I gave birth to our first child 18 days ago, a boy that looks just like me and whom we named Steven Bruce, after our fathers.
I’d like to share my birth story, because I think childbirth is misrepresented in our culture and has become something women fear and dread. Why wouldn’t they? Besides the common practice of things like epidurals and planned caesarean sections (which puts the idea in our heads that labor can be unbearable), we are exposed to the horror stories of other mothers. It was the worst pain I’ve ever experienced and Trust me, get the drugs! Have you ever heard a woman tell you that her birthing was an amazing experience?
Maybe I’ll be the first. I will admit that labor was labor indeed, and it was no walk in the park. But I did not experience unbearable pain. It wasn’t something that I just got through and barely survived. It was difficult – the hardest work I’ve ever set out to do. But excruciating? Not at all. In understanding the purposefulness of my body, I was able to embrace the sensations I felt and have a healthy (and swift!) birthing. It was an incredible experience of being awed by my body and by my own strength and control.
Curt and I prepared for labor well; we primarily focused on the Mongan Method of Hypnobirthing (trust me, not kooky like it sounds), but also delved positive experiences and tools from Natural Childbirth the Bradley Way and Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth. But the most important tool we utilized was practice. Every single day, I would listen to a hypnosis script or we would go through one together. Sounds bizarre, yes, but it wasn’t something that put me into a trance. Rather, it was something that taught me how to relax thoroughly, to be in control of my relaxation and focus, and to achieve a sort of dream-like state, like when you daydream. Even with practice and the knowledge on the Mongan and Bradley Methods, an important part of my preparation was actively battling negative stories and comments that I heard from some of the people around me. We tried to use positive language – avoiding words with negative connotations like “pain” – and focused on positive birth experiences of other women.
I was able to stay active the whole pregnancy, which helped me avoid lower back and hip pain. In the last few weeks of my pregnancy, I could feel my body changing, as my hips started to shift. I started to get pretty sore and achy. I also fatigued easily. I would walk to the food market five minutes from our house, buy minimal groceries, walk back home and be completely expired. That’s why I guessed that labor was imminent when I got a sudden burst of energy those last couple days. It seems nature knows what we need, when we need it.
I had been having a tightening sensation for a couple weeks, during which my belly would rise up out of my abdomen and become more squarish than round, and it would feel very tight and hard. Saturday evening, the 12th of October, I had more of these sensations with my thighs tightening up. I now know that these were contractions, but I wasn’t certain at the time since they were just tight, and not uncomfortable.
The last few days of my pregnancy, I had trouble sleeping due to soreness and heartburn, so the night of the 12th I slept on our couch downstairs. I woke up frequently – you know, pregnant bladder – and at about 1 am, I felt something start to come out of me. Then it rushed out of me and I had no doubt in my mind that my water had broken! I won’t tell you what I said – I was startled and exclaimed something that is not good for my young sons ears ;). I rushed to the toilet and called Curt on my phone. Yes, seriously. That’s how I got his attention since he was sleeping on the 3rd floor and I on the 1st. From there, I could barely get off the toilet; fluid just kept coming and coming as I relaxed. We set me up on the couch comfortably and on top of garbage bags and towels, and Curt started to pack the final items in our hospital bag. We planned to labor as much as we could at home, since that was the most comfortable and familiar place. The surges (calmer hypnobirthing word used for contractions) started coming right away, and in a way that they hadn’t before. They were uncomfortable, yes, but I wouldn’t necessarily describe them as painful. They required a lot of focus on relaxation. While Curt was busy running around, I timed them myself and breathed deeply and slowly. They were only a few minutes apart and anywhere from 30 to 60 seconds in duration.
After my water initially broke, we had a snack for energy. But as my labor progressed, I couldn’t keep anything down. I had read stories of vomiting during labor, usually as you are late in dilation, and it’s not cause for concern. Curt told me later that he was shocked, but my acceptance (and embrace! It felt good!) of it let him know that it was ok.
