Birth Story

I've had a few requests on other sites to give Leah's birth story, so I'm posting here to make it easier to get to!

On Friday, September 19th, I woke up just before 7:30 am. As I got up from my bed, I felt a gush, and instantly knew that my water had broken. It wasn’t a big gush, and since it was my first pregnancy, I doubted myself. I called my sister, who is also a doula, and she recommended that I call the Birth Center and have them check to see if it was indeed my water that had broken. I called the Birth Center and made an appointment for 8:30 am. I took a shower and prepared myself to go into labor. I was extremely excited and could hardly contain myself! My mom went with me to the appointment, and we were both elated when they confirmed that my water had broken. I was dilated 2 cm, and was instructed to go back home and wait for active labor.

I did have a bit of concern, though, since the Birth Center (in order to keep their doors open) requires you to be in active labor within 24 hours of when your water breaks. This can put a lot of stress on a soon-to-be-mother!

I headed home and called my husband. I told him he didn’t need to leave work just yet, but I would call him if I was having regular contractions. Some time passed and I tried to start contractions. I walked, did Bradley exercises like squatting, tailor sitting, and pelvic rocks. Still, my contractions were not coming very strong or very regular. I called my husband and told him that if he could get off, to go ahead and do that so that he could help me through first stage if it ever progressed.

The midwife had instructed me to call at noon to check in and let her know what was going on. I informed her that my contractions came only as I was walking or moving, and stopped as soon as I sat or lay down. She told me to take castor oil, and take it again in two hours if contractions were not strong & regular. After downing the awful stuff twice, I called the midwife at 2:30 that afternoon, and since my contractions still had not started, she gave me the “ok” to start taking Black Cohosh. I took ten drops every two hours for a total of four administrations. Still, not much happened.

But by 7:30 pm, I was actually beginning to see the signs of first stage labor. My contractions were coming a little more regularly and stronger, even when I lay down. As we had been instructed, we prepared to go to the Birth Center and meet with the on-call midwife, who would perform a non-stress test to see exactly how active my labor was becoming. Almost as soon as we started to drive, my contractions stopped, and did not start again until we got to the Birth Center, and even then, they were not as strong or as regular as they were at home. The midwife instructed us to get some rest and come back in the morning, and she would check to see if I had dilated.

At about 1:30 am, my contractions were coming strong and almost regular. I was no longer able to talk through them, and I was turning inward. It seemed to be the signs of late first stage, and my husband said we should call my sister and have her come down in case we had to leave quickly. I called my sister, my mom, and my mother-in-law. Everyone sat around in our room, making sure I rested, timing my contractions, and keeping me in a positive mood. The contractions continued until 7:00 am, when it was time to leave for the Birth Center again.
However, when I got into the car, my contractions stopped almost immediately. When I got to the Birth Center, my contractions still were not coming. I was checked and the midwife told us that I was still only dilated 2 cm. 4 cm is considered active labor, and I had not met the deadline.
When the midwife told us that we had to be transferred to the hospital to be induced, I cried. This was not at all the birth I had hoped for—or planned for. I had done everything right! I had eaten right, done the exercises, practiced relaxation, read the books, gone to class—and part of me wondered if it was all for nothing.

We arrived at the hospital at about 8:30 am. We checked in and I could feel my stress rising as we waited for a room. Once we were in a room, I was immediately put on a fetal monitor, and soon the nurse was putting in my IV drip of pitocin. During this time, the doctor on call had also changed, so the doctor I had originally picked as my back up was not going to be there for the birth, so I also had a new doctor that I had never met before.

After starting the pitocin, I was checked, and was still only at 2 cm. I was, however, having very regular contractions, and they were stronger than the ones I had when I was at home. These I was able to handle with relaxation, and for a long time, I was still able to talk through them. The mood in the room was light and I knew my family was attempting to stay positive about the situation, though in my mind, I was scared, angry, and disappointed.

