Since our daughter’s birth (three and a half years prior) was two weeks “late”, we weren’t overly concerned and even more determined this time not to be bullied into any kind of intervention by the medical system.
I wanted this baby to come as naturally as possible, and on his/her own time. I agreed to a hospital birth, to have the extra security of “just in case”. We had had a great team of nurses last time and a wonderful doula and were anticipating a similar experience this time (minus the castor oil- a last resort move which actually ended up working beautifully).
I spent the weeks leading up to the end of the pregnancy taking really good care of myself, going from acupuncture to chiro, massage, trying out Bowen and Craniosacral healing modalities and attending weekly prenatal yoga classes. Chasing after our 3 1/2 year old had me staying pretty active but other than the occasional walk I wasn’t doing much in terms of “regular” exercise.
I read tons of positive birth stories and watched some youtube videos on water and hypno births and started listening to my hypnobirthing meditations. I spent some much needed time (thanks to Grandparents) in solitude and in nature when I could, enjoying just “being” and breathing. Staying grounded, centered and at peace and in a continual state of gratitude was my priority. My nesting energy had come and gone over the past few weeks and although I still had some actual cleaning left on the list, I was enormously satisfied to have completed my “office project”.
So I felt pretty well prepared when the contractions (or “rushes” as I preferred to call them) began in earnest around 3:30 am that very night. We had spent some time out in the backyard in the gorgeous sunny early evening light and I enjoyed laying in the grass, watching the gently drifting clouds and listening to my daughter’s delighted shrieks as she ran through the sprinkler. My braxton hicks had begun turning more cramp-like and I felt a growing excitement that this might be it... we were finally going to meet the newest member of our family, and soon!
After experiencing two rushes in the time it took to get my daughter settled back in to bed (she and I are very connected on an emotional level and I’m sure she was sensing the changes that the beginning of my labour was bringing on) I tried to get back into bed to rest as much as possible for what my body would be accomplishing this beautiful day. But after about an hour I gave up as the rushes were getting quite intense and I was feeling the need to move around. I was so glad that I had gotten my hubby to download the “full term” app onto his phone and I began timing them.
They were coming extremely regularly- 3-5 minutes apart and lasting 30 seconds each. As soon as one began, I would stop whatever I was doing, breathe and circle my hips. This made the pain disappear, usually by halfway through the “squeeze”. For the next hour, I flitted around, filling water bottles, preparing my daughter’s overnight bag for her grandparents house and thinking about how wonderful it was going to be to finally hold our new baby in my arms.
By 5:30 I made a call to my mom and sent a text to my doula to let them know it was time. By 6:30, mom was there and I had woken both Trinity and my husband and things were in motion.
We soon left for the hospital, happily avoiding any morning traffic. I was really pleased with how things were progressing and was hoping to breeze through triage and get set up in a labour room to create my “cocoon” continue with my labouring/opening up. However the hospital staff had other ideas and I was made to wait 2 1/2 hours in a tiny, curtained off area, with my doula waiting outside. At least I had a window and sunshine! I knew they would need to have me on the monitor for a while to check baby’s heart beat and the intensity of my rushes.
When I was checked internally it was determined that I was 3 cm dilated. There was a malfunction on the monitoring machine (it wasn’t picking up the rushes) so I had to wait a little longer until they had the reading that they wanted. Then they discovered that the baby’s heart rate was dropping at each contraction, so they told me that I was going to have to keep the monitor on. Luckily, I was still able to move around and they even brought me a birthing ball, which I put up on the bed and leaned on for support during the rushes, which were getting more and more intense. I had started a low moaning (still circling my hips as much as possible) during the rushes, then relaxed back onto my knees on a pillow (moving the ball to the floor) in between. My husband was sent down to admit me and when he returned I found myself releasing some tears, so relieved that he was back.
