I shaved my legs for this... aka Baby El's birth story

Julie over at The Progressive Parent came up with this lovely idea she's dubbing #birthstrong. The idea is that through sharing the stories of our children's birth we can spread awareness of women's choices in birth, and feel the connection that all Mother's share.

Before I can tell Baby El's birth story I need to share with you my sister's, my mother's and her mother's birth stories. I'll be brief. My Grandmother was born in 1931, premature and very tiny, to a tiny woman. My Great-Grandmother Mercedes had the cards stacked against her, with PreEclampsia, Cephalopelvic Disproportion and Placenta Previa, my Grandmother entered this world through an incision on her mother's abdomen. Twenty one years later, my Mother made her entrance the same way. The reasoning? Cephalopelvic Disproportion, reportedly my Grandmother's pelvis was too narrow for any baby to be born through. I later learned that the doctor's never gave my Grandmother the chance to try, cut her open without a sign of a contraction on the horizon. Can't blame her, assuming you completely trust your doctors and they tell you a C-section was inevitable wouldn't you schedule it as well? Fast forward to 1981, my Mother a woman who inherited my Grandfather's tall and linebacker build, is in labor with my sister. The cards as slightly stacked against her, PreEclampsia, extra fluffy and high C-section rates. After sixteen hours of a labor by all accounts she managed well, the doctor's said it was time, baby's heart rate was dropping, she wasn't coming out the traditional way. She was wheeled to an OR and my sister, with her cord around her neck, was born shortly afterward. Three years later I was a repeat C-Section, complete with a cute story of my Dad's coworkers not believing I was going to be born that day.

Growing up I heard these stories of the three direct generations of Women before me delivering their children in the OR, constantly hearing that our "Pelvises are just too small". I accepted this as fact and repeated this to anyone when a conversation would come up about child birth. I was going to have a C-Section, my pelvis was too small. Fact.

When I became pregnant, I asked my original OB about my pelvis during the initial exam at my very first appointment. Maybe I thought it was a good follow up to my usual ice breaker "You know I normally make someone buy me dinner first..."? To be completely fair to her she did tell me it was narrow but that the relaxin hormone can and does widen the pelvis up. She made a big point about not counting out vaginal birth without having a Trial of Labor. I noted this and basically brushed her off mentally, here was my proof. My pelvis is too small, I'm broken. Much like needing artificial implements to see I would need doctor's to deliver my child(ren).

 At seven months pregnant, while on a trip with my extended family to New Orleans, my cousin says something that resonated with me. Summed up it was "Don't count yourself out, you could have a vaginal birth. You never know.". Fueled with this revelation, I researched, read books on natural Childbirth (another post) and in a hormone craze did a 180 on my birthing stance. They had been wrong before, given the right support and time I could do this. I wasn't broken.

With the exception of one high blood sugar level during a Glucose Test, and nausea in months three through six I had an easy pregnancy. Finally after what felt like an eternity my due date came, and I met it with grumpiness. I'd been into L&D two days earlier and was barely one centimeter dilated, so I was sure I was going over that date. I walked, I hopped, I squatted while telling baby to "GET OUT", I asked for the spiciest meal at a Chinese restaurant and I bitched. Oh how I bitched. On roughly four occasions that I night I had what I felt was a cross between a Braxton Hicks contraction and my baby kicking the crap out of my cervix, they didn't take my breath away but they forced me to sit up perfectly erect. Awkward while driving and didn't improve my mood. It was further proof I was in for a long two weeks. I still somewhat hopefully informed my husband "Maybe we'll have a baby tomorrow." He might have rolled his eyes at me. Sometime that night I went to bed, and woke up around 2 in the morning to pee like usual.

Friday, 4:30 am

I'm suddenly awake, and I know I'm in labor. My contractions feel like menstrual cramps, icky and deep inside of my uterus. I get up, as each contraction hits I have to walk, I have to move. I can't sit still, I can't go back to sleep, I tried to on the couch and couldn't. Anyone who knows me knows I'm a zombie in the mornings and I hate be awake at a ungodly hour (aka any time before 10). Going back to sleep sounds delicious to me at this moment but it's not working, I try to lay back down in bed and hop out with a whine during a contraction. Not from the pain, I'm pissed that I can't go back to sleep. I had been rolling my hips in figure eights and swaying side to side for months prior to this day as it was the only way to relieve pressure. I can't honestly remember if I continued to do so in the moments between contractions or during, I mainly remember my desire to walk away from myself. Sometime after the start of labor I start timing my contractions, just for shits and giggles. I have my 40 week appointment at 2:30 pm and I know I'll go in for that and only be 3 centimeters dilated. It's going to be a long weekend I tell myself over and over.

