My Birth Story

Birth was one of the most fascinating experiences. I remember most of it, but as my husband could tell you, I was definitely delirious at some points and I don't remember much of the conversations I had then.

 

    It was very fast. From the time my contractions started (that I was aware of) to the time my baby was born was a span of only 6 hours! I labored for 4 hours and pushed for 2 hours. It all happened so rapidly!

 

    3 nights before my scheduled c-section, I felt that I needed to go to bed early—which I now recognize as a prompting from God to prepare me for a joyful, although sleepless, night. So, I went to bed around 7pm and woke up to terrible gas pains at about 9:15pm. After using the bathroom, I hoped the pain would stop and moved to go back to bed when I got hit with another bout of pains. I told my husband I was going to go sit in the living room since sleep was unlikely with the aching I was having. The pains were primarily in my low abdomen and they truly felt like gas pains--just the worst gas pains of my life. They were identical to the cramping I had when I had an IUD inserted before I was married (which was pretty excruciating and I maintain that getting an IUD was one of the most painful experiences in my life). And they were coming and going every 2 minutes.

 

    In the living room, I was searching online for how to know the difference between contractions and gas pains. The more I researched, the more I was convinced I was, in fact, in labor, but I had already been in the hospital for pre-labor that led to nothing but medical debt several times before and I was trying to convince myself and my family that I was fine. On the phone with my mother, I told her my experience and she was able to get us to start timing the contractions and be ready to go to the hospital. I was still defiant, but I agreed to timing them while I showered because if I was in labor—and I knew I was, I was just trying to delay the hospital—I didn't want to have my baby with greasy hair and untrimmed nails.

     

    So, I showered sitting on the ground because the pains were too intense for me to confidently stand through my shower. My dear husband sat outside the shower timing my contractions. With every one, I had to stop what I was doing to squat, kneel, or get on my hands and knees and breathe through them. I couldn't speak, I could only breathe. And with those contraction breaks, I completed my shower, followed by my skincare routine, my hair brushing, and calling my mom again while seated on a stool. My mother knew that every time I went silent, I was having a contraction.

   

    At this point, it had been an hour since they first began and I agreed to head to the hospital. It was only 3 minutes away from us, so I saw no reason for us to rush even that early since it was my first child, but we went because of the intensity and frequency of the contractions. My husband brought everything we needed to the car and called my father so he could meet us at the hospital.

 

    On my way to the car, I had a contraction in the driveway and needed to squat down and breathe through it. While doing that and waddling the rest of the way to the car, I took some time to appreciate what a lovely night it was. There was a beautiful first quarter moon and a woody smoke in the soft breeze. It was warm and everything was cast in a yellow glow from the street lamps and porch lights. Everyone always thinks I'm crazy for taking the time to do that, but that's genuinely what I was doing and thinking.

 

    Once we got to the hospital and up to Labor & Delivery, we waited for much longer than I would have liked for someone to come check us in. The lobby TV was on some cooking show channel and I felt like nothing could have angered me more while I was having these horrible contractions that were starting to wear me down. It felt like an odd choice for a L&D lobby where pregnant women who may be nauseous and repelled by the sight or thought of some foods might become sick. But eventually, someone did come to check me in.

     

    My father arrived shortly after we did; I was surprised that he had also brought his new wife with him, but I didn't mind. It was ultimately good to have a woman present to support and empathize with me in a way my husband and father couldn't. The nurse came in and checked my cervix—I was at 4cm and 100% effaced. However, this is when I was told, you're apparently not considered to be in labor until you're 6cm dilated! So, I was to be monitored for an hour and checked again—if I made any progress, I would then be admitted and allowed painkillers, but if I didn't, they would send me home.

 

    I could see on the nurses face that she didn't expect me to progress in that time because I was a first time mom. So she left and I continued to breathe through my contractions—cutting and filing my nails as well as talking to my family for as long as I could between them. By the end of the hour, I was struggling to converse and I was shaking terribly. My whole body was shaking so hard that it made my jaw sore from clenching. My silence during contractions became low moaning and shouting. I was trying hard to relax my body as much as I could to allow the labor to progress, but I'm not sure I did a great job.

