BabyMama & The Birth Story

Every telling of a birth story that I have witnessed has felt like listening to a veteran. Someone who has been through something life changing that not everyone has experienced. Someone who has seen some stuff. Someone who may or may not have a little PTSD from the event. Someone who is a bit of a hero, depending on your definition of the word. 

It's a saga. A telling of joy and potentially trauma. It's the tale as old as time: that of new life. 

I'm not saying that this is any of that, but, with our baby girl coming up on the year mark, I figured it's now or never to tell the tale of her entry. Because sharing these stories is important - hearing these stories before and after my delivery helped me be aware of what to expect and connected me to others. As captain of Team-No-Kids, I hadn't heard many details about pregnancy or labor prior to being pregnant, and I feel like I'd have had a greater appreciation if I had. I'd have been more empathetic, more supportive. Birthing persons are super heroes. 

Disclaimers: 

• Semi graphic labor details to follow (will put the most graphic asterisked in a foot note, skip if you prefer - or if you're like a co-worker who stumbled upon this blog and is thinking "yikes, I don't want to know!"). 
• Note that the exact timestamps are because I had my husband texting updates to our immediates (which was actually nice to have a little log of the day) and had some photos from the day. 
• Every labor and delivery story is unique, this was mine: that of a healthy, white, middleclass,  cisgender woman, with a pretty straightforward pregnancy, a supportive partner, and access to a great hospital (plus the wonderful staff that came with it). 
• Despite my ongoing fear throughout pregnancy that I was going to die in labor, I never once felt in danger during my labor and delivery. I was very lucky to have a labor without massive complications. I won't go so far to say it was a "normal" labor, but it was not out of the ordinary. 

The scene: After our first ultrasound, our original due date was moved up a week. But that due date came and went.  Due to Covid and the strains on the hospital system, "elective" inductions were not allowed. One week post due date an induction is able to be considered "medically necessary" though, so that's when our doc put it on the calendar. At week 38, baby was in position and I was almost 2cm dilated, but it stalled out there and baby girl decided to hang out until the 41 week mark. Then induction day was upon us and it was go-time!

4:30am : Up to start getting ready and have a big breakfast. My doc warned me to eat because I'd be on a liquid diet upon arrival (which, is fair because you could end up having a major surgery - a C-Section - and you wouldn't be eating at the hospital before a major surgery), so I scarfed an eggy sandwich. We were scheduled for 6am but told to call at 5am to confirm availability. If a bunch of others had gone into labor overnight and the unit was full, we'd have to wait. 

5am : We called and got put on hold for the longest ten minutes of my life, but got the all clear! To get to the hospital and parked is about 25 minutes, so shortly after we got the okay, we were out the door.

((Stage 1: Early Labor))

6:02am : Checked in at Labor & Delivery. The Kyle Rittenhouse case was on the news, and the Christmas tree was already up in the empty lobby. 

Shortly after, we were in a room and I changed into my laboring gown. They strapped a bunch of external monitors on my belly and got the IV going. I had been flagged with Group B Strep early on in my pregnancy - something that is just a regular part of my body, that could be harmful for a baby on it's way out - which is very easily treated with antibiotics during labor as a precaution. So I knew coming in that I would have penicillin via an IV. Since I needed to be induced and wanted an epidural, an IV was always in the cards. 

The monitors fed a stream of fetal/contraction data to both a digital screen and an old-school printer which steadily drew a line showing my progress, upon a never-ending stream of paper. It turned out that the back pain I had been feeling in the days leading up had actually been minor contractions, they just didn't feel like "normal contractions" (whatever that means lol) thanks to my anterior placenta (my placenta was always on the front of my belly, which cushions baby movements - so I felt kicks later and less intensely early on). Watching the upticks in the line and matching them in real-time with how my body was feeling, I was able to know when contractions were happening. And I definitely thought, "Okay, this isn't so bad." Because everyone tells you "OH YOU'LL KNOW when they're happening!" but at that time, I would've still just thought I was achy. 

