It was 6 days past my due date, I was being taken over by a
mild but itchy case of PUPPS (Pruritic Urticarial Papules and Plaques
of Pregnancy) when I was woken up by the distantly familiar feelings of
labor at 3 in the morning. I was having short and mild contractions but
not so short or mild that I was able to go back to sleep again. I
tried. After 30 minutes and several contractions later I accepted I
would not be sleeping again without a baby next to me and got out of
bed. It was the end of our current family dynamic and the beginning of
something new, something better, the beginning of life. This planet was
about to get a little more beautiful. I went into the living room, got
some snacks, and began focusing through my contractions. I appreciated
the time alone and was enjoying trying different positions that worked
for me. I wasn't having any difficulty getting through each
contraction but was "practicing" for when things got harder.
Around
5am I was pleased to see the surprised face of my sweet husband, he had
not even noticed I wasn't in bed when he got up, so when he walked into
the living room to find me kneeling over the couch he was caught off
guard. I told him I had been having regular contractions for the last
couple hours but that he should go ahead and go on his regularly
scheduled morning bike ride, he just needed to keep it short. He
refused, good man, and I was happy as this meant we could go for a walk
together. We woke my mom up to let her know what was going on and also
so we could put Jamison into her bed. We didn't want him to wake up
alone in our family bed and wonder where we were. At this point my mom
told me that before bed she had lit a candle and said a small prayer
the night before encouraging my body to start the process of bringing
life to our side of the world. It worked! So around 530 in the morning
Rob and I went walking around our neighborhood together. The morning
air was a perfectly crisp temperature somewhere in the low 70s, there was a bright sliver
of a moon in the sky that gently lit the sidewalk, and the birds were just beginning to chirp. It was
just us with an occasional car leaving for an early morning shift. I
already felt somewhat disconnected from life outside my body as I
focused on the task at hand. We stayed close to home but walked around
the block many times while Rob timed my contractions using a cell phone
application made just for this. Sometimes I was able to keep walking
through the contractions but sometimes I would have to stop and lean
onto Rob for support while I waited for them to pass. After I was no
longer comfortable walking around we went back home to labor some more
there. I spent time leaning on Rob, leaning on the pony wall, leaning
over the birth ball and even in the tub.
My mom and
Jamison eventually woke up and wonderful Jamison was so quiet and so
gentle through all of it. He did not worry about me; my mom made sure
to inform him that I was working very hard to bring his baby sister
here and that he needed to be calm and quiet for me. His thoughtful
three year old mind could somehow understand the magnitude of bringing
forth life as he did a great job at staying calm and quiet while I
focused through each contraction. After several more hours my
contractions were becoming ever more powerful and were accompanied by
some spotting, something I never had while in labor with Jamison. This
gave me hope that I was making some progress, though fear still gripped
me tight as I mulled over my previous birth, beautiful as it was, I did
not want another cesarean section.
We contacted our
Doula and requested she come to our house but it was no more than a few
minutes later when we decided we would meet her at the hospital after
all as both Rob and I were getting anxious. I was feeling eager to
settle into where my baby was going to be born and I really wanted the
car ride over with. We left my mom and Jamison behind so that they
could make arrangements for Jamison to be picked up. We headed for the
U of U hospital around 10AM but not before my very sweet son gently
put my sandals on my feet as a lay over the birth ball.
Before
labor started I was petrified of the car ride but it wasn't as bad as I
thought even with bumper to bumper traffic down foothill blvd. I spent
the entire car ride on my knees in the front seat leaning over the
back of it. With each contraction I visualized the word "OPEN". I was
so afraid this would be just like my previous labor that the word
"OPEN" seemed the most appropriate word to think of. My labor had, after
all, started similar to Jamison's. Both started at 3 in the morning
and both started with no dilation and little effacement. Not to mention
baby was not in an anterior position, much like J, to only further
discourage me but I kept an open mind and tried to relax. I was working
together with my baby girl; a new birth, a new baby.
I remained hopeful. Hopeful that I would get to the hospital and be at least a 6.
