A Birth Story
Having a baby is nothing like running a marathon.
Over the course of my pregnancy I attended several classes, and while they were helpful, none of them were taught by women who had given birth. My lactation
consultant, however, was a marathon runner. She compared the birth experience and breast feeding to her experience as a runner, which was somewhat reassuring to me as I did run a marathon and hoped that would somehow get me a gold star on the whole labor thing. Then I thought, this woman has never given birth or breastfed, how does she know?
Maybe in some ways it is still comparable. You just can't train to give birth. There's nothing you can do to estimate how it might feel. On the other hand, in the middle of pushing Eric said I was in the Central Park portion of the race. There's no choice but to finish so you might as well get on with it. And he timed my contractions with the stopwatch on my forerunner.
At 6:31 last Wednesday I woke up and was on my way to the bathroom when my water broke. It wasn't a huge gush, but it was clear something had happened. I took a shower because I wasn't sure when I would get one again. While in there, I noticed I was having contractions every four minutes or so, but they were manageable. I left word for a doctor at my practice and woke Eric.
It turned out that my main doctor at the practice was on call, so she called me back and advised me to come on in. She was also off duty at 6pm that night, and wanted to try and deliver me before then if possible. Another favorite doctor of mine would be replacing her if that didn't happen.
Eric was fabulous, fetching and gathering and calling everyone. Soon the contractions were not nearly as fun as they had been at first. I was breathing through them. The car arrived, and while our driver at first looked stricken that I might have a baby in his vehicle he soon was regaling us with stories of his own children and their births. I was fine, especially when I wasn't having a contraction. I turned to Eric and said, "Wow, when I'm not contracting, I don't feel like killing everyone!"
We arrived at the hospital with all of our gear (three bags--one overnight for me, one for Eric, and my purse, a pillow, birthing ball, and yes, tennis balls in a sock) and headed for the 8th floor. The elevators at NYU medical are notoriously busy, so we had to wait for three or so to go by before I could get on. I was very close to pulling the pregnant lady in labor card, but frankly, the pain was still manageable and I held it together. When we made it upstairs I was put directly into a birthing room, skipping triage, for which I was extremely grateful. My nurse for the delivery, Jackie, came by and introduced herself. A few different doctors and the anesthesiologist came in to get a medical history. Eric sent text messages to our friends with mixed success due to spotty reception. Then a resident came in to examine me and verify that my waters had broken. In some ways this was one of the most uncomfortable moments of the whole ordeal. Maybe because the pain that comes after BLINDING PAIN doesn't hurt that bad. She wasn't convinced that my water was broken, although I was and tried to convince her that there wasn't any other explanation for what had happened.
You know, it's funny. Birth stories are filled with information that I don't usually share with mixed company, much less the entire internet.
I had planned to get an epidural and planned to labor as long as I could before getting it. I had even entertained natural childbirth for a bit. While progressing from 2 cm to 4 1/2 I took a shower. I spent a little time on the birthing ball and confirmed that water had indeed broken, no question. I went to the bathroom several times. I cried and squeezed Eric's hand. We turned on the View and I didn't laugh when Eric made fun of Elizabeth.
During the entire event I didn't pay too much attention to the clock. Minutes passed slowly and hours flew. My contractions were growing more and more intense. I told Eric I was ready for the epidural sooner rather than later. I told the nurse I would like the epidural now please. Then I went to the bathroom and threw up. When I came out my doctor was there and I cried, EPIDURAL!
She was very comforting and soon another anesthesiologist came in because the first was in a cesarean. I think he was the head anesthesiologist and he was BRILLIANT. I love him. He gave me the book he wrote on epidurals, and while I don't know what use I'd have for that book now, I appreciated the gesture. Especially after he gave a needle free local and slipped the epidural in like a genius artist. In a few minutes I went from writhing pain to reading the New Yorker. I LOVE EPIDURALS.
I sent Eric down for trashy magazines but I never got to read them, because soon my doctor was in offering to boost my contractions with Pitocin. I had wanted to avoid the Pitocin if possible, but as I was currently sitting back watching the monitor with glee as huge contractions passed with just the slightest of pressure, and since those contractions were slowing down just the tiniest bit, I thought it might be okay. The doctor agreed to give me only a small amount to boost the process.
