The Birth Story
It is long. Just warning you now.
Zachary Alexander
July 1, 2009 10:47AM
7lbs, 0oz
19 1/2 inches
There are many circumstances leading up to my labor that I still haven't made peace with, so putting them into words feels...inadequate. Bed rest. Risking-out of my midwife's homebirth practice due high blood pressure readings during my NSTs. The huge paradigm shift from all-natural, spontaneous homebirth to a hospitalized, fully-medicated, induced labor. The petty discurtesies and flat-out rudeness visited upon me by my night nurse that first night in the hospital before my labor started...
So, I will sum it up: the hospital-labor plan was to insert Cervidil overnight and remove it in the morning. Then I'd be allowed to shower and have breakfast before I was started on Pitocin the next day. We arrived at the hospital, did paperwork, I put on the hospital gown, peed in a cup. It took them three tries to get an IV line started (blew the left wrist, and then blew the right wrist, before they finally stuck me the back of my left hand. The bruising didn't go away for three weeks). Then they took blood. (The night nurse was "amazed" that all of my lab work came back clean; that there was nothing wrong with me except high blood pressure. Pissed me off. Go be "amazed" somewhere I can't hear you.) I was hooked up to "the machine". Two straps around my belly that baby hated and kept moving away from, so they kept having to adjust them, and a blood pressure cuff. The Cervidil was inserted at 8pm and was scheduled for removal at 8am.
At 7am, just as I was thinking I would get up and go to the bathroom, my water broke while I was still in bed. Pop, gush, Ew. Chris tells me he actually heard it, but thought I had cracked my hip or something Jane (my midwife) came in with Debbie (my new day nurse), and they changed the sheets out from under me. But, baby still hadn't engaged in my pelvis, and while gravity would probably have helped that, it might also have caused a prolapsed cord, since there was nothing blocking my cervix. So, I had to stay in the damned bed and on the twiced-damn monitors, with the thrice-damned BP cuff. At least I could roll onto my side and rock during the contractions, which jumped to 2-3 minutes apart and 60-90 seconds long almost immediately. There was some talk about starting Pitocin, since that was in the original plan, but I declined it, saying, "It's that what you give women to get them to where I am already?" (That was one of my last coherent, full sentences before everything got too intense.) But, we had no idea how much I was dialated because my bladder was too full (never did make it othe the toilet before my water broke), so it was in the way when Jane tried to check me. This means we had no idea if the contractions were actually doing anything (meaning Pitocin wasn't indicated), or if they were just being painful but pointless (in which case Pitocin may have helped). I decided to take the "risk" and not start the Pitocin until we knew how far along I was. But I couldn't get up to use the toilet. So, I was handed a bed pan. That didn't work, either. For some reason I had trouble "letting go" while in a bed with three other people in the room, watching me. Who would have thought?
So, I spent the next two hours on my side, rocking and moaning through contractions (as a side note, "Oh" works better than "Ah") with a full bladder. After two hours of not being able to pee and Jane not being able to check my progress, I finally consented to a catheter (not one that they left in, just and in-and-out to drain my bladder). After that business with the IV the night before, I figured it wouldn't be that big of a deal. I was about half-right on that. It was rather excruciating because I had to roll onto my back for the catheter to go in, and the contractions were coming close enough together that putting the catheter in took two or three of them... but the catheter itself didn't reall hurt all that much. Of course, I was comparing it to the contractions I was having at the same time, so, I guess it's all relative.
Aftet the catheter was removed, Jane was able to check me and I was at 5cm. Yay! So we didn't have to revisit the Pitocin issue (I was progressing), but still no baby-pelvis engagement. Boo! I spent the next hour and a half or so on my other side with Chris, Debbie, and Jane taking turns pushing on my back during contractions. Mostly Chris. Jane's and Debbie's hands weren't large enough to actually find the spot each time. But they only switched off the give Chris a break to eat (and maybe go to the bathroom...?). and then he was right back. During this time I was moaning really loudly through each contraction. I vaguely recall some one suggestiong that I was using up too much energy being so loud, but I needed to be the loudest thing in the room during each contration. The tone had to ring through my head and block out all other sounds; I didn't want everyone else to be quiet though. Actually, I needed them to be at their normal volume so I knew I was being loud enough.
