My son's birth story: Part 2 - Active Labor

When I was pregnant, I read a lot of birth stories and found them very helpful, so I thought I would share mine and maybe help someone else.  I wish I had written it down sooner now that I'm almost five months removed from it, but my husband and I have recounted it so many times to friends and new parents that we have met, I think I can put down all the most pertinent details.

To read about the events leading up to this, click here.

On Tuesday night, I finally understood what a real contraction was.  I could feel it coming well before it hit.  I felt miserable as it was happening.  I was very relieved when it was over.  I couldn't move or talk during them.  Lying down was intolerable, so I spent much of the night sitting up, catching a few Zs in between contractions.  The intervals wavered from an hour or more apart to eight minutes apart, but most averaged half an hour.

We called the doula and let her know the situation.  She told us she was ready to come whenever we wanted, but perhaps it would be the most effective when they started to become regular.  After a night of irregular, intense contractions, we all agreed that she should come by and evaluate in person.  She showed up in the early morning, around 7 AM, and I spent the next four hours laboring in my living room on an exercise ball.  The doula used acupressure on my lower back during contractions, and made sure I was resting during the intervals.  At some point, I started to feel a little numb and tingly on one side, so I called the midwife on duty and she said I might be hyperventilating, so take some deep breaths and see if it got better.  It did.  I continued laboring and drinking water.

Around 11 AM the accupressure started to be less effective and walking and leaning wasn't doing it anymore, so the doula thought I should take a shower.  The contractions were still all over the place, never getting near four minutes apart for at least an hour, which was the recommended rate for getting to the hospital.  I must have spent 45 minutes in the shower, sitting on an overturned wastepaper basket and a towel as a cushion.  Finally, the hot water ran out, even though we have a 80 gallon water heater!

At that point, the doula, my husband, and I evaluated my condition.  I wasn't sure, but I thought it might be time to push, and at that point, the doula estimated it might be time for the hospital, regardless of the contraction timing.  She felt if, my instinct was to push, we should listen to that above all else.  She ended up being right!

I held on to the passenger assist handle of my husband's car for dear life through each of the contractions, which suddenly started rolling on top of each other.  It was a short car ride to the hospital and I decided to go into the parking garage with my husband rather than be left at the curb.  I wanted to walk as much as possible, even if I had to be almost doubled-over in the process.  We got to the elevator and, while trying to decide whether to wait for the next elevator or try the stairs, my water really broke and the elevator arrived, so we went in without question.  I walked into the hospital, refusing wheel chairs because I wanted so badly to continue walking!  I stopped talking to people; I was fully in transition.

I checked into the maternity ward and had my required private interview with the nurse, who asked if I felt safe, if I was being abused, etc.  As soon as possible, I got onto a gurney and asked to be internally checked.  My birth plan stated I wanted as few internal exams as possible, so the midwife and nurses were hesitant to "waste" their exam if I wasn't ready to start pushing.  But once they checked me, they found I was 10 centimeters complete and quickly moved me to a birthing suite.

I started pushing.  I tried to squat for a while, but my legs were pretty weak after my night and morning of contractions.  The most comfortable position ended up being on my back with my legs up against the birthing bar, arms pulling back like I was on a rowing machine.  

I kept my eyes closed for most of my labor, and without my glasses on, I couldn't see much and stayed relaxed, not noticing what was going on around me.  My sister-in-law showed up at some point, since I had offered to let her be there and witness the birth.  It was important to me after reading that it could help her if she ever chose to have children.  But I had no idea she was there.  I barely knew anyone was there.  The midwife sat quietly at the foot of the bed and watched, my doula and the nurse monitored my pulse and told me when to push and when to rest.  I pushed for almost two hours and was getting close, when suddenly the nurse told me that the baby's heart rate was getting high and I would have to push it out soon or they would have to do an episiotomy.  I wanted to tear naturally rather than being cut, and with the idea that my baby was in danger, I reached deep down and pushed through the "ring of fire," as the nurse called it, and got my baby's head out in two more pushes, then one small push for his body.

Even though the midwives had thought he would be about seven pounds from the look of my belly, he ended up being 8 lbs, 8 oz, and very long and lean.  I attribute this to extra bone density from all the fermented cod liver oil I took as soon as I found out I was pregnant.

They put his body on my abdomen as soon as he was out and delayed his cord clamping and cutting until the blood had drained.  They told me he was a boy, since we chose not to know during my pregnancy.  After they cut the cord, a pediatrician checked his lungs since I was taking a medication that rarely cause persistent pulmonary hypertension.  But he was cleared and was put to my breast.  I couldn't stop saying "I love you" over and over, telling him he'd made such a big journey, and other ramblings as tears went down my cheeks.  I was in the afterbirth glow and didn't even care about the tearing from that "ring of fire".  The placenta delivered without a problem, complete and easily.  Then, the midwife suggested I take a shot of pitocin to help clot my blood as she sewed up my tearing.  I agreed; I was adamant to not have any pitocin during my labor, but now that my baby was safely out, it made sense to me to go with it and help the midwife fix me up quickly.

My son latched fairly well the first time and passed his meconium on my arm; even then I was ecstatic.  Soon enough, after I was stitched up and he didn't seem to want to nurse any longer, the nurses took him away to be cleaned up.

We refused the antibiotic ointment for his eyes, since I was and am free of chlamydia and gonorrhea, but we had to claim religious exemption.  How ridiculous that our state will not recognize a person's scientific research and informed choice, yet they have no problem recognizing someone's claim to a religious belief without any documentation.  For the record, my husband and I are both atheists and therefore have no religion, technically.