Soon I could definitely feel the contractions again and was progressing through labor so quickly it's possible I went back in time. Another exam and it seemed the baby was presenting face up instead of face down, creating the possibility of a more painful "back labor" and again, an increased risk of cesarean. (For the past few weeks I had been told I was at high risk for cesarean.) The doctor attempted to guide the baby to turn around, and I moved to my side to let gravity help with the process. I had a talk with the baby. We made a deal.
I was ready to push before they were ready to have me push. I swear, this probably all took hours but it felt like seconds. I tried to breathe more than push as we gave the baby more time to turn, and she did. I was shaking. The nurse told me they could give me more pain medication, but it probably wouldn't kick in before it was all over. Then the anesthesiologist came in and gave me more medication.
When it was time to push I had three coaches in my doctor, nurse, and Eric. They put me on oxygen which really helped. I wasn't sure I was pushing very efficiently, but they told me I was doing well. My doctor could see the head, the head was halfway out, hello baby! I'd pushed for 45 minutes, which I swear felt like five, and there was a surprisingly clean "baby looking" baby on my belly, and Eric was crying, and I was crying, and Sophie was crying. She spent some time in the warmer while I delivered the placenta and received stitches, and then came back all wide eyed and gorgeous.
There's no adequate description for these moments. It seems now that they were less painful than I'd anticipated, but maybe that's nature's wonderful way of pumping me with hormones and making me forget in order to propagate the species. The doctor congratulated me on performing wonderfully on a difficult labor, but it didn't feel that difficult to me. I love drugs. I also love my doctor for guiding me through and helping facilitate what could have been a very difficult labor.
Oh, and she was 7lbs and 7oz. NOT A BIG BABY! In fact it's still slightly smaller than the average 7.6lbs.
So much has happened since. I'll need several more posts to cover all the ups and downs, but I can say basically that our parents are amazing, I'm not sleeping nearly enough, I'm overjoyed with wonder, I've had a few sinking spells--especially after one of those late night four hour cluster feeds, and I'm still not really ready for visitors outside the immediate family, but I want to be. Eric is the most incredible father a girl could hope for. Sophie changes every day. I haven't slept nearly enough. I had adventures the next few days at the hospital because so many babies had delivered, which allowed me to stay in my fantastic birthing room much longer than normal, but then later put me in a couple of not so great rooms. My milk came in while I was still at the hospital, which was lucky. Breastfeeding still hurt like a mother, but it's getting better every day. Did I mention that I'm not sleeping? I should really be sleeping right now. The first night it was a long time before they took her to the nursery, and a bit of time before I got her back, although Eric went up to check and reported that she was fine. When the wee hours of the morning I finally unwrapped her swaddle to replace a diaper I wondered why no one had told me she only had four toes on one foot. I swear I stood for a full minute counting those toes, but it turns out one was just hiding, sort of tucked under another toe, and oh right, I was in a sleep stupor. She doesn't have mutant feet.
In fact, to me, she's perfect.
(Eric's version can be read here.)
Over the course of my pregnancy I attended several classes, and while they were helpful, none of them were taught by women who had given birth. My lactation
consultant, however, was a marathon runner. She compared the birth experience and breast feeding to her experience as a runner, which was somewhat reassuring to me as I did run a marathon and hoped that would somehow get me a gold star on the whole labor thing. Then I thought, this woman has never given birth or breastfed, how does she know?
Maybe in some ways it is still comparable. You just can't train to give birth. There's nothing you can do to estimate how it might feel. On the other hand, in the middle of pushing Eric said I was in the Central Park portion of the race. There's no choice but to finish so you might as well get on with it. And he timed my contractions with the stopwatch on my forerunner.
At 6:31 last Wednesday I woke up and was on my way to the bathroom when my water broke. It wasn't a huge gush, but it was clear something had happened. I took a shower because I wasn't sure when I would get one again. While in there, I noticed I was having contractions every four minutes or so, but they were manageable. I left word for a doctor at my practice and woke Eric.