After each contraction was over, I zoned and counted my breaths. When I felt the next on starting up, I would say "push" (my cue for Chris to start pushing on my back), take a deep breath and start my "Oh." I was having a bit of trouble letting go of each contraction as they tapered off. Jane started to coach me through the tail ends of them; she would tell me when I'd reached the peak so I'd know they were ending, because I couldn't tell; they really felt right on top of each other, but they apparently were all spaced out about the same throughout the whole time.
Then they changed. I started having trouble keeping my tone low. I was still loud, but the pitch kept creeping up. I remember thinking that there was no way I could possibly do this anymore and I was going to ask for that epidural... as soon as I could speak. And nearly the same instant that thought entered my head, I remembered all the birth stories I had read during my pregnancy; I realized that I must be in transition. And if I was in transition, that meant I was almost done. Two contractions later, my body started pushing.
Things get fuzzy here... and fast. I was checked while on my side and was at 9cm(!), not the 10cm that you're "supposed" to wait for, but not pushing was really really not an option. For some reason I was made to roll onto my back for the rest of the pushing. I'm not sure why, and certainly didn't have enough energy or coherent thought to object to it. I was asked if I wanted a mirror set up so I could watch. Watch? I didn't even want to keep my eyes open. (In retrospect, I feel I missed out on something there, but in the middle of it, I just wanted to keep my eyes closed and block out everything except for Get Out!, so a mirror would have been usless at best, and distracting at worst...) Some one kept telling me me to look at them; that wasn't happening. Some one else was counting to ten - really annoying. In between contractions and pushing, my feet were put up on stirrups. During the contractions, they tried to get me to hold my own legs up, but I couldn't, so eventually these handles appeared at my sides and I could pull on those to push while other people held my legs. The next thing I know, I being asked if I want to reach down and touch my baby's head. I turned that down, too (What was wrong with me?!). I don't know how long I was pushing; I think Chris told me about 15-20 minutes, total. The baby coming out stung a little, but it wasn't very many pushes... I felt the baby come out, but didn't really realize what had happened until they put something warm and wet on my belly. The time: 10:47am.
At that point I felt like I had startled awake. I looked down at my baby, and checked between the legs. "It's a boy? It's a boy!!" I don't know if anyone had said that before I did, but I didn't hear it if they did. He screamed for a bit, and then shoved his fist in his mouth. Apparently, he came out like that; with his hand to his mouth, so I tore a bit and needed stitches later.
At some point I noticed the doctor was at the foot of the bed ("Oh, hi! When did you get here?") and I asked if I should still be pushing or something to help and apparently at that moment, I delivered the placenta; didn't feel it at all. I did feel the shots of local anestetic for my stitches, though. And at some point I was hooked up to a bag of Pitocin (that I don't remember being asked about) to help with bleeding and getting my uterus back down to size.
Zachary had APGARs of 9 and 10. (I remember hearing someone commenting on "no recussitation needed?" in a sort-of surprised tone of voice... Pissed me off. Go be surprised that things are OK somewhere else.) Jane helped me get him to latch and breastfeed for a little bit before Chris took Zachary to the nursery for the official weights and measures and to be cleaned off, and I got to eat lunch! I also tried to pee, but couldn't, so I agreed to a catheter again. After having one inserted during contractions, the one after I was done with everything was a cake-walk. Unfortunatley (and I didn't know this, or I would have waited longer on the catheter), I had to pee by myself three times before they would take my IV out. Getting catheterized didn't count. :-(
We stayed one night in the hospital, but pushed to be released the next day. They say you're supposed to rest whe you have a new baby, but there was some one coming in my room what felt like every hour of the day and night to check me, to check him, take my blood pressure, take his temperature, how's breastfeeding going?, adjust this, fix that... how does anyone rest in a hospital?
And, of course, after all that, I didn't have a single high blood pressure reading for the entire time I was in the hospital. Is it wrong to be upset by that?