7:10am : They started the Pitocin in my IV. Pitocin is a hormone used to induce labor.*

9:18am : Up and walking about with my IV stand. I told them I wanted to be up and about as much as possible, and they largely left me to my own devices. I couldn't wander the halls or anything with Covid, so just paced about our giant delivery room (it was super swanky). 

10:15am : My "liquid diet" meal arrived. Broth, Jell-O, juice, popsicles. I ordered it asap after the Pitocin started, knowing it'd take awhile to arrive. (My biggest fear is being hungry, and I absolutely was justified about that worry later.) I absolutely made my husband take a photo of me holding my broth cup like Baby Yoda - no regrets. 

Random hospital thing: they measure your pee. The toilet in the room has a cup to catch and measure so they can make sure you're hydrated. As a pregnant woman, I peed every ten minutes basically, so the poor nurses had to deal with that a bunch. 

11am : Shift change for my nurses. I thanked them for all their help and said I hoped I didn't see them again when they came back (12 hours later). 

11:43am : They had been slowing upping the Pitocin, to the point where my contractions were regular but still not super strong. The nurses consulted with my OB/GYN and they planned to "break my bag of waters." There was a different doctor who was coming in to do that procedure. Two good notes with this:

• When they said my labor was not progressing much and they planned to break my water, they had to ask permission to take that step. One key bit I remembered from the online birthing class we watched (thanks Covid again - only virtual options were available) was the BAR approach. If there are decisions to be made, you don't have to know all about them in advance of your labor, you just have to know how to get an understanding to make an informed decision. So you ask: what are the Benefits? the Alternatives? the Risks?
• My OB was not present throughout my entire labor - she popped in to check on me a few times and consulted over the phone with my nurses, but she was not just hanging out all day. I was very grateful to have my specific baby doc for my entire pregnancy and the confidence that she would be the one delivering my baby. That helped me to have someone I really trusted (that woman saw me at my highest highs and lowest lows - I consider her a trusted ally). 

12:13pm : Water broken. Definitely a whoosh of fluid. This started my "I am... in a pool" joke with my husband. Pool of fluid, pool of tears, pool of baby spit: somehow, I'm always in a pool. My exact text describing the process of them "breaking my bag of waters" to my friends moments later: "It's like they tried to crochet a sweater up my snatch, but hopefully that'll get things moving!" Feel free to google "amniotic hook" on your own time. (You can also look up goodies like "bloody show" while you're there, if you're feeling feisty.) 

12:57pm : Up and walking about again. I was very determined to keep walking to help bébé labor down as long as possible. Once you get that epidural, the walking stops, so I was on my feet as much as I could be. The thing I didn't fully understand before being pregnant: contractions basically come in waves, fairly standard waves, and they get closer together and can last longer as you get closer to birth. So for example, they can last about 30 to 70 seconds and come about 5 to 10 minutes apart. So you can feel "fine" and be walking around and then suddenly have to pause and do some deep breathing during the contraction and then as it passes you can carry on. 

2:40pm : No updates, really. Contractions were coming on hard but the nurse seemed to think that it'd still be awhile. No epidural yet. Just up and walking about, listening to my labor playlist and chit chatting with my husband. Everyone told me to bring a book / shows to watch, but we didn't turn the TV on even once, and my book went unopened. I was pretty well focused on the task at hand, and didn't need/want any distractions. Just my approach on it. 

2:57pm : When asked about dilation status: they said 3cm but the last cervical check had been a few hours prior. They try not to do too many cervical checks, because after your water is broken, each check could potentially be introducing bacteria, disrupt labor, and just hurt like a bitch. (Cervical checks leading up to my due date, I equated to Hermione reaching into her magic purse #IYKYK)

With little progress, the nurses kept offering me options for pain management: use the birthing ball, lay down in a certain way, take a bath, take a shower, etc. The birthing suite basically had a swanky spa in the room. While the bath option was out since they'd broken my water, a shower was still an option. I love a good hot shower, but it's a little less nice when you have to roll your IV stand just outside the shower and stick your arm out the curtain. Not quite as relaxing. Did not make me feel less in pain, just made me feel awkwardly wet. 

