A Baby Story, Part 4

(This is Part Four of Robert's birth story. The first three parts can be found here,  here, and here. Tomorrow, back to the chronicling of our daily lives! Also, notice how clean my carpet is in today's picture!)

Sister Kay kept the lights dim and the room cool for me, and things were very timeless, in that it seemed like an eternity, though things were going very quickly. I got to a point where I was sure that I couldn’t handle anymore, and I wanted to ask for an epidural, if only I could sit still long enough. (At this point, I hadn’t sat down for more than a minute or two since being released from the bed hours earlier.) Sister Kay checked me in a standing up position, which I hadn’t even known was possible, and told me that I was fully dilated and could start in on some pushing if I wanted to. That sounded a lot better than an epidural, frankly. I wanted that baby OUT! I climbed back into the bed, with the head raised up and the bottom totally folded down, and the nurses brought in all the giving-birth stuff they keep tucked away to make the labor room seem cozier. It all seemed kind of surreal, and yet I was aware of every little thing, every sensation. It was time for the baby to be born, and I knew it. I think it was at that point I stopped complaining that I couldn’t do it and started concentrating on actually doing it.

Two nurses came in for the bearing-down phase, each one holding one of my legs and pushing back towards my body while I grabbed the backs of my thighs and curled my body. I didn’t want counting, so Sister Kay told me to go with my feelings, to push when the feeling was there, and release when it wasn’t. I had a lot of pushing feelings at that point, and somewhere in there I found the sweet spot, the good-pushing-feeling spot, where I knew things were happening. One of the ways Hypnobirthing encourages moms to practice bearing down is to concentrate on bowel movements, how it feels when you don’t have to push, it just happens naturally while you are bearing down, and it really did seem to work. I got to the point in pushing where it felt that way, where I was breathing and bearing down and it felt good even though it hurt. I concentrated hard on a yellow spot on the wardrobe across the room, with no idea what it was, just that it was something that could catch and keep my eye. I realized later it was actually a reflection of one of the lights that had been turned on so Sister Kay could see what she was doing.

The final moments were very intense, as Sister Kay directed me when to hold off so that I could stretch around the head and avoid excessive tearing. That was difficult, since I’d been listening so hard to my body up till that point, but it was important, and really did help protect me from tearing. I had asked not to have a mirror, but she let me reach down and feel the fuzzy head full of hair before most of him was born. That was the first thing we heard about him, “Look at all that hair!” Once I could feel that he was really coming out, I got one last surge of energy and push-push-pushed until he was born in one quick rush that I felt every moment of. I think that was the best part of no epidural, I felt every instant of him leaving my body and it was an immense and overwhelming sensation. Robert was born at 9:17am on January 17, 2010. I had been in the hospital for just over four and a half hours.

He was placed on my chest immediately, just as we had wanted, and he came out crying. His tiny lungs were very healthy, as was everything about him. I didn’t do toe or finger counting or anything right away, or even confirm he was a boy (though Sister Kay did that for us), I just stared at his tiny face and his huge eyes and listened to him cry, and marveled. They wiped him off a little, but we asked for an hour before shots and eyedrops and any of that, so we really weren’t interrupted at all in those first few minutes. Sister Kay cut the cord after it finished pulsing to let all the blood flow out of the placenta and into Robert where it belonged. M wanted nothing to do with the cord and I wanted nothing to do with the placenta, so we had very little awareness of any of that even happening.

After fifteen minutes of being totally blown away, I remembered my mom in the waiting room and let her come in too. She came in and cried, and it was nice, and called everyone who’d been waiting for so long to hear the news. After that first hour, I let them take Robert to get weighed and measured, and got up myself for some tentative walking and bathroom use. I actually felt amazingly good. Tired, and somewhat sore, but all the pain of labor was behind me, and I had no major tearing. There was no medication to walk off or sleep off, so I walked around the room and watched as Robert got all his baby chores taken care of, and spent a little time hugging my amazing husband.

