Birth Story

I figured I should write this all down before the sleep deprivation and memory loss really catches up! I'm afraid this turned into a lengthy tome. Read ahead if you want all the details; if not, scroll down and read the post below the pictures.

Friday the 21st, at 14 days late, I was dilated just a fingertip and was told to do a lot of walking. I could feel tightenings in my abdomen that were painless, but started noticing they were happening about every 5 minutes. We had supper, watched a Tim Allen movie to get the laughs (and contractions) going, and headed for bed around 11. I couldn't seem to settle down. Finally I got up to go to the bathroom and realized the contractions were starting to hurt a little. I started timing them and they were 3-4 minutes apart. I remember thinking, "that's weird, they're supposed to start at 7-10 minutes." I had this false hope that I was very close to delivery already, and this was going to be no problem! Little did I know!! We timed awhile and nothing changed, so I told Jeff to go to bed and I would try to sleep out on the couch. I sat there timing contractions, which never really changed all night from 30 seconds long, 2, 3, or 4 minutes apart. They weren't that painful but enough to keep me awake. I dozed in between. I didn't know then this would become a pattern for my entire labor. Sleep, wake, pains, sleep.

By morning they were getting a little worse and a little longer, more like 40 seconds, but still 3-4 minutes apart. I was able to get comfortable at first doing the "Bradley" side-lie, but then that soon hurt worse than standing or kneeling on the bed. Interesting...my pains never did "wrap" from the sides to front like they describe. They were always low and in front.

Around 10:00 I started wanting some reassurance that things were moving. I went in to the birthing center and they checked me...only 2 cms. The head also had not turned to engage into the pelvis. That was disappointing. Even though no one is trying to make you feel that way, you do feel like a wimp if you go in too early! At least now though the midwife and doctor knew how far along I was...they had several other births to work around that weekend too. The midwife told me to do some pelvic rocks and "hula hoops," sets of 50 during contractions, to help move his head down.

So, back home and more of the same, through lunch Saturday, very slowly increasing, but not in a regular pattern. Some contractions were 20 seconds, some 30, some 45, and times in between were 3, 4, 5 and 6 minutes. The longer the wait, the stronger and harder the contraction. The shorter the wait, easier and shorter the contraction. It sort of evened out. The exercises killed, but at least they gave me something else to focus on. I had to kneel on all fours while I did the pelvic rocks, and it was extremely uncomfortable to go from lying down to all fours. Jeff had the genius idea to prop up my head and torso on a stack of pillows in between, and then I could go up on my hands easily and quickly when the contractions came. For each contraction I would alternate pelvic rocks and hula hoops (the hula hoops actually gave some relief.)

I slept in between. Around 3:30 p.m. I wanted to call the midwife. Contractions were 45-60 seconds long and averaging 5 minutes apart. I called her and she told me she wanted to hear me on the phone during a contraction. (Whether or not you can carry on a conversation is a good indicator of how far you are.) I had heard of "adrenalin" stops to labor... nature's way of allowing you to escape danger. This is what happened to me on the phone. I started feeling pressured to produce a strong contraction, and instead had a short, weak one.... only 25 seconds. Of course she said I was not close to transition yet and should wait. I sounded undecided I guess so she told me to call back in 30 minutes. I called back in 20, having had the strongest contraction yet. She told me she only wanted to be cautious because, once in the birthing center, many women become disappointed when they find out they still have a ways to go. I wanted to head over and get settled, though, before the drive over became intolerable. The 15 minute drive over was bad enough! However, by some work of the angels, we had green lights the entire way, except for the two red lights where I had contractions. I remember seeing the people pass, looking bored or nonchalant, and feeling like we were in two different worlds.

We arrived there and hurried inside, because I knew I was due for another contraction. The place looked like Grand Central. An entire family was in the waiting room, and there were two other births occurring. I had a contraction as soon as I passed them, and waited it out by leaning on the stair rail.

It's hard to describe the feeling of a contraction, but it feels like your body is made of glass, and if you move even a muscle you will shatter into a million pieces. I wanted to stay as still as possible and put pressure on something hard with my hands. It's not a sharp pain, but a dull ache that is also intense.