The awkward arm-out shower stemmed from the DRASTIC mistake I made upon arrival of saying that I was 'not opposed to an epidural' vs making my intentions known that I did plan to have one. So, the nurses thought that by offering other things, they were following my wishes. And my damn midwest-nice attitude made me say "suuuure I'll try these things." But my contractions were coming on strong enough that I'd pretty much have to stop dead and focus up, and I was like "QUIT offering me these woo-woo pansy options and give me the damn needle in my spine!" I knew it'd take a bit for the epidural docs to come and get it all in, so when I knew it was time, I made my demand for it (and more Jell-O).

((Stage 1: Active Labor))

4:28pm : Epidural time and bonus cath LOL see this post for all the shit I didn't know about epidurals before needing one. Fun fact: I didn't realize until later that the doc who put the epidural in my spin was actually like the doc-in-training. THAT would've made me feel super stressed as fuck. But, the whole thing went smoothly. I am not a big fan of needles, but my game face was on, so, I think I did a damn good job. 

They always tell you to rest once you get the epidural in, so I did. Walking around was no longer an option anyways. I told the doc I could still feel my foot a lot though and that I didn't think it was working well enough. He said he could do a test and to let him know what I could feel. I told him I was ready for the test and he was already doing it - it's just an ice cube test. I thought I had feeling but I couldn't feel an ice cube on my foot at all. Epidurals are wild. 

6:16pm : 5.5 centimeters (after twelve hours in the delivery room). Which felt like nothing knowing I had to get to ten, and yet felt like we'd finally made some progress. At this point, I was absolutely starving and exhausted from laboring all day. While walking around had been something I felt so adamant about doing, it had worn me out. In hindsight, I'd have chilled with the walking about to save that energy.

6:50pm : 8 centimeters, 100% effaced. My OB was called in mid-dinner, and it felt like it was go-time. (Spoiler alert: I was about 4.5 hours away from having our little girl in-arm.) 

7pm : They began stopping the Pitocin, hoping I'd be able to get the last 2cm on my own. My OB was there, getting her scrubs on. They told us that if the last 2cm didn't come, they would turn the Pitocin back on for a bit. The hope was that the baby's heart rate would stay in a good place, and there wouldn't be a need for a C-Section.

7:11pm : It happened at different points throughout the day, but this was the time there was photographic documentation of it: the "labor shakes," in which one starts shaking/shivering uncontrollably. I felt cold and yet sweaty, and jittery as hell. The nurses put warm blankets on me and I tried to rest. It is apparently fairly common and basically happens because your body has a big old surge of hormones and freaks the fuck out (that's the medical description for it, obvi).

After further evaluation, my OB told us that while the baby was head down (good), it was in posterior position, aka "sunny side up," aka its nose was towards my abdomen instead of my back. This isn't the preferred position for pushing out a babe, because the baby’s head is more likely to get wedged against the pubic bone, putting pressure on mama's spine/sacrum. This can cause a longer and more painful delivery, a higher chance of needing a C-section, and other complications. Apparently, up to a third of babies are in this position in the first stage of labor - most rotate themselves into the right position before go time! 

Since the ideal position was for bébé to be facing nose-to-back, we talked through options for how to coax her into rotating. With the epidural, I was in jellyfish mode, so the nurses moved me about into various positions (to one side, to the other, etc.) and we waited. 

8:08pm : Next up to try involved them putting a giant peanut shaped ball/balloon between my legs to try and rotate that baby.

((Stage 1: Transition))

8:53pm : This time they sat me up into "throne position" where I rested and waited. 

Keep in mind, when I say "resting," I mean riding the contraction waves - as you transition out of active labor and into the actual birthing, the contractions are strong and close together - so every 3 to 5 minutes, and lasting about 60 to 90 seconds each. Not a very "restful" time. Thank GOODNESS for that epidural. Without it, I'd have been in a massive amount of pain - instead I just felt pressure. Like, I could tell when contractions were coming and happening, but it didn't hurt, it was more just like a wave of exhaustion. (Your body is running a marathon, you just can't feel your legs hitting the pavement.) 