Robert weighed in at six pounds, eleven ounces, and twenty inches long, and he was entirely perfect in every way. His head was amazingly cone-shaped, but it began rounding out almost right away, and was nearly normal by the time we left the hospital. We stayed in the hospital two days, though I’d been hoping to only stay one, because Robert was not getting the hang of nursing. He couldn’t seem to suck at all, even on a bottle, and we weren’t allowed to leave the hospital until he could demonstrate that he was eating. I wound up pumping for him for a month before he learned to nurse, but he turned out to be a good eater, and very healthy. We count ourselves extraordinarily lucky to have had a birth experience that, while it wasn’t quite what we expected, was exactly what we’d hoped and dreamed. 

A Baby Story, Part 3

(This is Part Three of Robert's birth story. Parts One and Two can be found here and here. And yes, this is a day-old action shot of Robert, I forgot to take one!)

I had several more contractions along the way, but eventually we reached the labor and delivery area of the hospital and were put into the triage room. I was wearing the purple sweatsuit I’d chosen to labor in, but they had me put on a gown for a few minutes while they did an examination. The pelvic exam really hurt,  much more than the ones at the clinic, but she told me I was a strong four centimeters and that they would admit me. I admit I was a little aghast that after three days of contractions, I had only opened one centimeter. But there was no going back now; at three minutes apart, I most certainly wasn’t going back home. We were shown into a room and I was put back onto the external fetal monitor, so they could get a test strip, I was told. They said I couldn’t get the labor tub I’d hoped for, all those rooms were full. It was disappointing, but I didn’t have much energy to think about it. Being in bed and on the EFM was awful, and the nurse wouldn’t let me off, even after 20 minutes, She said the strip wasn’t clear enough yet, and they had to be sure the baby was doing well.

            My savior, Sister Kay, showed up at that point, thank God. I’m not sure when the last time was I’ve been so glad to see anyone. She asked me how I was doing, and I said I was having a hard time coping with the pain. When she asked what I needed, I said I needed to be off the EFM, and she took me right off and let me stand up. It helped. She suggested the shower, which seemed like a good idea. I was filled with restless urgency, but exhausted at the same time, and it was hard to think. I stayed in the shower for nearly an hour, clinging to the grab bar and letting the water pound down on me. M was right there the whole time, sitting just outside and reassuring me, sometimes putting his hand into the shower to rub my back. I couldn’t hear what he was saying most of the time, and I wasn’t really paying attention, but I knew he was there. He admitted later that he was so exhausted, sometimes he didn’t even know what he was saying.

After an hour, I was starting to feel dizzy from the heat, so I got out, and Sister Kay and M wrapped me up in a huge bath sheet, maybe a blanket. I got to put my clothes back on, and I had M find my labor beads, and fill the water bottle. I had the okay from Sister Kay to eat if I wanted, and we had easily-digested snacks in the bag, but I didn’t want to eat. I was very thirsty, though. I don’t know how women could get through labor with nothing to drink. It must be torture. I did throw up once, into the room’s big trash can, but it wasn’t much and it was just another sign of the progression of labor. I’d done my homework beforehand and knew that throwing up is actually good, because it’s a vagal reflex and actually helps dilate the cervix. Still wasn’t pleasant, but I certainly wouldn’t have given up being able to drink water to avoid it. She checked me, and the news that I had dilated to eight centimeters while in the shower was enough to give me new courage. Things were moving along!

 The next part of labor is blurry in my memory; I spent what felt like a great deal of time leaning against the room’s broad windowsill, staring down at my labor beads and remembering to breathe as I swiveled my hips relentlessly to try and move the baby down. When it became obvious that I was too exhausted to remember and use my Hypnobirthing techniques, Sister Kay got me started on purse-lipped breathing instead, which is basically just blowing raspberries on every exhale. I would’ve thought it sounded insane, but I’d actually read about it just a couple of days before in Ina May Gaskin’s book about natural childbirth, so I knew it was actually something people do for pain management. I tried it, and it was oddly effective. Not in that the pain stopped, but it became more manageable because I was thinking about how weird my lips felt, and because it gave me some noise to make besides moaning. I did quite a bit of that too, the low guttural moaning that is supposed to be more effective in labor than screaming or squealing. I’m sure I must’ve sounded quite strange to anyone passing by, but they probably hear it all on the maternity ward. 