If I was a 6 I would be happy,
I thought. I should have known better from last time not to pick
numbers and then place such importance on them that it could change the
course of my birth. Once at the hospital the nurses immediately put me
in the closest room and began asking a battery of questions to check
me in. Rob answering all of them, of course. I was told to get
undressed from the waist down before they could start checking baby's
heart rate but I was never asked to put on a hospital gown. No one
cared that I remained in my own clothing, a black over-sized night gown
that clung tightly to my pregnant belly. This was significant to me
because I specifically did not want to have to deal with changing my
clothes during labor. They hooked me up to the monitor all the while
letting me take the time and positions I needed to make it through each
contractions. I knew this part was going to be a challenge and I new I
was going to get "extra attention" due to my previous cesarean birth but
all the while the nurses remained respectful and patient. "Good job,
girl. You're doing great" both nurses kept saying; quite a contrast
from being held down by one of the nurses while laboring with Jamison.
Once they got a heartbeat on the monitor they had me lay down to check
for dilation. This part was difficult and probably would have been
better off not done at all, laying down was extremely uncomfortable and
the result was just discouraging anyway. They told me I was a 4 1/2. I
was hoping for so much more and all I could do was chuckle a bit. I
wasn't going to give up! I was determined! In response to my reaction
the nurse said, "You must be happy about this given your smile" I
informed them it was a smile of disappointment. At this point I told
myself I will wait to get settled in with my doula and my midwife
before I make any decisions about pain medication. I tried to back
track from my desire to be a 6 and continue to trust my body, to trust
each powerful contraction, and to trust that my body, and my baby, were
capable.
After they determined baby's heart rate was fine
and that I would be admitted I was taken to the room I would actually
be delivering in. I honestly have no memory of how I got to that room,
probably walking, but once there I was able to lean over a birth ball
(my most beloved position), and have my full support team there and
available to me. My doula showed up, my mom showed up, and I even got
the midwife I was hoping would be on call! My midwife came quietly
walking in while I was in the middle of a contraction, she gently but
confidently walked up and did a hip squeeze maneuver that immediately
helped relieve the intensity of the contraction. From then on out
someone (sometimes two people at a time) applied the same pressure to
my hips with every contraction. I was taking it one contraction at a
time while everyone was encouraging me, rubbing my back, pressing in
certain areas to decrease the pain and various other ways of keeping me
going. All of it, every bit of it, was so very helpful. Every women in
the room, as well as the one man (my husband), were doing everything
perfect. Absolutely perfect. Every touch, every word of encouragement,
everyone was working together to make this easier for me and it worked!
When my midwife left the room I felt a sense of fear, I didn't want
her to leave, her presence was comforting, but it was brief, and it was
to get some essential oils to spray around the room. I could feel
the cool mist gently landing on my back and the smell was refreshing. Everything that
everyone did was to support and encourage me so that I could let my body
birth as it was meant to do.
At one point the nurse
asked me, "you plan on going un-medicated, right?" I laughed and told
her that was yet to be decided. It was certainly the goal but at this
point I had my doubts. She responded with "well, if you want pain
relief that is your choice but I will not bring it up again, so if you
want it you can ask".
Prefect I thought.
I
continued to labor. My Doula reminding me to relax and to moan low,
rubbing my back and helping me stay focused. My midwife rubbing my back
and feet all the while monitoring my well being as well as my baby's.
My mom moaning with me to remind me to keep my sounds low and
productive. It was perfect, I was comfortable making whatever noises I
needed knowing my mom was right there doing it too! I guess a mother
never loses touch with her daughter. My sweet husband gently whispering
in my ear that I was doing a good job, helping with hip squeezes, and
taking me to the bathroom whenever I needed. When I was checked again I
was a 7 1/2. I had a bit of a negative attitude as I was sure my labor
wouldn't progress like last time. I complained that I was only a 7 1/2
but my doula gently reminded me that I was farther dilated than I ever
did with my last labor. My midwife pointed out how fast I had gone
from a 4 1/2 to over a 7. At this point they had to change the location
of the fetal monitor from high up on my right side to down low on my
left side; baby had rotated to a better position and was down low! I
continued taking it one intense contraction at a time all the while
thinking, if I want drugs I can get them. The truth is I didn't want
them, not any of them, I was not interested in them coming in and
messing with me; making me lay down, making me get IV fluids etc. Some
positions were so horribly painful I thought if I ask for an epidural
and they make me lay down I will die, it just didn't seem worth it. So I
kept relying on my support team to make things bearable. I cannot
emphasize enough that the tricks these ladies knew, and shared with my
mom and Rob, were amazing. Absolutely amazing! The words each person
said, the touch, the scents, it was all too much to even ask for yet I
got it all. Everyone worked so well together it was just perfect!
