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Christina's Birth of Ana
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My due date was September 8 and I was absolutely miserable. My ankles (not to mention the rest of me, lol!) were so big that folks were staring at me everywhere I went. I felt gross and tired and grouchy and READY!
On the weekend of my due date, my husband was on call for work (he drives a tow truck) and he told me, in all seriousness, that I was not to go into labor until 6pm Sunday night. He said we needed the extra money from the weekend's calls. So, (being far more compliant than I realized) I did not. When Sunday rolled around (my due date), somehow, I knew the day had come. The contractions were no different than the ones I'd been having for weeks but something had shifted inside of me.
6pm came and within the hour, I knew I'd be there soon.
By 7pm the contractions picked up and I told dh it was going to be that night. We scurried around organizing the house and getting our daughter ready for bed so that things would run smoothly.
A few days before, James had made a cast of my belly and breasts but wasn't happy about the way it had turned out, so that night around 10, in definite labor, guess where I was...naked in the kitchen doorway, holding onto the door frame while he plastered away. It was actually pretty funny, which was good because I was beginning to get uncomfortable with the rushes. As he was finishing the cast, the tightening of my belly actually loosened the cast so much it nearly fell off (thank goodness for all those tiny body hairs it was stuck fast to, for they kept it attached to me and prevented it from hitting the floor!)
After the cast, I had a quick shower to remove the plaster and shave my long neglected legs. We decided to have a go at having sex to see if it would really help things along. It did. As I was getting up to go to the bathroom I felt a distinct *pop* and, lo and behold, the baby's water was running down my legs! It was absolutely exhilarating! I started to get really excited and I squealed to dh (almost in disbelief), "My water broke, babe! This is really going to happen tonight!"
Well, I don't remember what all I did in the hours after midnight. I think I watched TV and just took it easy on my birth nest that my love was so sweet to set up for me. We'd gotten out the birth kit and settled in for the unknown.
Somewhere around 4 in the morning, I believe, I decided that things were really heavy and I needed to get to the tub. Dh was sleeping on the futon in the living room so I just let him be while I did my thing alone in the water. A while later I began to feel like I might need to push. I didn't feel so much like I was in transition, as I have heard it described, but I got a huge rush of adrenaline and felt all giddy. I called him several times but he didn't hear me.
I didn't want to wake up Ysa (our 3 yod) so I got out and fetched him. I went back to the tub and settled in again. The next thing I knew, dh was there...with our daughter. I nearly lost my mind. HE WOKE HER UP!!!!!
I was totally unprepared for this. She wanted to see our baby being born but I had specifically told him that I would TELL HIM when I was ready.
So much for that. I lost it, really. My previously serene mood and nearly painless labor was gone. I just couldn't believe that he'd woken her up. She was full of energy and excitement and was AWAKE. All I had wanted was for him to be there in the candlelight with me, hanging out. Our bedroom is only a few steps away so I thought that he'd get her when the baby was coming out--like crowning, you know?!
It sucked. I just couldn't deal with her (she is incredible and I adore her, however her overwhelmingly spirted nature was not what I needed in my space at the time. I needed full control of my environment.) I worked so hard not to get angry with him because I didn't want the birth process to be hindered by negativity or for him to feel guilty for having royally botched things. Sigh.
I went outside and called one of my dear friends (a doula) to talk. I was definitely in pain then. She had supported me the entire pregnancy with my plans to have an unassisted birth and I felt that I needed to vent to her and get some reassurance because things had shifted so suddenly. She waited for my contractions to come and told me that she could hear me holding back with them. I knew I was but I had become frightened of the process.
I think having dd appear in the bathroom when I was ready to push sort of caused me to shift from going with the flow to being in "thinking mommy" mode. It was like a switch had been flipped and I was no longer sure of myself.
As per my friend's advice, I went to the toilet and made a nest there so I could sit on it backwards and rest my head on a pillow on the tank. I tried to relax but the contractions were painful and I was making this wildwoman guttural grunting noise with each one. I think I really was fully dilated and ready to push but my brain wouldn't let me. A few days before dh had checked me and found my cervix to be around 5 cm dilated so it's probable that I was ready. But my brain got in the way and I began to fear that because it was hurting so much that I wasn't doing something right.
