I got discouraged. I couldn't tell if I was pushing or just busting blood vessels in my eyeballs. I tried to take that frustration and focus it into my pushes. [Side note: Why do they expect a woman with a huge belly to be able to pull her legs up and basically do a crunch 3 times in a row for 10 "seconds"?--hospital seconds last longer than seconds in the real world-- I'm not sure I could do that exercise before I was pregnant.] Anyways. I tried many different pushes. I did the typical pull your legs and push. Then I tried playing tug of war with one of the nurses using a towel. I guess this helps you push. But, baby's head wasn't moving. So then I tried some kind of push that involved me being on my side and pulling my leg up like I was working out my obliques. Still, baby's head wasn't moving.
The doctor returned to check on my progress and once again reminded me that a C-section would be necessary if she didn't start to come down.
I tried with all I had to push her out. I remember feeling so scared of the possibility of a C-section and once again trying to harness that fear into my pushes. He let me push a little longer.... And then he basically didn't give me an option. I would have to deliver my baby via C-section. After almost two hours, she wasn't making any progress and her head was beginning to swell.
I have never been so terrified in my life. No, you don't understand. I literally freaked out. I did not want to be cut open. I did not want my baby to go straight to the nursery after birth. I wanted to be the first to see her and enjoy her and take her all in. Some people may be grossed out by it, but I wanted the blood and the cheesy coating and the freshness of her entering the world. This would ruin my birth story. What about my pictures? I wanted the whole experience of birthing her. But, somehow I felt I was being robbed of that experience.
Panic set in (along with being completely exhausted and overwhelmed) and I begged and pleaded for Adam to help me. "I can't do it. I can't do it. I can't have a C-section. I don't want to." I screamed through tears. "Please don't make me do it. I'll push harder. Please just let me keep pushing." But no one was giving in. I was scared to death, but more than that, I felt like a failure. My body wasn't able to do what it was meant to do; what it was designed to do. Tears stream down my face as I type these words and relive those awful moments. Moments of fear. Moments of defeat. Moments of feeling like I missed out.
Adam tried to comfort me and help me understand that this was what was best for our baby. Her head was swelling and we just needed to get her out. Looking back, I don't think the reality of that really sunk in for me at the time. I thought if I could keep pushing that I could get her out and she'd be fine.
My Mama tried to comfort me. She held back tears and told me I could do it; that this was being a Mama--doing what's best for your child even when it's something you don't want to do. I hated hearing that. And then I realized how selfish I was being in those moments. And I hated that even more. Why couldn't things go how I wanted them to? It wasn't fair.
I scribbled my signature onto a piece of paper and was wheeled away to a different room. Not long after, I felt immense pressure as she was pulled out. And just like that, she was born. I saw her for a few seconds and then she was taken away.
She went to the nursery where my family got to watch her first moments of life. Moments that I can never be a part of. And Adam went with her. I guess she's just a little diva and wanted everyone to see her big debut. She didn't want a quiet, low-key entrance into the world where only Mommy and Daddy were the audience, which was part of my plan!
I had endured hours of contractions; hours of pushing. I was cut open. I did all of the hard work. And somehow I was left alone. Just me lying there on a table being sown back up; doctors and nurses talking amongst themselves like I wasn't even there. I was supposed to be knocked out with meds by this point, but they had given me all the meds they could to try to knock me out and it wasn't working. They weren't able to give me anything else, so I was awake the entire time. I didn't feel a thing, but I was awake. No baby in my arms right away. No family of three. No peaceful bonding. None of the pictures I wanted. I'm not sure I'll ever be okay with that, but I hope some day I make peace with it.
It seemed like forever before I got to see her. I'm telling you- I asked those nurses ten times where my baby was and what was taking so long. I was about ready to crawl down the hall and find her myself. Finally, Adam wheeled her back to the recovery room and I was able to hold her and enjoy her. We were finally together. She was the most precious thing and I loved her immediately. I was scared I wouldn't feel like she was my baby, but she was and I was so proud. She laid on my chest and when I talked to her, she recognized my voice. It was amazing.
Things didn't go according to plan that day. But, since then, I have reflected and realized that despite how she came into the world, she is here and she is healthy. We left the hospital a few days later with our baby girl; a happy family of three, we headed home. I realize this is not the case for all parents. There are a number of things that could've gone a lot worse that day; like a stillbirth or major complications with either of us. She could be in the NICU right now instead of sleeping peacefully here in our home. I could still be praying through tears and begging God for this sweet baby. No, I don't have the exact pictures I wanted, but the ones I do have are of a healthy baby being weighed and checked in the nursery; of me seeing her for the first time and being overwhelmed with love for her, even if it did take a little longer than I would've liked.
With all of that said, yes, a part of me will always ache for that "normal" delivery experience, but I cannot deny the blessing God has given us; regardless of how she got here. This time last year, I didn't care how one came, I just wanted a baby. I would've done anything. She is an answer to many prayers and I can't wait to tell her the story behind her precious life.Ultimately, we have a happy ending to our story; even though her birth didn't go according to my plan. For that, I am extremely thankful.
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