It turned out that my main doctor at the practice was on call, so she called me back and advised me to come on in. She was also off duty at 6pm that night, and wanted to try and deliver me before then if possible. Another favorite doctor of mine would be replacing her if that didn't happen.
Eric was fabulous, fetching and gathering and calling everyone. Soon the contractions were not nearly as fun as they had been at first. I was breathing through them. The car arrived, and while our driver at first looked stricken that I might have a baby in his vehicle he soon was regaling us with stories of his own children and their births. I was fine, especially when I wasn't having a contraction. I turned to Eric and said, "Wow, when I'm not contracting, I don't feel like killing everyone!"
We arrived at the hospital with all of our gear (three bags--one overnight for me, one for Eric, and my purse, a pillow, birthing ball, and yes, tennis balls in a sock) and headed for the 8th floor. The elevators at NYU medical are notoriously busy, so we had to wait for three or so to go by before I could get on. I was very close to pulling the pregnant lady in labor card, but frankly, the pain was still manageable and I held it together. When we made it upstairs I was put directly into a birthing room, skipping triage, for which I was extremely grateful. My nurse for the delivery, Jackie, came by and introduced herself. A few different doctors and the anesthesiologist came in to get a medical history. Eric sent text messages to our friends with mixed success due to spotty reception. Then a resident came in to examine me and verify that my waters had broken. In some ways this was one of the most uncomfortable moments of the whole ordeal. Maybe because the pain that comes after BLINDING PAIN doesn't hurt that bad. She wasn't convinced that my water was broken, although I was and tried to convince her that there wasn't any other explanation for what had happened.
You know, it's funny. Birth stories are filled with information that I don't usually share with mixed company, much less the entire internet.
I had planned to get an epidural and planned to labor as long as I could before getting it. I had even entertained natural childbirth for a bit. While progressing from 2 cm to 4 1/2 I took a shower. I spent a little time on the birthing ball and confirmed that water had indeed broken, no question. I went to the bathroom several times. I cried and squeezed Eric's hand. We turned on the View and I didn't laugh when Eric made fun of Elizabeth.
During the entire event I didn't pay too much attention to the clock. Minutes passed slowly and hours flew. My contractions were growing more and more intense. I told Eric I was ready for the epidural sooner rather than later. I told the nurse I would like the epidural now please. Then I went to the bathroom and threw up. When I came out my doctor was there and I cried, EPIDURAL!
She was very comforting and soon another anesthesiologist came in because the first was in a cesarean. I think he was the head anesthesiologist and he was BRILLIANT. I love him. He gave me the book he wrote on epidurals, and while I don't know what use I'd have for that book now, I appreciated the gesture. Especially after he gave a needle free local and slipped the epidural in like a genius artist. In a few minutes I went from writhing pain to reading the New Yorker. I LOVE EPIDURALS.
I sent Eric down for trashy magazines but I never got to read them, because soon my doctor was in offering to boost my contractions with Pitocin. I had wanted to avoid the Pitocin if possible, but as I was currently sitting back watching the monitor with glee as huge contractions passed with just the slightest of pressure, and since those contractions were slowing down just the tiniest bit, I thought it might be okay. The doctor agreed to give me only a small amount to boost the process.
Soon I could definitely feel the contractions again and was progressing through labor so quickly it's possible I went back in time. Another exam and it seemed the baby was presenting face up instead of face down, creating the possibility of a more painful "back labor" and again, an increased risk of cesarean. (For the past few weeks I had been told I was at high risk for cesarean.) The doctor attempted to guide the baby to turn around, and I moved to my side to let gravity help with the process. I had a talk with the baby. We made a deal.
I was ready to push before they were ready to have me push. I swear, this probably all took hours but it felt like seconds. I tried to breathe more than push as we gave the baby more time to turn, and she did. I was shaking. The nurse told me they could give me more pain medication, but it probably wouldn't kick in before it was all over. Then the anesthesiologist came in and gave me more medication.