 

    When the nurse came back and saw the shaking and moaning, I could see she was surprised and expectant of progression. She checked me and I was then at 7.5cm. At last! I was admitted and requested an epidural as soon as possible. Tragically, the anesthesiologist was in a c-section and took at least another hour before getting to my room, at which point I was in transition.

 

    Getting the epidural in was excruciating. The numbing shot, the large needle and catheter to get the drug into my back, the nurse trying to hold me still, while having the most intense contractions of the whole birth process all came together to make me yell louder than I did the whole time from pain. Once it was done and in, though, and had a few minutes to start working, I greatly appreciated it. It enabled me to talk to my nurses more and ensure the actual delivery went how I wished and so I could talk with my husband about the experience we were having. 

 

    As soon as I was fully numbed from just below the rib cage and down, my nurse checked me and I was at 10cm—time to start pushing. It was a bit tricky to figure out how to push when I couldn't feel half of my body, but the nurse helped me figure it out. She and my husband propped and held my legs up in the stirrups (I couldn't move them whatsoever, it was so bizarre, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't move even a toe) and pulled out hand bars from the sides of the bed for me to pull on to help direct my pressure into my pelvis. Pulling on the bars helped immensely! 

 

    "During each contraction, you're going to take a deep breath in and hold it while you push hard and stop when I tell you. It's going to be 3 pushes for each contraction."

 

    I agreed, a bit incredulous as to how I would manage it, but it was going to happen somehow! I did it and it was like the most intense heavy-weight lifting workout in the world. Dozens of sets of 3 reps of pushing with my whole body as hard as I could. It was exhausting and a bit nauseating. At the same time, I was very hungry because I hadn't eaten since before 7pm. 

 

    About 1 hour and 45 minutes of pushing passed when my nurse told me to stop pushing because if I went any further, I would deliver my baby, and the doctor and NICU team weren't there yet. Despite being 38 weeks+4 days pregnant, they needed the NICU team to come check my baby once she was born because I am on SSRI's and that can sometimes make babies need some extra breathing support.

 

    Once the doctor arrived, I started pushing again. Then my baby came out quite suddenly and all at once as soon as I began to tear. I felt this immense relief of pressure and tension in my belly as she exited. She let out one small cry to let us all know she was okay and was quickly taken to the side of the room where the NICU team checked her and I heard her APGAR scores of 8 and 9 called out. I had a second degree tear, so the doctor worked on stitching me back up and showed me my placenta which was about the size of my baby, much bigger than I thought it would be.

 

    I kept looking to my baby over on the table; there were several people around her, including my husband taking pictures, and I was rather impatient for them to bring her to me. I worked on pulling the snaps open on my gown to expose my chest while I watched for the nurses to give me my child. Finally, they brought her and put her on my chest! 

 

    She was beautiful. Tiny and perfect. They put a little hat with blue, pink, and white stripes on her to help her stay warm. She promptly snuggled against me and I just looked at her with amazement—this is my child! My daughter! I just delivered a human being! What a crazy thing.

 

    I don't remember the first thing I said to her. We weren't allowed to take videos, only pictures, with the medical staff in the room. But she held our fingers and breathed quickly. She only cried for a few seconds 3 different times in her first 24 hours of life—I was almost worried that it was a bad sign, but she found her voice on her second day. She was born at 3:11am. 

 

    Once she was in my arms, the medical staff left us alone for an hour for me to have skin to skin with her. My father and step-mother stayed to greet her and congratulate us for only a few minutes before leaving us to enjoy her first hour. We called our mothers and showed them our baby girl. My husband finally got to hold her after the hour was up and she was weighed and measured—5 lbs 8 oz and 17.5 inches long. She was so small, but perfectly healthy!

 

    And thus, our baby girl was born. Our daughter was finally here and we were, and are, completely in love with her. 

 

 

    I am happy to answer questions or talk more about my birth experience if anyone is curious! I intend to write more about the postpartum experience soon. Thank you for reading and supporting!