Due date: June 14, 2008
*I want to start out by explaining the whole situation. In the beginning of my pregnancy I wasn't even planning on breastfeeding, let alone going drug-free or even putting much thought into the birth as a whole. A few months in, I ran into my friend Ms. Connie Bryan (thank GOD) who gave me a book and opened my eyes to the world of birth and babies and how important of an experience it is in life, not to be taken lightly. I got educated, and changed my whole attitude about things. Becoming more and more disillusioned with the quality of care I was getting with my OB, and after being less than impressed with
The week before my due date we got this horrible heat wave. I was massive, pissed off, sweaty and miserable. Thanks to the encouragement of Connie, I got myself up and in the water. I think I swam everyday that week. When the temperatures cooled down, I started walking. I was definitely over being pregnant at this point.
The 14th came and went. On the morning of June 15th I woke up feeling a little odd. Crampy and whatnot. The cramps came and went all day, randomly and without much bother. I knew it was the start of something so I began walking more. Drinking raspberry tea by the pitcher. I basically went about my business until the 18th, when I was scheduled for a Non Stress Test at the hospital. The test showed that I was having contractions, but they were so random and light that my midwife Louise didn't think anything of them. She scheduled me for another NST on the 21st and sent me on my way.
That night, the 18th, was the night of the full moon, the Flowering Moon, the last full moon before the summer solstice. According to my witchy mom, an important one. She had given me a white rose bush to plant that evening, which I did. I remembered reading somewhere that fresh pineapple could help to soften the cervix, get things going a bit. It just so happened that I was craving pineapple that night so I went out and bought a big one. I ate about half of it before bed, and saved the top in some water. Maybe it would grow. Its weird to think now that I went to bed that night not realizing it would be my last good nights' sleep....probably ever!
June 19th- I was woken up abruptly at 5am with my first real contraction. Three minutes later, another. They kept coming every 3-5 minutes, very regularly. I woke up Joel and told him I thought something was happening. I lay curled up in bed for a while, but around 7 I called Louise. she told me "it sounds like today is the day!" but to hang out, eat something, give her a call back after lunch or if something happened, like my water breaking, or when they started getting stronger and I couldn't sit still anymore. I tried to take this advice. I think I ate some toast and an apple, or maybe some watermelon. Eventually it was getting to the point where I had to vocalize the sensations, and it was sort of freaking Joel out. I naively though that the contractions were plenty strong enough, and that in a matter of hours I would be popping out a baby. We called Louise back and although she sounded against the idea, we told her we were coming up. On the way I called my mom to say “happy anniversary! I’m in labor!”
When we got there I was hooked up to a monitor and checked. Louise informed me that I was barely 1 centimeter dilated and wasn’t even technically in labor yet. She reiterated the fact that first babies often take 12-24 hours to come (if only!). Discouraging. She left it up to us whether or not we wanted to stay. She said we were welcome to because we live an hour away. So we decided to hang out. Got something to eat. Made ourselves comfortable. Around 14 hours later she checked again…only 2 centimeters! Highly discouraging. She tried to be positive and tell me it was still progress. It was getting to be late evening, around 8, and the contractions were still very regular. All day I had been walking, rolling around on a big blue ball, relaxing in the nice big tub, breathing, munching, staying hydrated. Trying to stay motivated and positive. But it seemed my body was just taking its time. As night approached, Louise suggested a small dose of morphine so that I could grab a few Z’s. She said the next morning would be real tough work, and that I needed to get some rest, for we would probably have a sunrise baby! I thought this was probably a good idea. So I got a shot and they left us alone all night to sleep.
It was a very restless night, despite the morphine. I was really out of it, and very uncomfortable. I could still feel slight contractions and just couldn’t sleep properly. By morning, I was somewhat delusional and not feeling well. It seemed that the contractions had puttered out. I tried to eat but I couldn’t keep my eyes open, was talking nonsense and feeling nauseous. I threw up my breakfast. It actually made me feel a lot better to get the morphine out of my system. I woke up a bit and came to my senses. But to my dismay, my labor had stalled. She checked again and I was only at 3 centimeters. I wanted to cry! Actually I think I did. She tried to be encouraging by saying it was slow progress, but progress nonetheless. The problem by this time was that she’d discovered that my water had broken at some point without me noticing. A slow leak, apparently. In the hospital world, this creates a time limit, for fear of infection. It was somewhere around 1pm and she suggested pitocin, the one thing I was really scared of and seriously trying to avoid for my labor. She assured me that it would help my contractions to become more effective and speed things up. I knew it was probably unavoidable, unless I wanted to go home! After a major emotional breakdown, I got another wind and decided alright, let’s do this. Let’s get this baby out!
