Not According to Plan, But a Joyous Birth Still
A birth story! I haven't shared one in a while, so it is good to get back into the swing of things.
I'll let this mama tell her story about how plans change, but how very important it is that a mother is respected and treated well during her birth. That really is what makes the difference between a positive and a negative birth story.
Enjoy!
Clara Grace
November 26th, 2012
2:04am
As I type this, my Clara Grace is fast
asleep in her swing, and I have to force myself to stop staring at
her and do something with my evening. It’s been a wonderful and
crazy three months since she entered this world. Take a trip down
Memory Lane with me, as I record how Clara Grace made her first
appearance.
Going into pregnancy, I read everything
I could find on parenting, pregnancy, and childbirth. I knew that I
wanted to raise my children as naturally as possible, to give them
the greatest chance at health and happiness. I read about natural
childbirth, breastfeeding, attachment parenting, babywearing, and
attachment parenting. I read natural birth stories, and learned how
to avoid unnecessary interventions. I learned the cost and health
benefits of cloth diapers. I wondered why more people don’t
breastfeed, because of all the wonderful things it does for babies.
I also learned how and why different women make the choices they do,
and was careful not to judge.
Once we started trying to conceive, we
were successful right away. I was lucky enough not to have much
morning sickness or too many uncomfortable pregnancy symptoms. I can
honestly say I enjoyed being pregnant.
Early on in my pregnancy, I signed up
for private Lamaze classes with a doula/lactation consultant. Paul
and I were so totally ready for this natural childbirth, though he
made sure to reassure me that even if it didn’t work out and I
didn’t get to go medication free, I would still be a wonderful
person and he would be proud of me.
November 20th was my due
date, the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. I managed to go to work on my
due date, thus securing a few extra days of maternity leave
(Thanksgiving break started that Wednesday). That date came and went
with nary a contraction. The only pains I had came from over eating
at Thanksgiving, which I was pleasantly surprised to be able to enjoy
with my family. I made plans for that Saturday to go to a Holiday
craft fair, because I didn’t want to just sit at home waiting for
labor to start. That Friday night, after an action packed day of
Black Friday shopping and dinner with friends, I began to have what I
thought might be contractions, along with some bloody show. I sat up
and timed the contractions, while reading Baby Center and texting my
friend Annette, since I knew she would be up with her Ethan who
didn’t like to sleep. I ended up going back to bed, and the
contractions stopped.
Nothing happened all day Saturday, so I
was able to attend the Craft Fair with some friends. Paul went to
work as usual at 5pm, knowing that I would call him if I needed him
to come home. I went to bed, only to wake up at 1am with a totally
different sort of labor pains. I knew this was it, and was about to
call Paul and ask him to come home, except that he was already home!
I was a wreck at work, with a feeling that he should be at home, so
his colleagues sent him back to me, right at the time that I needed
him to be home. God is good.
I labored through the wee hours of the
morning while Paul putted around the bedroom, hanging a picture I
bought at the Craft Fair. We watched some TV, then decided to go
back to bed and try and get some rest. I managed to sleep in the
7-15 minutes between contractions, until I just had to get up and
shower. I knew that the hot shower would feel amazing, and I was
right.
Paul and I labored together at home all
morning. I tried the various positions we had practiced, discovering
that leaning over the birth ball felt the best. For the really
strong contractions I had Paul squeeze my hips to provide counter
pressure for the back labor I was experiencing.
As my contractions got closer together,
we packed up the car for the long drive to St. Joes in Milwaukee. By
the time we left, contractions were 3-5 minutes apart, though they
slowed down in the car. I’m glad they did, because back labor
strapped into the front seat of a moving vehicle is no picnic. By
the time we got to the hospital, I felt very calm. The whole thing
seemed very unreal, especially when I was asked several times what my
reason was for coming to Labor and Delivery. Duh, to give birth?
We sat in triage for awhile to do some
monitoring, and found out that I was only about 4 cm dilated. At
this point I had been in labor 12 hours, so that was a bit
disappointing. We then got checked into our room, which was pretty
ugly and without many amenities. But a nurse brought me a birthing
ball, and they didn’t make me put on a hospital gown, so I was
happy. It seems like we spent the whole time filling out paperwork
and asking questions. The anesthesiologist came in to get
pre-authorization for her services. I laughed and said I wouldn’t
be needing that, but signed anyway to get her to leave.
Fast forward to around 6pm. Dr. Lee,
my OB, was on call, and came in and checked me. My cervix was not
very far dilated at this point, so I allowed him to break my water.
There was a tiny bit of meconium in it, but I was told not to worry.
Apparently that tiny bit of meconium prevented me from taking a hot
bath like I planned, but I was able to take a shower. THAT WAS
AWFUL! The water never really got hot, the shower head wasn’t very
focused, and worse, I couldn’t do my leaning maneuver that had been
successful thus far. That shower didn’t last more than 3
contractions.