5:00 or 5:30 am

I'm in the guest bathroom, letting my husband sleep, and relieving myself (TMI?). While engaging in that and between contractions I'm googling on my cell phone "contractions under five minutes apart but less then a minute in length". Lovely Google confirms my suspicions, I was likely in Early Labor and it could be hours if not days of this. Bastards I mutter.



6:00 am

I decide a shower might be a good option. My contractions still feel like menstrual cramps at this time. Showering is... tricky, contractions force me to sit up erect and I'm worried about cutting myself while shaving or getting soap in my eyes. For some reason getting soap in my eyes while in labor seemed to tip the scale from doable to miserable. I sit at the bottom of the shower stall, and commence shaving my legs. I time washing the shampoo out between contractions and then space out at the bottom of the stall for I'm not sure how long. Becoming pruney signals my time in the shower is over, and I get out with the intent to find practical clothes to labor in. After some thought I dress in yoga pants, a really old bra and a Tshirt my sister had made for me which states "Fear Ye Not the Jellyfish". (bad advice, those fuckers sting). I glare at my sleeping husband, while waddling to the bathroom for practical laboring Mom hairstyle and makeup application. Glad I did, I still looked like crap in the inevitable pictures, but likely less crap then I would have otherwise.

6:45-7:00 am

My contraction induced walk around the house leads me to the kitchen, where I time my contractions again. I'm not sure if I'm operating the timer correctly (hey I'm in labor here) as they're over a minute in duration and are less then three minutes apart. I text three of my closest friends and my Step-Mom, I'd been waiting for what I deemed an appropriate hour to harass friends regarding my labor. Via text I tell them how long I'd been in labor and that "this sucks. Think I want drugs". I still know I will be in labor for hours, days, etc. At this moment my contractions ramp up, and I decide my husband no longer needs to get the extra sleep I'd been kindly giving to him. I start yelling at him from the kitchen, when that gets a "what do you want me to do about it?" from my fellow grumpy riser, I waddle to the bedroom and throw my phone at him instructing him to "time my fucking contraction you ass!"

Which he begrudgingly does, muttering "better call the damn hospital and demand that epidural since my wife can't handle contractions... blah blah blah". After the contraction I whine at him about not being nice while I'm in labor, he wakes up fully and although doesn't apologise per say there are no hurt feelings. He confirms that my contractions are under three minutes, and I tell him he needs to get up and get dressed. I head back to the kitchen and get on my hands and knees with the cold linoleum feeling so good on my forehead during the next contraction. While down there I observe that I have the shakes, transition I can't help but think. This is were he finds me, still not really believing I was seriously in labor, but not for long. I inform him that I feel like I need to push and maybe he should call the hospital for me?

7:30 am

After informing the hospital that:

"My wives in labor, since 4:30, right babe? Yes, 4:30... uh huh... under three minutes... they want to talk to you..." I refuse, my reasoning being that I figured I could still talk during a contraction and they would tell me to stay home. I knew we needed to get to the hospital. "No, she's kind of busy having a contraction... uh huh... she says she needs to push.... ok be there soon."

My husband starts the car, puts the dog out, I grab our hospital bag, make a text or two, head to the car. We're off. He calls his sister, who jumps in the shower while probably laughing at the first time Mom heading to the hospital after three hours of labor. During the short ride to the hospital he tries to make me laugh which I appreciate but have to tell him not to cause it'll hurt more to laugh while a contraction hits. It's a surreal ride, the last one we'll be making together before it becomes the three of us, and everyone is correct when they say contractions in the car suck. This morning is the only time I've seen the hospital parking lot so empty, we have many parking options and choose one very close to the front entrance. The clock in the car says 8:00 or 8:15.  I opt to go to the Admittance desk as it seems the right way to do things, while handing the kind secretary my insurance card a strong contraction hits and she suggests we head straight to L&D. I'm hesitant, but she seems to understand how I feel, and I'm so grateful she suggested that as the next contraction causes me to grip the door trim.

She jumps into action, grabs a wheel chair, helps deposit me into it and runs for the elevators. My husband still insists he wasn't nervous at this moment, but I still remember his frantic pushing of the buttons inside the elevator. Hitting the number to the L&D floor over and over. We rush past the security officer, I faintly remember waving at him, or maybe he'd received training on translating "HOLY CRAP I'M in LABOR!!" facial expressions, as he follows us and waves his security card in front of the scanner to admit us into L&D. I am quite dramatically wheeled up to the Nurses station, introduced and ushered into the first room.