More than any other feeling, for me personally, was that of hunger. I am an angry panda when not fed, and with naught but a liquid brunch eleven hours prior, and scattered Jell-O's thereafter, I was running low on fuel. I asked if I could have another Jell-O or anything before we hit the final stage, and my OB politely explained that they were about to put an oxygen mask on me, and many women throw up during labor - and that I did not want to vomit red Jell-O into that mask, because it would not be pleasant. And I was like.... touché, doc, no Jell-O.

((Stage 2: Baby Birthing Time!))

9:20pm : 10cm, baby is face down, pushing starting imminently. This was it. Game face on, I asked my OB how long women have to push for on average. She warned me that it could be hours, and I was like "challenge accepted" - I wasn't going to do this for hours. I was going to push and breath so well, and give this baby my very best, and we were going to get this thing done asap. 

My plan had been to not have my husband in the room during this stage - I needed to be in the zone, and have all my mental energy focused on the task at hand, not worrying about how he was doing or feeling. I didn't want the distraction. But with Covid, he wouldn't have been allowed to linger out in the waiting room and basically would've had to go wait in the car, and that just seemed stupid, so I asked him to stay out of the action, and back over my shoulder where I couldn't see him. Yes, I basically asked him to go sit in the corner. Comforting and hand holding and whatever else would've just made me lose concentration and probably pissed me off. ((Note: this had been discussed well in advance, and I'm grateful that he was respectful of my wishes, because I basically was asking him to not be in the weeds for the arrival of his child - something plenty of people told me I was being a jerk about, depriving him of this special moment. But, my labor, my rules.))

9:27pm : Pushing began. I have never been more focused on anything in my entire life than I was during those first few pushes. Our nurses were excellent and talked me through the breathing, pushing, etc. and I made AWESOME progress immediately. Everyone was all "wow, this is impressive, just a few more pushes like that and like, we'll be done" - much applause. I was a goddamn champion.

9:50pm : And then I was still pushing. Still doing great they told me. But as time went on, my pushes were not as strong because I was so worn out, and every time it seemed I was making progress, I was losing it. 

**See double asterisk subnote if you want the graphic, nitty-gritty details of this part - please skip if it'll make you uncomfortable. It sure made ME uncomfortable.

10:52pm : Still pushing, getting closer. We switched position/approach slightly. But I basically had two nurses holding my legs (since I couldn't feel them) at any given time. It's fascinating when you try to dig in your heels when you...can't feel your heels. 

At some point, my OB asked if I'd like a mirror to see the baby crowning so I could *see* my progress, to visualize/motivate me, or if I'd like to touch the baby's head: both were a HARD NO from me. Literally zero interest in either of those things. I feel like it would have been the opposite of motivating to see my poor body being destroyed by the exodus of our dear babe.

11:00pm : And there it was, the shift change. My nurse from the morning was back and I was absolutely disappointed to still be laboring.  The nurse who had been with me for the past hour and a half of pushing stayed around but had to go do the shift hand off, and other nurses came in. In the jumble, my OB hailed my husband over: someone needed to hold a leg. So much for me wanting to keep him as far away from the action as possible, but there was nothing for it: that leg needed holding. 

As the staff shift whirled about, I was still just there, waiting for each contraction wave, trying to muster up what was left of my energy to get our baby out into the world. I was so very tired. I wish I could say there was a sudden surge of adrenaline or something that got me through, but it was more just a primal need to be done. If it didn't happen soon, I wouldn't be able to have a vaginal delivery, and I was so scared of a C-section that I knew it needed to happen. 

My main pushing-nurse had been my rock in terms of counting and talking me through the breathing, and in the shuffle there were different people saying different things, my legs weren't being held properly, and everyone just seemed distracted from the task at hand. In my delirium, my project management skills came out and I had to give a wee speech along the lines of "hey, we all need to be on the same page - I need someone to do the counting again, I need my legs to both be held the same way, I need help, I need everyone to focus." And we regrouped, with my OB acting as coxswain for the finale. 

11:15pm : Our little girl was born. Nine pounds. Per my husband, it was like seeing a little inanimate thing flop out, and then just spring to life. 

