Getting to this post has been difficult. I imagine it has a lot to do with having a newborn baby. Every time he sleeps during the day I go to a list in my head of at least 5 things I want to get done and somehow "writing Max's birth story" never makes it to number one. I also recognize my need for distance from the experience and the perspective it brings.
More than anything though, I realized I have been approaching it the wrong way. Every time I've started to write it just sounds and feels wrong. I was trying to tell the story with a sense of humor, in an entertaining way. Unlike a lot of things in my life however, this experience doesn't fit into a neat, funny little anecdotal box. It was too intense, and at risk of sounding trite, too important. I have thought this since I found out I was pregnant and started researching birth-birth experiences and stories are not to be dismissed or trivialized. They are intrinsically important to mother and child. To the mother because I believe it radically alters her perception of herself and her strength. To the child because it is his very first experience of the world. It is important also to tell these stories, to share them with other people, to record them for the child to learn. Here's our story, told as simply as I can...
Its true what people say about labor. It does kind of all blur together. By no means however will I ever forget it. I realize this is from someone only 5 weeks out, but I am certain I will always remember.
Despite the blurred edges, there are things that stand out: my sense of calm after my water broke (despite having to go to a hospital instead of the birth center we'd planned on); my relief at seeing Doc at check-in as it was her normal day off (she came in because another high-risk delivery patient of hers and I were both in labor-told you she's wonderful); a few very long sessions in the hot shower; a nurse's cool hands stroking my back; my midwife's voice; Dave and my mom's fists pressing into the small of my back; meditative music playing on loop; dim lights; my TOTAL LACK OF SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS (I was basically half-naked and making inhuman noises the whole time).
Labor went on for 24 hours. Drug-free and I'll be honest, horrible, intense labor where I spent some time mentally cursing Hypnobirthing and the expectations it created. (Here's where some people may smile smugly and think to themselves "I told you so". And I will let them. Just for a second.) I never bought into the whole "childbirth can be painless" Hypnobirthing party line. But I DID think the breathing and meditation and positive visualization would help a lot more. And who knows, maybe it did. Maybe it would have been WORSE without those techniques.
I don't think I would've made it as long as I did if it weren't for my midwife. She talked me through contraction after contraction, made me get into positions that helped so much when all I wanted to do was curl into (ironically) the fetal position and cry. But a girl can only take so much. And 24 hours of back labor, 6 of those hours being stalled at 8 cm, was my limit. I was not trying to be a hero by not getting drugs that long. I honestly just kept going because I thought I could. It was that simple. When I no longer thought I could I asked for help.
I knew I couldn't keep going on my own and then have the strength to push my baby out in what might be a stressful delivery where I'd need all my reserves of energy. I also knew with how exhausted I was I couldn't weather the more intense contractions Pitocin would bring along with a speedier transition. And finally, I was not ready to "throw in the towel" as Doc put it, and get a C-section. I decided to get the Pitocin but with an epidural and the rest it would afford me. I felt it was the best use of interventions and the best chance I'd have at still delivering vaginally.
2 hours later I was fully dilated and being wheeled into the operating room (because I was considered a high-risk delivery). I was glad I'd had that couple hours of painless rest but I was also scared. It was actually happening. I was going to deliver a baby and attempt to do it butt-first. I have to say though, the atmosphere in the OR was...festive? There were 15+ people in the room...an anesthesiologist and neonatologist (the high risk thing again) as well as assorted nurses and operation techs. Apparently a vaginal breech delivery is rare enough to garner an audience. Everyone was really positive and encouraging. For someone who wanted a private, quiet, dim birth environment this brightly lit and crowded room was suprisingly welcome. I needed the good vibes at this point. (In fact, I even made a joke. Doc asked how I was feeling and I said, "Scared." She responded, "It'll be okay, there's an end in sight" to which I replied, "Literally." Brought down the house.)
An hour of pushing and my son was born. He came out bent in half and his head was stuck for a scary 15 seconds where Doc had to use forceps. Then there was the even scarier seconds where they whisked him over to the neonatologist and he was silent. I kept asking if he was okay until I heard him cry. Boy, did he cry. He sounded about as happy as my lady parts were (the epidural was pretty much worn off at this point).
Dave was over by the table with him and he came back to me to tell me (with tears in his eyes) that he was beautiful. I got to hold him for a few seconds. He was red and wrinkly and screaming. I said hi to him and he stopped screaming and looked right into my eyes. Its a moment, more than any other, I will never forget as long as I live.
Minutes later he was being whisked away to the NICU. What followed were 4 very long, very scary days...
