The Birth Story

I had an appointment with my midwife on Monday, January 9, 2012.  I had a non-stress test that lasted about 20 minutes that indicated that the baby was doing well.  I met with Gail, one of the two midwives in the practice, after the test.  Since I mostly met with Amy, we discussed what had been going on lately.  I told her how Amy stripped my membranes on Thursday, which caused a lot of pain, but didn't seem to yield any immediate results.  She asked if I wanted it done again, and I told her only if it helped.  She checked me and said that I was at 3-4 cm.  She gently "stretched" the membranes, which didn't hurt at all.  After that she looked at me and in a very stern tone told me that as soon as I was sure I was in labor that I should call the office immediately, and then go straight to the hospital.  She felt certain that the labor would go quickly. 

I woke up Tuesday morning, January 10, 2012 at 4:00 a.m. to a light contraction.  I was so excited that it was actually painful.  It is funny how you yearn for pain toward the end of a pregnancy.  I was so sick of Braxton Hicks contractions!  I grabbed my phone, sat up in bed, and started timing the contractions.  They were about five minutes apart and a minute long.  Not very painful, but I knew they were real.  Chloe woke up shortly after and so Paul decided to get up, too.  I took a bath, ate some breakfast, folded clothes, etc. all in an effort to stay busy to see if the contractions would stop.  They didn't stop, but they didn't get stronger or longer either.  I called the midwife office, and Gail was on call for a short while longer.  She told me to head up to triage, because the worst they could do is send me home.

Doug and Bobby Kay were at our house on call for the weekend.  We packed our bag, said goodbye to Chloe, and headed up to the hospital.  We made a pit stop at McDonald's on the way since I was sure they wouldn't let me eat anything delicious in the hospital.

When we finally got to the hospital it was about 8:00 a.m.  My triage nurse, Amy, checked me and said I was still dilated to a 3.  They did a non-stress test, which required me to lie down for a half hour.  I didn't have much in the name of contractions during this time, but I did get to take a little nap.  When I woke up the nurse suggested we take a walk for an hour to see if we could get the labor going.

Paul and I walked around the hospital for about 45 minutes.  I had a few good contractions, but nothing terrible.  When we got back the nurse checked me and said I was definitely a 4 and it felt like I was in labor.  We watched some television, signed some forms, and waited to be admitted. 

A nurse brought us up to our delivery room at about 11:30 a.m.  It was the best room in the hospital.  We had a huge corner suite with a view of the skyline.  We met our nurse, Stephanie, who said she was there for me to give me whatever kind of birth experience I wanted.  She was totally on board with supporting me in a natural childbirth, but said if I opted for an epidural she would be fully supportive of that, too.  Stephanie hooked me up to some fetal monitors, and then we talked for about an hour about my last birth experience, what I wished went differently, and my hopes for this birth.  My midwife, Amy, was on call by then, and she showed up after about a half hour. 

40 Weeks, 4 Days, and 4 cm :o)

Paul discovered that we had access to dozens of free on-demand movies.  We selected The Adjustment Bureau.  I ordered a hospital lunch, but was told I had to get "something light," so I couldn't opt for the chicken fingers.  Bummer.  We were trying to watch our movie.  We are very serious television watchers.  But the nurse kept coming in every hour to do fetal monitoring.  It wasn't terrible, though.  I was sitting on the birthing ball, and she would just come in and hook me up to the portable monitors.

At around 1:30 p.m. Amy asked if I wanted her to check me to see if I had made any progress.  I told her sure as long as she was very gentle and didn't break the bag of waters.  She said, "Wow!  I'd say you are a 7.  You are amazing."  I was pretty excited, except I knew that meant that the hard part was just around the corner. 

I jumped in the whirlpool tub for a while.  When I got out the contractions were coming on stronger and closer together.  Paul did such a great job applying counter pressure to my back during each contraction.  I sat mostly on the birthing ball, so that he could sit on the bed and practically squeeze me to death during each contraction.  It helped so much.  My nurse said she could tell I was about to go through transition, because I would curl my toes and clench my fists during each contraction.  She asked if she should go get Amy at around 3:00 p.m. to see if I had made more progress.  When she and Amy walked in I was having my worst contraction yet.  This one actually brought tears to my eyes and gave me the shakes.  That is exactly what happened during my labor with Chloe, so I knew I was almost there. 

