When I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes this time we knew we may face an induction, but our midwife, a CNM named Margann, was confidant we would not be facing an IV-Pitocin-epidural birth experience like last time. I stayed active, took the herbs she suggested, and by 35 weeks my cervix was already dilating and very soft. We had a decent chance of nudging labor along if necessary. At my 38 week appointment (at 37 weeks and 5 days) on Tuesday, March 15th, I was 2-3 cm dilated and had been having long periods of contractions that were slightly more impressive than typical Braxton-hicks. My midwife stripped my membranes, though she said it would likely not work this time because she couldn't reach well. I believed her as I barely felt it. We would do it again next week.
Must be an old midwife jedi mind/uterus trick to ensure it will work.
I felt very little cramping and had no spotting that evening. Sure that I would not be having the baby this week, I went ahead and ignored my half packed bags again that night.
On Wednesday the 16th, I woke up at 6:30am for daycare and felt like someone had hit me with a baseball bat in the lower abdomen about 1000 times, then once in the head for good measure. My uterus was suspiciously silent though, not a single contraction. Calm before the storm? Or did we just upset it by poking around at it?
After stumbling around in pain all morning, at around 11:30am I started losing a ton of bloody mucus. It was nothing like what I imagined, a little mucus and maybe some spotting. It was pink and purple chunks of mucus and who knows what else, and it just kept coming. I sat in the bathroom in shock. This had to be the bloody show. Oh God. We are not ready. I played chicken with my uterus and now I'm going to lose.
I'm not sure how to describe what happened next. It was almost like my brain turned into a computer compiling everything that HAD to happen before this baby arrived. Ninety percent of what I came up with probably didn't have to happen, like washing the sunroom windows or mopping under the bed, but for me they were mandatory prerequisites to labor. The next 6 hours were a whirl wind of cleaning products, contractions and sheer panic. I never slowed long enough to time contractions, I needed to out run them. I assigned jobs to Eric until I felt he wasn't taking my urgency seriously. I knew I looked crazy, I knew organizing the entry closet was not a real priority and that the bunk beds didn't need to be put together, but in my world, right then, it all had to happen. I started crying and told him to get out. He still helped but just stayed out of my way.
By around 7:30pm I was spent. I showered and settled on the couch to see if my contractions were regular. They were 7 to 15 minutes apart, not painful, but a little pinchy. Four hours later I still did not fully believe this was it, I decided to go to bed to see if the contractions would stop. I laid there for 2 hours and while they slowed, they did not stop and could not be slept through. I gave up at 1:30am. I told Eric he should try to sleep and went back to timing.
When contractions were 5-8 minutes apart I was having to stop almost everything to breathe through them and sometimes lean against a wall. I woke Eric up and told him to call my mom and take Milo to her. This was it! Oh but first we had sex because who knew when we would get to again.
Eric got Milo ready and left for my mom's and I got in the shower to shave my legs and wash my hair. I thought contractions might be nearing 3 minutes apart, but I would rather have this baby in the shower than go to the hospital before I shave my legs. I think the biggest lesson of the day was that I have no concept of priority when I'm in labor.
I finished getting ready just as Eric got home. Contractions were even more intense now, but I still made him stop and take some last belly pictures between contractions before leaving the house at 6:00am.
We got to the Dominican Hospital soon before 7:00am. I had to stop twice from the car to the front doors of the hospital for contractions, and two more times from the doors to our room. It took me forever to change into my gown between contractions. I was starting to feel a little panicked. These were a lot of work. I had to grab onto stuff and breathe and moan, but the staff was treating me like I was in early labor. I paced between contractions and leaned against the wall during, relaxing everything and letting my body press down. The nurse was so nice, she was very up beat and I felt silly working so hard in front of her. I was sure she was thinking "Wow if you think this is hard..." But I couldn't help it. I couldn't sit either, I felt like I was sitting on his head. I got on my knees at the foot of the bed for a few contractions, which were now making my whole body shake. I was still answering questions about my medical history and such. I finally asked "should I feel like I need to push?" The nurse's look should have been answer enough, "Um... no."
They wouldn't yet though. They helped me breathe through those awful contractions and sometimes I couldn't stop the urge and my body would push anyway. It was awful, it hurt, and it felt like it would never end. My body just wanted to push! The best thing the nurse said this whole time was just repeating "this will end, it will come down." She could tell when I was about to panic and would say that, I was glad Eric caught it on video, though those contractions are hard to watch now because I did so well when I worked with my body, and suffered so much when I worked against it. It was around 8:20am.
My midwife finally came in but I was barely aware. I was just trying to survive. I was getting scared, everything was moving too fast. The nurses were excited. "Ok let's have this baby!" "This will go so fast!" And many comments on how calm I was, the "calmest 9 cm I've ever seen" one nurse said. I didn't know what to say, I appreciated their enthusiasm and compliments, but I was beginning to lose it. No where near calm. I suppose I was calm the way a deer staring down headlights is calm.
Everyone prepared for my midwife to break my water, and the moment she did my body started to bear down. I can't emphasize enough how involuntary this pushing was, or the immense power behind it. It was like I was exploding from the inside, only there was a bowling ball keeping it all in and all that pressure was behind it.
In that first horrible moment, a thousand thoughts came to me at once, like a really awful enlightenment. First I was angry at Bradley for writing that awful book and making me believe that I could do this. This was SO BAD! Who were those evil women who said pushing wasn't so bad, just hard work, and actually chatted between pushes? Who could possibly encourage anyone else to do this and not go straight to hell?
I was hating them all, I was livid that I had been fooled... then I realized that it was too late. I had to push and I couldn't fight this. It was going to hurt and it was going to suck, but I took a breath and pushed with everything I had for what felt like an eternity. It was terrifying, I couldn't stop to breathe anymore. I thought I was going to pass out. I was sure the baby was stuck and I was going to die. Everyone kept saying he was right there and to push a little harder and finally, when I thought there was no harder, I gave just a little more and his head popped out. A second passed, no relief, my body bore down again and I pushed with it. It was so hard to push through something that hurt so much but I did anyway and he wriggled out and was placed on my belly. It was 8:32am, Ashley Caleb was here. He weighed 8 pounds and was 21 1/2 inches long.
Someone told me to open my eyes and I reached down to grab him. I just kept saying that I couldn't believe he was here. They gave him a little oxygen, but he never left my arms. I kissed him and was just so happy to finally be holding him.
I was so happy, but at the same time I was in shock over what had just happened. I was trying to decide how I felt about it all. I thought I would feel an overwhelming sense of accomplishment over having given birth naturally, but I didn't. I couldn't believe I had put myself through that voluntarily. I wasn't sure I could ever do it again. I could tell from everyone around me that I had done a good job. Eric was beaming. I overheard a nurse say "What a great birth to start the day with!" And Ash, who had still never left my arms and was now happily nursing, was healthy and staring up at me with bright clear eyes.
I have decided that it was hard, but I brought him into this world the safest way possible. I took no risks with his health or mine. Physically, I felt amazing very soon after. No soreness or pain or medications to get out of my system. I have a lot to share about our hospital stay and my recovery, but you will just have to wait for another post because right now I have a hungry little baby to tend to.