When it was time to push I had three coaches in my doctor, nurse, and Eric. They put me on oxygen which really helped. I wasn't sure I was pushing very efficiently, but they told me I was doing well. My doctor could see the head, the head was halfway out, hello baby! I'd pushed for 45 minutes, which I swear felt like five, and there was a surprisingly clean "baby looking" baby on my belly, and Eric was crying, and I was crying, and Sophie was crying. She spent some time in the warmer while I delivered the placenta and received stitches, and then came back all wide eyed and gorgeous.
There's no adequate description for these moments. It seems now that they were less painful than I'd anticipated, but maybe that's nature's wonderful way of pumping me with hormones and making me forget in order to propagate the species. The doctor congratulated me on performing wonderfully on a difficult labor, but it didn't feel that difficult to me. I love drugs. I also love my doctor for guiding me through and helping facilitate what could have been a very difficult labor.
Oh, and she was 7lbs and 7oz. NOT A BIG BABY! In fact it's still slightly smaller than the average 7.6lbs.
So much has happened since. I'll need several more posts to cover all the ups and downs, but I can say basically that our parents are amazing, I'm not sleeping nearly enough, I'm overjoyed with wonder, I've had a few sinking spells--especially after one of those late night four hour cluster feeds, and I'm still not really ready for visitors outside the immediate family, but I want to be. Eric is the most incredible father a girl could hope for. Sophie changes every day. I haven't slept nearly enough. I had adventures the next few days at the hospital because so many babies had delivered, which allowed me to stay in my fantastic birthing room much longer than normal, but then later put me in a couple of not so great rooms. My milk came in while I was still at the hospital, which was lucky. Breastfeeding still hurt like a mother, but it's getting better every day. Did I mention that I'm not sleeping? I should really be sleeping right now. The first night it was a long time before they took her to the nursery, and a bit of time before I got her back, although Eric went up to check and reported that she was fine. When the wee hours of the morning I finally unwrapped her swaddle to replace a diaper I wondered why no one had told me she only had four toes on one foot. I swear I stood for a full minute counting those toes, but it turns out one was just hiding, sort of tucked under another toe, and oh right, I was in a sleep stupor. She doesn't have mutant feet.
In fact, to me, she's perfect.
(Eric's version can be read here.)
posted by Laura at 9:27 AM
6 Comments:
Amazing, just amazing, lady. I have so enjoyed following along on this blog and have been just mind-boggled every step of the way.
My mom had three of us: Amy was a natural birth, Abby a C-section, and I came out with the epidural. My mom always says "I love all my children equally, but I certainly enjoyed your birth the best."
She seems pretty perfect to me, too. I hope you can get some rest soon, and would love to meet her whenever you guys are ready. I promise to keep my hyper to a minimum, I may even have Doug drug me just to make sure I am at the lowest level of annoying.
Yes, my darling daughter and son-in-law, she is truly beautiful.
We found this on the bulletin board outside your room at the hospital:
The Miracle of Life
Before you were conceived, I wanted you
Before you were born, I loved you
An hour after you were here I would die for you
This is the miracle of life.
--Maureen Hawkins
Now you know, now you know . . .
Can you believe women used to squat and push the baby out in a hole?!?
How can anyone explain childbirth? You came the closest that I've seen.
As I recall Eric's birth, I can't help but be amused at what went on in my mind. (I gave birth back in the dark ages before epidurals.)
I think "writhing in pain" describes contractions in a weak way.
And yes, nature has its way of getting us to forget about the pain (that's greater than the pain of a root canal without anesthesia).
Your mom's entry is right on! My love for Eric was transformational! It began a life of unconditional acceptance and loving that's spread into the far reaches of the universe!
Blessings! Blessings! Blessings!
Love,
Mom
Mommaood
I thought you had an epidural? Weren't you on the cutting edge of birthing technology?
Beautimous. You are amazing. I love you dearly, and think of you and yours often.
P.S. I'm glad your baby doesn't have a mutant foot.
Even in your sleep deprived state, you are a lucid and lovely writer. I can't wait to meet Miss Sophie - she looks to be a beauty queen already. Bravo, Mom & Dad!
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