A big thank you to Tracy for contributing both the first and second blog posts for July.  I love this story because she describes so much of how things felt during labor so uniquely.  She even inserts some humor into her story, which I can always appreciate.  This was nearly 4 pages when open in Google Reader, but I found that at the end, I wanted to keep reading.  I didn't want it to end!  Of course, since Tracy is a writer, I was not surprised at all.  Anyway, enough of me- let's get to Olive's birth story!

Was I pregnant? I’ve already forgotten I hated it, simply remember loving it, and seem to have erased the feeling of giving birth naturally. So thank goodness I wrote it down.

I never felt a cramp, a Braxton Hicks, or a lower back ache during the 40 weeks I was pregnant. So when I developed a painful lower back ache and woke up to the ever so faint feeling of cramps in my lower stomach, I figured labor was not far to follow. But the whole day passed without much more action.

The “contractions” (I wasn’t sure that’s what they were) were extremely sporadic and far apart.  We’re talking hours apart and no more painful than a bit of gas. I spoke to Dr. Biter around 9pm and he told me drink some water and go to sleep. “When you’re having them, you won’t need to question it. Each one will be completely predictable,” he said.

Well just a few hours later, midway through The Santa Clause and feeling no action whatsoever, I got hit with a painful contraction at 12:31am. Then 5 minutes later at 12:36. Then 12:41, there it was again.  I said, “hm... I bet one is going to come at 12:46!” And it did. But then between 12:50 and 1:00 I felt three separate contractions, and I decided I’d go ahead and wake up my husband to keep me company. These were far too painful to sleep through!

I started timing them, and by 2:30am they had gotten pretty close together and lengthy. I began getting nervous because of the whole 411 rule and we called Dr. Biter back. He sounded so tired, and I felt bad for waking him up. I think we could have stayed at home longer, and although we didn’t want to get lumped into the category of first timers who rush to the hospital too fast, I was scared they were starting to come so quickly!

When we got to the hospital around 3:30am, I was almost 6cm dilated and the contractions started getting a bit more painful. Those were my first moments I started feeling nervous that this was going to be harder than I’d anticipated.

We had decided not to take any childbirth preparation classes because our schedules never fit the ones offered, and for how expensive they were, it just didn’t work out. At this point I started wondering if I’d made a mistake.

They moved us into a labor room, and I automatically disliked our nurse. She told me she had to hook me up to an IV, something I knew was not true from going on the hospital tour. I told her, “oh, no thank you, I am not going to do that.” She forcefully said that she had to do it as hospital policy, and I more forcefully responded that I knew for a fact she did NOT. She finally agreed to just put on the hep-lock, hydrate me for a half hour, and then I was free to roam IV-less.

This same amazing nurse then proceeded to tell me amidst my already mounting self doubt, how much more painful it was going to get once my water broke. It went something like this:

“I don’t know how I am going to do this, this REALLY hurts...”

“Well it’s only going to get worse.”

Just what you want to hear, right? The triage nurse came around to check in on me, and when I talked to her about my doubts, she reassured me that every woman feels that way, every woman gets to a point where they feel they can’t do it anymore, and it’s all mind over matter. She reminded me of all the women around the world doing this very same thing. I told her how much I wished she was my nurse.

Well she got the point, and at 7am when my old nurse was off, she appointed me one she said I’d love. And she was right. Her name was Molly, and I love Molly. She gave me back rubs and helped my husband. I can tell you right now, two pairs of hands is better than one.

After that it all sort of blends together. I was exhausted from being awake more than 24 hours, and all I could was close my eyes. We were trying all the things we had brought that are supposed to make labor more relaxing. The music was great for about an hour, then it bothered me, then I drowned it out completely. The aromatherapy minty scent I thought would refresh me made me want to throw up. The birthing ball felt good for a while until I felt like it was losing air and all of a sudden I couldn’t stand it.

I absolutely could not relax my body during contractions, I tried to breathe deep and slow, but it did nothing for me. They were just so close together and so painful- I felt cheated out of those beautiful breaks nature gives you between contractions, the ones that are supposed to let you get composure, the ones I had read about.

I found my greatest ability to comfortably labor alone in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet.

Molly had to monitor the baby’s heartbeat for 20 minutes each hour, and the only position that she could find it in was when I laid on my side. That position may as well have been the death of me. Each contraction felt 100 times more painful when I had to lay like that. Yet I was still so tired that if I did have a break between contractions, I was almost instantly asleep and dreaming. I wouldn’t realize it until a contraction started and woke me out of the dream.