I’m not sure when it was that I was hooked up to the pitocin IV, probably around 1 or 2pm. When it kicked in, it hit me like a freight train. There was an instant, DRAMATIC difference in my contractions and the ferocity of it scared me. Once I was in that frame of mind, everything changed. Things became really intense and really serious. I couldn’t help it. The kind, wonderful nurses helped hook me up to the portable IV thingy so that I would be able to get into the tub and walk around. Once in the tub, my brain started melting away as my body completely took over. Everything going on around me was a buzzing, a white noise, a different world. I lost track of time. I became very loud, very vocal and probably very scary! I’m not sure what Joel was doing, I have visuals of him coming and going with terrified looks on his face. I remember Louise coming in the door, rolling up her sleeves and leaning over me trying to connect. She was probably trying to bring me back down to earth. She directed me on how to vocalize (“keep the sounds low”) and how to move (“don’t arch your back, lean forward into it”). After some time of showing me how to breathe she checked me again; I’m not sure how long it had been but I’d already doubled my progress to a full 6 centimeters! It was a little around this time that I started to feel this strange sensation. At first I didn’t know what it was. It was new, it was a little vague. But it kept coming and soon I was unable to ignore it. The urge to push! I shouted out that I was feeling pressure and felt that I needed to push. Louise encouraged it. She said I needed to move the baby down because he was still sort of high. So this is when I started pushing. I hadn’t even really been thinking about the baby, I was in such a world of my own. But when the urge to push came all I knew was that soon it would be over and he would finally be here. But time kept dragging on. I was pushing and pushing and it was getting worse and worse. Louise suggested that I should get out of the tub, start walking around and trying different things. At that point I was pretty much frozen with fear and pain and the last thing I wanted to do was move. I kind of protested but the nurse and Joel chimed in that I should get out. I hesitantly did so.
Changing positions momentarily redirected my energy and kind of realigned my focus. I felt better for a little bit. I tried kneeling over the head of the bed while it was propped up, this way I could kind of sway my hips and bury my head. The pushing sensation was really unbelievable. Definitely the most animalistic, earthy, natural, yet intense feeling I’ve ever had. At the same time though, it didn’t seem to really be coming naturally to me. I needed a lot of instruction. I was wasting energy on weak contractions, breathing too fast and generally in a high state of panic. Looking back I realize that my brain had officially shut off, and I was running on pure physical instinct. I could have asked for something to ease the pain but the thought never crossed my mind. Thoughts didn’t exist. I was at 10 centimeters, and as she kept telling me, the baby’s head just needed to pass under the tiny bit of cervical lip that was left, and make it around my bones. She was moving my hips this way and that, trying to wiggle me around enough to get the baby to turn properly. I tried sitting on a birth stool. I actually liked this method best; I could feel the contractions push through my muscles on their own, from top to bottom. I didn’t have to put so much effort into each push. A strange sensation. But apparently I was shaking a lot and she seemed to be worried about me falling over. She got me back on the bed, on my back and I started hugging my knees. Someone put an oxygen mask on me. I started pulling on a towel being pulled at the other end by a nurse. Louise was saying the most encouraging things, trying to keep me motivated. “Most people don’t have it this hard, you’re doing great!” she’d say. At some point I saw them all huddled around the print out of the baby’s heartbeat. Louise had left the room. Joel came around the side of the bed and grabbed hold of the towel, with tears streaming down his face. He held it tight as I pulled back and bore down. When Louise came back in I heard her mention that she’d called her back up doctor, Dr. MacFarlane. Someone came in and started drawing blood from my arm.
“Martha, you’ve been pushing for about 3 hours now. You’re doing great. But the baby is stuck under your tailbone and isn’t turning. His heart rate is slowing down during each contraction which is normal, but it’s not recovering the way we’d like. We will keep doing what we’re doing for about 30 more minutes and unless something changes, we’ll have to make another plan.” Louise’s words were slow and steady and trying to be convincing. Joel was standing at the head of the bed facing me. I looked at him and just started shaking my head. Once I realized that things were not going the way they should be, and that Louise was thinking in the direction of surgery, I knew it was over.
