Caution: This story gets a bit messy. And I should note that it’s all kind of hazy now, so I’m not sure if the order of things is exactly right.
As we walked through the L&D doors, I sighed with relief. We would have the super nice nurse that I’d met before. Though it was the doctor I liked least from my practice, I figured (rightly) that the nurse was more important anyway.
We immediately declined the epidural. My husband the coach explained that we wanted a natural birth and requested I only get an IV port and not an actual IV. I was wary of the required monitoring and getting in bed – I knew that if I got too comfortable there, I wouldn’t get out again. So needless to say, they immediately knew what kind of patient they were getting! Luckily the nurses were great, and they never again offered drugs or anything. After reading horror stories in the natural childbirth books, it was a great relief to have nurses that were completely on board with me. I could tell the doctor was unimpressed, but he didn’t say anything more about an epidural.
They checked me and I had another reason to be relieved – I was dilated exactly five centimeters! The doctor couldn’t feel the baby’s head because my water was in the way, so they did an ultrasound to make sure everything was okay. All was well, they finally left, and I was able to get out of bed and get those horrible monitors off. My husband and I were alone again at last.
I discovered the rocking chair and fell in love. Unfortunately this was not the best position for moving labor along. My contractions slowed as I sipped apple juice and dozed off and on. I didn’t follow my husband’s continued suggestions to walk around a bit, which was a very bad idea on my part! The doctor and nurse came back to check on me two hours later, and I’d barely dilated one more centimeter.
Once they left again I headed back to the rocking chair. I nibbled on the cheese crackers we had brought and drank more apple juice. My husband insisted that I needed to be walking around instead of just sitting, and while I knew he was right, I didn’t want to. So I sat.
Since things weren’t really progressing much, the doctor wanted to break my water. While I knew that would get things going, I was a bit wary. However, I didn’t end up with a choice. As the doctor was poking around to check me, there was a sudden gush and water went everywhere!
The intermittent monitoring continued. During one of these cycles the doctor came in and asked several questions, not giving me any of the options I wanted. I felt it was quite cruel of him to do it when I was strapped to the bed – I felt so much more vulnerable there. Out went our hopes of delaying cutting the cord and letting the placenta come out naturally.
Back to the rocking chair. My husband was getting a bit desperate at my insistence on the chair by now – he could see my legs swelling and my progression crawling. He suggested I try out the hospital’s labor pool. The nurse agreed, but I hesitated. Since we hadn’t been shown the pool during our hospital tour, I had gotten in my head that they didn’t like people to use it, and the thought of leaving the room made me nervous. We agreed on a shower instead.
I perked up a bit. I had heard such good things about water during labor! People supposedly loved it! The nurse got the water going and left my husband and me to try it out. I stepped into the water – and froze. This was not what I had expected. I shivered, keeled over, in the water. Maybe if I turned a little? No. It was miserable.
“I don’t like this,” I told my husband, beginning to cry. He helped me out, wrapping a blanket around my body, which was shivering uncontrollably.
This is where things all get fuzzy for me, but vivid for my husband! I think I got into the bed at this point. I no longer cared that it would make labor slower – it was already taking so long! These contractions hurt (though I was careful to never say that out loud), and for all my hard work I was still only dilated eight centimeters.
My husband really wanted me to eat something – my stomach was empty besides a few bites of macaroni from earlier. He spooned some jello into my mouth, reminding me how important it was to eat.
“Just not too much, or she’ll throw up,” the nurse commented. I did not throw up, although I thought I was going to at one point. And when they brought my husband a meal to eat, I really thought the smell was going to do me in, though I didn’t say anything because I knew he was famished by that point.
Our sweet nurse informed us that her shift would be ending at 7:00 and I desperately asked her to stay anyway. I knew other nurses might not be so nice, and I was right. Our next nurse was tough. And just what I needed, though I certainly did not appreciate it at the time!
Our new no-nonsense nurse informed us that her last three deliveries had all been natural, and it was clear that she was expecting this one to be successful as well. She and my husband were in charge from here on out – as much as I did not want to, they made me follow her directions! I was pulled helped out of bed and onto an exercise ball. I didn’t like it, but it was indeed effective – my contractions once again got stronger and more intense.
“Why isn’t she here yet?” I whimpered several times. I was in a haze. Why hadn’t the baby come out yet? My mother’s three labors had all been short. What was taking so long? There was nothing wrong with me or the baby. So why wasn’t she here yet?
They checked again – nine centimeters. Agh, only nine?! It all hurt so bad, it had to be time to push her out already!
I had to go to the bathroom, and while I was sitting on the toilet I started yelling in horror.
“I’m pushing! I’m pushing!” I screamed.
I was pushing poop. Not the baby.
I was still just nine centimeters, so it was back to that infernal ball. With each contraction, I was making sounds I had never heard before - a cross between moaning and screaming. I hoped no mothers were in the rooms next to me to be scared by my noises.
My husband continued to support me from behind, and soon I was yelling again.
“I’m pushing! I’m pushing!” I screamed.
It was my husband’s turn to be horrified, and he jumped away as still more poop came out.
“Okay, Elizabeth, let’s just get through one more contraction and we’ll check you again,” the nurse promised. I knew she was lying, but it’s not like I had any other choice but to do as she said – there was no way I could crawl onto that bed by myself.
Several contractions later they hoisted me onto the bed again. The nurse checked me. I was ten centimeters and she could see the head! Suddenly things were happening quickly. They were breaking down the bed and wheeling things in. The nurse stood at the end, warning that if the doctor didn’t hurry, he was going to miss it!
The pushing began. Soon the doctor warned me to stop and just do three small pushes. My husband gasped as I tore with each push. But it didn’t matter, because our baby girl was emerging!
Our daughter was officially born at 8:44 pm on Sunday, December 12th – the Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe and a day before her official due date. She was a perfect 7 pounds 9 ounces and 21.5 inches long. We named her Miriam Denise - Miriam because it's a beautiful Biblical name (she was Moses' older sister) and Denise after my mother-in-law.
And that is the story of how our beautiful firstborn entered the world.
In addition to our list of things we learned, my main takeaways from our first childbirth experience were:
- I definitely need to make sure to eat, at least at the beginning of labor; we think it might’ve been faster if I’d had more strength (ie more food in my belly). Yes, I knew that at the time, but for some reason just didn't act on it.
- Next time we would like to try a birth center, though we’d be okay with another hospital birth as long as we have a doctor we really like.
- My biggest lesson: I need to listen to my husband and actually do what he says! He was a great coach, but as he good-naturedly told me later, “How can you coach someone who’s uncoachable?”