As soon as a contraction passed, the doctor (an absolutely wonderful woman with a calm manner and sense of humor... can't even describe how great both the midwife and doctor were!) checked me and she and the midwife both seemed surprised and happy for me that I was 6 cm. and 90% effaced, and the baby's head was already at 0 station! I was relieved to hear I was getting somewhere! We settled into our room, a homey place with lace curtains and wood laminate floor. I sat in the rocking chair while Jeff and the doctor helped us get settled in...put our sheets on the bed, took out our birthing supplies and baby clothes... stuff we'd need afterward. It seemed unreal to me then that we would need the baby clothes. It just seemed like we were here to get help with a labor.

Things continued pretty much the same way. I liked the rocker, and also tried standing and leaning on Jeff, but standing wasn't as good as a position where I could relax every muscle. I wanted to try propped up sitting on the bed, but we'd forgotten to bring extra pillows, so I told Jeff I would be fine if he drove back to his mom's to get those, plus an extra blanket. While he was gone, I really figured out how to labor. When he returned I told him not to touch me or talk to me, but to just try to get some rest. I was glad he could, as he was falling asleep on his feet and sore from shifting me from position to position. I sat there in the rocking chair, dozing and breathing for hours. I used the exhaustion to help me relax, and looked forward to each period of unconsciousness in between. In a way I was "medicating" myself by checking out between each contraction. When I think about it, having a long and exhausting labor may have been the easiest way. I became too tired to fight the contractions... instead I relaxed everything I could and focused on long, deep breaths that I counted. COUNTING was the way I got through it. The contraction would start and I'd feel panicky. Instead, I focused on breathing to 5. Almost there. Now 10. By 20 or 25 I knew the contraction would peak and start to recede. To me, thinking that I could endure anything for "20 breaths" helped so much. This is what I did for the rest of the labor until transition... stayed in the rocking chair, looked forward to sleeping after the contraction, and counted breaths.

Transition was odd for me. Usually the most painful part, for me it was just the part where I felt like I had to yell. They weren't screams of pain... instead they were like the "kee-ai" yells of martial arts routines. Yelling and keeping my tones low kept me from hurting my throat and helped release the incredible energy. I even kind of had fun in a way with them, saying different things each time. I had about 5 "transition" contractions, and then started feeling them more in the back. After two or three of these, I really started to feel better. Before I felt so "made of glass" that every move was torture, even between contractions, and walking to the bathroom was incredibly slow (muscle at a time! Shift off the bed, take a step...like an arthritic old person!) After transition, I could walk around much more freely. The contractions were much farther apart now, but walking brought them on. Soon they started to feel like I might be able to push at the peak of the contraction. Then the whole thing began to feel like I might be able to push through. The midwife checked me quickly at this point, and told me, "oh, girl, you are ready! You're complete and ready to push." I wanted to try pushing on the bed, but the first one was pretty puny, and waiting for the next seemed like 10 minutes (not sure it was this long). My midwife was completely exhausted, having missed two nights of sleep and having just delivered one baby and transferred another woman to the hospital. She lay down on the bench while we waited for another one. She told me to try pushing on the toilet or birthing stool. The toilet felt good...birthing stool too. At this point, I felt excited and powerful and ready to muscle through it. It was hard at first to remember to hold my breath and bear down. The midwife reminded me to hold my breath and it went much better. The most exciting part was when I was pushing on the toilet and reached down to feel what I thought was a head. But it had a little give. It was actually the bag of waters. That was cool!! Seeing that progress made me even more determined. All this time the midwife and doctor left me alone and let me do my thing, just making suggestions occasionally. For me that was the perfect tactic, because I always felt in control and that I was "doing" this myself, not having something "done" to me. The first push I always seemed to forget how to do it right...by the next, I was better, and the third was the strongest...pushing with the power of the contraction. The fourth was usually hanging onto the end of the contraction and not as productive. Finally I reached down and felt the bag bulging quite a bit. I shouted, "I don't want to tear" and the midwife and Jeff got me on the bed where she could massage the perineum and assist. Grabbing my legs and pushing was hard to do! The last thing you want to do at that point is pull your legs back. However, with coaching from the doctor and midwife, I gradually started pushing that sucker out. All this time I felt totally lucid and part of me was realizing just how unreal and weird this was. They told me they could see his hair...lots of it. The bag of waters was very tough and they snipped it with scissors so they could get a grip on his head and help pull him out. I think with that last push they started to worry about his heartrate. I pushed hard through a contraction and the head was almost there. Stopping right there at the "ring of fire" was no picnic! Then the midwife told me very firmly just to go ahead and get him out, we needed to get him out (I'm assuming because his heartrate dropped). "Even with no contraction?" I asked. "Yes, just push. Now." Her words gave me the guts to do it...she wasn't panicking but just sure it would happen, and so then so was I. I gave it all I had. Having the head out was an incredible relief (and the closest to "cursing" I came...for some reason Jeff was really sure I'd lose it! What I actually said was "Oh, God," but it was an expression of wonder and amazement, not blasphemy!) It's hard to explain, but pushing the rest of that wet, slippery little body out actually felt good. Not just "an absence of pain" but positively good. The midwife and doctor went to work suctioning out his mouth, cleaning him with towels. The first thing I said as he came out was "he looks just like Jeff" and "he has dimples!" In full protest, mouth wide open, I could see two adorable identical dimples on each cheek. He was just beautiful. Actual pushing time was an hour and a half...much quicker than anything else in my puttering labor! The doctor pointed out that there was a loose knot in the cord, but nothing dangerous as the cord has a gel in it that is an automatic "anti-kink" mechanism. Jeff cut the cord, and we waited on the placenta, which came out on its own after a few gentle tugs and pushes on my stomach.