Anyway, Zachary is three months old now, but here are some early pictures:
Zachary Alexander
July 1, 2009 10:47AM
7lbs, 0oz
19 1/2 inches
There are many circumstances leading up to my labor that I still haven't made peace with, so putting them into words feels...inadequate. Bed rest. Risking-out of my midwife's homebirth practice due high blood pressure readings during my NSTs. The huge paradigm shift from all-natural, spontaneous homebirth to a hospitalized, fully-medicated, induced labor. The petty discurtesies and flat-out rudeness visited upon me by my night nurse that first night in the hospital before my labor started...
So, I will sum it up: the hospital-labor plan was to insert Cervidil overnight and remove it in the morning. Then I'd be allowed to shower and have breakfast before I was started on Pitocin the next day. We arrived at the hospital, did paperwork, I put on the hospital gown, peed in a cup. It took them three tries to get an IV line started (blew the left wrist, and then blew the right wrist, before they finally stuck me the back of my left hand. The bruising didn't go away for three weeks). Then they took blood. (The night nurse was "amazed" that all of my lab work came back clean; that there was nothing wrong with me except high blood pressure. Pissed me off. Go be "amazed" somewhere I can't hear you.) I was hooked up to "the machine". Two straps around my belly that baby hated and kept moving away from, so they kept having to adjust them, and a blood pressure cuff. The Cervidil was inserted at 8pm and was scheduled for removal at 8am.
At 7am, just as I was thinking I would get up and go to the bathroom, my water broke while I was still in bed. Pop, gush, Ew. Chris tells me he actually heard it, but thought I had cracked my hip or something Jane (my midwife) came in with Debbie (my new day nurse), and they changed the sheets out from under me. But, baby still hadn't engaged in my pelvis, and while gravity would probably have helped that, it might also have caused a prolapsed cord, since there was nothing blocking my cervix. So, I had to stay in the damned bed and on the twiced-damn monitors, with the thrice-damned BP cuff. At least I could roll onto my side and rock during the contractions, which jumped to 2-3 minutes apart and 60-90 seconds long almost immediately. There was some talk about starting Pitocin, since that was in the original plan, but I declined it, saying, "It's that what you give women to get them to where I am already?" (That was one of my last coherent, full sentences before everything got too intense.) But, we had no idea how much I was dialated because my bladder was too full (never did make it othe the toilet before my water broke), so it was in the way when Jane tried to check me. This means we had no idea if the contractions were actually doing anything (meaning Pitocin wasn't indicated), or if they were just being painful but pointless (in which case Pitocin may have helped). I decided to take the "risk" and not start the Pitocin until we knew how far along I was. But I couldn't get up to use the toilet. So, I was handed a bed pan. That didn't work, either. For some reason I had trouble "letting go" while in a bed with three other people in the room, watching me. Who would have thought?
So, I spent the next two hours on my side, rocking and moaning through contractions (as a side note, "Oh" works better than "Ah") with a full bladder. After two hours of not being able to pee and Jane not being able to check my progress, I finally consented to a catheter (not one that they left in, just and in-and-out to drain my bladder). After that business with the IV the night before, I figured it wouldn't be that big of a deal. I was about half-right on that. It was rather excruciating because I had to roll onto my back for the catheter to go in, and the contractions were coming close enough together that putting the catheter in took two or three of them... but the catheter itself didn't reall hurt all that much. Of course, I was comparing it to the contractions I was having at the same time, so, I guess it's all relative.
Aftet the catheter was removed, Jane was able to check me and I was at 5cm. Yay! So we didn't have to revisit the Pitocin issue (I was progressing), but still no baby-pelvis engagement. Boo! I spent the next hour and a half or so on my other side with Chris, Debbie, and Jane taking turns pushing on my back during contractions. Mostly Chris. Jane's and Debbie's hands weren't large enough to actually find the spot each time. But they only switched off the give Chris a break to eat (and maybe go to the bathroom...?). and then he was right back. During this time I was moaning really loudly through each contraction. I vaguely recall some one suggestiong that I was using up too much energy being so loud, but I needed to be the loudest thing in the room during each contration. The tone had to ring through my head and block out all other sounds; I didn't want everyone else to be quiet though. Actually, I needed them to be at their normal volume so I knew I was being loud enough.