I
soon began getting the urge to push. With each contraction my moans
changed from pain coping sounds to short grunting sounds. "I think she's
pushing" I heard someone say. "I think I'm pushing" I said in
response. It was almost over I thought but really it was only
beginning! I was standing and could not for the life of me lay down. My
midwife checked me while I stood but did mention it was a hard
position to check in. She thought I might be a 10 and told me if I had
the urge I could push if I wanted. So I pushed just as I had been.
Little nudges and not much more. My midwife requested I lay on my side
on the bed so that she could check me better as she felt a little
unsure about her last check. She was extremely apologetic when she had
to give me the bad news that I was really still an 8. "AN 8!" I
exclaimed. "I can't do this, I can't do this" I began saying. I was an 8
twenty minute ago, which isn't long, but at the time it felt like an
eternity. "I want an epidural." Although I had crawled deep within
myself hours earlier I had now lost focus and was losing control.
The pain and intensity was taking over and I wanted to give up. I
think they call this transition! My doula mentioned breaking my water
as one option to speed things up, I declined as I was terrified things
might get more intense than I felt I would be able to handle. My
midwife agreed and supported my decision so we left them intact.
Everyone reminded me that an 8 was really good.
My
midwife, sensing fear spilling over from my last birthing experience,
got eye level with me and gently but sternly said, "Meghan, this is not
like your last. This is different".
My doula encouraged
me to go 3 or 4 more contractions and then reevaluate. I agreed to go 2
more but it would be many more before I brought up pain medication
again, mainly because I slipped so far into a different place there
really wasn't much room to think about anything other than getting
through it. The contractions were so intense, more than my mind could
handle, they were flooding over my entire body; from every hair
on my head to the tips of my toes I could feel the intensity and power of each contraction. My mind
had shut off, submitting fully to my body as my body took over and labor
continued. It was around this time Rob and my mom started offering me
some personal items I had brought with me intended to give me strength.
I chose a charm Rob had given me at the conclusion of our birth class
and focused on it in my hand. With each contraction I dragged my
fingernail over each raised line of the symbol that represented a
labyrinth.
After a few more contractions my doula and
midwife suggested I change positions, I chose to stand at the edge of
the bed again. Another contraction! Another slight urge to push and
immediately I felt like I had been hit by a freight train. My water
broke the pressure changed, the sensation changed and I collapsed. My
knees buckled and I completely collapsed into a squat as my arms reached
up holding onto the edge of the bed. My mom was holding tight to my
arms from across the other side of the bed, my doula, midwife and Rob
all holding me up from behind. I screamed, no moaned. I never screamed,
I was never scared. I had no control of my body, none, every single
muscle pushed without asking for permission and pushed with a fierce
strength I never knew I had. My body had completely taken over. Imagine
standing on a train track and suddenly, without warning, a train comes
and slams into you from behind, you never saw it coming. That is the
best way I can explain the sudden intensity of having that urge to
push. Finally the pressure, the train, it stopped. I stood up, I
breathed, I relaxed. I almost felt like I could fall asleep but not
enough time; another contraction, another chance for my muscles to take
over. I collapsed again, being held up by my team, I moaned, I felt
pain and pressure so severe, so strong, so intense I had checked out of
my body...but I wasn't scared. If before my mind "shut off submitting
fully to my body" it had now walked off, left the room, left the
planet. I trusted my team and they continuously reassured me I was
doing good. I knew if anything went wrong I was taken care of, I was
safe. I could focus solely on getting my baby out. My midwife began
instructing the nurses to get the squat bar. In between contractions I
climbed up onto the bed and was told how to effectively use the squat
bar. It was a great place to be at that time in my labor; brilliant was
my Midwife to recognize the need for it. More contractions, more
pushing, more freight train, more giving into my body.
