Alright- it’s
been eight weeks since I’ve given birth to my son and I think it’s about time
to write down what actually happened when I went into labor before I forget
some of the details! Luckily for us
though, I packed a pad of paper and a pen so that Thomas could take notes
throughout the process so that I could remember my progression or anything
major that happened along the way.
First I want to
say, that the end of my pregnancy was tough. My weight had ballooned and the swelling I
was experiencing was out of control and very painful! The majority of my weight gain (if not all of
it) in the last five weeks was water weight… it was crazy. I had been putting on weight faster than
anybody wanted (especially me) and was told that I may produce a bigger baby
and was warned that this could lead to shoulder dystocia or the complete
inability to have a vaginal delivery. As
much as this worried me (I mean, who wants to deliver a giant baby?) I couldn’t
really curb my weight gain at the end.
In the last month alone I put on about 25 pounds. When I first got pregnant I weighed in at
156. It was higher than I wanted… plus
Thomas and I had gone on vacation… and who doesn’t put on weight when they
vacation? Anyway, by my 39 week check-up
I weighed in at 212 pounds!!! My
personal goal was to keep it under 200… but that was abandoned as soon as my
legs and feet started to look like the fat space people in Wall-E.
(my 37 week photo- before the bulk of my swelling occurred)
Anyway, moving
on. Starting at my 37 week check-up, I
started getting my cervix checked for any progression. I was excited when at 37 weeks, I was -3
station, 50% effaced and 1cm dilated.
Now, I knew that I could walk around like that for weeks. But at the same time it made me happy that
the ball had started rolling. I tried to
walk and move around to keep things progressing… as much as my swelling and
discomfort would allow but was completely discouraged when at my 38 week
check-up, I had made no progress. The
ball had apparently stopped rolling. I
was already so uncomfortable at this point that I was crying uncontrollably in the doctor’s
office to the point where my OB gave me a hug.
I was so crushed! I wanted my
giant baby to come out already! I felt
guilty that my main motivation to go into labor was not to meet our little
miracle… but to put an end to the swollen feet, my inability to wear regular
shoes or even maternity clothes, the fact that I couldn’t stop from sweating
despite being in air conditioning all day, and the fact that I had gotten so
big that I didn’t recognize myself anymore when I looked in the mirror. Even my lips were swollen! I spent every evening trying to cover my body
as I got ready for bed so that Thomas couldn’t see how gross I felt that I had
gotten and I then proceeded to cry myself to sleep. Even getting into bed was like running a
marathon. I couldn’t get in bed without
getting winded, couldn’t move without grunting to shift my weight, and couldn’t
get comfortable if my life depended on it.
It was after my
38 week check-up that I decided that if I was given the option I did not want
to be checked for progression anymore.
Thankfully my OB understood how I was feeling and although she checked
me she didn’t let me know if any changes had occurred… she just let me know
that things were all good. My swelling
was always mentioned but my doctor said that my blood pressure was okay so
there wasn’t any need to worry about pre-eclampsia: my blood pressure was
elevated (but not high) and I had shown no excess protein in my urine. I got orders to get my feet elevated (nearly
impossible when you are smuggling several watermelons in your gut), to sit in
my still cold pool, and to wrap my legs.
And although I spent nearly every day in my pool, the pain and the
swelling didn’t go away.
It was at 39
weeks and 5 days that I had had it with everything. I was in too much pain and too emotionally
weak to handle much of anything. I could
barely walk because I was in so much pain- pain from the swelling, pain from the
weight, pain from moving. Everything
hurt. I was tired of being pregnant, I
was tired of talking about being pregnant, I was tired of friends and family
asking me if I was still pregnant. I
wanted to crawl into a hole and wait it out alone. When Thomas got home we talked about him
going on family medical leave until I went into labor because I couldn’t get
around on my own anymore without crying in pain. I had also decided that I would be spending
the remainder of my pregnant nights sleeping on the couch because my body just
couldn’t make the journey all the way to the top of our mattress.
That night, after
Thomas had fallen asleep I was starting to feel more pain than I had been in
the rest of the day. I figured that
maybe my body had just had it or that even walking around the house had been
too much for me. The pain was low and
only on my left side but it felt like someone was giving an Indian burn to my
muscles. Maybe this was Braxton
Hicks? I hadn’t experienced them throughout
the pregnancy and these didn’t seem to fit the description of what regular
contractions should feel like, so I went online to confirm that they were, in
fact, Braxton Hicks. Instead, what I
read was that this could possibly be labor pains. I woke up Thomas at around 10 p.m. just to
say, “I’m not really sure… but I might be having contractions.” I got a pad of paper and the stopwatch on my
phone ready to time them. They were
erratic and inconsistent. Sometimes I
would cramp up for 90 seconds, sometimes I would feel short, sharp pains,
sometimes I felt nothing unless the baby moved.