When Amy checked me I was at a 9 and I told her just to break the bag of waters so that I could begin pushing.  Pushing for me is the hardest part.  I remembered how much it hurt with Chloe, so I was a little frightened to do it again.  They told me to do whatever I felt.  I tried bearing down a little and then before long I couldn't help but push.  It was so painful. 

It didn't take long and the baby's head was crowning.  The worst part was that the contraction stopped so I had to sit there with the baby's head half way out waiting for the next contraction.  There may have been some profanities exclaimed.  At the next contraction I pushed with everything I had.  It seemed like the head would never end.  Oh my... it burned so much.  Once I finally got the head out one shoulder came out quickly.  Amy said, "that's it, you're done... wait a minute... one more big push.  His other shoulder is stuck."  That isn't what you want to hear.  I summoned some sort of super-human strength and pushed his other shoulder out.  I have never felt more relief in my whole life.  I just kept saying "Thank God he is out!  Thank God he is out!"  I pulled him up to my chest where he screamed his little head off.  I told him I knew how he felt! 

I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy at 3:38 p.m. on January 10, 2012.  He was 8 pounds, 11 ounces and 20 inches long.  We named him Abram Eugene.  More on that later.

Holy crap I'm glad that is over!!

I swear pushing a baby out without an epidural is like having an out-of-body experience.  You are there and you are feeling every single sensation, but you are so out of your damn mind it is like you are looking down on yourself writhing in pain.  When it is over you only have flashbacks.  So much of it has been immediately blacked out.  I can remember looking at Paul.  I had my right hand gripped to the back of his head holding on for dear life.  He was right there cheering me on and supporting me.  He is such a wonderful husband and father.  And also an amazing birthing coach.  I can remember Amy telling me I could do this over and over again.  I can remember Stephanie getting right in my face after I said I couldn't do it.  She said, "yes you can.  You are doing it.  Remember how I told you Amy was going to give you instructions to help?  I need you to listen to the instructions."  I remember shaking off the self-doubt and bringing myself to the present.  The instructions were to grab my legs behind my knees and put my chin down.  Then I was told to push, push, stop.  Push, push, stop.  Something like that, so that I wouldn't tear.  I followed the instructions, which helped get the baby out basically in two contractions.  I am so grateful to God for blessing me with such an amazing team.  When it is over you are at a loss for words.  So grateful that it is over, so proud of yourself for doing it, so amazed at the precious baby screaming on your chest.

The worst part about not having an epidural is that you have to sit there afterward shaking uncontrollably while being stitched up as the nurse presses on your uterus.  You can't really focus on the baby, because everything after having the baby is so painful.  The adrenaline is pumping through your body so hard that it takes everything in your power to stay in the present. 

We waited a while and cut the cord.  The nurse weighed the baby while I received my stitches.  He cried for two hours straight, I think.  The nurse gave him a bath, weighed him, checked his vitals, etc.

Dada cuts the cord.

8 pounds, 10.6 ounces

Paul called our families, and they came up at around 4:30 p.m.  I ordered dinner: fish and chips.  I figured I deserved it after such an amazing feat.  Chloe wasn't terribly interested in meeting her baby brother.  She mostly just wanted to eat my cheese and crackers and play around with all of the cool stuff in the delivery room.  I was so happy to see my big girl.

Kisses!

My babies!

Overall, I'd say I had a great birth experience at the hospital.  It was certainly safer for the baby than me staying home until I was 9 cm like I did with Chloe.  By the end of the experience I had fallen in love with my nurse and my midwife.  After my nurse dropped me off in my recovery room she sat on my bed, gave me a huge hug, and told me I should write a book.  She told me she had a great day and that she was so happy to have been a part of my birth.  I told her I felt the same way. 

I don't know what I did to deserve two wonderful birth experiences.  I cannot thank God enough for my infinite blessings.