Just over six months ago my son made his very own grand entrance into the world. He arrived a bit over two weeks late and weighed over nine pounds. As with many first time labors it was not an easy one. After experiencing my own labor, I have a new found respect for all women who have given birth (natural or cesarean).
Again I am not sure of my direction with this blog except that I feel a need to share my birth story. Not just for myself but for others that have been or will be in a similar situation. I hope you have a cup of coffee or snack because this is a long one. ..
My husband and I were just married and purchased our “fixer upper” house when we found out we were going to have a baby. We were so excited and nervous at the same time (as most first time parents are). We were in our thirties and had never changed a diaper before. What and how were we going to have a baby? What are you supposed to even do with a baby? We read and we read…and we read! I always figured that the actual labor and pushing out the baby was the easy part; that God made women to have babies and that it was simply a natural part of life. While I was pregnant I would dream that my baby would just pop out or I would pull him/her out as easy as cutting a piece of cake. It was what to do with the baby when it was here in the flesh that I was worried about!
We were really looking forward to the birthing experience after deciding to go with a midwife and to try for a natural water birth. There were three midwives working together out in our neck of the woods. They all seemed very compassionate and treated birth as a miracle and not a medical procedure. We were happy to know that one of the three would be delivering our baby. My husband and I floated along in bliss, not realizing some of the things that were being over looked in my prenatal care. I tested right on the border of having hypoglycemia. Although I was not told this until I began having hypoglycemic attacks. My weight was rocketing every week (often 3-5 pounds a week). I ate healthy and swam nearly three miles a week almost the entire pregnancy. I would ask about the weight gain at my appointments and they didn’t seem to think it was a problem. Well, not until I was 41 weeks and had gained nearly 60 pounds. Then all of a sudden it was my problem! At 41 weeks we had an ultra sound and the baby estimated to be almost nine pounds. Our midwife said we would wait another week before inducing. Yes we trusted our care and I trusted that my body would be able to handle it because God made me, as a woman, to be able to have babies naturally! In my 41st week I hiked, hammered together a bookshelf, walked every store in town, drank castor oil, ate eggplant parmesan, did jumping jacks, did the splits… Nothing seemed to work! Thank goodness for my mother and sister being there. My mom arrived from California when I stopped working at 39 weeks, and my sister shortly before the baby came. My husband had just been promoted to an office in NYC and was commuting 3-4 hours a day. It seriously would have been the longest month of my life!
My water broke around 7 am Sunday morning (I was to be induced later that evening). It was a mere drip that was tinged with a green mucous (our baby had pooped!!). We saw our midwife at 2 pm and she sent us back home (45 minutes away) with a prescription for ambien. She told me to take two and try to sleep. The plan was that when I woke up I would be in labor and would then go to the hospital (45 minutes away). Naturally, we did as she said because we trusted our care. Contractions started on the way home a bit after 3 pm and were coming pretty strong in my back. I tried the ambien and sleeping thing but that clearly did not work. After laboring at home for a while in the tub we finally packed up and left for the hospital a bit after 9 pm. My contractions were 3 minutes apart. At this point I was only dilated to a 2. I continued to labor in and out of the bath tub throughout the night (which by the way I highly recommend for pain relief and relaxation). Interventions began in the morning after my progress was not improving. At this point we were all beginning to worry and wondering where the midwife was. I had yet to be seen by a doctor. I was getting fevers that were cooled by hydrating me with fluids. I think I had dilated to a 3 at this point. My husband, mother, and sister were all being very graceful in remaining positive and quiet on their thoughts on my situation. I had earlier instructed them not to mention the word epidural. I wanted this water birth experience too bad. Our midwife finally showed after 12 or 1 pm on Monday. She pressed on my back to open my pelvis (which did alleviate a lot of pain) and left as soon as she came.
I ended up getting an epidural later in the afternoon because I was still not progressing. By night time I had not yet dilated to a five. Someone came in around 8 pm to inform us to prep for surgery. A nurse prayed with my husband and me before we went in. I remember during the surgery trying to continue to remain calm as I was freezing and shaking so hard that I nearly bit off the tip of my tongue. I remember crying when my husband called out that it was a boy at 9:03 pm (38 hours after my water had broken). I remember crying even more because I could not hold our son when they placed him on my chest.
Hours after recovery I learned I had a fever of 103.8 and a bad uterine infection during the surgery. The surgeon said he thought he cleared everything out but that my chances of another infection were likely. Our midwife came in the next day to apologize for not being there. She said I picked the wrong day to have a baby, as all three of them were busy with their own personal lives. She then continued on saying that my back pain was abnormal and that that the next time I am pregnant I am going on the gestational diabetes diet.
I don’t know what was worse, the experience of labor or the long recovery. The first two weeks postpartum I could not get in or out of bed on my own. I was having excruciating muscle spasms every time I tried to move. Walking and sitting continued to be stiff and painful over the next five months. Though the journey to recovery has seemed slow, I am now walking pain free. Last week I jogged for the third time postpartum!!!
Honestly, if others had not told me that this was not normal then I probably wouldn’t know any better (because I don’t know anything different). I look back on my labor and just don’t understand what happened. I don’t think I ever will. What I do know is that I am so thankful for my husband, mother, and sister for being present the entire time; for constantly pouring water on my back and combing their fingers through my hair. That is love!!! I am thankful for the endless help and support we had the first two months from family that traveled great distances to see us. That is love!!! I am thankful that our baby boy is healthy and now is sitting up on his own!!! He is a miracle and that is love! I know that my son and I were protected six months ago and I thank God for that every day! That is love!!
Call me crazy but I am mentally ready to do it all over again! If there is a next time, we will be more on top of our prenatal care in hopes that things do not go over looked. I will still turn to a midwife because I want to try again for a natural water birth (if possible). More importantly, no matter how a baby enters the world, it is a miracle and not a medical procedure! We never know how we get through some of the things that we do. We just know that when we do get through them they somehow work themselves out for the best.