I think the tears prompted the nurses get the Doctor to check on my progress, and much to everyone’s surprise in just two hours I was already at 8 cm!! I’ll never forget the Doctor’s reaction as she said with a look of shock “this can’t be for real- we need to get her in a room, NOW!”
The next hour was spent settling into the room, finally united with my doula and meeting our sweet nurse. I had my comfort measures set up- my special blend of aromatherapy massage oil, music and bag of crystals. Relief was huge when I stepped into the shower and knelt with the hot water pouring down my back. The counter pressure on my sacrum also felt really good. Then I was told that I was pretty much fully dilated and that it was time to move to the bed. They were having a tough time keeping the monitoring going on baby’s heart rate in the shower.
The heart rate being A-typical was a concern and the head of OB was called in for a consult. I noticed the room getting fuller and fuller of personnel and was having a harder time concentrating on and coping with the rushes. It was at this point that I remembered and started using the laughing gas to help me get through them. The nurse and my doula were great, explaining to me everything that was going on as it happened. They then needed to first break my water and attach a monitor directly to baby’s head.
The amount of meconium in the water (which released in a big gush, causing a feeling of relief but also huge pressure) stepped the panic mode into even higher gear and all of the sudden there were even more people in and out of the room and talk of possibly moving me to surgery. Then, an imposing figure appeared at the end of the bed. “Who are you?” I blurted out, but was ignored. Apparently the chief head of OB doesn’t answer such questions.
The original Doctor kept commenting on how stubborn my cervix was being- apparently there was still a lip that kept showing up. She tried holding it back and having me push but it just wasn’t working. There was a sense of urgency to get the baby out, now. The second doctor also tried holding the remaining cervix out of the way, which unfortunately wasn’t working either. This is when the talk of using the vacuum was brought up and I understood that it was necessary- especially if I wanted to avoid being sent for a Caesarian. I think at this point the anesthesiologist appeared and someone began trying to get an IV started. I was given some fentanyl (which I made sure wouldn’t pass into my breast milk before agreeing to it) and then it was time.
The vacuum was used once during a pushing phase and we were able to get the baby’s head to descend past the cervix and come out. It was then that they noticed that the cord was wrapped around the baby's neck very tightly three times and they immediately clamped and cut it. THAT was the problem- not my “incompetent” cervix!! Every time the baby’s head was trying to descend, the cord was getting in the way, tilting the head to the side and blocking the passage. Once the cord was released and cut, the next push had the body delivered. What a release and relief and incredible sensation to feel the slippery body slither through!
Tears of relief were shared along with the news that we had a BOY!! I apologized to the room in advance but felt the undeniable need to shout out “It’s a f*&%^ing BOY!!”
He was immediately surrounded by the staff who suctioned and assessed him while the Doctor assisted me in delivering the placenta. The baby needed to be transferred to the NICU for further assessment and then the Doctor noticed a large amount of blood coming from me. After some freezing, more pain meds and some stitching to a tear above my urethra (ouch), he went in to try and see if the bleeding was coming from a cervical tear. There was talk of possibly having to send me for surgery but then it was decided that we would wait and let it heal on its own.
Meanwhile my husband was back and forth to the NICU, giving me updates and showing me photos of our baby boy. It was an extremely intense time of very high emotions and I am so thankful for the support and calm coming from my doula and the nurse. They kept me in the delivery room and the baby in the NICU for the next 4 hours, and then came the best news of all- baby had been released and was on his way to me!
He had recovered quickly, regaining his pink colour all over and his breathing was much better. They didn’t have to use any oxygen or start antibiotics or a feeding tube either. We were finally reunited and what a sweet relief to get to hold and nurse him. We then transferred over to the recovery ward, saying goodbye and thanks to the fantastic team of professionals who had helped me to get my baby out, safely and soundly.
So although I didn’t get the delivery of my dreams, I still felt that the wishes on my birth plan were respected as much as possible and the outcome was the best it could have been: a happy and healthy mom and baby.
The end.... and the beginning!