Once I got out of the shower, I felt
like I was in transition. The contractions were bringing me to my
knees, I was having a hard time breathing through them, even as Paul
coached me with everything we practiced. I started to get the
feeling that I just couldn’t do this. But at the same time, I knew
that once I felt that way, birth would be imminent. Spoiler alert: I
was wrong. I was about 7cm dilated at this point. I remember that
my response to that announcement was a tearful “that’s not far at
all!”
At this point the nurse wanted me on
continuous monitoring, which was a big pain, since the monitor just
wouldn’t stay on well. I tried using the squatting bar on the bed
to get my cervix to open up more. I alternated between hanging on to
that for dear life and leaning over the back of the bed. The whole
time I demanded hip squeezing from Paul. I was really having a hard
time dealing with contractions, and just couldn’t breathe anymore.
I ended up moaning/screaming through them, as well as a bit of crying
and swearing. Finally I asked if I could please have some of the
drugs that were supposed to take the edge off the pain without
requiring an epidural.
Paul, as he was trained to do, asked me if I
was sure I wanted this, because it wasn’t part of our plan. I did.
In went the IV that I didn’t want, but once the drugs kicked in, I
didn’t care. They didn’t really take away much pain, but they
made me loopy and sleepy and made them a bit more bearable. The
nurse assured me that I would be pushing by the time they wore off.
Then they wore off. I was still only about 9 cm dilated by 11pm.
Not ready to push. Totally discouraged. I asked for another shot,
knowing that this one probably wouldn’t work as well. I also
decided at that point that I wanted the epidural.
I could not take
the back labor any more, and couldn’t even imagine pushing through
this pain. My blood pressure had been steadily rising this whole
time, which was making everyone nervous. My doctor and nurse seemed
relieved that I was asking for the epidural, and that they wouldn’t
have to encourage me to get it. Again, Paul made sure this was what
I wanted, because an epidural was definitely not on our birth plan.
I knew that Clara Grace needed me to get this, otherwise we’d be
facing a C-section, which would be bad for both of us.
On went the dreaded hospital gown. In
went the epidural. Out went the back labor. Magic. I had really
bad shakes still, which made it hard to relax, but I still managed to
sleep for about an hour (the nurse demanded it). By 12am, I was
declared ready to push! Since Clara Grace was posterior, I was told
my best option was to push on my back in a semi-reclined c position.
Also not in my birth plan. Because of this position, as well as the
baby’s, pushing was HARD. Oh my gosh it was hard. It was probably
made harder by the epidural, because I couldn’t totally figure out
how to make my pushing effective. But I did it. For two hours.
Eventually we could see her head starting to appear, but then it
would go back once I stopped pushing. Toward the end, Clara’s
heart rate started doing something bad (I can’t remember if it sped
up or slowed down), so they put me on oxygen to help her.
By 2am, I was finally crowning. The
nurse went to get Dr. Lee, while I held a baby’s head halfway out
of my… Doctor came in, got ready to catch, and I looked down and
saw my beautiful baby girl with a head full of hair emerging from my
body. It took her way too long to breathe, though. She was blue and
floppy and it was terrifying. Just as it was decided that she had to
go to the NICU, she let out a big scream, and they placed her wet
slimy body on my chest. They waited for a few minutes to clamp her
umbilical cord, at my request (er, insistence), so that all that good
placenta blood could re-enter her body. And I, Paul, and Clara Grace
experienced a Magic Hour which was just that. She laid on my chest,
crying and squirming, while Paul and I talked to her and took
pictures. She crawled slowly toward my breast and eventually started
to nurse. It was beautiful, and I never want to forget that moment.
Who cares about the pain. Who cares about the interventions that I
didn’t want but got anyway. I had my baby on my chest. She wasn’t
drugged up, because enough time had passed since my narcotics, and I
hadn’t had the epidural long enough to affect her. She nursed
beautifully. I was in love. Paul was in love.
Weighed and measured, and we learned
that everyone who predicted a giant baby was wrong. Clara Grace was
6 pounds and 15 ounces, the smallest baby to be born on my mom’s
side of the family. My brother, sister, and I were all 8+ pound
babies, and my cousins even bigger. But Clara was simply perfect in
her tiny way.
I didn’t have the birth that I
designed in my head or on paper. I was a little annoyed at the
thought of people saying “I told you you couldn’t do it” (which
they did). But here’s the thing: I was respected by my doctor and
nurse. No one ONCE told me I had to have anything. They may have,
had things gone on much longer without more progress. But my wishes
and desires were honored. My birth plan wasn’t thrown away. It
was read and respected. Clara Grace was born safely, and was able to
bond beautifully with us from the moment of birth. My husband was
the best birth partner I could ever ask for. God gave us a precious
first born daughter, who we will love and cherish for all the days of
our lives. God is good.
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