A Baby Story, Part 2

(This is part two of Robert's birth story. You can read part one from yesterday here.)

            On Saturday night, January 16, we decided to have dinner at the hotel with Mom, watch some television and try to relax. We ordered Chinese food, and M and Mom watched a movie while I played Civilization II on Mike's old computer. Mike and I were also playing Mutants and Masterminds in an online play-by-post game, and I was rolling very poorly in the scene we were doing. I started getting frustrated and very edgy, a feeling that was compounded by the stronger but still erratic contractions I was having. It got to the point where I could no longer sit down while having them, I had to get up and walk around. Even so, after three days, I was unwilling to believe that these actually meant anything. M noticed my agitation and discomfort and suggested we go home. I told my mom we would call her if anything happened.

            Around 10pm on Saturday night, the contractions settled back into a regular rhythm, about ten minutes apart. These were different from the contractions I'd been having on Thursday, much longer and harder. Some of them were up to two and a half minutes long. I would get up whenever I had one, go over to the dining room table, and lean on it while I swiveled my hips and breathed through the contractions. The hypnobirthing techniques I'd learned were helpful, to a point. Without them, each contraction would've seemed like an eternity. One strange thing I remember is trying to go to the bathroom during or after about half my contractions. The pain was similar enough that I thought for some reason it would go away if I could empty my bladder and bowels. Sitting on the toilet probably helped with labor a bit, but it didn't do much for the pain. I waited for my water to break, or for there to be bloody show, but nothing like that ever happened. Through the entire pregnancy, I was very resistant to bleeding, any time the midwife told me to expect to spot a little bit, I never did. In any case, I really had very few of the typical signs I was told to look for.

            Even so, the contractions slowly got closer together as the night went on, and continued to be long and strong. M put on a hypnobirthing track for me and rubbed my feet as I tried to get a little rest. I was unable to lay down, because that triggered an immediate contraction every time, but I was getting very tired. I hadn't slept much for days. I napped in between contractions, sitting in the chair while M rubbed my feet, but they were getting closet and closer together. We knew that this time was for real, and it was just a matter of time. Around four in the morning, I called Sister Kay and told her my contractions were averaging three minutes apart, and were too intense to talk through. She told us to go to the hospital, and they would call her if I was going to be admitted.

             I thought that when it was time to go to the hospital, I would have it all together and be thinking very rationally about what I wanted and what needed to be done, but it turned out that I was not much help in that area. I tucked a few things in my pockets while M went and put the labor bag in the car. It took him a couple trips because I wanted the bag and my Snoogle pillow and the iPod player, and he wanted to be able to help me to the car. There was no traffic on 275 at that hour on a Sunday morning, so the trip was fast, but it seemed to take forever. Sitting through the contractions was terrible, and I had several along the way. We made it to the hospital, but for whatever reason, tiredness, or because it was hard to believe things were really progressing, we parked in the regular lot and hiked to the emergency entrance. There was someone in line in front of us at the desk, and no one seemed to be in any great hurry. I considered doing the sitcom “Oh my god, I’m in labor!” screaming, but didn’t really feel like it. I was more interested in trying to focus through the contractions, and that would’ve just been a distraction. Eventually someone noticed us, and directed that we could just walk (all the way across the hospital) to the Family Birth Place. 

A Baby Story, Part 1

Robert is six months old now, and I have already spilled the story of how M and I met for all you lovely people. There is another story that I wrote, a little while back now, that I think I will share. And not just because it gets me out of coming up with things to write about when I'm asleep on my feet, either! Here is the first part of Robert's birth story. You can read it if you're interested, otherwise, just look at the picture of Robert and the chimey-wimey ball!