I'd read all these birth stories of these glorious labors and nearly effortless pushing. Well, I was bearing down with every rush (involuntarily) but nothing was happening.
I was afraid to push harder. My friend Ceredwyn (the doula) told me afterward that I'd said I was afraid of getting hemorrhoids or of tearing. I guess that all came from my first labor and birth (very traumatic induced labor requiring transport to the hospital with full intervention and a deep episiotomy that took months to heal, not to mention horribly painful hemorrhoids).
Whatever the cause, I was in this painful state for hours. Somewhere around 10 am or so, dh had me in the bedroom and was coaching me to push the baby out. He was so sure that it was time but I remember telling him while crying that I was too scared. I did try to push--I pushed very hard, in fact. When he checked me, he could feel the baby's head not too far inside of my yoni. Still, nothing.
The pain was nearly unbearable. He was very tired and beginning to worry. Our daughter was sleeping in the living room and I didn't want her in my space so I was using a lot of mental energy to keep from making too much noise. That didn't last too long. I remember pacing the house, naked, hands on my hips, roaring, bearing down. I couldn't NOT push down and I couldn't stop walking because the pain was so awful. I think I was trying to run away from it. The whole time all I could think was "this isn't how it's supposed to be. It hurts too much. I'm not doing it right."
Somewhere in there James got worried and called Sarah, a dear friend I met on the cbirth list. Sometime after noon, she came over. She was there for the day and she did what she could to keep dh busy and made suggestions to him as to how he could help me. I was in such a state of pain and fear that I couldn't think or speak coherently.
I couldn't just stop and have the baby. I writhed on the bed in agony. I howled and cried and groaned. I was so exhausted that I had to lie down alone in the bedroom and I dozed off between contractions. Sarah asked how long it had been since I'd had a pee and I couldn't remember. Well, that introduced another thing for me to worry about. I thought it must be dangerous and became even more scared. She posted to the list with the question of how to help me pee and we followed the suggestions offered to no avail. I really wanted to pee. I really wanted to sleep. I wanted more than anything to have one of those great quick labors. I was angry and frustrated with the process and with myself for not being able to do it right.
My yoni and bum had begun to swell from the hours of bearing down and I noticed that I couldn't close my legs all the way. In retrospect, I wonder if that was also caused by the baby's head being engaged in my birth canal.
Hours went by and Sarah had to go home to tend her own family and bless her, she took my kid with her! This was good because Ysa had been running around like a wild animal and was completely out of control (this was a good thing as it's served to be a wake up call for me on the temperament of my child and has led us to some different parenting methods). I remember being worried--I've never let her go with anyone other than her daddy or granny and it made me feel nervous and like a bad mom somehow--like I couldn't deal with my own kid.
Things were not unfolding like the picture in my mind. I honestly never thought that my labor would drag on for so many hours.
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Over that day and night, James stayed in touch with both Sarah and Ceredwyn and that really helped him to cope with the stress of it all. I secretly wanted to go to the hospital all day but wasn't about to admit defeat. I had asked Sarah what would happen if I did go and she told me what happened when she transported from her planned UC. Based on what she said, I decided not to go because I didn't think they would be able to ease my pain or help me without completely ruining the whole thing I had worked so hard for. My UC My healing from Ysa's birth. I was terrified of losing control to the dreaded and feared hospital people (not to mention that whole ramification thing of having had no official prenatal care, no insurance and no doctor.) So I just sucked it up and kept at it.
I wanted to pee really bad. Added to my labor pain was the pain of a full bladder (I sipped a lot of water to stay hydrated). I didn't mention that I hadn't eaten either. Sarah and James tended me so nicely. They tried really hard to help me keep up my energy by offering me different foods but I kept vomiting little bits here and there, and the mere smell of food or it's texture in my mouth made me gag and wretch. They were truly great to me. Lots of Emergen-C, orange juice, raspberry leaf tea with honey and water.