The instructions and observations after that were sort of a blurr to me. I was trying to listen but was so exhausted that I kind of zoned out. I knew Jeff would listen and remember. :) They had put a diaper on him and I was holding him on my chest, skin to skin. That was an amazing feeling. I remember thinking how big he was, to have come out of my belly that everyone kept telling me was unusually small! He was a decent-sized baby at 7 lbs. 11 oz, and had so much dark hair...and I couldn't get over that he was just a "little Jeffrey," just exactly. He showed no signs of postmaturity. He had known exactly when he was supposed to come out! Not wrinkled or shriveled, fingernails not all that long, though the skin on his calves and feet were ever so little bit peeled. He quieted down and opened his eyes a little and the midwife helped me get him nursing. It didn't take long and he was latched on. They left us alone for about an hour and a half, then Jeff went back with the doctor to measure and weigh him. It was so nice having all the equipment right there in the birthing center (which had been a house), and I knew they were just right there behind the curtain.

I had not torn at all, and I really felt ready to go very soon after he was born. The ladies suggested we all sleep a few hours (including them!) so we did. Benjamin was as tired as we were.

That's my birth story. I feel so grateful to the women who knew when to assist and when not to. They kept careful tabs on his heartrate and my progress but stayed out of the way when not needed. I had no doubts that I would be referred to hospital care if it were really necessary, so I didn't worry. My midwife is, if anything, more cautious than most OBs would be. She first noticed Benjamin's arrhthymia, and did not hesitate to refer me to Greenville Memorial to see if the heart structure was normal. After he was born, she again checked him out carefully, listening for a long time, then sent us home with instructions to watch him while he slept for signs of slowed heartbeat...blue around the lips for example, and to nudge him to get the heartrate going stronger (it evens out when he is active). She scheduled us for an echocardiogram later this week to investigate it further. I feel like we had such competent, personal and wise care.

We finally left the birthing center around 7 p.m. Sunday night...he had been born at 8:18 Sunday morning, and my entire labor (beginning from the first painful contractions) had been almost 33 hours.

The whole birth experience is already starting to seem unreal. But it was and is a positive, empowering experience. I took responsibility for the experience I wanted and the care I felt was best, and that does feel good. I can look back and see God's hand in all this. Jeff was the prime tool of God in us switching...he was sick of hearing me complain about the care I had been getting in what, to me, was a large and impersonal practice. The day we were to meet and hire a duola for our hospital birth, Jeff had the flu. Frustrated at missing this chance and the path things seemed to be taking, I could see no other option. Jeff said suddenly it was clear to him that we should just take the trip down and go with the midwife (before we thought distance was a problem). The distance suddenly didn't seem as big a problem as the problem I had with our current doctors! At the time we switched we had no clue about the arrhythmia or that I'd go so far postdates. Induction and possible drugs were not what I'd wanted, but would have surely been what we'd have gotten. God used circumstances and Jeff's wisdom to help us make the decision at the right time, and with minimal inconvenience...only a few drives down for prenatals before Benjamin's birth.

Praise God for all He's done and how good He's been to all of us. We give the glory back to Him for the little life He created and the wonderful birth experience He allowed us to have.