Josh's Birth Story

My beautiful friend Renee is expecting her first child this summer and asked if I had typed up my birth experience, because she loves to read them. I remember spending the last two weeks of my pregnancy reading every birth story I could find on the internet, so I know where she's coming from.

Here it is:

Joshua was due on October 23, and that date came and went with nary a sign from the little man. My midwives told me that if I made it to two weeks overdue, they would have me admitted to the hospital to be induced because the chance of stillbirth increased 50% after 14 days past the baby's due date. I had several "stretch and sweeps" in their offices the two weeks before (which were the most awful, painful things EVER. They put their fingers into your cervix and then try stretching it open a bit. Then the run their fingers just inside the cervix, between the amniotic sac and the uterus to try and stimulate labour. Sweet Mother of God, does it ever hurt. Renee, DON'T GO LATE!!!)

That didn't work, so I drank castor oil. That made me barf (even the recollection of that experience gives me a little bit of nausea.) I went for lots of long walks, I ate spicy food, I did yoga, I used a breast pump... I really tried everything I could think of to try and bring on labour -- but no dice. The kid was nothing if not stubbornly content to hang out for as long as possible in his little womb hammock. Since I had been planning a home birth, the idea of having to go to the hospital filled me with apprehension. I wanted to avoid it at all costs, if I could.

Unfortunately, I couldn't. I went in on a Saturday night to have a catheter inserted into my cervix to try and stimulate its opening. I came back home and started having contractions, and they last until 1:30 a.m. But then they stopped and I fell asleep until I had to return to the hospital at 7:30 a.m. to be medically induced.

I got there and the nurses informed me that because I was being put on a Pitocin drip, my care would be transferred to an OB. I had never even met her, and here she was supposed to deliver my baby? She came in and checked me (I had dialated to 4 cm) and she broke my waters. Then the nurses told me I could get up and walk around for an hour. I wandered the hallways for a bit and had two contractions, and I was hopeful that if they just left me alone, labour would start on its own. But that was not to be. They started me on the drip at 10 a.m. I asked the nurse to please call my midwives so I wouldn't have to labour without support. She told me my contractions wouldn't start for a couple of hours, so not to worry about it, that she'd call my midwives when they were strong and regular. Well, they were strong and regular within half an hour. The nurse kept insisting that they weren't that bad, and I wanted to punch her in the head. I had some doozy back labour, as Josh was posterior, and I wondered how it was that she could tell me how I was feeling.

I finally convinced her to PLEASE call my midwives around 1 p.m. They arrived at 1:30, just as I was about to get an epidural after the nurse kept insisting that I should, because I'd "never make it without one". Up until this point, I had been stuck on my back in bed because I'd been strapped up with a fetal heart monitor and the nurse wouldn't let me get up or try to get more comfortable. It was the exact nightmare I had tried to avoid. When my midwife Janet arrived, I was nearly in tears because I couldn't get anyone to listen to me. Janet immediately took control of the situation, told the nurse to get me a labour ball and let me get out of bed so I could stand and lean on her for awhile. This changed everything.

I laboured for another couple of hours with the support of Janet and my friends who were there to help, but it was brutal. Josh was backwards and his head was pressing into my tailbone, the drip was bringing on contractions every 30 seconds, there was no time to rest in between them, and I was running out of energy fast. I asked Janet if I could be checked to see if I'd made any progress and she called the OB. By that point, I had made it to 6 cm, but the OB said, "You have a long road ahead of you, and it's going to be very hard. If you want to get an epidural, I'd suggest you get one now." I looked at Janet and she said that it was my decision, and she'd support me in either case. I decided to take the epidural because I couldn't get any reprieve between contractions -- neither could I walk around, neither could I sit in a comfortable chair, neither could I get into the bathtub... it was miserable. The whole reason I wanted to avoid the hospital was becoming a reality and I felt defeated.

Once I got the epidural, I felt much better and I was even able to joke around a bit with my friends. But let me tell you, I was stoned. It was like being awake and asleep at once. I finally gave in to my exhaustion and fell asleep for the rest of the afternoon. When I hit transition, something weird happened. I started shaking all over, violently, and I felt like I was losing consciousness. My friend kept squeezing my hand every few minutes and talking to me, and I'm glad that she did, because I felt such a strong pull to go ... somewhere else. I don't know how to describe it. It was what I imagine dying must feel like. I could hear the people around me talking (my friend asked everyone who came in the room why I was shaking like that, and why I looked so pale. They all said it was a side effect of the drugs.) But then I got super nauseated and I thought I was going to be sick. A nurse gave me a shot of Gravol and I fell into an even deeper sleep.

A nurse I'd never met woke me up at about 7 and told me it was time to have the baby. I didn't remember being checked by the OB, but I do have a vague recollection of hearing someone say "10 cm. She's done", though I thought it was a dream at the time. I told the nurse I was too tired to push, and the OB said to leave me for another hour and let the baby descend a bit anyway. She woke me up again at 8 and said, "Come on Mom, it's time to push that baby out".

It all happened so fast. There was no build up or anything. She just pulled my completely numb legs up and told me to hold them behind my knees. Then she said PUSH! and started counting. She counted to ten and then told me to take a break. As soon as the next contraction started, she told me to start pushing again. This went on for awhile, and then I said, "Look, is anything happening down there? I can't feel anything." She grabbed my hand and brought it down to feel Josh's head poking out. It was all the motivation I needed. I started pushing again and she said, "Let's have this baby by quarter to nine" and my friends chipped in with, "Yeah, so we don't miss Desperate Housewives".

Josh was born at 8:38 p.m. I just looked down and saw him all squirming on the bed in front of me, but I don't really remember anything. I know I pointed at him and then flopped back down. The OB tried to hand me the scissors to cut his umbilical cord, but I was like, "Nah, it's okay. You go ahead." I was so, so, so doped up. I don't remember anything that happened in the time following his birth. I guess someone handed him to me and tried to get me to nurse him, but I was lying on my back and this was nearly impossible. I'm glad someone took photos because the whole thing is a blur.

I do know that by 11:30, I was ready to go home. I asked Janet to please let me leave, and she said I could as soon as I could walk to the bathroom and pee. I was hell bent on it. The first time I stood up, though, I just wobbled like I had a hula hoop around my waist, because my legs were going nowhere. I sat back down and said, "Just give me a minute. I'll get them working again." I stood up again in a few minutes and made it to the bathroom. I peed and got the green light to go home. I was back here by midnight.

I know I didn't sleep very much that night, but I don't remember most of it because I was still so stoned from the epidural and Gravol. In the morning, though, I remember waking up and seeing the baby in my bed with me, and running out to the livingroom to show my friend this marvelous little person who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. I was laughing and crying and holding him out to show her. I was like, "Look! Look! This is a BABY! And he's MINE! Do you believe that?!"

It didn't go as I had planned, but then, neither has motherhood, so I guess it was good preparation for getting used to never having my way again. Ever.