I started to feel bad that I had woken Thomas up for nothing, but the
pain started to intensify around 11:30 and regulated at around 12-15 minutes
apart. It was at this point that we
decided that this was the real deal and I started to freak out! I didn’t think that I could handle more pain
and the breathing methods that we learned seemed like a pile of hooey at this
point. THIS HURT! I started saying, “I can’t do this… what was
I thinking,“ knowing even then that I would feel horribly guilty for these
thoughts and expressing them to Thomas later.
Thomas tried his
best to calm me, to let me know that I was strong and we could do this
together. As he got our bags and house
situated for our absence, I took a shower to calm myself and to help ease some
pain.
As far as a
birthing plan goes, I had never really planned anything out. Nothing was set in stone anyway. I felt sort of go-with-the-flow about it all. I knew that my body and my baby weren’t going
to follow the plan had I laid one out so I figured it would be best for us if
we just sort of have a general plan but wouldn’t become disenchanted with the
experience should we have to deviate from it. I knew that I wanted to walk
around to help labor progress, I wasn’t for or against an epidural… I would
just see how I tolerated the pain and cross that bridge when we came to it, I
did not want an episiotomy, and I wanted my water to break on its own. I also wanted them to give the baby to me
immediately upon his arrival and to allow Thomas to cut the cord.
By 3 a.m. we were
being triaged at the hospital and got confirmation that I was in labor. I had progressed to 3 cm, -2 station, and was
80% effaced. By 4:30 a.m. we were
officially admitted. My contractions
were every two to four minutes at this point and would remain this way for the
remainder of my labor. Unfortunately,
when they took my blood pressure it was too high to permit me to walk around
the hospital. That was a big blow. Paired with my swelling (which was at an
all-time high) they were afraid that I was at risk for pre-eclampsia.
(my ENORMOUS feet in the hospital)
My blood pressure was high enough that I was
put on fluids thru an I.V. which also eliminated my desire to use the jet tubs
in the birthing suites. Once I got two
bags of fluids in I was given an epidural to help lower my blood pressure. This was also something that I had originally
intended to hold off on until I was further along in labor. Because of my blood pressure, my swelling,
and the pre-eclampsia risk they wanted to play it safe. Playing it safe also meant that I was
constantly hooked up to a blood pressure cuff which took my blood pressure
every twenty minutes or so and alerted the nurses if it was too high (it always
was).
I have to admit,
once I got the epidural I was like a whole different person. I had been in such pain for so long in the
last leg of my pregnancy that this truly felt like a miracle. After it kicked in I was able to sleep for
the first time in what seemed like forever.
I hadn’t gotten any good sleep for months! I only woke up occasionally when the nurse
would come in to see how we were doing or if I rolled over the cord from the
blood pressure cuff and it set off an alarm.
(me sleeping...)
I was progressing
nicely. By 7 a.m. I was 4 cm, 11 a.m. I
was 7 cm. It was at this point that with
my increasing blood pressure that we started on Pitocin on the lowest dose to help
progress quicker. As of this point my
water was still intact. The nurses kept
mentioning that they might want to break it for me which I was against. Luckily for us, my doctor was on the same page
as I was and wanted the bag to break on its own. I just have to say here that I love my
doctor. I didn’t have to voice any
opposition to the nursing staff because my doctor did it for me. She very much understood (and seemed to
practice) my go with the flow attitude and let the pieces fall into place on
their own. The Pitocin and epidural may
have been more necessary for my pain and blood pressure but had I chosen
against it I know that my doctor would have been another advocate for me to
guarantee that this was an experience that me and my body was in control of.
By 3 p.m. I think
I had caught up on the sleep that had eluded me the past several months and had
stopped the Pitocin. I could feel my
water bulging and the nursing staff repeatedly referred to it as a “bag of
steel.” Every so often I would have to
roll from one side to the other just to get comfortable and I remember feeling
as if I needed to move very gently because I felt so fragile. I didn’t want to squeeze my legs together or
bear down. It was just a very strange
sensation. I was 9 cm and -1 station when
my bag finally broke with a very audible gush
at 3:20 p.m. as I lay on my left side.
It felt like a relief and came as a surprise! I wasn’t moving or doing anything to make it
rupture, it was just time for it to happen!