((Stage 3))

I remember saying I wanted the baby cleaned off before they gave her to me for skin-to-skin, but that's apparently not a thing (babies don't get a bath until 24 hours after birth - the goo is protective for them), so the beautiful slimy creature I had grown was handed over, for me to cling to as my body collapsed under the weight of the effort it had just made. The doc began to "repair" the damage (which I could unfortunately feel most of, as the epidural was being tapered off) while we got to meet our sweet girl. A time later, I remember asking my doc about delivering the placenta (which I knew happened after labor), she kindly said it had already happened (so apparently the epidural was still working enough!). The nurses began kneading my stomach, something they'd come do throughout the time it took my uterus to shrink back to size. They did tests and assessments on our baby in the room, while I began recovery.***

Mom and baby were both safe and healthy, that's what mattered. My OB had informed me before pushing that with most insurances, we would get "two midnights" to stay in the recovery ward for a vaginal birth. Some people who are closer to the midnight mark stop pushing and wait... because America. (Seriously, how fucked up is our healthcare system??) So by the time we were moved out of the labor and delivery ward, we were already well into our "first night" for our recovery stay. 

At that stage in the pandemic, I was allowed one visitor in a 24-hour period, i.e. if I wanted someone other than my husband, it would be just that person for that day and my husband would be kicked out during that time. Needless to say, it was just us three. Just us three to begin this wonderful, chaotic journey. At the point of no return, ready to enter parenthood. We'd done it. We'd ticked a little +1 to humanity. It might have meant sacrificing my body in the process, but, she was finally on the outside, ready to start the big adventure called life. 

Life is rarely a straight line.

* NOTE that Pitocin can also be used in abortions, and with legislation restricting access to reproductive healthcare, this may become something unavailable to women - meaning that I would have had to continue to carry my baby for an undetermined number of days. I could have gone post-term and had to deal with a number of health risks to myself and my child. Getting an induction allowed me to have a safe labor and a healthy child. This is a reminder to please VOTE and understand that restricting reproductive healthcare extends well beyond abortions.

*** At my six-week postpartum appointment with my OB, I still was NOT recovered and had a lot of healing to do. I pushed a nine pound baby out, and she did not go quietly into the night. 

** When in stage two, you are still waiting for contractions. You feel the contraction coming on, like riding up the hill on a roller coaster. When the contraction hits, you push. When it ends, you wait until you go up another hill again. I ended up "pushing" for about two hours. With contractions about 3 to 5 minutes apart, that means I may have pushed about two dozen times. Putting your entire being into pushing a giant object out of a small opening, when you can't feel your body and haven't eaten anything? It's um, not delightful. Rather tiring. While I started with such verve, I got increasingly more fatigued. When I say it felt like I was losing progress, I was literally losing progress. With my initial pushes, the baby's head could be seen, but as things went on, each contraction the baby would push out a bit, and in between contractions/pushing the baby would slide back in. Literally two steps forward and one step back. You can imagine the impact of having a large baby head just there, hanging out in my vagina for two hours, bobbing in and out... it was, not good. 

My OB explained to me that the baby would not be able to fit through as things were, and that they might need to make more room for the baby to exit. I had made it very clear beforehand that I did not want an episiotomy (in which they strategically cut the perineum - the area between your vag and anus - to enlarge the opening for the babe to come through) unless absolutely necessary, and that I preferred to let things "expand" (i.e. rip/tear, sigh) naturally, if needed. Dazed, I tried to reiterate this, asking how bad the tearing might be if we just continued on. And **skip to next paragraph if you want to avoid the most traumatizing thing a doc has ever said to me** my kind, straightforward doc, who I deeply trust, looked at me and told me that things were not looking to rip backwards....they were looking like they would rip upwards if they didn't intervene. If you're a woman reading this, take a second to let that horror sink in. If you're a man, just move along. 

And I finally caved: I started crying. Out of pure frustration and exhaustion. I had thought I'd be this rockstar who would push this baby right out. My mom had told endless tales of how we had basically walked right out of her vagina into the world, so I had thought that my "child bearing hips" would make for an easy go of things. And here we were. I took some deep breathes and told my OB she could proceed. She was already on it. We needed to get the baby out, we'd come too far.  The pushing needed to continue.... Okay, jump back up to the timeline now <3