            Robert was due on January 6, 2010, but we were not exactly surprised when he didn't arrive that day. After all, the due date was just a guess based on the 20 week ultrasound, given that M and I had no idea whatsoever when we had conceived him. The weather was very snowy that week, and by the sixth, bad snowstorms were predicted for the whole Midwest, but especially Illinois. My mom was frantic at the idea that Robert would come and she wouldn't be able to get down here, so we told her to go ahead and come down, but we didn't know when Robert would be arriving. She flew down on the seventh and checked into a hotel where she would end up staying for the next three weeks. It was a very nice hotel, and one of the clerks there was also in the New Hope program and wound up giving birth the same week that I did.

            A week passed, with very little action on the Robert front. I would have very occasional contractions, and we did all sorts of things to try and encourage them. Ham and pineapple pizza, spicy Thai food from Sweet Basil, walking around and shopping for hours. I got to do a lot of couponing with my mom, which was fun, even if nothing came of it. I started to get more worried as the days passed, knowing that if we went past Martin Luther King weekend on the 15^th, my dad probably wouldn't be able to come and see the baby. We were very lucky, though, because what was supposed to be a two week trial for him unexpectedly folded into a one-day stipulated trial, leaving him with entire days of his docket clear. It took the pressure off, both for me and for my mom.

            M was already back at school, which had gone back into session on the fourth. It was nice having someone at home with me, especially someone with a car so I wasn't always stuck at home. M always kept his phone with him and checked in frequently. I think he was more nervous than I was during these days. Sometimes I would get up and sleep in the recliner because every time I would shift position at night, (frequently, between pelvic discomfort and bathroom needs!) he would wake up and wonder if I was in labor. Poor guy needed some sleep! We bought a few last baby items, cleaned and organized some more things around the house, and waited. And waited.

            On Wednesday, January 13, I caught a case of food poisoning, possibly from some really terrible oatmeal cookies I'd made that morning. I was sick as a dog with abdominal cramps and vomiting by that night. I was really worried for awhile, thinking that this was labor, and that labor felt like wanting to throw up all the time. I was both relieved and disappointed when I felt fine a few hours later. M was great, even though he felt poorly as well, he rubbed my feet and played a relaxation track on the iPod, and even sat in the bedroom in the dark with his computer while I slept off the worst of it, just keeping an eye on things.

            By Thursday morning I was better from the food poisoning, and starting to have contractions. This was very exciting, of course. My appointment with Sister Kay, the midwife, on that Monday had me at 3cm dilated and mostly effaced, so I knew it could be anytime now. I was sure that just a little more encouragement would have labor going in earnest. My mom and I went for a little walk up and down the block, and I did some chores and did some dancing and bounced on my labor ball all afternoon. By evening, my contractions were short but at a steady six minutes apart for several hours. I was excited enough to call Sister Kay in the middle of the night and ask what I should do. She quizzed me on how I was feeling, then told me that I should call her again at three minutes apart, because it was too early for me to go to the hospital yet. Sister Kay was an enthusiastic supporter of our plans for a natural birth, and part of ensuring that would happen was making sure we didn't go to the hospital too early.

            It turns out she was right to have us wait, too. The contractions began slowing down in the small hours of Friday morning, and I got a few hours of sleep, thinking that labor was just in a resting phase and would start up again fresh when I'd slept. Friday morning, the contractions were ten minutes apart, and continued slowing down until I stopped timing them. Through Friday afternoon and much of Saturday as well, I still had contractions, but frustrating ones. They would happen when I needed to use the bathroom, when I changed activities, when I laid down, but they wouldn't settle into a pattern. I couldn't sleep well without them waking me up, but it wasn't as though we were making progress, either. I was frustrated and cranky, and it was all Mike and Mom could do to deal with me. Mike and I started talking seriously about what we would do if we needed an induction. My 42 week appointment would be on Monday, and we both knew it would be more and more difficult to wait him out if he didn’t come on his own.