To have been dilated all the way to 9 cm with my bag literally bulging
out of me was a very awkward feeling!
(my contractions earlier on)
At 6:30 p.m. it
was decided that I could start practicing pushing. We decided to lower my epidural enough so
that I could feel my contractions again.
I guess we sort of used it as a vacation from the contractions but
lowered it when it was really time to get serious. I wasn’t in a lot of pain, but I could feel
the cramping again and the build-up to each contraction so that I knew when I
should help my body along by pushing. I
held my legs back as Thomas assisted by pushing back my left leg. This was all just to sort of get in the
motions- to figure out what worked, what didn’t, and what made me most
comfortable.
By 7 p.m. it was
100% go time! We had established that
Thomas would help by pushing back my left leg and the nurse would push back my
right. Now, when I started pushing, the
baby’s heart rate decreased with each contraction. As the uterus contracts to push the baby out
a lower heart rate is normal. However,
there was a loss of variability with his heart rate which can be an early sign
of distress coupled with the timing of the contractions. The deceleration of his heart rate was not a
definite sign but Thomas could tell that the nurses were concerned. As for me, I was completely unaware of what
else was happening in the room- I was concentrating!
When my doctor
came in a short time later she was filled in with the situation by the nurses
and Thomas said he could tell that they were probably going to have a “we may
need to explore the possibility of a caesarian” conversation with me based on
what they told her. I had only been
pushing for about 10 minutes (and only every other contraction) when she came
in. Lucky for me, when she checked me I
was much further along than she had anticipated which meant that no other
medical intervention was necessary. Yay!
I started to push
for every contraction which was one right on top of the other. I was already exhausted and wondered how I
would be able to continue doing this for hours.
There was only Thomas, my doctor, and one nurse in the room with
us. I appreciated that I didn’t have a
huge audience. I wanted this to be
something for just Thomas and me. Both
Thomas and the nurse were counting thru each contraction… but honestly I wasn’t
paying much attention. I tried to at
first but it was difficult to keep with their timing because I became so tired
with each push. I remember telling them
to “count faster!” but I just did what I could and stopped when I couldn’t do
it anymore. We developed a rhythm of
when I stopped pushing Thomas would hand me my cup of ice chips. I was hot and extremely thirsty! I hadn’t eaten in almost 24 hours but I wasn’t
even hungry, only thirsty! When I would
stop to rest I would shove as big of a spoonful of ice in my mouth as I could
to hold me over until the next time. On
top of my dehydration I didn’t feel like I was making any progress, despite the
cheerleading of my doctor. Every
contraction she said, “You’re doing so great!
He’s right there!” I started to
think she was lying to me! Aside from my
contractions I felt nothing. I didn’t
feel him coming down the birth canal or anything to suggest progress was being
made.
I didn’t believe
that I was pushing hard enough and started to think I was going to be in this
room forever when I finally felt something to signify that maybe my doctor wasn’t
lying to me! I felt his head… down
there. Good Lord, something was coming
out of me!! But, I couldn’t make it
through pushing his head out all the way without taking a rest when it was only
partially out. Before, I thought that my
bulging bag was an awkward feeling. I
didn’t think that anymore! Having a head
partially emerging from you is an awkward feeling! This was no time to rest… so I pushed more. While I was pushing all of the feeling went
away. My mom had told me that once the
head is out, the most uncomfortable part is passing the shoulders and then the
rest of the baby sort of “slides out.”
So I was anticipating another awkward moment when there’s just a baby
head hanging out of me. I was thinking
about this while I was still trying to get his head the rest of the way out but
before I could even get to the uncomfortable in-between-the-head- and-shoulders
part, my doctor was putting my baby boy on me.
I had pushed the rest of him out all at once! I had a son!
It was a very
surreal feeling having a baby placed on your chest. I can’t really explain what I was doing but
the nurse told me, “Breathe!” I think I
had started to hyperventilate- I had a baby!
Thomas and I were parents! I
looked to Thomas for a kiss but he couldn’t take his eyes off of our little
boy. We waited with baited breath to
hear those first screams of life- but they didn’t come. Our son was healthy… but silent! He just looked around, taking in his new
surroundings as we rubbed him down to get him warm (and maybe even agitate him
enough to get some sort of squeal). But
we got nothing. He didn’t cry- he was just
mellow.
Mason Morris
Bravo was born at 8:09 p.m. after a little more than an hour of pushing. He weighed in at 8 pounces, 5 ounces and was
20.5” long. We love him.