“I. HAVE REACHED. MY PERSONAL. LIMIT!” I yelled, and the room went quiet. I sat on the edge of bed and basically waved the white flag. “I cannot do this anymore! Please take the pitocin out of me, I’M DONE.” Everyone kindly obliged me. I didn’t see the nurse stopping the drip but I could feel an instant difference in the contractions. They had slowed way down and although I was still feeling an urge to push with each one, it wasn’t nearly as overwhelming. I looked around and remember seeing blood like…everywhere. Louise came and stood by me. I told her I was sorry, sorry for giving up. She said “don’t be silly, I’m the one who’s sorry,” rubbing my arm. Dr. MacFarlane came in and examined me, then gave me his professional opinion that “the baby is stuck in an occiput posterior position, caught on your tailbone. He is under distress and you could keep pushing for hours and hours but it wouldn’t make any difference. I believe you need a cesarean section, do you understand?” my only response was “that SUCKS!” to which he responded, “I totally agree.”
The team prepared me for the operation. Joel got dressed in his scrubs and went out to inform my parents, who had arrived 6 hours earlier expecting a baby any minute now. Louise walked with me down the hall to the OR, and we walked in silence. I could tell she felt really badly. She’s well known in the area for her uncanny success with all natural, vaginal births. She knew we’d gone through a lot to avoid this exact situation. But it was happening and she continued to be an enormous help.
I was still having pushing contractions on the operating table. As the spinal went in and I felt soothing warmth rushing up my legs and melting all the pain away, I entered a state of blissful delirium. In an instant, there was no more pain! It was unbelievable how GREAT I suddenly felt. When Joel came in the room he was crying and looked terrified. I tried in my delirious state to be reassuring and uplifting by saying “its okay! I’m totally at peace with this!” only to find out later that he thought I was out of my mind and talking about dying or something. The operation began, with Louise and Dr. MacFarlane performing together and it couldn’t have been more than 10 minutes later that I heard a little kitten-like cry and our son was born!
After more than 40 hours of hard labor, Isaac Robert Jordan was born at 9:30pm on Friday, June 20th, weighing 8lbs, 6.5 oz and 20.5 inches long.
They cleaned him up and brought him round to me. The first thing I noticed was that the kid had sideburns! Also, his head was totally deformed from being so stuck and pushing against my bones for so long. There was this massive ridge and bulge on top. Joel still got to cut the cord and they handed the baby to him to take in the other room and be alone with while I got stitched up. As I was laying there I drifted in and out of exhausted sleep. I could hear Dr. MacFarlane talking, saying things like “uterus full of meconium…cord twisted…caught in pelvis in occiput posterior position…..” so I piped in, “so this was a valid operation?”
“Absolutely. You could have pushed for days and it probably wouldn’t have mattered. If anyone can get you a vaginal delivery, it’s Louise, so rest easy knowing that she’s here at my side.”
They wheeled me back into my room while these two amazing nurses tended to my comfort and brought the baby over ASAP for skin to skin contact and first latching attempts. My parents finally got to come see us. Soon after we were brought into our post-partum room. I swelled up like a balloon from all the pitocin, and was beyond any kind of tired or “worn out” that I’ve ever felt before. Joel passed out quickly, and as my eyes drooped closed and I finally felt I could rest, the baby started crying. It was then, alone in the dark, unable to move and get him, needing to call a nurse for help, that I realized my days of rest were over.
Apparently I had lost a lot of blood during labor and during the operation because I went into it pretty anemic. The topic of receiving a transfusion was brought up, but I narrowly escaped that by taking supplements and staying nourished. We were released 2 days later, on Monday. Come to find out later that that was someone’s hasty mistake, because having the staples removed so soon caused an infection in my incision that brought me back to Dr. MacFarlane about a week later. He was prompt and efficient at treating it, and with some antibiotics it cleared up and I was fine.
Four months later and I’m only recently feeling back to normal physically. I’d take the whole labor over again rather than the recovery from the c-section. I now realize that there is always a place and a purpose for medical intervention, and I can totally appreciate the fact that birth is different for everyone. I was being judgmental without having anything to base my opinions off of. Now I have something to compare against. The whole ordeal was certainly an ordeal but…and maybe I’m crazy…I can’t wait to try again for the normal birth I had been planning and wishing for.