After each contraction was over, I zoned and counted my breaths. When I felt the next on starting up, I would say "push" (my cue for Chris to start pushing on my back), take a deep breath and start my "Oh." I was having a bit of trouble letting go of each contraction as they tapered off. Jane started to coach me through the tail ends of them; she would tell me when I'd reached the peak so I'd know they were ending, because I couldn't tell; they really felt right on top of each other, but they apparently were all spaced out about the same throughout the whole time.
Then they changed. I started having trouble keeping my tone low. I was still loud, but the pitch kept creeping up. I remember thinking that there was no way I could possibly do this anymore and I was going to ask for that epidural... as soon as I could speak. And nearly the same instant that thought entered my head, I remembered all the birth stories I had read during my pregnancy; I realized that I must be in transition. And if I was in transition, that meant I was almost done. Two contractions later, my body started pushing.
Things get fuzzy here... and fast. I was checked while on my side and was at 9cm(!), not the 10cm that you're "supposed" to wait for, but not pushing was really really not an option. For some reason I was made to roll onto my back for the rest of the pushing. I'm not sure why, and certainly didn't have enough energy or coherent thought to object to it. I was asked if I wanted a mirror set up so I could watch. Watch? I didn't even want to keep my eyes open. (In retrospect, I feel I missed out on something there, but in the middle of it, I just wanted to keep my eyes closed and block out everything except for Get Out!, so a mirror would have been usless at best, and distracting at worst...) Some one kept telling me me to look at them; that wasn't happening. Some one else was counting to ten - really annoying. In between contractions and pushing, my feet were put up on stirrups. During the contractions, they tried to get me to hold my own legs up, but I couldn't, so eventually these handles appeared at my sides and I could pull on those to push while other people held my legs. The next thing I know, I being asked if I want to reach down and touch my baby's head. I turned that down, too (What was wrong with me?!). I don't know how long I was pushing; I think Chris told me about 15-20 minutes, total. The baby coming out stung a little, but it wasn't very many pushes... I felt the baby come out, but didn't really realize what had happened until they put something warm and wet on my belly. The time: 10:47am.
At that point I felt like I had startled awake. I looked down at my baby, and checked between the legs. "It's a boy? It's a boy!!" I don't know if anyone had said that before I did, but I didn't hear it if they did. He screamed for a bit, and then shoved his fist in his mouth. Apparently, he came out like that; with his hand to his mouth, so I tore a bit and needed stitches later.
At some point I noticed the doctor was at the foot of the bed ("Oh, hi! When did you get here?") and I asked if I should still be pushing or something to help and apparently at that moment, I delivered the placenta; didn't feel it at all. I did feel the shots of local anestetic for my stitches, though. And at some point I was hooked up to a bag of Pitocin (that I don't remember being asked about) to help with bleeding and getting my uterus back down to size.
Zachary had APGARs of 9 and 10. (I remember hearing someone commenting on "no recussitation needed?" in a sort-of surprised tone of voice... Pissed me off. Go be surprised that things are OK somewhere else.) Jane helped me get him to latch and breastfeed for a little bit before Chris took Zachary to the nursery for the official weights and measures and to be cleaned off, and I got to eat lunch! I also tried to pee, but couldn't, so I agreed to a catheter again. After having one inserted during contractions, the one after I was done with everything was a cake-walk. Unfortunatley (and I didn't know this, or I would have waited longer on the catheter), I had to pee by myself three times before they would take my IV out. Getting catheterized didn't count. :-(
We stayed one night in the hospital, but pushed to be released the next day. They say you're supposed to rest whe you have a new baby, but there was some one coming in my room what felt like every hour of the day and night to check me, to check him, take my blood pressure, take his temperature, how's breastfeeding going?, adjust this, fix that... how does anyone rest in a hospital?
And, of course, after all that, I didn't have a single high blood pressure reading for the entire time I was in the hospital. Is it wrong to be upset by that?
Anyway, Zachary is three months old now, but here are some early pictures: