Please welcome my friend Mrs. D as she shares her amazing birth story. The D family is another one of the wonderful families we were so lucky to meet through our Bradley birth class. Mrs. D is a stay at home mom. She is extremely knowledgeable about children's product safety and regularly advocates for better standards to retailers and manufacturers. If I'm ever wondering about the toxicity of sippy cups or baby sleep wear, she's the one I ask!
If you're a mama-to-be preparing for a natural labor, I will warn you ahead of time, this story does involve a transfer to the hospital. Even when we are completely prepared, sometimes things don't go as planned. I can assure you though, the outcome is a perfect healthy happy birth without any pain meds. Every time I hear this story I am awestruck by the strength and determination of my friend! Here's her story...
“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Phil.4:13
...including a 68 hour labor. . .
Today, August 26th, we celebrate our baby girl’s due date. Yet, last night at 11:25pm, we celebrated her turning a week old. Let’s just say that things didn’t quite turn out as anticipated.
Last Monday I was feeling my typical end of third trimester self: full of energy, full of joy, so in love with my belly and who was in it that I was in no hurry to share her with the rest of the world. There were no signs of labor, and I was perfectly happy with the idea of her coming two weeks late. In fact, I invited her coming late! So I went about my day, including a barbell class complete with lunges and squats. This baby was going to be good and in position if I had anything to do with it!
Monday night was one of the few nights this summer that was hot, and I was bothered. Didn’t get to bed until midnight, so I wasn’t that far into sleep when at 3am I noticed a gush of fluid. I waddled to the bathroom just in time to leak more on the bathroom floor. It was clear, no smell. Was it what I thought it was? If so, I realized, I needed to get back to sleep ASAP and build up my energy stores. But at 4am, the contractions started. At this point I could describe them similar to some of the more intense monthly cramps I’ve had, strong enough to wake me from sleep and prevent me from resting until Tylenol entered the system. But I wasn’t using any medications and didn’t have any on hand, anyway, so that first night I went without sleep. If I only knew.
The next morning at 9:30 we already had a check-up with the midwife, who said that the forebag had broke, but until the fluid picked up color and odor, I had some time. Regardless, this baby would be born in a matter of days. Woohoo!!! I was continuing to gush water all day, and as soon as we returned home, I noticed the fluid had picked up a pinkish hue and a peculiar odor—my waters were breaking, all right. Now I was desperate to get the rest I knew I would need for what was to come. I napped during the afternoon, but noticed every time I tried to lie down, the contractions would get stronger and prevented me from getting rest. I kept trying.
That night the contractions got stronger. Mr. D and I moved quarters to our daylight basement where we intended to remain for the duration of my labor. I started to need using the various positions we learned in Bradley class to get through my contractions, but I needed more help. Mr. D was sleeping and I couldn’t bear to wake him, but by about 3am I felt I had no choice-I needed my coach! We spent all morning and afternoon moving through the contractions and trying to find their rhythm. They were irregular yet, but becoming more intense and on average closer together. We decided to call in the birth tub. At this point I have a couple minutes between contractions and I’m mesmerized that I am completely lucid and feel perfectly normal during these periods. When the contractions come, I’m in another zone, another planet really. This place I go to is unfamiliar to me, but I want to go there, I know I need to. I moan through the contractions. Where is that voice coming from? Is that me?
The tub arrives and I am more than happy to sit in it. Oh my goodness the relief!! But now my contractions slow down—not the direction we were hoping for. Now I’ve been in labor for 36 hours, and I’m not seeing the progress I would have anticipated. 36 hours and still no regular contractions? We need our doula!!
J arrived and soothed me, helped me find new and different positions, and played a role akin to a coach in the corner of a boxing ring. This analogy seems particularly relevant because she would continuously place cold wet washcloths on my face and neck, wipe the sweat off my brow, and insert the straw from a large glass of ice water into my mouth. I kept going. Now Mr. D and J are working on creating every last detail of our birth space into the most conducive environment: lighting candles on every flat surface, lowered lights, playing my labor soundtrack. Music has always been therapeutic to me, and somehow the songs I selected helped me get through contractions- I would sing along to the lyrics in my head, or just get lost in the melody. It was exactly that-a labor soundtrack that reminded me how beautiful this experience was, how torturous, stimulating, new, mysterious, and beautiful. At this point I’m also taking in the words of wisdom and encouragement adorning the walls of my birthspace—words I’ve copied from Ina May's Guide to Childbirth
and the Holy Bible. I can take all the strength and encouragement I can get.
I wanted my midwife and assistant. Now we were nearing my third evening into labor, and my contractions weren’t warranting her quite yet, but I yearned for the rest of my team. My midwife had been my general practitioner for six years before I got pregnant. I trusted her, and she was the one who convinced me that despite a less than desired health history, I was capable of a home birth. She believed in me. And I needed M, her assistant, for her personality and comic relief. At around 9:30pm J finally thought it was time to call them in. Excitement. Relief. I was just ecstatic to see their faces. They were here. That must mean I’m close . . .right?
I labored even harder that night and into the morning. I’ve labored for three nights and two days now, and my body is worn and torn. I’m mentally aware that I’m 50+ hours into labor, and that’s not helping. If only I’d heard of a 50+ hour labor before. But I hadn’t. I felt alone, in uncharted territory. What was going on? Now my contractions are taking me to a place I can’t cross over—I can’t go there. This is a new sensation for me. I can do this. I can do anything. Why can’t I go through these contractions? Back in the birth tub, that blessed tub, and the contractions slow down again. Shoot. At least our vital signs, both mine and baby’s, are strong and resilient, or else. . .