And movement! Each time I had to simply move, I felt like it spurred a contraction. I would sit up from bed, have a contraction. Get off the bed, have a contraction. Shuffle 3 feet to the bathroom, stop and have a contraction. Then finally the peace of the bathroom. Everything felt alright when I was in the bathroom.

I would be very annoyed when my husband would knock on the door to check on me because I had to speak, even just enough to say, “I’m fine”. He said he was worried since I’d been in so much audible agony on the bed, then it would just be pure silence while I sat closed off on the toilet.

I felt like I was losing it, I felt like I was in a delirium and I was nowhere near the finish. I felt like there was no way in hell I was going to be able to do it. The thought of drugs never entered my mind, but I also felt that something was going to have to happen or I’d be in this forever. I cried a couple times, not because of the pain, but because I couldn't bear the thought of being in labor anymore.

I didn’t know where Dr. Biter was and I didn’t know when he was going to decide to show up, but I was tired, over sensitive, and getting really pissed off that I didn’t know where he was. But boy oh boy, when he showed up it made all the difference in the world.

He made me open my eyes and he gave me a different way to breathe. Instantly the breathing technique helped me. I remember thinking, “well finally something that is helping!” His phrases calmed me down somehow. Every time I was having a bad contraction and I felt like I was going to lose it, but he’d remind me that each one goes away, it just comes and goes, and I wasn’t so panicked.

Molly had suggested I take a shower but I had refused, it seemed like too much work and I couldn't be bothered. However, somehow Dr. Biter got me to comply. And it was amazing. It snapped me out of it a bit, I was able to wake up a little more and it felt really good.

It’s funny how you don’t care about any of the things you thought you would. I thought we’d put on bathing suits if we were going to get in the shower. But no, I just ripped off my gown and got naked in front of everyone, shuffling around in a naked crazy haze. Embarrassment is a small non-existent feeling compared to pain.

The other funny thing about labor is how something can feel good, and then instantly feel so annoying that you simply can not STAND it one second longer. The towel draped across my front to keep me warm in the shower would feel comforting, then all the sudden it was choking me, heavy, and I had to rip it off and hurl it across the room before I felt like I could breathe again. I remember saying very snappy things to my husband when he’d press on my back like, “push really hard....  IF YOU AREN’T GOING TO PUSH HARD DON’T PUSH AT ALL”. Being touched the wrong way was very, very, very annoying.

The shower was my best friend, and I can’t tell you how disappointed I was when the pain started getting too intense for the calmness I’d been experiencing there. I almost started crying again, I was so sad it wasn’t working anymore, and I felt hopeless. I got the slightest urge to push and I told my husband, so he ran out to find Dr. Biter again.

Then he said the best words I’d ever heard, “Well, lets get this baby out!”

Once I was on the bed my water broke, and aahhhhh what a great feeling by the way. That nurse who told me it was going to get worse was off her rocker. I LOVED when my water broke and I loved that when I was having a contraction, to push was an escape from the pain.

But he had me in all these different positions trying to push, and to me it felt like nothing was happening. All I kept thinking was how silly I felt because I must have been getting ahead of myself. Once again I felt like I was failing and this was never going to end. Finally I was in a sitting position, the one you see in all the movies, legs up in the air, and trying to push her out.

Feeling her head moving down was encouraging, but equally discouraging as she’d slide back up when I ran out of breath. Dr. Biter would say, “Keep pushing... push... push HARDER” and I was thinking, “are you kidding me?” I am completely out of breath, out of energy, seeing stars from pushing so hard and he is STILL saying push???

I realized I was not entirely curling up in the right position and once I figured that out, she really started making progress. I felt the “ring of fire” as they say, and I finally felt her head come out. I instantly relaxed and felt so relieved, but just for a split second because I realized I was not done pushing (more disappointment). When her body came out I heard everyone telling me to open my eyes and there she was. So tiny, arms wide open. I don’t remember too much, but my husband said at that moment he had never seen me look so happy, and it was that feeling that you hear about, the most joyous look upon my face I’d ever have. She was brought into the world by me, now a true mother, at 10:53 am on December 3rd.

They laid her so high upon my chest, I kept trying to look down to see her and I was jealous because everyone kept saying how beautiful she was. But feeling her there was just as good, and I’ve had plenty of time to stare at her since.

When I was in labor I thought it was insane, and I asked myself why God or nature made this process so painful. But the more days that passed, the less I remembered. All of the pain and doubt was replaced with feelings of pride and the confidence that I could do it again.

Thank you for sharing, Tracy! 

If you'd like to be a contributor to our blog, with your birth story or another idea, email marlo@babiesbythesea.com.