It seems to me that I was in transition that whole time, as I had all the signs of it. I never knew it could last that freaking long though! I kept asking myself "WHY are you doing this? NEVER again. NEVER!!!"
And so it went. I was in and out of the tub so many times that my very long, thick hair actually mildewed (it never had a chance to dry). I hated it. I felt gross and dh reminded me that I begged him repeatedly to hit me on the back of the head so my body could do the work without me. I even asked him to kill me several times, saying I'd rather be dead than go on anymore. Definitely not my most shining time.
I know I'm not a wimp though--it really fucking hurt more than anything I had ever imagined.
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That evening Sarah's husband brought Ysa home and she went to bed. The night went on and on and on.
Something that blew me away: on my last trip to the shower, my poor man was so tired and still so worried about me that he actually put pillows down outside the bathroom door so that he could rest but not be too far away. That act in itself has made me love him fiercely. My eyes fill up with tears just thinking about it. Never has anybody been there for me like that--he walked through the fire with me and even though I was alone in the pain, I was not alone in any other way, not even for a moment. His energy was a blessing.
So around 4am, my dh was losing it.
Picture this: We're in the living room, me in a nest of pillows and chux pads on the floor, dh on a stool in front of me, holding my hands. His wrists were crossed to provide more leverage for me to pull on when the contractions hit. I was so tired. He was so beat that he dozed off between each one, sitting straight up. There was a biography of Ted Nugent on the TV. I dislike that man immensely now.
I think James was finished then because he called Ceredwyn yet again and he sounded so defeated. He actually fell asleep briefly while on the phone (she later told me it was OK because she too was falling asleep during the call!). It had been 28 hours since my water had broken and 33 since labor had begun. I had not peed in about 20 hours. I had not eaten in over 24 hours. I couldn't articulate at all and my husband had to hold my water cup to my lips when I needed a drink. Things were not getting any better.
James said that Ceredwyn had recommended that we think really hard about going to get some help. I think it was about five minutes before I was up, donning clothes and flip flops. He was getting a bag ready with snacks and stuff for Ysa and the new baby. I went outside to wait in the yard and I held onto the branches of a little tree out there while I wailed and squatted and pushed.
I called out to the Goddess and the Universe and that tree and anybody listening for a miracle. I asked only that. I wanted a miracle to take place so that nobody would harm me or hurt me or our baby. I let go of it all and James helped me into the minivan.
The pain in there was even more excruciating and my poor kid held her ears and begged me to be quiet while I made horrible noises. I didn't care anymore.
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We entered the emergency room door at 4:46 am by the digital clock there and I had to clutch my belly and howl right there in the foyer. I think the pains were then about 1 minute apart. Boy, was it something to see the faces of those folks in the admissions window! My fears of having to wait it out in the ER unattended to went up in a puff of smoke. Before I knew what was happening, I was in a bright room that was filled to the brim with scurrying nurses.
Questions, questions, questions.
"What's your blood type?"
"When did your water break?"
"Who's your doctor?"
"What's your due date?"
and on and on. For every question asked there was a procedure to be carried out on my person. Tubes, electrodes, monitors, an IV and sharp, cold fingers piercing my yoni and digging around like something was lost in there.
I very calmly asked for drugs. I think they laughed at that because I was obviously moments away from birthing and there's only one thing to do to end the pain at that point. A doctor appeared and suddenly, my lost articulation found me.
I noticed that they were all talking around me, over me and about me but not to me. There was particulate meconium in the waters. A vacuum was ordered. I looked up at the doctor and told him firmly that I wouldn't authorize him to manually remove my baby. I also said, "Do not cut me. I do not need an episiotomy. Please leave my perineum alone." And he told me that if I could get the baby out myself to do it.
And there I was.
Being coached to push--people shouting at me "1...2...3...come on, PUUUUSSSHHHH!!!!!." I asked them to stop shouting at me and mumbled something about purple pushing being really unhealthy. I decided not to fight them and figured I'd just shut my eyes and ignore all that bullshit and push when I was good and damn ready.