We had decided beforehand that when deciding to go to the hospital, we would take into account the frequency and duration of my surges, but also my emotions. Bradley speaks of emotional sign posts – women typically start labor excited and cheerful, get serious when they realize the work that their body is doing, and experience self-doubt when they are exhausted near the end. The 2nd emotional signpost – seriousness – is the most appropriate time to go to the hospital when you want to labor mostly at home, since you will have progressed quite a bit and will spend the minimal amount of time laboring at the hospital.
So we labored at home! My surges were very close together – about 2 minutes – but I was still cheerful and excitable. We spent most of the time on our rocking chair with Curt on the ottoman rubbing my thighs with each surge. Oof, they were tight! I’d say the intensity of my surges was moderate at this point. My body was definitely going to work, and they required deliberate focus. I was still vomiting small amounts frequently and even having a hard time keeping water down. Time stood still; we spent about three hours in this setting, but it felt like much shorter.
We moved to our living room, where I could sit on our bench or a birthing ball. Apparently, it was here that Curt realized I hadn’t laughed at any of his jokes in about 20 minutes, so he knew I was entering the serious phase. He told me later that he was making jokes on purpose to see where I was at emotionally. He suggested that we go to the hospital, and I complied. It was 0530 when we left home, four and a half hours after my water broke.
We live just outside the naval base, so we were able to get to the hospital in about 5 minutes. We worked our way up to the maternity ward on the 3rd floor (after having a surge in the parking lot – I used Curt as a jungle gym), and they helped us into a triage room. We asked them to contact my midwife, Genie, but praise the Lord Almighty, she happened to have duty that Saturday and was still on the ward. That was one of my major concerns going in – that neither of the midwives I had been seeing would be able to attend the birth. I have nothing against obstetricians, but they often take a different approach than the one we were hoping for. Also, I had never met any of them. Genie came in to the triage room while the nurse was checking the baby’s vitals and my own. I was so relieved to see her face! She checked me and announced that I was fully dilated. Amazing! I had been thinking about my dilation, but didn’t let myself hope for anything above 5 centimeters, let alone ten! I attribute this fully to staying relaxed. When you do so during surges, your uterus is able to pull your cervix up more efficiently. When you’re relaxed, you’re not working against your body’s ability to pull that muscle upward and “open the door” for your baby to pass through.
So we were in business, and I was immensely encouraged by full dilation. It was a push I needed to start the next phase with full gusto.
The delivery room started off with a bustle. There were blood draws and a hep lock insert (a port for intravenous fluids, so they had a way to give me an IV, but I wasn’t constantly hooked up). There were questions about medicinal allergies and diseases in the family. This was a more hectic scenario than I was hoping for with our birth, but because of how our labor had gone thus far, I felt in complete control. I put people off. “Sir, I’m having a surge and need a minute … ok, please go ahead.” I was able to put up a gentle hand and close my eyes to signal a gentle back off for a second! And even later on, when I was in the heat of the pushing phase, I was able to gently push away a nurse with dobbler monitor (heartbeat monitor for baby) with a “Can’t concentrate … “. She respected me and immediately backed away. These moments of taking control, not just with the hospital staff, but in my own body and experience, allowed me to shed the idea that labor was something that was happening to me. I was in tandem with my body’s purpose and was not taken captive, but was working alongside the process.
The pushing phase was long. Curt and I were all over. I laid on the bed and breathed while he rubbed my thighs (they were still tightening with every surge). We stood. I leaned. I squatted. I used pretty much every function of what we came to call Bedimus Prime. The bed into just about anything we needed. The very end of it came down about a foot and became a sort of birthing stool, with options for attaching a bar to brace yourself. I was so thankful to have the freedom to move, to go with what my body wanted, since I didn’t have medication and my legs still had feeling. I used gravity and was able to shift things around to work baby down. I was also able to feel and listen to the sensations of my body. Push now. Ok, not so much. Now relax; let yourself regroup for the next surge. Just breathe.
The pushing phase took longer than expected because I was still figuring it out. I could practice breathing and relaxation before the birth, but practice birthing a child? You don’t exactly come across that experience every day. Hard to prepare for. For a while, I was letting instinct take over – which was good – but not realizing the intention I had to set for myself, the work I had to do. I had to breathe baby down, yes, but I also had to watch for that time when I needed to give a push. We just needed a little more.
This is where our midwife was clutch. She stepped in after a bit of time and offered fantastic suggestions. And in between each surge, we were able to expound those suggestions and get them set in a way that agreed with my brain, in a way that I could not only understand but also implement. The application had to be there. My confusion was how to relax my body while also giving energy – pushing – to the process. Through the difficulty, I started to become discouraged. Not only because it was really difficult to get my baby boy’s head through a place that had a lot of stretching to do, but also because I wasn’t convinced I was making progress. What I needed was encouragement and affirmation. I needed the emotional support. I needed to be told that I was doing well and making progress. This is the point where I imagine most women would have started thinking they needed medicinal support. Never in my birthing process did I think about turning to medicine. The thought just never occurred to me. Stalling during labor was disheartening, but with the support of my husband and midwife, I was able to keep my courage and my control.
What we finally came up with to help me understand the pushing phase was the idea that when I felt a surge, I would take a big inhale and then a slow exhale while focusing downward, and then give a long, suspended oomph at the end of each exhale. Each time, it helped to give a low-toned and long oooooomph. I pushed for a while in a squatting position, then changed to a semi-sitting position while pulling my legs back. But the last few surges, I felt the need to be on all fours. I would strongly inhale and then slowly exhale while shifting my pelvis back and down and giving my oomph. His head felt so low, and was hanging halfway out for the last bit. When he finally came out, it was a little bit of a shock! I’d been at it for so long, but the moment he was born just kind of came upon us. Since I was in an optimal position, his head and shoulders came out together. It happened in just one push.
Since I was kneeling, Genie said, “Grab your baby!” and I was able to reach down and grab our new-born baby boy; I was the very first one to hold our son. The room erupted with energy; it had been quiet and dim, but nurses jumped in right away, cleaning and aspirating the crying, slimy baby in my hands. I was helped onto my back with baby against my stomach. Genie went to work on me since I had a lot of bleeding. Because of this, she couldn’t delay cord clamping and cutting. The placenta was delivered swiftly. I had two small tears that Genie quickly repaired, and everyone rushed out of the room to give us time with our new baby.
A corpsman came in and helped Curt give Steven his first bath. They also weighed him – 8 pounds 7 ounces! Bigger than both Curt and me at birth, by at least a pound. Haha, that fact made me proud, not just that our boy was fat and happy, but that I was able to get a baby that size out! One thing I learned throughout my pregnancy is women’s bodies are amazing. They can birth 11 pound babies vaginally. They can birth breach babies vaginally. They can birth when things are stuck, like the shoulders.
Fortunately and unfortunately, I was anxious to see Steven get his first bath and take some photos. This was two hours after his birth and a little too soon for me to get up. I walked back to bed after snapping some photos, started to feel woozy, and fainted! Luckily, my favorite nurse, Alea, was standing next to me and caught me perfectly. She swiveled me around onto the bed and called the obstetrician on duty. Thus began a somewhat invasive and very painful pelvic exam and a Pitocin drip. This is synthetic Oxytocin, the hormone that contracts your uterus; it can cause the blood vessels in your uterus to constrict and aid with excessive bleeding, which was my problem. I also had orders to pee or get a catheter. Fortunately, Alea saw that a catheter was the last thing I wanted and advocated for a few extra hours at a bathroom attempt before a decision would be made. I’d never been so excited about my own urination, difficult as it was.
We spent about 4 hours in the delivery room after Steven was born, but were finally able to move into our postpartum room and enjoy our new baby. We made calls to middle-of-the-night Minnesota, got some rest and ate lunch. We relished the day – for the good labor and delivery experience and for our new baby. We couldn’t believe how cute he was (is)! We’ve been home for a little over two weeks; recovery is going well and we’re learning, day at a time, to be parents. Steven is growing more alert and our schedule is solidifying. And it turns out Byron is pretty good around children.