Now my midwife asks if she could administer some herbs. She also administered an IV of antibiotics at some point-my waters had been broken too long. She asked if she could put me on IV fluids at this point as well. I’d been hydrating beautifully and eating all I could- goo packs, granola bars, bananas, protein smoothies—but after such a long labor, no amount of food I could ingest would be enough to sustain me. I complied. The contractions still were not picking up. Time for Castor oil. My midwife so thoughtfully tells me where I’m at every step of the way, gives me my options, and her clinical opinion on what I need and what would be best for me. I am putty in her hands. I love that I can trust her as much as I do. Castor oil it is.
Within minutes it feels, the Castor oil is doing its job. For whatever reason, maybe the oomph from the IV fluids, it occurs to me that if someone puts all their strength and might into pressing the hell out of my lower back during these most obnoxious of contractions, I can submit to them. And so Mr. D, my gentle giant of a husband, steps in and for hours provides this pressure for me. Now he can feel the contractions moving through my body, and he is in awe himself of their power, and mine. He is exhausted, but doesn’t leave my side if he can help it.
Now it’s Thursday afternoon. We’re coming on 60+ hours. Brandi needs to check me. If this birth doesn’t happen soon, I need another bag of antibiotics. She tells me I have until 5pm, or we need to consider going to the hospital. I’m 9cm dilated, but my cervix is still hanging over the baby a little bit, enough to prevent me from pushing stage. Something comes over me. I do NOT want the hospital!! Suddenly I’m on my feet, walking like a duck, walking up stairs two at a time, whatever position I can think of that creates the most excruciating pain for me, because I know that’s what’s helping move baby down and through the next contraction. I keep going like this for two hours. It’s 5pm. Now it’s 5:30.
I need Pitocin. My midwife knows it. Just a little bit. She says in the old days, midwives would hold a cotton ball soaked in Pit next to the cervix, and that was all it would take sometimes. She calls this “a whiff of Pit.” She knows this is all I need, but midwives are no longer allowed to administer Pitocin. We have to go to the hospital. I’m now stuck at 9.5cm, but the contractions aren’t moving along enough and I need more antibiotics. She tells Mr. D and I it’s time to go, and prepares us- we need Pitocin, but be prepared for anything. I know she means C-section. I don’t even wince. I prepared myself for this. I prepared myself for the home birth I wanted, but I prepared myself for whatever might happen, even my most feared C-section. I didn’t care. I wanted a home birth, but even more importantly, I wanted a healthy baby. I would do whatever it took for her to thrive. C-section, bring it. I’ve labored 60+ hours, I can do anything with my good God by my side.
The contractions at 9.5 cm in the car on the way to the hospital, on the freeway—I nearly lost it. Mr. D has lost it—he is weeping. He knew how much I wanted the home birth, and he is frightened of my getting the C-section. Between contractions I ask him how he is feeling, and he lets out a laugh. I’m screaming in agony during contractions, but for two minutes in between, I’m that lucid that I want my husband to be okay.
We get to the hospital and I’m screaming in my wheelchair. I don’t care. At least they realize I’m causing a ruckus in the waiting/registration area and that I need a delivery room ASAP – lol. On go the monitors, the IV antibiotics, then the Pit. My whole team is at the ready and waiting. J, bless her, is still at it with the much needed washcloths and water. Mr. D is still at it with the back pressure. He is bruising my back with the pressure, but I only want more.
The nurse asks, or rather tells me, “You’re going to want an epidural with that.” I didn’t even blink. “Nope. NO epidural.” She glares at me. Absolutely glares at me like I’m either completely naïve, or crazy. I’m just crazy J She figures that out once my screams get louder and longer. They’re not really screams, actually—I’m roaring. Later I find out that nurse tells the doctor she’s going to need ear plugs.
It was beyond worth it.
Now I feel the Pit taking hold. I’m pissed, I’m stubborn, I’m ready for it. “Bring it, Pit!! I can do you!! I can handle anything now!! Try me!!” This is the kind of monologue going on in whatever sane part of my head is left. These contractions are beyond comprehension painful. I’m beyond reality and consciousness now. I’ve fully departed to that other mysterious planet and made it my home. I’m camped out there until baby comes. I’m smiling now through these contractions, to everyone’s bemusement and confusion. “How is this feeling?” Megan asks. “I love it,” I reply with my hoarse voice, smiling while I’m writhing in preparation for the next wave.
I’m pushing now. I’m pushing hard and fast. I know better. I know to hold back, in order to let the baby stretch me as she comes out, but I don’t care anymore. I feel myself tearing and I’m pushing anyway. This is some crazy planet I’m camped out on, where I’m willfully, purposefully tearing my own body apart. The baby is crowning. Hello, ring of fire. I’ve got your number. I’m doing this. This is happening.
I think it must have been “the scream heard ‘round Bellevue” at 11:25pm that night when she finally arrived. I waited anxiously for her to be placed on my belly, and the moment she was, TRIUMPH!! Love beyond my wildest imagination!! And the angelic face in my dreams!!
Her head came out coned to one side—that’s what was taking so long. She was stuck in the pelvis to one side, poor thing.
So I didn’t get the home water birth. I got an awesome home labor up until the very end. All I did in the hospital was push. I had the best birth team I could ask for. I had an epic labor that I’m beyond proud of. It wasn’t my plan, but it was the plan of a good and loving God, and it was perfect, perfect for me.
Mr. D looks at me different now. He didn’t know what I was capable of before this. I know I can’t take credit for what God provides. Can I still have bragging rights? ;)
Happy first week, BabyD! I’d do it all over, exactly the way it happened, for you, precious one.
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