I mutter, I need to go to the bathroom, or pee, potty whatever I said, I needed to do it now. It was probably one nurse who stopped me but it felt like three, as I was told that they should check me out first to make sure I'm not going to have the baby on the toilet. My contractions were too mind numbing at this point for me to be much help during one, so I was assisted out of my pants, undies and directed to the bed. A vaginal exam showed I was an astonishing 8 centimeters, holy shit. This was the moment I'm not very proud of but I freaked out, not externally I hope, but internally I was freaked.

Between my legs I saw the Midwife who asked me about my plans for pain meds, stating that "most mom's don't make it this far without any...". I told her my original plan was natural... and internally I was thinking that an epidural wouldn't be so bad. But I never said that and instead I freaked with the realization that not only was I going to shortly have a baby but it would be without drugs. Things got a little blurry and crazy after this. They break my water, which I don't remember being asked about to be honest, and find it's stained with miconium. Not sure how much, they do not freak out, but it seemed really brown to me. The midwife goes to get an internal monitor and to alert the on call OB as well as NICU.

The redheaded nurse who stayed with me during this part of my labor was such a calming presence. She talked me through the next few contractions, counted them down and reminded me to breath. So reassuring, and was exactly what I needed at that moment. My husband, I instructed to call important people. Soon the Midwife, or it might have been the OB at this point, is back telling me I am fully dilated with a slight lip still. The bottom of the bed is broken down, the back is raised up and I'm instructed to push with the nurse, which I do. After my first push, the room is swarmed, my blood pressure is going up and the babies heart rate is going down when I push. The doctor is scrubbed up, over her head the Midwife informs me that "you're a good pusher but you need to get her out soon or you're having a C-section.", and everyone starts yelling at me to PUSH.

My husband has the audacity to tell me I'm pushing wrong, I'm sucking in my breath while I should be breathing it out, and I try to follow that but it's beyond me. I do what I want, and soon I feel it, the damn Ring of Fire everyone talks about. Ouch. This is the only moment I remember becoming vocal, and I scream "it HURTS, it hurts!" The nurses and doctor are sympathetic but let me know I'm almost done, pushing is a blur but it makes the contractions inconsequential and I barely register feeling any pain from them. There is a slippery feeling, and warmth is suddenly on my tummy.

8:56 am

She's here, one more person has entered this room who wasn't breathing our air seconds earlier. Baby El isn't on me for long, seconds really while the doctor cuts the cord and they take her away to an incubator. They want to make sure she did not aspirate any meconium. I am in shock, my husband is in shock. In a daze I deliver the placenta, and the doctor starts to stitch me up. I make sure the doctor administers lidocain before stitching up my first degree tear, joking about my concern for a little needle after delivering a baby. She laughs and comments that "at least you still have your sense of humor".

Hubs starts making phone calls to all the important people, and the friend at the top of my delivery friend tree. There is shock from everyone, I request a White Mocha from his best friend, and soon after being stitched up, we have visitors. I still haven't held her, and I'm even more ashamed to admit that I might have been the third or fourth person, not including medical professionals, to hold my first born. Next time, I'm making amends for this transgression. Baby El is weighed, 8lbs (no surprise, we're fatties on my side at birth) and measured at 21 inches long. Finally I hold her, it's glorious and I initiate breast feeding while reveling in her. She has my pouty bottom lip, and already shows a predilection from sucking on it. I am in love.

Almost thirteen months later and I am still in shock over the power of my body, I am truly wonderfully and fearfully made. I can't help but wonder if my predecessors were capable of what I'd just done as well, given the proper chance and support. I am not broken, you are not broken, faith in your body isn't always enough, drugs are there to be helpful but start with a little faith and you might be amazed.

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Join in!

• Write your birth story. If you have one already posted, you're 90% there! If you have more than one, write/link them all or pick your most memorable. If you don't have a blog, private message me and I would be happy to provide a spot for you.
•  Enter it into the Linky. Just click where it says, "You're next!" and follow the instructions. Tell a little about your birth (so others know how to find you) in the intro & add the link to your post in the box provided. Simple as that!

Then Copy and Paste 3 things- separately, to the bottom of your post:

1. All of these instructions. So others will know what to do, too!
2. The html from the button above. Also, feel free to add it to your sidebar. :)
3. The code from the "Get The Code" button underneath the Linky