I
even joked "is it too late for an epidural?" I asked in between
pushing. I was told by many natural birthing mamas the pain stops when
the pushing starts. To that I say bull. I was looking forward to
pushing the entire time in hopes of finding some relief. My doula put
it best when I met her before labor "you welcome the change in
sensation" this is true but that "change in sensation" came with other
things that were not necessarily welcomed. Regardless I was happy to be
getting close. At his point my midwife noticed I still had a "lip" left
on my cervix, pretty bad news to me but turns out it was as simple as
her going "let me see if I can just push this out of the way" and away
it went, no biggie.
"Meghan, do you want to feel her
head?" I said no. Not sure why I wasn't interested in such an amazing
opportunity but my Midwife knew it was one I wouldn't want to miss.
"Meghan, reach down here and feel her head" I did it. My response,
"that is it? That is hardly out" I was such a downer. I had spent the
entire labor concerned of not progressing like last time. It seemed no
matter how much progress I made I was convinced it wasn't enough. So my
amazing birth team, yet again, reminded me of my great progress.
I
kept pushing when I had the urge and relaxing when I didn't. My
midwife patiently watched and waited and simply supported me. Then her
demeanor changed a bit. She began telling me I needed to push and push
hard, even instructing me to push in between contractions. She looked at
me, she was serious. "I need to do an episiotomy. I haven't done one
in 4 or 5 years, I'm so sorry". I remember talking about episiotomies
at the clinic. The Midwives were against them unless they were
absolutely necessary. I didn't fully understand the seriousness of the
situation but I knew something had to be going on. I wasn't scared, I
trusted my team.
At this point my husband said things got
kind of crazy in the birthing room. My daughter's heart rate had
dropped, and dropped low into the 60s only recovering into the 90s.
This pattern was remaining despite my teams best efforts. I was changing
positions and given oxygen to try and help baby girl get more but it
wasn't working. There was the potential that she would need to be
resuscitated upon coming out. I never felt scared. My midwife was never
panicked, she never made me feel fearful, she acted quick, she made
good decisions, and I trusted her fully.
"Will you numb it?"
"There
is no need, the baby's head on the perineum is a natural anesthesia,
you won't feel it." she was right, I didn't feel a thing.
I
kept pushing until I felt her head slide out! The burning and pain
decreased immediately and it felt as though the rest of her slid right
out. I later learned, due to a tight cord wrapped around my baby's neck, my midwife did some cool
midwife trick to help get her out quickly without having to prematurely
cut the tight cord. A quick check by the midwife to make sure all was
okay and just like that she was on my chest. She was damp but easy to
hold onto, not slippery like I thought she would be. Her smell, it was
'earthy'. It was pleasant, it was the scent of life, of hard work, of
strength beyond comprehension, it was of me and her. I will never forget
her smell. So distinct but completely hard to describe.
She
was perfectly healthy and I believe my midwife's quick decisions and
cool maneuvers were a huge part of my baby's health! Her cord was
wrapped tightly around her neck, her arm and her body. In most
situations the cord around the neck is not a big deal however in my
baby's situation it was very tight. My amazing midwife did some cool
midwife trick where you keep baby's head close to mom's thigh and flip
her around doing some somersault thingy, apparently it's something to do
when the cord is too tight. Rob got to watch and said it was pretty
cool. I hardly knew any of this was going on, I never felt scared. I
trusted my team.
"Can someone get the resident?" My
midwife asked. She had begun stitching me. I looked at her face and she
was focused. She kept inspecting me, stitching me, cleaning me but the
resident never came. No one got him, no one listened to her. "I need
someone to get Jacob right now" she sternly repeated. I had lost 500mls
of blood. Anything over 500mls is a hemorrhage but I never felt
scared.
Jacob came in and I was offered an epidural by the resident while
they did repairs. Apparently some areas were deep enough inside and bad
enough it was difficult to get numb. I declined the epidural. I was
not about to go through what I just went through only to have an
epidural for some stitches. They numbed me up as best they could, which
wasn't good enough and what seemed like over an hour (and probably
was) I had a clean bill of health!
Baby girl born VBAC July 25, 2011 8 lbs 4.5 oz at 2:05 PM.
I DID IT!
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