So I did. Once, then again and I couldn't believe the force I had to use to push that baby down. I wasn't pushing half that hard at home. I pushed with everything I had and then, there it was, that wonderful, terrifying ring of fire. I thought my yoni would be ripped to shreds. I yelled something at the doctor who was simultaneously hooking two fingers in my yoni and stretching away. God that hurt! But it was an amazing pain. My baby was getting born. That's all I could think. I had, by this point, really forgotten that there was a baby involved in all of this horrible pain. By golly, there was a person coming out of me and I felt every inch of her pushing, stretching and slipping out. Wow.
She came out sunny side up but I couldn't see her due to the position I was in. I was watching James and there was a look of horror that passed across his face. He was holding Ysa so she could see and they were close by. I got scared and asked if everything was OK. They rushed her over to the table after a perfunctory show to me (he'd looked like that because she came out looking like the swamp thing with all that thick meconium and he later told me he was glad she didn't come at home because he wouldn't have been able to deal with that!) and Dee Lee'd the hell out of the poor thing. Finally, she cried.
A girl! A baby girl. And all that time I just knew it was a boy. My daughter knew better, as she was adamant from the start that she'd dreamt of the baby and it was a girl and her name was Anneliese. Well, she was right.
She came out so pretty and round and pink and had a strange bruise right on the top of her forehead in the center. She was sweet and calm from the start. So calm that she slept through the PKU test. Sadly, she was also born with a hole in her heart. Something we'd not have known had she not been born there.
It should be mentioned also that the doctor authorized the handing over of Ana's placenta to us. It was small and much more dainty than I'd imagined. The cord was beautiful--so many shades of color--not disgusting at all, but maybe only us mamas think that way because my dd was freaked out by it and my mom was too. She took it home with her to put in the freezer until we can buy a tree and plant it in her yard (we rent our house and can't imagine burying it here).
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Today my Ana is nearly 8 weeks old. My body is healing nicely and I am down to my prepregnancy weight and back in my old pants (funny, my shape has really changed and I have a rather loose and bulgy mama belly now and I don't mind a bit!) I can finally hold my bladder once again. I only pee on myself when I cough or sneeze and then only sometimes.
(I forgot to mention that a little bit after she was born I felt a huge warm gush and immediately thought I was hemorrhaging due to the manual extraction of my placenta and my sleepy baby who had no desire to nurse. I frantically called the nurse and when she came to help me to the toilet a tidal wave of urine hit the floor! I couldn't hold my pee for 4 days or so--didn't even have the urge to go--it would just gush out all over the place.)
I had torn a bit and the doctor insisted on stitching it up but so far I have noticed no problems with it. Sex is still painful but not in my perineum--it's my urethra that is still sore and I hope it will mend soon. Not sure what happened to it-- I assume it was just the trauma of not peeing for so long and then having the dam be removed.
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My marriage is forever changed and I am so blessed to have had such an incredible labor and birth. Yes, it was horrendous in the pain department and I have no desire to do it again, really. But the trust that has come up between my man and I is incredible. I adore him in so many ways now--I see so much more of who he is and I feel more compassionate and understanding toward him. It's sort of hard to describe. It's just good.
Yup. That's it. I am blessed and shiny and new. It was nothing I expected and everything I needed. Despite the transport and all, I still had a UC in my mind. I did it. We did it. And nobody "delivered" my baby. I BIRTHED her and the nice doctor caught her.
I met him again for a 6 week check up and told him that he made a difference in my life by not intervening and allowing me to do what I needed to. He didn't let his job get in the way of mine and I shook his hand for that. I explained that this birth was all about healing from my first daughter's birth and that my life was changed because of it. I think he understood because his eyes lit up and he took the compliment in a humble way and smiled a nice smile at me.
I hope that meeting me, catching my baby and talking about why I chose to do things differently and how he helped in our birth will stick with him. One less OB to bash...and that's a good thing.
For the first time in my life, I feel comfortable in my own skin. For the first time in my life, I can exhale.
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Mama to Ysabel Jordan and Anneliese Thelema
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