Hours passed and the contractions became stronger, one on top of the other. I was at 28 milli-units of pitocin, and was still able to handle them with relaxation. I was focused inward, no longer able to talk through contractions, and the pain was pushing me towards asking for meds—but I was stubborn and I endured through them with the relaxation methods we had learned in the class. I breathed deep, made sure that not one muscle was contracted, and if necessary, moaned through the pain. My husband wiped my face with a cool cloth and spoke encouragingly to me as my sister (the doula), my mom, and my best friend massaged me. They called my attention to tense muscles when a contraction started, reminding me to relax, and helped me to breathe through the contraction, releasing the pain as I exhaled.

At one point I really wanted the medication, I was nauseas, I repeatedly said that I couldn’t do it and that I didn’t want to do it, I had mood swings (including swatting at my husband), and I even wanted to push. But I didn’t say anything, because I was afraid that if I mentioned that, the nurse would check me and tell me that I wasn’t dilated enough to push yet. But still, all the emotional signposts of transition were there.

Soon after this turning point, the doctor came in. Even at double the amount of pitocin that it normally takes for a woman to be in active labor, my contractions stopped when he entered, showing quite obviously the emotional stress I was in. He checked me, and my sister asked him not to say anything unless it was good news. After checking me, he said nothing but looked at the nurse. He went to her and told her quietly that I was only at 2.5 cm.

My sister, who, being the doula, had become the liaison between us and the medical team, spoke to the doctor outside. He told her that he wanted to let us keep waiting, but because of the ruptured bag of waters and the risk of infection, and because I was still only at 2 cm, it was looking like it might end in a c-section. My sister knew this was the last thing I wanted, and suggested to him that they try an epidural to relax me. He agreed to it, and they came to me with that option. My sister, being a great advocate of natural unmedicated birth, was the one to give me the news. I asked her if she would do it if she were in my position. She said she would, because I would have to get an epidural if I needed the c-section anyways, and it was worth a try to avoid the c-section. I agreed to it, and again I cried as I waited for the anesthesiologist to come in.

The pain of the needle in my back was far worse than the contractions, even on pitocin. While I was able to breathe, relax, and simply moan through the contractions, I screamed when I felt the needle go in. Soon after, I lost feeling in my legs and no longer felt the contractions. I did, however, feel another gush similar to the one I had felt that morning. I also felt shaky and cold, a side-effect of the epidural.

Ten minutes later, the nurse came in to give me a catheter. While she had me “open”, she checked me as well, and lo and behold, I was at 10 cm! She called the doctor in and before I knew it, my mom and sister were holding my legs up to support me (as I could not move them myself), and the nurse was watching the monitor for a contraction so I could know when to push.

Within three pushes, my daughter had been born. Moments after, she was on my chest, skin-to-skin, and a few moments later, she was nursing. She was pink, alert, and happy to be in my arms.

Overall, the experience was not at all what I had hoped for or planned for, but the class was worth taking. Because of the class, I was able to strive for what was best for my child, including waiving certain perinatal procedures like the vitamin K injection, eye antibiotics, and the Hepatitis B immunization. I knew what to ask for, what to reject, and how to deal with the situation, because I was informed. I was educated in how to relax through pain, and I knew the effect of different medications and treatments, and was able to choose which ones to accept. I am grateful that my daughter was born in a safe place, and that neither of our lives had been threatened during the ordeal, but now I know the effects of emotional stress that is put on me due to the deadlines required. I know my body even better than before, and I am looking forward to my next birth. Now that I know how I labor, I believe a home birth may be better suited to me, as there are not as many restrictions or deadlines as there are at the Birth Center.

I would encourage anyone who reads this not to be discouraged and to assume that because this one birth did not work out the way we had hoped, that it is useless or a waste to take a Bradley class. The information and techniques we learned in the class were vital, and because the doctor knew that we had taken the class, he adapted his normal routine and was willing to adapt it to our preferences (such as fewer vaginal checks, and allowing as little intervention as was safe). The Bradley class we took with Kyla was invaluable, and I am sure we will be taking it again when the next one comes along. That one, we think, will be a home birth. :)